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July 17, 2006

Jennifer and the Giant Purse

I can handle this kind of heat just fine - as long as the humidity is low. It is supposed to hit 100 today in DC, but as long as my sweat actually works for me and that haze isn't blocking my view of the sky, I can do heat waves. Yesterday I even went for a nice bike ride up the C&O Canal Towpath trail with OMG DJ Timothy Mykael, showing him Little Falls and a secret and strange platform right near where the Potomac becomes very narrow. Does anyone know what that secret platform is for? I suppose if it's secret you won't know...

Saturday OMG DJ TM™ was spinning at Cobalt, and I stopped by to say hi and possibly shake it for a bit. I didn't have the energy reserves to fight the crowd at the Nation closing party. Did anyone go? How was it? Anyway, there were few woofers at Cobalt with like 1 or 2 exceptions. A few friends arrived and we danced for a bit, but because we are so old now (in gay years) we grew tired, our backs ached and we went home.

There were a large number of Jennifers at Cobalt, with requisite mega-purses, buffeting anyone in a 10' radius with their bag. My question to you, Jennifer, is this: what the fuck is in your purse that is so goddamn important, and why do you need to bring it to the club? Can't you leave it at your gay friend Chad's condo? All you need is an i.d. card, ATM card, some cash and your keys - that's it. I deal with Jennifers with giant purses by pretending to try to pick their purse pockets. I have no intention of stealing anything, but once Jennifer becomes aware that someone is fucking with her shit, she suddenly becomes acutely aware that she has a giant purse.

Some clarification and definitions:

  • Jennifer: frequent screechy, young, annoying female patron at any given gay club. Rarely welcome;
  • Mike: Jennifer's real straight boyfriend, who we rarely see because she's really in love with...;
  • Chad: Jennifer's gay friend who takes her out to gay bars all the time. Chad has a fauxhawk and pops his polo collar;
  • Molly: Jennifer's slightly overweight and quiet sidekick, a friend since undergrad at GW. Molly works at an environmental nonprofit;
  • Tricia: Tricia and Jennifer used to hang out, but when Chad broke up with Robert, Tricia split and started hanging out with Robert but not Chad and Jennifer. Jennifer hates Tricia, especially when she sees her out at the club, because she's the only fag hag in the house!

    I am very much looking forward to a Blowoff-lite this Saturday at the 9:30 Club Back Bar. There are usually no Jennifers there.

    Posted by jimbo at July 17, 2006 10:47 AM

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    Comments

    You forgot Stanley, Chad's nerdy bestfriend who all his other friends hate, but who Chad likes because he makes Chad look hotter.

    Posted by: homer at July 17, 2006 12:47 PM

    We're not supposed to call them "fag hags" any more, y'know. They prefer to be known as "gal pals" nowadays. Assimilation political correctness and all that good stuff.

    And I think you reversed Mike and Chad.

    Posted by: palochi at July 17, 2006 1:06 PM

    Molly will eventually tell Jennifer that she hates being a sidekick and she'll shed a few pounds and find a nice, wholesome boy who will lead her away from her touchy-feely nonprofit and turn her into a real capitalist. It's Molly's time to shine.

    Posted by: kameron at July 17, 2006 1:52 PM

    I love your informative definitions. Up here in Upstate New York, we have several Beulahs in the club. They're quite overweight and have a mustache that rivals many a bears, but we love them for who they are.

    Posted by: J.P. at July 17, 2006 2:01 PM

    I've never once popped my collar, though for about 1.5 seconds I did wonder what my hair would look like with a faux hawk. I opted to keep the same high and tight I've had since I was two. ;)

    Posted by: RED at July 17, 2006 2:22 PM

    At the last Blowoff there was some long-haired dude with a really big purse who really got on my nerves on the dancefloor taking up way more than his alloted space and managing to bump me with it about every minute and a half. When it's a GUY, who, presumably, was born with and knows how to use pockets, there's really no excuse at all for carrying something like that around except as severe affectation (please don't tell me it's a new "look" among the younger set). I'm not usually the violent type in public, but I really did want to show him an example of my severe affectation... So watch out for this clown if you go Sat night, Jimbo.

    Posted by: Andy at July 17, 2006 3:18 PM

    I went to closing party for Velvet Nation. It was actually a really good time. I've never been a big fan of Velvet Nation on Saturday nights: usually bad music and guys clinging to each other instead of dancing. I need my dance space damnit!
    No expectations that night and it turned out to be a lot of fun. And the music wasn't too bad either. We'll miss you Nation. Goodbye. Hopefully this Saturday's Blowoff won't be too crowded. We already know the music will be superb. No worries there.

    Posted by: Shawn at July 17, 2006 4:07 PM

    Okay, Jennifer gets on my nerves. She is everywhere, but especially on Tuesdays and Thursdays at Cobalt, and the occasional Sunday at JR's. If she says she hangs with Chad because "she feels safe with him" one more time, I'm going to pour her gin and tonic straight into that hunking purse of hers.

    And the next time she drunkstumbles into me...

    Posted by: Swede And Czech at July 17, 2006 10:26 PM

    Maybe your Jennifers are having that "time of the month". Your niece, a week after her 13th (lucky?) birthday got visited with her initiation into womanhood, so now we have to keep supplies on hand when she is here. You may think this is nothing, but to the person concerned, this is a big deal.

    Posted by: First mom at July 18, 2006 3:35 AM

    Velvet Nation's closing was hot, sweaty, packed and fun- a fitting end. Complete with a tiny feeling that it had served its purpose and it was time for her to go.

    Posted by: Bob at July 18, 2006 10:56 AM

    Mom, I thought tampons were small. Why does she need a bag that can hold an entire rugby uniform? What are these 'supplies' she needs? Like a 100-count box of tampons or pads? Remember, you never gave me a sister, and I've never dated women so you'll have to explain.

    Posted by: jimbo at July 18, 2006 11:47 AM

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