I feel like to some degree every year is the best of times and the worst of times. Life is a wild ride, a dizzy dragon overload, a monumental hill covered in ice and we decided to wear the fuck me pumps today. We wake up tomorrow covered in confetti and empty champagne bottles unchanged but all believing that we are going to use those gym memberships this year and see the world a little clearer.
When you realize that love is more fruitful than money and there is more to life than just stuff and things you will be a lot happier. I am an imperfect work in progress, human in all the ways I know how.
This is the first year in memory that I knew who I was going to kiss hours before midnight. It was beautiful despite the fact that I literally purged 2017 into my toilet. The gamble you take when eating magic mushrooms. I spent the majority of my party listening to the beautiful revelry shitting myself and puking in the upstairs bathroom, but don’t feel sorry for me just yet!
A few days before- on my 31st birthday I dyed my hair rainbow, I was about to go to my favorite restaurant Amy’s Place with my parents and my partner to get a vegan feast! BBQ seitan is life.
I received eco friendly glitter and a giant rainbow strap-on as gifts that morning from the most beautiful girl in the world, cuddled with my kitties and loves in the bed hole all day listening to tunes and smoking bongs. I had a show that night and the day off. Life was absolutely perfect on that cold blustery December day in Buffalo.
Then it drastically changed. I found out my best friend’s house burned down and she had an hour to grab what they could before the roof collapsed. A warm home full of love gone with a furious roar. She came home to the fireman throwing her Christmas tree out the window. There is a gofundme set up for them to help navigate this loss.
Some things are more important than birthdays and bullshit. This is my third friend that has experienced total loss due to a house fire in a year. Thankfully nobody was hurt, their beautiful kitty was saved and the turtle survived.
Marla is a beast. Only stuff was lost. Zaz says that her bf keeps telling her that She is His Home and it fills her up. They were at my party on New Year’s Eve with another couple that had had a recent fire. Everyone was playing music, tears and smiles flowed so strong. We can overcome flames (I mean hopefully right, since Trump is about to put us into a nuclear holocaust).
There is nothing that can defeat us. I get so upset sometimes over the most trivial bullshit. I can’t let it drag me down. I know so many people who have been dealt cards unimaginable to me and they keep their head up high despite the challenges. Life is short and fragile, we need to love harder and be there for each other.
This new year new me wave feels super good, right? Yes, I do want to start doing yoga and painting everyday, writing more poetry and making my shows next level, spreading Food Not Bombs love and vegan treats for all. I also want to get lost with my lover in the woods and spend the whole day in bed with the cats.
I want to drive to St Louis then Denver and Austin and New Orleans for Mardi Gras and Nashville along the way home. I want to go where the wind takes me and love stronger than ever before.
I know that it’s all about lifting up and inspiring others. It’s about the journey, the adventure, the cuddles, the compliments, genuine time spent and tears shed. It is about being human and humane.
I lost my childhood best friend to bigotry and my sanity to politics. If it wasn’t burned up or flushed down this year, it’s worth saving.
Oh Yea, and The Buffalo Bills are in the playoffs. I think my friend the streaker was a good luck charm. The drought is over. 2018, this is our year!
New Year’s Eve is coming and with it, parties, booze, and tragedies caused by idiots who cannot accept that they are too drunk to drive and jerks who willfully ignore the rules of consent. For those of you planning to party on New Year’s Eve, I’ve provided a short but concise list of legal tips to help start the year off without anybody getting hurt.
If you are drunk, do not drive.
This should go without saying as it’s not only the law, it’s common sense. If you’re caught for drunk driving and are lucky you’ll just get a fine and the suspension of your driver’s license. If unlucky, drunk driving charges can result in a jail term ranging from four months to life in prison.
When in doubt, don’t do it.
The legal definition of drunk has nothing to do with how you feel. It is an arbitrary standard: if you have more than eighty milligrams of alcohol in your system for every hundred milliliters of blood, you are considered above the legal limit.
You may feel perfectly fine and sober but that does not matter if a breathalyzer indicates that you are above this limit. The golden rule to follow on New Year’s Eve or any other time is: when in doubt, don’t drive. Sleep over, get a lift, or call a cab or Operation Nez Rouge to get home safe.
You’ll save lives, including your own.
Drunken consent is not legally consent.
Rapes happen all the time, and in environments where booze is free flowing, there is always that scum bag who says the victim agreed to sex even though said victim was very drunk at the time of the attack. If a person is drunk they are in no shape to consent to sexual activity. They are incapable of consenting to sexual activity because their ability to freely give consent was affected by the alcohol. If a person is in no shape to drive, they are in no condition to agree to sex with you, so do the noble, legal thing and don’t have sex with them.
If a person is unconscious, they cannot consent.
The inevitable result of too much drinking and partying is often a loss of consciousness. If a person is passed out, this is not an invitation to touch, grope, or spoon with them. If a person is too drunk to say “no” to whatever it is you want to do with them, they are also too drunk to say “yes”.
Their passivity does not equal consent. The legal definition of sexual assault is sexual touching without consent, so if a person is unconscious, keep your hands to yourself.
When in doubt, check in.
A lot of people find the idea of double-checking for consent an unsexy mood-killer. You know what’s really unsexy? Sexual assault and the ten or more years in prison you get if convicted.
When in doubt, check with the person you’re with to make sure they’re consenting freely to all of what you are doing together. Check often if you have to. It’s better than violating your partner and will keep you out of trouble.
Remember that fireworks are dangerous and cities usually have rules about where you can set them off.
New Year’s Eve can be a blast and to celebrate you may want to set off some fireworks. Do your homework first.
Fireworks are extremely dangerous and every New Year’s Day the news is filled with horror stories of people who blew their fingers off and burned their houses down. Remember that at the end of the day, fireworks are basically just explosives and are just as dangerous.
Read the instructions on the package, do not use them when drunk and be sure use them far from buildings and facing away from people. You should also call the city or check out your municipal website to make sure there are no bylaws in place forbidding the use of fireworks within city limits.
In Montreal it is forbidden to use fireworks, bottle rockets, or other pyrotechnics without authorization from the city. Failure to obey the laws could result in hefty fines and if there is property damage or people get hurt, you could also be looking at jail time.
The perk of adulthood is that we can welcome the New Year the way it was meant to be welcome: with a glass of something boozy and a kiss at midnight. Unfortunately it’s also one of the most dangerous nights to be out celebrating.
Let’s start this year off right by making sure our world is a little safer.
Lemmy Kilmister’s Death Was Announced on my Birthday.
I always loved the way Lemmy just did not give a fuck. He lived his life on his own terms, was fully responsible for his actions, and was finally killed by death. He was a deviant dirtbag other worldly swamp creature who knew how to growl, masterfully.
Why should he care what anyone thought of him? Why should I?! He lived to be 70 years old, that’s like 200 in rockstar years. Most people who live and party at his level don’t make it past 26. He was a dirty dog that partied the hardest, pickled liver, coal tar lungs, full of all the wrong substances, except for rock and roll. He has fucked over 1000 women.
Diabetes, cigarettes, alcohol and speed. The cancerous tumors in his brain and neck were the nail in the coffin. He died two days after being diagnosed, four days after his 70th birthday. His friends joked that he would outlive us all, only the good die young, and so on.
He was all about that bass, an explosive personality, a beast of a man, a next level human, I wish I could have partied with him. Run my fingers through his black wiry mutton chops, mustache and mountainous power moles.
Motörhead music is a war cry. Lemmy sang like he had rocks in his throat. It is about fucking women and getting wasted, fast, loud, a grimy version of punk and metal, it is powerful shit.
I heard the news of his death while I was at my drag/karaoke/taco birthday party. My wine drunk mother just got done lecturing me on how I am not leading a good “christian” lifestyle and handed me a bag of pink daisy razorblades and deodorant. I shoved a taco down my gullet, strapped on my mustache and mullet, painted on a 6’oclock shadow, and partied on. I drank so much whiskey and sang so hard that night. A friend of mine did a great rendition of Ace of Spades.
Lemmy was not a typically “beautiful” man, but neither am I. Just like a John Waters character, Lemmy personified trashy lush wonderfulness. He was a perfect kind of filth, often on the “ugliest celebrities” tabloid lists.
People like him make me feel better about my flaws because we are ALL flawed. He looked great in cut off jean shorts, a ragged band shirt, bolo tie, shades, bullett belt, and crossbones cowboy hat, though. Nobody can deny that.
I had to pay tribute to him in my most recent burlesque show. The best part is that I already owned the whole costume. I jumped on the bar and tore layers of grimy costume off of me to The Ace of Spades.
The denim shorts were riding up my vagina. The long black wig itched, the pubey looking fake chest hair was falling off in clumps, my chops and stache were smudged, my rhinestone moles were still on, I smelled like yesterday, my hangover was strong. It was the right way to do it. Chugging beers and shooting Jack Daniels all night with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth.
I regret nothing. Except the fact that I glued the moles on the wrong side of my face, and I was called out on it INSTANTLY. I was impressed. Well, my name is Hemmy, Lemmy’s lesbian cousin.
It was an incredible show, all of my friends did crazy performances in my honor. We were celebrating my birth and the life of a legend in the same night. To celebrate birth and death simultaneously is interesting.
I think about life and death often because it is something we all have to do, it is certain. Who would come to my funeral I wonder? Do I make as much of an impact as I think? Will people think that I was an asshole or remember me fondly?
I want to drink that bottle of whiskey and eat the greasy steak sandwich, stay up all night dancing and screaming, loving, living, not regretting a moment. We may live till 70, or 100 even, but we might also die today of a brain tumor or a gun shot or a car accident or even drown in our own fucking cereal bowl. You never know. We are all lucky to have gotten this far. Each year on my birthday I really step back and think about how far I have come and what I need to do to keep evolving.
I often abuse my body with alcohol and drugs, bacon over veggies, party time excellent over eight hours of sleep. I’ve never enjoyed the gym. I once went to a gym where the women’s fitness room was facing a McDonalds. Running toward the high calorie shitty food that will eventually be my slow cholesterol filled demise. Lovely.
I know so many people, myself included, that pay for gym memberships and don’t even use them. Jump on the yearly fad of this year, I will be different. Wishful thinking that they will become healthier versions of themselves. Less fat, soft, and shitty.
My mom’s ass hangs out of her jeans, rolling over the top like a perfect little muffin. I’ve worked in a plus size store where women had unrealistic visions of what they looked like in their clothes. I have always felt fantastic and proud in my body, the only time I felt moments of self consciousness were when someone else mocked me or told me how I looked was abject or wrong. Fuck those people, they are jealous of the way I look, I am just myself, just like Lemmy was unapolagetically himself.
YOLO. Another year has passed. “Maybe this will be MY year,” magically all the shit that went awry the year before will be wiped away. I am now 29 years old, 2016 is my last year before turning 30, it’s like a power hour, and I have still never had a New Year’s midnight kiss. Not that passionate one that people write about, daydream about, make movie moments about.
So I wonder if the new me I want to be is just more assertive version of what I am now. Less pathetic longing and more doing, grab the face I want and kiss it, embrace the lips I yearn for, or move on and find a new driving force of lust. This year I want to take charge of what I want. My happiness is up to me. My art and success are up to me. I have no control of others, I should not become consumed by selfish notions of true love and that be all end all kind of life affirming passion.
I need to open my eyes and have new years REVELATIONS not resolutions: I need to be more dramatic, make it count, be more like Lemmy. I am going to find myself by traveling and making art because I must. I am going to own my desire. This is a year of sexual awakening.
I am sick and tired of unrequited love and being held down by gender normatives and societal standards. I want to open up my lifestyle and try things outside of my comfort zone.
My life is nowhere near perfect, it is a constant work in progress. I want to take advice from those who are already doing it, and those who have already left their mark on this world and have left us. The art you make will never die, even when your body rots.
“Death is an inevitability, isn’t it? You become more aware of that when you get to my age. I don’t worry about it. I’m ready for it. When I go, I want to go doing what I do best. If I died tomorrow, I couldn’t complain. It’s been good.”
– Ian ‘Lemmy’ Kilmister (1945-2015)
I remember the first time I ever saw Hairspray- it literally changed my life. I was young and had already seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show and the Toxic Avenger, so I was familiar with Transvestites and Drag Queens, Mutants and Creatures of the Night, but this was a whole new level.
I was always a big girl, and the way Tracy Turnblad just killed it in that roach dress and got the hottie was just inspiring. The higher the hair the closer to god! Perfection.
At that point Ricki Lake was a talk show host, it was awesome to see her in that role John Waters has a way of capturing the completely insane in such a viceral and glamorously realistic creepy way. I love it.
My art and fashion has been transformed because of these films. Pink Flamingos, Desperate Living, Female Trouble, Multiple Maniacs, Cry Baby, Pecker, A Dirty Shame and MORE! are showcasing the fucked up ghetto strangeness of Baltimore. It’s beautiful and in Technicolor.
I visited Baltimore once in my life, it wasn’t all that different from Buffalo. As soon as I arrived I got out of the car and the first man I spoke to was (in his southern gay hospitality voice) like “Darlin’ don’t be offended by this but you remind me of a John Waters character.”
I almost cried, hugged him immediately. I AM! I thought to myself. I feel like I just need to camp out at Atomic Books and wait for him to pick up his mail. I relate to his movies so much because they are SO offensively real.
Cat as Divine
I am far from perfect, I am downright gross sometimes, I have shit my pants, I have dry shitty skin, I get like a weird smegma under my flappy fupa, my stretch marks have stretchmarks, I have blead through a tampon, I have pissed on church steps, I have been covered in pudding, I have had people eat sushi off of me, I have pulled American flags out of my cock, I have fucked a wide array of human creatures in some very strange and unusual ways, I have seen drag queens pull shit tipped beer bottles out of their ass in NYC, and recently saw a girl fuck a cake at an BDSM Burlesque night in New Orleans.
My life, friends, crazy family, and all the other happenstance interactions I have with people feel like they are right out of a John Waters movie. My life is like a crazy queer acid trip, and I love to see Edith Massey and Divine on screen being the fucked up things I see in my mind. I would love to get inside the mind of John Waters.
On a whim I booked a trip to New Orleans to see the John Waters Christmas Special with a meet and greet. THIS WAS MY CHANCE! I was finally going to meet the man who inspires my insanity. I even brought him a painting. My best Kitty Porn.
I put on my worst Christmas drag, the original mullet wig (now dreading) and mustache (so stiff that when it was on the floor my friend thought it was a cat shit) of Cock Sinclair, a beautiful patch of chest hair, two ugly sweater vests, assess zubaz and a shit stained santa hat.
I was ready. I was in NOLA for the first time with a great friend, we arrived at the venue, and instantly my dream was crushed, the music in my little heart melted, I fucked up. By the time I had ordered the tickets I guess the meet and greet had already been sold out, but it didn’t tell me that, just let me choose the meet and greet option and then charged me for a general admission. I felt like a Make A Wish kid who got the wish taken back.
I literally wept on a street corner in New Orleans in drag smoking weed. I wished that John would have driven by in his Buick and had mercy on my wretched soul. I’ve only cried in drag twice before. Once was when Barack Obama was elected president, I walked up after doing a very politically charged show and watched the announcement in real time. It was incredible. The other time I was being a little butch bro bitch.
But anyways. The Christmas show was incredible, I loved being in the same room as him an listening to him go on about Christmas and other fucked up shit. My dad literally texted me during the show and asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I respond with CHA CHA HEELS. By far the best Christmas scene in history.
I had a magical adventure in New Orleans, at the end of the day it didn’t matter that I did not meet John then. I explored a new place and got the filth on my own hands, I lived it. I probably would have been disappointed when meeting him, like nobody can live up to that kind of pedestal.
Ok, I’m lying to myself to make me feel better. I just have to go back to Baltimore to meet him someday drunk randomly in a gay strip club. Until then I will get my fix from the Montreal troupe Glam Gam‘s homage to the Pope of Trash.
Their event reads: “Just when you thought Glam Gam couldn’t get any stinkier, they have saved their most rotten performances for the last hour of 2015. Put on your best polyester frock, douse your do with copious amounts of hairspray and join us as we pay homage to the beloved Pope of Trash, John Waters! We will eat shitty food, drink shitty champagne and basically put on the most Divine shit show you’ve seen all year!”
I was lucky enough to be able to interview a couple of the sexy hosts of this monstrosity, Julie Paquet and Michael J. McCarthy. They gave me a little insight to what inspired the show and are even offering FREE TICKETS to this event On December 31st 2015 at the historic Cafe Cleopatra (which I had the extreme pleasure of performing drag and burlesque at once with the fantastically subversive Candyass Caberet superstars). All you need to do is write your favourite John Waters movie in the comments and share this post.
You cheap dirtbags better get in on that before its too late. This show will sell out and can’t be missed. Unspeakable acts of violence and pure mind fuck awesomeness will ensue. And there is booze.It’s an incredible venue, the most magical hopeful glittery sequins drunk sex with strangers night of the year, and all of your favorite Dreamland cast alive and in your face with a variety of “talents.”
I have an art boner for this show. It is the only place I want to be at midnight. But who will I kiss? I hope they are truly filthy. Maybe it will be you. Enjoy this interview, trying answering the questions yourself if you are a fan. See you at Cleo next week! I’ll be the one in disgusting drag…. *laughs maniacally* My body is ready.
1) What was the first John Waters movie you ever saw? How did it make you feel? Life changing?
Julie: I saw Hairspray when I was about seven years old, I loved dressing up and dancing along with the characters. Later, when I was a teenager I saw Pink Flamingos and was severely traumatized…in the best way.
Michael: For me it was Desperate Living. After seeing Grizelda suffocate Bosely Gravel with her ass and later get crushed in a rickety old shack in Mortville, my life was never the same. I was hooked.
2) Who is your favorite Dreamland actor? Which is your favorite of their characters?
That’s a tough question. While every dreamland actor is iconic we both agree that Mink Stole takes the cake for outrageous delivery, style and comedic timing. You gotta love Edith Massey’s snaggle-toothed eccentricity; while she’s a terrible actress, her awful delivery is incredibly endearing and hilarious. And obviously when you think John Waters, you think Divine, without her contribution and killer aesthetic, Water’s films would not be the cult classics they are today.
3) How would you compare John Waters to someone like Andy Warhol or Lady Gaga?
First of all, we think John Waters is in a category of his own; there’s no one quite like him. While both Warhol and Waters parodied American culture, Warhol focused on Manhattan city glamour where Waters preferred Baltimore suburban grit. John Waters defined the aesthetic of trash in a way that was never seen before. As for Lady Gaga, sure she had a few catchy hits but there’s really no comparison. She has done nothing original; crtl c, ctrl v.
4) Who do you think is the current filthiest person alive? (mine is Donald Trump)
That’s a tough question especially since the Pope of Trash himself is still alive. However, people have left our shows shocked and horrified, demanded refunds and then sent us their dry cleaning bills.
5) John Waters revolutionized queer radical film – what inspires you most about his work?
He glorified poor, fat weirdos like us. He paved the way for queers, queens and social rejects. Waters films were revolutionary satirical masterpieces. His work was not only hilarious, it made social commentary on subjects that were taboo and untouched.
6) Tell me about the show. Is it just a tribute or more of your own interpretation?
A bit of both. There are classic John Water’s skits that are untouchable which we will pay homage to, but in classic Glam Gam style we will definitely put our own silly spin on things as well.
7) I’m excited that it’s Odorama, what kind of fucked scents should we expect?
Well we are creating our very own odorama cards with delicious fragrances such as shit, fish and grandma to represent each character. Unfortunately though, unlike Water’s original version, our cards are not edible so please save your appetites for our complementary trashy buffet.
8) Did you hate the newer John Travolta Hairspray as much as I did?
Yes. Hairspray was already one of Water’s most mainstream movies, it did not need to be made more mainstream. That’s like making a dance remix of an Aqua song…unnecessary. The original cast featured powerhouses like Debbie Harry, Ricki Lake, Mink Stole and Divine and the remake features John Travolta in a fat suit…please. There are plenty of fat queens out there who could have paid proper tribute to Divine; she would be rolling in her grave.
9) John Waters will not make a film for under a million dollars and talks about wanting to sell out – when he used to make classics for no money. How does that make you feel?
He’s done his time; artists deserve to get paid for their work. We keep on producing shows because we love what we do. We put our heart, soul, sweat and tears into each production yet we can barely afford to take the bus. After all Waters has accomplished and at his age, why get out of bed for less than a mill?.
10) What is your favorite John waters quote?
“The world of heterosexuals is a sick and boring life.”
Glam Gam Presents ✖✖✖ ODORAMA: A Baltimore Ball Drop ✖✖✖ starts New Year’s Eve at 9pm (doors 8pm) at Café Cléopatra, 1230 boul St-Laurent. Tickets are $15 in advance, $20 at the door.
Win a pair of tickets by telling us your favourite John Waters film in the comments and sharing this post on Facebook or Twitter and tagging @forgetthebox and @glamgamproductions (FB) or @glam_gam (Twitter). We’ll pick a winner and announce who it is next Tuesday!
Motörhead music is a war cry. Lemmy sang like he had rocks in his throat. It is about fucking women and getting wasted, fast, loud, a grimy version of punk and metal, it is powerful shit.
I know so many people, myself included, that pay for gym memberships and don’t even use them. Jump on the yearly fad of this year, I will be different. Wishful thinking that they will become healthier versions of themselves. Less fat, soft, and shitty.
2) Who is your favorite Dreamland actor? Which is your favorite of their characters?
6) Tell me about the show. Is it just a tribute or more of your own interpretation? 
