Saturday, March 06, 2004
hello weho
After catching a Grandaddy gig at the House of Blues last night with Abraham (who might finally understand my admiration for everything related to that band) we decided to see what else was going on in West Hollywood. I don’t think either of us had been out on a Friday night in WeHo for years.
First stop was Revolver, as it almost always was back when we hung out in WeHo regularly. This guy named Sham (yes, Sham) has started a new club there called Gossip. Sham is apparently Angelyne’s personal assistant, and she was reportedly there last week along with Andy Dick and the dancing midget from “Twin Peaks.” That’s my kind of VIP list. Last night’s overhyped guest star was James St. James of Party Monster fame.
We showed up around 11:15 and it was pretty dead. Held out until about 11:30, just long enough to see JstJ and Sham make their awkward entrance into a semi-empty room. It actually reminded me of Angelyne's art opening that I went to years ago, where she burst into the packed gallery, threw her arms up in the air and exclaimed, "I'm Here!!" Myself and about two other people who happened to be near the door were the only ones who noticed. I really liked that show, but I heard from several different people that none of the paintings were actually done by her. Does it even matter?
We ended up taking a little trip down memory lane and hitting some other bars along the boulevard. Have you seen the 'shower cube' they have at Micky's for go-go guys to dance in? Unreal. We were wondering what temperature the water was at, and what the guy inside did to keep his tips from getting soaked. Even better was this really hot, beefy dude dancing not in briefs or a g-string but instead wearing black long underwear, with the back of the waistband pulled down under his butt.
More on the ugly and unpleasant side was Mother Lode, where we were initially taken aback to see that the same guy is still tending the back bar, and still pouring out those cheap juicy shots of whatever after umpteen-many years. I wish I could remember the exact comment Abe made about what kind of crowd the Mother Lode attracts, because it was still so true. Different now are all these cheap, hand-painted dayglo cardboard signs hanging everywhere-- it looked like a high school dance for the short bus set. It was a weird enough environment to try and be comfortable in, and then this whole group of gay deaf people showed up and shortly afterwards things got really messy.
I was in the toilet waiting to use the loo when this girl burst in with a guy who promptly began projectile vomiting in the piss trough. That was bad, really bad, and several guys waiting to pee fled the scene with their hands over their mouths and faces.
As the drama unfolded in technicolor glory, two deaf guys on line in front of me starting wildly 'speaking' to each other in sign language. I don't know much about sign language, but one of them made it clear that they should get the fuck outta there immediately. The other one protested, indicating through sign language and that sort of verbal half-speak peculiar to deaf people that he "had to poo poo."
Clearly, that was my cue to leave. A memorable night, but I think my last in West Hollywood for another long while.
First stop was Revolver, as it almost always was back when we hung out in WeHo regularly. This guy named Sham (yes, Sham) has started a new club there called Gossip. Sham is apparently Angelyne’s personal assistant, and she was reportedly there last week along with Andy Dick and the dancing midget from “Twin Peaks.” That’s my kind of VIP list. Last night’s overhyped guest star was James St. James of Party Monster fame.
We showed up around 11:15 and it was pretty dead. Held out until about 11:30, just long enough to see JstJ and Sham make their awkward entrance into a semi-empty room. It actually reminded me of Angelyne's art opening that I went to years ago, where she burst into the packed gallery, threw her arms up in the air and exclaimed, "I'm Here!!" Myself and about two other people who happened to be near the door were the only ones who noticed. I really liked that show, but I heard from several different people that none of the paintings were actually done by her. Does it even matter?
We ended up taking a little trip down memory lane and hitting some other bars along the boulevard. Have you seen the 'shower cube' they have at Micky's for go-go guys to dance in? Unreal. We were wondering what temperature the water was at, and what the guy inside did to keep his tips from getting soaked. Even better was this really hot, beefy dude dancing not in briefs or a g-string but instead wearing black long underwear, with the back of the waistband pulled down under his butt.
More on the ugly and unpleasant side was Mother Lode, where we were initially taken aback to see that the same guy is still tending the back bar, and still pouring out those cheap juicy shots of whatever after umpteen-many years. I wish I could remember the exact comment Abe made about what kind of crowd the Mother Lode attracts, because it was still so true. Different now are all these cheap, hand-painted dayglo cardboard signs hanging everywhere-- it looked like a high school dance for the short bus set. It was a weird enough environment to try and be comfortable in, and then this whole group of gay deaf people showed up and shortly afterwards things got really messy.
I was in the toilet waiting to use the loo when this girl burst in with a guy who promptly began projectile vomiting in the piss trough. That was bad, really bad, and several guys waiting to pee fled the scene with their hands over their mouths and faces.
As the drama unfolded in technicolor glory, two deaf guys on line in front of me starting wildly 'speaking' to each other in sign language. I don't know much about sign language, but one of them made it clear that they should get the fuck outta there immediately. The other one protested, indicating through sign language and that sort of verbal half-speak peculiar to deaf people that he "had to poo poo."
Clearly, that was my cue to leave. A memorable night, but I think my last in West Hollywood for another long while.
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