I went out last night. In a see-thru yellow lace maxi dress with a black tank top and black Calvin Klein men’s shorty shorts underwear underneath. A white jean jacket and 5″ platform black jelly heels. Crimped green hair with a bandana. And 80’s technicolor makeup. I knew what I was getting myself into. I’d just forgotten how fucking basic Tucson can be.

I went to IBT’s for the first time last night, and even though it was a Monday night, I gotta say it was saaaaaaad. There was a messy drag queen with a Party City wig on crooked. There was a guy with Lederhosen and Hawaiian t-shirt on. There were women…in flip flops.

I hung out with the least fucking woke queens, in town from Phoenix. They were racist. The white one in the Drifit navy U of A polo and backwards baseball cap kept asking if black men who bummed for cigarettes were on crack. The native one kept asking to touch black men’s hair. The white one (ginger giant?) kept telling me his cock was 8″ long. His boyfriend said, “yeah, but you’re so fat that your cock disappears into your crotch bulge.” Crotch Bulge: the name of my next band.

We were denied entry to Che’s because the native guy looked drunk (or because white bouncers treat native looking people differently…po-tAY-to/po-racist-fucking-tah-to). And then, while we were hanging out at Bison, these super drunk bitches wanted to hone in on our scene. Girl #1 was vaguely Asiany and slurring her words. Apparently she’d just had a fight with her boyfriend over the fact that she was about to inherit a lot of money from her dead mother. She made sure I knew it was a “lot of money.”  “Like, didn’t her mother think about how this would change her life before she died?” Yes. Yes, she said that.

Oh, and she used my favorite come on line. “You’re so beautiful. You know, I’m a photographer. I would love to shoot you.” Barf.

Girl #2 was one of those sexy babydoll Courtney Love circa 1994 types with dyed blonde hair and baby bangs. She’d been in town for two months from Chi-kah-goh and HAAAAAATES Tucson. She kept interrupting the conversation to say something. She’d jump out of the booth, stand up, raise her arms above her head and say, “I’m gonna say something. Wait. You guys, I’m gonna say something.” And we’d turn and stare and she wouldn’t…say…anything.

These girls were drunk as fuuuuuck. So gay boys and I got the check and low-key ran away from these bitches. But they tried to follow us. Girl #1 ran behind us for a while, screaming, “Let me come with you! I don’t even know this bitch! Where are we going? IBT’s? I’ll meet you at IBT’s.”

I ran away feeling a little like The OA, safe from my captors and enlightened with the moves to transfer between different realities.

People are the worst. I love/hate being the shiniest object in the room because I get picked to death by magpies.