In gay nightlife in Chicago, one day you are in… and the next day you are out. And I was OUT… of luck when I arrived at Crew at the stroke of 8 to catch Project Runway. The place packs so early, I had to stand through the entire show. But my martini helped to quell the foot pain and I was treated to a true homosexual be-in. Dead silence during the judge’s comments, if you can believe.
And I would have been there sooner had I not been having such a ball at Hydrate’s third anniversary party. Having learned my lesson from past gala affairs, I went hungry so I could pull up the copious buffet. I had my eatin’ dress on that night! Thanks to all the boys and grlz at Hydrate for feeding and watering this old horse for three years now. It’s time I was put out to stud.
While at Hydrate, I ran into a certain local celeb who dabbles in porn column writing for this very rag. We got on to discussing his work with the inimitable Pubert and, somehow, stumbled upon the perfect sign-off line for Katie Couric: Friends and erections don’t mix. Both poignant and timely. I will expect royalties. Wouldn’t it be a hoot to receive a check every time Katie Couric said the word erection? Talk about your money shots! Go on, talk about them!
And so on to Jackhammer. Jane Goodall never stumbled upon such primate behavior as I discovered at 3 a.m. on a Thursday: Local businesspersons hooking up trysts on their hand-held devices, grown men fighting with Bob the Builder dolls and cover boy Fred doing his best Project Runway strut. Oh yeah, that’s why I drink.
kirk@windycitytimes.com