At the previous request of poetrytoweasels, here is the story of how fishnets stockings recently returned to my life.
Sometime last month, my friend Todd was spearheading a multi-group weekend-long series of fund-raisers for the queer community impacted by Katrina. He did a balls-out effort to involve every gay, lesbian, leather, bear, otter, wolf, slug club in town, and as many bars as possible.
One such event was the treacherous “Dong Show”… yes, a spoof of the Gong Show utilizing a garbage can lid and a Gigantor-Daddy dildo.
As impressed as I was with his efforts, and as poor as I was with cash to contribute, I committed to make sure this event had enough craziness to enthrall the masses, especially when I discovered that karaoke technology would be available to use… BING!
I mean, really, I cannot do that whole lip-syncing thing, why bother? Mine is not the prettiest voice in town, but it has a great quirkiness (especially combined with the power of show-tunes). Throw in my over the top, what-the-fuck-it-won’t-kill-me-if-chemo-didn’t attitude and I threw my glove in the ring…
Now a little catch-up on my wicked karaoke past. Eight fricking die-hard years of belting out pretty much the same five songs, I don’t give a shit – I’m there. Oh, yeah… the first ever karaoke CD I purchased for my very own? The Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack – duh!
So, Gryph-N-Furter adds into the line-up.
Lucky enough, I have a drag-queen friend – which I adore – that just happens to be a big boy like me. Now, I am not looking to do the drag, hairy guy in a dress thing. I want the gender-fuck Frank-N-Furter rules shit-da-bomb!
Lucky enough, Charles (the afore-mentioned drag-friend) happens to wear 13 EEE shoes – same as me.
Lucky enough, Charles has in his possession the most kick-ass black patent leather sling-backs (I think thats it) with a killer three inch platform and six inch chunky lesbo-esque heel.
Now, throw in the black and purple mohawk I picked up at KC Costumes for 10 bucks, my black leather uniform shirt, a freak black bustier, naughty leather shorts and of course – fishnet stockings…
Lucky enough, Charles knows just where to find big-gurl-sluts-R-us stockings for cheap cheap cheap.
For those who might not know, I am 6’5″ and 265 pounds and have a mean amount of my own hairy man -cleavage in that weird little bustier. Add six inch heels and a ten inch mohawk…
The poor little leather boys… they didn’t know what to do. My friends loved it. And I got real purdy when a trash-drag tragedy took the stage. The leather guys had it easy with her cause she was so tragic, but I scare them. So went to great lengths to repeat that over and over to me.
Before the event was done, I had figured it out. The gender-fuck unnerved them because I was still manly enough to turn them on, but with the fishnets, heels and make-up (oh, yeah, and my own cleavage.) their pretty little lines and boundaries got all screwy.
That thought gets me fuckin’ hot.
Lucky enough, Charles still has the ball-busting kick-assing bomb-of-all-bombs shoes!
(This is why I ended up as…um, I dunno, Bubble.)
gryphon's hole 