Postering in the Castro yesterday I ran into Glitter Emergency star Martyn Garside and was happy to be able to hand him a copy of The Bay Guardian with our picture in it. He handed The SF Weekly right back to me. I hadn't seen it and had no idea it was getting written up. In the paper edition, my head is so big it blots out the "Night & Day" masthead, and part of the sky, and doesn't fit on my scanner (insert ego joke here).
Tonight is the last night of my 30s and James has already imposed a moritorium on milking that particular tragicomedy. It is also the premiere of The Glitter Emergency and to that end I need to stop typing so my hand will last through the Tchaikovsky. True to the spirit of the Peg-Leg Ballerina, I'm going into tonight's performance feeling a little wobbly, physically, but an hour on Michael Soldier's massage table this afternoon should shore me up.
So here I am, signing off on the last blog post of my 30s. Come celebrate Glitter, and 40, tonight at supperclub - screenings at 8, dancing from 10 to 2. I've hired a Pink Mammoth DJ to get me over the threshold and I'm saving you a booty shake.