Rumble in the Jungle at the Lesbo Disco

Tomorrow is New Years Eve, and last night was a beautiful evening.   I was supposed to go back to work for a few days in-between Christmas and NYE but the beauty of working for one’s self is that I didn’t feel like it so I haven’t.  I slept and sun baked by my pool on my new banana lounge, thanks grandma, and read nice books and ate and watched DVD’s and slept on my day bed that catches the nice afternoon see breeze.   An amazing afternoon and evening, went to my favorite gay bookstore in Darlinghurst and bought a new book, then walked through Paddington, past the football stadium and fox studios to watch a French film at Cinema Paris, “Heartbreaker” pretty good, then in the spirit of wonderful summer evenings pasted I didn’t want to go home, so I went looking for a club that was happening on a Wednesday night.  The Eastern in Bondi Junction had a line of over 2000 people waiting to get in, so no to that one, then back in the jeep, down Oxford Street, and the through the city, non taking my fancy, on my way home, then for a quick look at the Bank Hotel, it was pumping, so I parked the beep beep Jeep and went in.  It was obviously a gay night, but then I noticed it was very obviously a lesbian night.

The DJ was pumping, so I went up stair to what is called the velvet room, which I was about to find out was very appropriate.  I had a girl humping my leg like I was a horse and she was riding me within 30 seconds of arriving, quite strange, but harmless, but I felt saying “this baloney pony doesn’t want to ride your national velvet.”  Lesbian culture really is strange.  There were all the diesel dykes lining the walls with their hands in their pockets wearing boys cloths staring at the girls on the dance floor, or as I like to put it “eyein’ the pretties on the floor”  There were like a bunch of blokes in a club or bush dance.  I swear there was more testosterone in that club then in a bus full of year 9 boys doing a school boy ruby tour of New Zealand.

Some of the women wanted to be my friend and others looked as though they wanted to fight me.  It’s all a bit confusing, and I had no intention of ending up in a lesbo punch on, so I decided to ignore all the attention I was getting and just dance my little heart out the cracking tunes.  I was getting a lot of attention, and I wasn’t sure why, I guess my canvas flats could have been mistaken for Birkenstocks, maybe they mistook me for a really butch gal, or maybe a really pretty one? Who knows I can’t work out what’s hot and what’s not in lesbo land.  I have heard that you know you’re wearing something gay, if a lesbian wouldn’t wear it, and to my pleasant surprise I saw about three quarters of my wardrobe being worn by different women, so obviously I dress pretty butch.

I also saw Muslim girls there in their full head scarves, but with their face showing.  How strange, to keep that part of religion and culture while in a gay bar cursing and picking up girls, crazy.  Then 2 groups of hot boys came and boy could they dance, I guess they were cuties from Sydney Uni, but I have no idea all I know is they could dance like demons, and I’m usually the one with most of the moves, but I was finding myself standing on wall with the diesels watching this amazing show of krumping etc, and they were hot to boot, and funny, I love it when peoples humor comes through in their dance, which is why people like it when I’m dancing they just start laughing, with me…. mostly, not at me.  There was one white bread, an African American and one hot wog boy, and the level of coolness they brought with them was amazing, it was like they liquid nitrogened  the whole club, every one stopped dancing just to watch them boys go ape.  They had that whole gay boy/cool straight boy thing going on between them, so that in the end I couldn’t really tell either way, but it’s so much more interesting when guys deliberately blur the lines so that no one can tell, it makes them fascinating to watch.