Well our main fun this weekend was pretty planned, we took off barhopping around Friday and Saturday and basically had fun going to all the same shady places (cause’ you know it’s hot out).

We also saw this little flyer on myspace the other day and chose to check out what some retard decided to do with the unbankable, used-condom of a building that was Score years ago and then Mixx.

The place isn’t exactly hopeless, but lesbians seem to gravitate to this place and lately they’ve been on Energy and Gallery on the weekends, so we had low expectations for an opening night — but we didn’t expect this:

If you look closely, it’s the equivalent of an eviction notice but for commercial property. Somebody named Shobar, LLC isn’t paying their fucking bills! Oh, and they’re having difficulties getting a liquor license… so much for our Jaeger bombs. Look out, lesbians, your bar might be closed before you even show up!

Well anyway, besides the halfway decent set by the bratty DJ Jake Sunday night at Mirabar, who else saw the Grand Marshall herself Cat Shit knock over a parapelegic in his wheelchair on her way out of the bar??????

P.S.
Bitch wasn’t in a hurry.

So first we hit up Energy’s block party. It was, well, not so bad. They took over the whole street down to Fatty’s, and managed to fit in a stage, another bar and a pool. We stayed away from the pool, thinking only of some gross skank-soup of piss, vomit and broken glass (Happy Pride!). Then this fat guy who looked kind of like Lucas Prata meets Fat Joe, except WAY fatter, got up and sang some 80′s cover. Then, he threw his black tank into the crowd (were they supposed to jostle for the prize and then sniff it?) Count us out.

Next we hopped down to Trixx for a quick visit with the porn stars Big Scotty flew in for the weekend. Neither was amazing, but we’d never seem the place to busy, so we didn’t care. There were ever tons of chicks there.

Then we go back to Dark Lady, again. As expected, it was filled. We always comment on the crowd that shows up to these things — they’re all the once-a-year people we never see who come out of the shadows and bondage of shitty relationships to remember that they’re not actually old women. Thanks for, um, supporting things?

Speaking of supporting things, did anyone else notice no pride flag banners on the street lamps or anywhere else this year? Aren’t those things usually up all year anyway? Well the story goes that our gay mayor, Cicilline, is lining shit up to become governor of Rhode Island this year and is trying to de-gay himself a little to get the rest of the state on board. That, and we heard the banners got stolen from their storage space and nobody can find them. Typical RI either way.

So around 1:45a we slosh on over to MB for a last drink, but don’t make it in time for last call. We usually see our block parties run until 3am, but this year Mirabar had some deal with the Complex block to break down the block party on Richmond St. immediately to help with crowd control, yawn…

The rest is boring, Dark Lady shut off music at 2:15a, we ended up at the Hilton for some party where everyone was too loud, so we bagged some liquor and left! We’re classy.

Well we finally woke up refreshed today after the 3-day mindfuck that was Providence Pride. We did most everything and had a great time, like everyone else (I think), now here’s our fun re-hash.

Friday we started drinking on Federal Hill and walked our asses downtown to Satin Doll, where we’d never been before. Not everyone knows where this is, it’s that weird strip club across from Cuban Revolution where the chicks don’t take off their bottoms (what kind of strip club is this?). We kind of felt like we were in that movie Striptease, except everyone was hispanic, and there were no snakes or black people.

From there we could hear the Dark Lady block party, which apparently they were only having because they had everything setup already for the following night. The rest of the night we don’t remember, maybe there was afterhours? Oh yeah, we went to IHOP at 8am.

Saturday was way different. We slept all day and went to the parade. It was, well, interesting. We noticed first-off that the parade was divided up into two parts; the purposeful gays in banners and cars, followed by the frivolous, partying gays dancing naked on floats. You can guess which end we waved to more. We also saw the old car gays (because cars can be gay too?), and the Youth Pride gays, who are all still too young to figure out what to wear and de-fug themselves. We scoped through the crowd kind of as a “meat preview”, but saw nothing. The future IS NOT PRETTY.

UPDATE: We didn’t find this out until WAY after the parade; apparently one of the stupid dykes on bikes cruising through the parade popped a wheelie, in some estrogen-fueled rage no doubt, and took out 5 or more unsuspecting gays! How did we miss this?! We don’t love violence or anything, but parade violence involving dykes on bikes = gold! Rage on, carpets.

So that Sunday night we go to Harris’s Military Ball at Therapy… like everyone else.

This was the first time we’ve seen this party at Therapy, it was great and fun and great, right?

I mean, we’ve never seen a drag show at Therapy before (and never really wanted to), but we will give it to the girls performing for changing their outfits specially for the show while our own Miss Gay RI couldn’t handle one outfit change in two days (ewww…).

Dena and the Volume boys were great, the place was busy. People got it on in the sex room downstairs???? We hear there are pics of this, unfortunately the camera had a flash.

As it happened, most of you pussies left early and Dena stopped spinning at 5:19am. Oh well, at least it was light out and a Monday morning so on the way out we didn’t have to deal with almost running people over who were trying to get to church next door. No wonder they call us crack heads.