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Oh my, we went to a drag show

5/7/2015

7 Comments

 
Dragging out my random observations


Here's how it came to pass.  Steve asked our friend to give me a call to make out-to-dinner plans.  She and I got to chatting about doing something different.  Before our respective husbands—both named Steve—knew what hit them, we had reservations at Lips in Oakland Park for the 6 p.m. show.  Let me add the Steves had reservations as well.

If I imagined an early 1900's whorehouse, that would describe the décor.  Lots of red and gold, gaudy lights, and oozing with bad taste. 

The first lady we encountered, I thought she was female.  It took me a split second to put it together, then take in the amazing makeup.  She was beautiful. 

Our particular server didn't have a lot of personality, but she was efficient nonetheless.  In fact, the whole meal service was efficient, designed to get us in and fed and the show started by a few minutes after seven—there was also shows at 9 and midnight.  My dinner was edible, but, really, we were there for the show and not the food. 

The emcee was outrageous—in a good and funny way.  Here is what I learned. There is a whole different use for duct tape. (The first time I typed this I had an I and K in the word.) The truth is I knew about that since I researched duct tape a few years ago for a blog post, but I've never heard it mentioned in public before.  (Oops, almost another typo.) 
  • The emcee—a beautiful blond with a shapely figure and long legs—reminded us several times that she had a penis.  (See duct tape comment above.) We all know the gig, but I thought the intent was to pretend to be female, and the last I knew, females don't have penises.
  • If you are straight, you'll be a target at the show.  The Steves were on the receiving end of "straight men in the audience!"  A couple celebrating their engagement—strikes me as a strange venue—were applauded for their alternative life style.  Most of the patrons were women, leading me to wonder why women are drawn to men in drag.
The show was equally outrageous.  The ladies lip synced to catchy songs, strutted their stuff, and went up and down the rows of tables soliciting tips—lots of tips.

Other things I learned: 
  • Just because boobs look and feel real, doesn't mean they are.  Feel you say?  I pushed a tip into someone's cleavage. 
  • I Googled 'drag breasts' and got an expanded perspective.  There is a YouTube video showing how to enhance cleavage and make boobs appear using makeup and pushup bra.  Potentially, useful information.  LOL
  • Straight men don't believe big boobs can be fake.  (Insert eye roll.)
I mentioned the evening to another friend.  After she go over the shock that it was my first time at a drag show, she pointed out that all it was is a dinner show in the old tradition.  You don't go for the food.  You go for the show. 

And show me, they did. 

Later.

GEB
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Honoring a Colleague: Wendy Shupp

5/1/2015

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Yesterday, I was pleased to be included on the guest list for a former colleague's retirement.

How I happened to be included illustrates that retiring puts one out of sight and out of mind.  In any event, I ran into another faculty member in a store.  She assumed I'd been invited and mentioned she'd see me at the party on Thursday.  The resulting conversation resulted in the invite. 

Wendy Shupp, one of the faculty members who provided my orientation by fire--don't judge harshly because that's how it was back then--was the guest of honor.  She taught at Broward College for 33 years, taught nursing a total of 45 years, has been a nurse for 50 years, and rose to the rank of Senior Professor.  That's huge in terms of knowledge, skill, and experience.  It is also huge in terms of departmental history, legacy, and continuity.

Not only did Wendy participate in my orientation, she helped orient me to my role as full-time faculty when I moved into that position.  I could always rely on her to review an exam, help with a disciplinary issue, explain a policy, or offer sage advice about committee responsibilities or accreditation.

I'm delighted to welcome Wendy into the ranks of retired nursing faculty.  Knowing her plans—hopefully she'll sign on and provide that information—I suspect she'll provide her own orientation by fire to retirement.

To me it means that yet another link is severed and another punctuation mark is added to the you-can-never-go-back mantra. Things change.  That's good.  Things change.  That's sad.  (Don't interpret this as my saying I miss my teaching responsibilities.  I don't—well maybe 1 % of the time.  I miss people, and I miss payday, but I enjoy this phase of my life.)

Later.

GEB

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    I write mysteries about nurses doing extraordinary things.  I'm also a nurse, teacher, wife, mother, cook, enthusiastic reader, and citizen of the world.

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