I did Carolyn Castiglia's Chicks & Giggles show at Raga on Tuesday. Damn, I love that girl, and I love that show. It's rare in comedy to say that there have truly been nothing but good times had there... especially since you know because you have said that that you'll have a bad show or something... but fuck it. I'll say that shit. I LOVE THIS SHOW. It's got such a great energy and such amazing female comedians...
The lovely and gracious Jen Dziura was there, in her peeps shirt, which is adorable on her... and of course, because of where we are and her striking looks, adoreable becomes ironic.
Incidentally I love and hate NY for this reason... clothing that you get anywhere else in the world that you think is retarded just becomes instantly ironic as soon as you are coming over the GW Bridge... I learned this by getting the floppy hat with "Blossom" flower on it from Vida in Boston, and feeling like a tool kit until I came back into NYC. Wait, that wasn't the GW Bridge at all...
Also, there were some other amazing comedians there... Abby Rosin was downright dirty and real. Kelli Dunham attempted to deny all the lesbian fisting she does while in port-o-potties touring around the country (incidentally, she was shoved into said port-o-potty by RuPaul's engorged ego...still love that bitch tho') once she shook the Mayor of Provincetown's hand with lube all over it. And this lovely comedian Raquel (whence she came I know not where, but she's fantastic) did her own adoreable haircut and shed some light on how/why Amazon.com and the Red Cross might be working together (she like me noted that there was a "Checkout" button when trying to give on their site... "Those who liked giving to the Red Cross, also liked giving to Diabetes..."
Anyway, I digress... After the show I met young cad Jonathan Powley. He quite possibly has the most social energy of anyone I know, and is just a natural comedian. Always working his jokes on unsuspecting underaged girls from the bridge and tunnel and beyond. When we left Raga with Carolyn and her husband, Jonathan accosted the first group of teenage girls we met at the corner on 2nd avenue, and went off about their shoes.
Yeah, he's not gay apparently... the surfer-braying voice, the clean cut look and obsession with footwear notwithstanding.
He of course, always the documentarian, proceeded to get pictures with these girls holding a leg up on each and grinning into the lens. And the girls are tickled pink... like he's snoop dogg and they were just on an episode of "Girls Gone Styled" (yeah, I made that up myself... proud, aren't ya?)
We of course, had the "I'm not gay, why does everyone think I am gay"/"Maybe it's the fashion talk." on the way to the N/R/W at 8th Street. Where we met Will, who was politely reading his book when we chose to derail his night by sitting down next to him. Soon Jonathan was pointing at Will's shoes, and then at his own, and talking about the merits of each kind, what they could be used for... His great shoe experience at David Z(ed)--he used the British version, just 'cause... This continued onto the train, where he expanded it to the girl with the Prada flip flops and the lady with the shiny belt, and the blonde guy with the double dragon arm tattoos who looked even gayer than Jonathan, but of course, was not (where are these guys when I am getting grinded on by every gay in a 10 block radius whenever a Daft Punk or Basement Jaxx song is played... dammit!)... Meanwhile, I at least managed to pick up an email address from Will, who was cute, and a math teacher... which means I can fantasize about the rest of our lives together... particularly since he has NO interest in me whatsoever.
It was a fantastic show (I actually had a, I didn't maniacally plan... or actually, really plan at all kind of set that just sort of rolled from material I have been doing lately), and a fantastic night to make up for the fact that I am fucking sick of the masses of fearful beings who govern this country, this planet, and their systems of destruction, denial... (ooooh, massively thought provoking ending to an otherwise banal entry.... how shallowly insightful... how socially damning).