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Fashion

Labor Day the Tenderoni Way Part 2

Posted by itiwtt on September 10, 2007

The Glamorous Life

Ladies, Ladies, Ladies. Where do I start. Let me first say that I have the two bestest, best friends in the entire world. We made the Ghost Bar not only what is was, but what it aspires to be. Thanks for making my BDAY/Labor Day fab. Movin’ along.

Hopefully our readers have read the previous blog. If not, click. See, I made it easy for you jerks who have a life and don’t read this rambling non-sense everyday (but you should because you know you don’t have sh** to do at work but surf the net anyway). Now that you’re caught up, let’s move on for real.

As previously mentioned by CK (shim from the previous blog), we were looking fabulous upon arrival. So you know we put on the glam for the Ghost Bar. Don’t ask me how much the cover is, what time you have to be in line, or how long the lines usually are. Why you say? Because we were VIP BABY–even in the ladies room. If there was a meeting in the ladies room that night, I don’t know nothing about it. We went in the restroom, pass the line, in the stall, and out with no dissension from the attendants. Matter of fact, they were the ones who made all the VIP Bathroom Magic happen. Sidenote: Makes me giggle a little when I think that my bladder had status.

To extend the use of our newfound status, we took full advantage of the reserved seats and tried to soak up the atmosphere. After about 5 minutes of soaking, we actually became THE atmosphere. We went from sitting alone to being maraudered by tons of adoring fans, and somehow the DJ must have secretly known that there was a quirky, black girl (me) in the club who had a passion for 80’s pop (Michael, Prince, Madonna, Billy Ocean…ha!). With this information, he took it in mind to play “Lucky Star” by Madonna. Didn’t take long for me to become the black Madonna with a whole crew of drunk, white girls as my back-up dancers.  SIDENOTE: If you’re new to the celebrity game (like us), you should know that VIP=people want to be around you, hang out with you, buy you drinks, and tell you how pretty you look just so they can say that they know you (whoever YOU is) while taking advantage of your celebrity status. We quickly caught on to the VIP madness (free drinks, reserved seats, adoring fans), and headed outside.

Outside is where all the magic happened. Now before I let the magic unfold, I want you to know that we (Tenderonies) realize that you may have caught on to our slight infatuation with drag queens and midgets. Why the infatuation? Because drag queens and midgets NEVER LET US DOWN!!!

With that being said, I want you to close your eyes and imagine the chocolatiest (Wesley Snipes-ish), skinniest (Chris Rock circa 1992), most fabulous drag queen with long, flowing lashes, wearing a bottle-cap wife beater (yes, bottle caps), and boot-cut, leather pants trimmed in fringe. Too much to handle? Well it was for me too. Miss Tony (see picture) sat outside, drink in hand, poised, and waiting to take your man. Think he she won’t try? SH**********T!!! After our encounter with Miss Tony, we stumbled upon my favorite kind of gay: young and fresh out of the closet gay. This was Marcus who was overflowing with zestiness. He took it upon himself to stop Jaye in her tracks and exclaim (loudly and for all the Ghost Bar patrons to hear) how FIIIEEEERCE she was. I bet he’s at home right now practicing Jaye’s sache’. You better work it, girl!

The pivotal (and final) Ghost Bar event almost caused us to completely lose our composure. As I stood at the bar, pissed because being VIP was becoming an utter bore, I saw a bit of familiar fineness out the corner of my eye. “Who is that!” Sqint, squint…thinking, thinking…BUG EYES, BUG EYES. Lo and behold, #88 of the Dallas Cowboys, The Playmaker, Michael Irvin. Slight interuption: If after the lengthy introduction you still have no idea who I’m talking about, please refrain from reading this blog. In Dallas Michael Irvin=Diddy (not really, but kinda…well at least in the 90’s). So we’re all trying to keep it cool. Then we decide to use our VIP status to get to Mike. I thought waiting to talk to Mike was going to be hell, because some skanky, gold-digging, white girl fan walks up to Mike’s area and asks Miss Trina, “What’s his last name?” If the holy spirit wasn’t in us (drinks included), I think we would’ve cussed her ass out.

So that basically wraps up our Labor Day. Oh yeah! We did indulge in an “after-party” invite to Mr. B’s room (VIP manager) which consisted of champagne, a millionaire who knew my Uncle Cecil, me trying on the waitress outfit (don’t remember that, but there are pictures), and Mr. B’s daddy who strolled in wearing cowboys boots, a Hawaiin shirt, and glitter from the strippers. The end.

~Ty

“Larry Flynt! Hugh Hefner! They can take the picture, but you can’t make it! Only God above, the Hugh Hefner on high, can make it for ya!” ~ Rev. Brown 

Ty,

The people really did think we were somebody!  They thought Jaye was a top model, we just got back from a show in Milan, Ty was her stylist, and I was her publicist/assistant.  Hey, it worked because we didn’t pay for a thing all night.  Even Miss Tony couldn’t see thru our charade.  And speaking of the drunk girl and #88, I did reply to her that his last name was Johnson.  I was praying she would say “Hey Michael Johnson” LOL.  My highlight was Mike holding a conversation with me while holding my hand for approx 2 minutes straight.  I was screaming on the inside, yet keeping the Fabulous on the outside.  The moral of the story is if you’re rich, even if people just THINK you’re rich you’ll be everyone’s cup of tea! 

~MissTrina

I will refrain from letting everyone know that shaving my head was the best thing EVER. Now as far as the bathroom attendent, she told me later on in the evening that I was nice to her and Mr. B mentioned it to me as well. The drag queen Tony was the best. I do wish that we would have seen a midget, and that my friends would have topped the night. But oh well, hell. We indeed had enough to discuss. I know that I am fabulous, and I ain’t got no damn money, but I look like I do…and thats all that matters to the people in the “BIG D”.

OH YEAH to the matters of more fabulousness, I told one of the bouncers that I needed to go to my room and get some cash for tips. He reaches into his pocket and hands me two “crispy twenties” and replies Mr. B will take care of that for you. WHAT! Now if that does’nt give you the wow factor, then I don’t know what will. DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS and more DRINKS!!! I can’t even tell you how many we had, although I can say is that Sun morning Ty (because it was my bday damnit!!!…ty!) was passed out in the rented Volvo. 

~Jaye

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