Queen for a night

Who’s the hottest punk rock / metal head in drag? Me. Damn straight. Last night at the Jesus Fucking Christ / Death By Excess show and Pyrate Punx barbecue, the Pyrate wenches hosted a drag contest. Yes, I showed up in a dress, heels, make-up… God damned that stuff is hard to walk in. I also got a dollar off my admission, so this whole drag contest really appealed to my Jewish side. Right, so the other dude’s in drag… no competition. Except, surprisingly, Snake. He shaved his sleazy goatee even. Damn. And then outside he was smoking with a very limp wrist. Hilarious. So three of us competed, and those damn wenches made us dance. Keep in mind, I am wearing heels. No one else wore heels. Fucking hell… I did my best. And by audience applause, I was declared Queen and honorary wench. Just don’t look under the dress, right? I did my best impression of a Miss America winner crying and hugging everyone… My trophy is something else. After that, Anne and Greg took my drunk ass to Biggum’s. Like a good drag queen / Biggum’s customer, I did a little toot. I then proceeded to dance with I don’t even know who… chicks dig a boy in make-up, I guess. What did I learn from this whole experience? I learned I would be a very bitchy, high maintenance chick. Thanks to my female benefactors for all the help. Let’s not do this again real soon. Coke hangovers suck.