MIJ FEST

Some Booties, a little Splish Splash and a pair of footless tights were the necessary ingredients for an evening out with Ms. Ofelia Cox (aka Mij)...and LP and I delivered. We joined Ms. Ofelia and her sparkly entourage at the cabaret show at Jacques where we found ourselves surrounded by a steady stream of "kinda big" queens; none were immune to Mij's tractor beam of radiance.





(photo (left): Finding it impossible to stray from the fray, LP and I enthusiastically stuffed some cash-money down some shored up bosoms.


(photo (right): Mij is in awe of LP's chiseled calves.





At the end of the show, Mij acquired a keg-shaped stalker who couldn't take the hint so we had to flee the premises.

We hailed a cab to Machine where we were hoping to meet up with Ernie and the boys for some dancing. I could not and cannot stop calling the place "La Machine" which is not a nightclub at all but a food processor with a walnut chopping feature.


We hopped into a van-sized cab where an Armenian cabbie swiveled behind the wheel to Egyptian techno music. He tried to involve us in his little chair dance. "Ladies! Clap your hands. One-two-three," clap-clap-clap. "Again!" clap-clap-clap. We realized he was so busy clapping and looking over his shoulder at us that he forgot about driving. We almost crashed. Miraculously, we arrived at Machine in tact but it was very late, we'd missed Ernie and the vibe was off.



So, after an impromptu photo shoot in the club's purely decorative "ladies' room," we headed back to K Street for a nightcap that rolled on until 4 a.m. Luckily, I had the privilege of "sleeping in" until 9:30 a.m. in the Dell'Olio guest room. Good times. Until next time, Ofelia.