What a night! Full of little surprises at every turn, let me tell you. Ronaldo picked me up at 7:30 and we headed through the �scenic� route to Sassafras , for crawfish night. Okay, I�ve never seen, let alone eaten, these little monsters before. We had a lot of fun with it, and the flavorful Pinot Grigio had a big hand in that. Hoo, boy. Imagine roaches with claws. Right, you�re getting the idea. But once you get over the hideous site of all these insects of the sea, you�re in for a tasty little meal. And a LOT of work. My fingers would have cramped if it weren�t for all the practice and training they get� from TYPING, you perve.

We popped those spicy little suckers apart, got our picture taken for the Virgin to Crawfish Wall, joked with the waiter (a very cool and extremely patient fellow) and with fingers and breath smelling of spicy saltwater, we headed out to meet up with Cabana Boy at Mary�s . This is where things get REALLY juicy. CB told us that Tiffany was supposed to be singing there. I couldn�t believe it. THE Tiffany? The one who was just in Playboy? The one I used to jam to in 8th grade? What? No, don�t believe it.

We got to Mary�s, got some drinks in hand, greeted CB and his crew, and waited. Was it a rumor? Was she really going to be there, AND sing? The place started buzzing, word was out, Tiffany has arrived. I immediately called back Fizgig at the Stanton Residence. Bobo answers. GET THEE TO MARY�s, BOY! I didn�t think they�d actually come. Very buzzed, and overflowing with the shared excitement and sheer silliness of having Tiffany sing at our little local gay hangout, I practically peed when I looked up to see a full-house of Stanton Boys, with Evan & Nina in tow, walking in the door.

With a camera. Oh yay! I thought. Literally a minute or two after they arrived, Tiffany got on stage. A small little step above rest near one of the walls. And Fuck me if she didn�t KARAOKE her OWN Goddamn song. She looked at the monitor for the first half of it, then I suppose the words came back to her. Oh, she belted it out, alright. Tits look great, but Tiffany, well, she looked sort of haggard, sort of old. Bobo got it all on tape, including a shot of Fizgig coming in to hug the Teen-Idol turned Playboy Poser. Classic.

She was trashed. We skirted over to the corner where she was hanging out of a chair and macking on some bald guy. Then, she and her posse stumbled across the street to their rented Premier Van. Have I said Classic? I meant, Solid. My fingers still smell like fish.

-Barbarella

previous | next