This last weekend was Pride and I have never been. And that feels odd because at least a dozen gay men are among my most cherished friends. I have been to Gay Halloween on Santa Monica Blvd. twice. That was nothing short of awesome. There is nothing more fabulous than a couple of thousand drag queens all in one place. I was with two young friends dressed in drag for the first time ever on Halloween and it was so much fun to watch them test their wings. Two young wobbly colts in high heels. We ended up at a bar on Santa Monica called Villa Villekulla (Leave it to a couple of fabulous queens to name a bar after Pippi Longstocking’s House) My friend Duchess and I decided to flash our very real boobies at a bunch of drag queens. We were asked to leave.
Probably not my finest moment, but twenty years later I stand by my irony. So I am very familiar with the culture. But I have never been to Pride. I am sure that there are people outside of the big city that will not understand or think I am attempting to be worldly or unconventional. But it just happens to be that the best men in my life have always been gay from the time that I was a teenager. When I was just a girl my mother had a fabulous hairdresser named Randall. Randall gave me my first salon haircut and perm (God save us from the 70s). Randall moved to Los Angeles a few years before we did and became successful in the entertainment industry. It is possible that my mother actually followed him (Cuz a good hairdresser is as hard to replace as a good mechanic). But we moved to L.A. also. When I was in my late teens Randall got me a job via one of his clients working as a personal assistant to Bette Davis.
Now as a young actress this was more than just a big deal. It was winning the damn lottery. Unfortunately it did not work out. I wrote the story out long ago and I will post it underneath this for anyone interested. Warning, its funny (and a little long). But the woman who hired me treated me like crap in an attempt to cover her own behind. Randall responded by calling this woman (who worked for BETTE F’ING DAVIS) and telling her never to grace his salon with her presence again.
He did that for me, a screwball disaster 18 year old kid.
And I will never ever forget it. And the love just kept coming. Whenever my life has been difficult there has always been some wonderful gay man to pick me up, hug me, make me laugh and treat me like a queen.
So this year I went to Pride with my friend K. K is a former lesbian and vampire queen turned straight Catholic (Sometimes you just can’t make this shit up). We missed the parade (otherwise known as the really good part) but we saw scores of fabulous drag queens, rainbow embossed butt cheeks and one very funny comedian. K is an awesome belly dancer (she is teaching me) and she killed it on the lawn dancing to the Bongos. She got major applause so I of course slipped her some tongue. No I am not gay but I stand by my irony….