OK when it comes down to it, we are all guilty of whingeing. Some more than others. I have a friend who whinges so much we’ve nicknamed him Misery Guts. And let’s face it, he whinges about everything. But I guess you have to whinge if you are right about everything and everyone else is wrong! One thing right on top of his whinge list is where to go out. Oh I am sick of going to the same places, and, I only go to the same clubs because there is nothing else.
Well shut your holes, ya moles, is all I have to say to you!

To our rescue comes Fag Tag. Now I’m sure you all have heard about Fag Tag and if not you’re about to. Fag Tag is a night once a month where gays, lesbians and their friends stampede a normally straight club and turn their heels up in an environment outside of their box, so to speak. The first time I heard of Fag Tag I was very excited, not only for my self but also for the thousands of guys on Gaydar who claim to be straight-acting.

Last Saturday night saw Fag Tag overrun the newly refurbished Bourbon in Kings Cross. A little nervous to go by myself, I quickly talked the fabulous Fuchsia Star (who I thought should have been Belle Of The Ball this DIVAs with her bottomless backdoor gown) into it and she was easily convinced. With our prettiest party dresses, complete with front and back, we were off.

Now to be brutally honest, on entry we shat ourselves. But after a few drinks and me finding two regulation spinning poles the night was fabulous. A frontier we had never been to before, and let’s just say, if given the opportunity, will definitely go back. There were a few strange stares but as usual they weren’t from the straight boys, more from the girls in awe of our beauty, I guess.

If you want more information on Fag Tag go to www.fagtag.com.au. The next party will be at the Chinese Laundry on the 3 October, which is cool because the Chinese Laundry has so many possibilities for costuming! See you there.

EyeSpy

Is it Chinese whispers or is someone using my technique of adding colour and movement to a story? I heard that a tall showgirl who was escorted from Arq’s DIVA recovery party wasn’t peeing in the dressing room but actually on the dance floor. And it wasn’t in a bucket, it was a box – Candy Box to be exact. Oh how stories are changed. Either way, doesn’t it make life interesting?

Searching for the imitation fat girl. A couple of weeks ago I received an email from Ms Atlanta Georgia telling me there’s allegedly another fat girl out there. Well this town ain’t big enough for too many fat girls, so pack up your pastries and get out. But if you have some to share I’m sure we can come to some arrangement!

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