Darlings, I’m working on my mrpeenee’s Fifth Anniversary Gala Dragaplooza: Cinco or Swim, but first just a quick note about how terribly amusing it was to have my dear old sistah in the house. We were immensely cultured, hitting three museums: the Man Ray/Lee Miler show (so-so, actually bordering on dull,) the Jean Paul Gaultier show (tremendously fabulous) and the Cindy Sherman retrospective (even more tremendously fabulous.) We also embraced our true low brows by thrashing a number of thrift stores. I am proudly sitting in a only-slightly-rickety desk chair we snagged for $7.40. While at a rather upscale venue called, simply, Stuff, I was sucked into the groove of the sound system’s Aretha Franklin Rock Steady. I spun around from a particularly hip shakin’ bit and came face to face with the owner who seemed sort of stunned, as people so often are when exposed to my dancing. And did that faze Magda? No it did not.
Truly, it was a wonderful time and I fully expect my enhanced, exaggerated Southern accent to calm back down soon, now that the old dear isn’t around to egg it on.