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Oh, to quote Mark Twain. I would just dive into that ripe old rhyme of the master about San Francisco summers, but I hate to sound like everyone else in the world. It was a cloudy summer week, and I wasnít at all surprised. In fact, it was kind of nice to be back at my regular pace, no longer exhausted by the pace of wine-soaked park days basking in the summer sun. I havenít seen a grassy field for about a week, and I am making it, thanks in large part to the haunts I have lately forgotten.

On Friday night, for example, I visited my friend Ginger Snap at her first event as hostess for Snap-A-Licious at the Deco Lounge. Now, though the name needs some work, I kinda like it, and I really liked the show. It got me on a drag kick that couldnít be squelched all weekend long. Gingerís show was fierce, and featured one of my favorite divas, Daphne Deluxe. She did her famous vodka number, I did my famous whiskey number, and all was right with the world.

The next day, I had the chance to go and see Mamma Mia!. I was enshrouded in the decadent, sun soaked shores of Greece, and still humming an ABBA tune when it struck me that this could possibly have been my own mini gay film festival of a Saturday. I watched The Long Kiss Goodnight and The Birdcage on my couch, then sat through Mamma Mia! and was on my way to hitting the Hot Box Girls when I turned to my mister and lost it. I was completely fagged out, my eyes were bright, my tongue wagging out a sappy grin. It totally made the Hot Box Girls even better than usual, as I was lauded by Gina LaDivina herself for getting her very well baked over Gay Pride weekend. Itís always best to be appreciated by a woman in Dior!

The rest of the weekend was a frenzied blur that seemed to carry all the way to 440 Castro on Wednesday night. I went out to promote NakedSwordís Dirty Dozen challenge, which gave me the opportunity to feel no guilt in chatting with the hottest men in the Castro on a Friday night. It was busy all the way to Booty Call, where Juanita turned it out par the usual with innovation, libations, and tons of decoration! My girl Horseface was working the go-go platform way fiercer than the tired muscle boy at 440ís Frathouse! The guy was wearing flesh toned briefs that made him look a sickly, jaundiced color that was just RUDE!

So, while I was loosing my cookies over a sickly go-go boy, what dragzaster was falling off the wagon at the Frathouse? And, did I mention the overwrought queen who cried through the night at Chilidog over the death of a certain beloved Golden Girl? Wait that was me! I was so upset at hearing about the passing of Estelle Getty, our perpetual great-grandma Sophia Petrillo. It was a sad day for many, including the 43 people who sent me bulk text messages about the sad passing of Estelle. May she live on in laughter for years to come! Picture thisÖÖHeaven!