I’m about to leave for the Good Vibes amateur “erotic” film fest. When I went to the GV offices on monday for the screening it was the first time I’d been in that building since I literally threw my key at the marketing manager, tossed my desk belongings into a box, and walked out.
I’d emailed one of their other marketing people a week previous asking if there was a press screening for the film fest, and she’d said no. But another friend told me, yes, there is one, monday afternoon. So I went, uninvited. When I walked into the conference room, their publicity person leaned to another journalist in the room and said something along the lines of, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how she got invited.”
But I’m invited tonight. The one woman in my life who I consider my (adopted) mother is taking me. I’ll supposedly be arriving in a limo with mom Theresa Sparks, Mark Leno, Cecilia Chung, Angel, my date Jonathan Moore, and people I don’t know: Sydnee Steele, Kaylani Lei and Joy King, who supposedly launched Jenna Jameson’s career. (Trebuchet?)
It feels weird. I’d really rather be up to my neck in machine grease. I’ll update with photos and videos later.
Update: after the jump.
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Photo gallery here. It was quite a night. Leno and Lei didn’t show up (Leno had like 5 events that night), and we were joined by local queer TV host Tim Gaskin — and in my possy of friends, we added the gorgeous, hilarious and whip-smart Christina. It was a strange, strange experience to pull up in a big white car, step out in front of lines of people and have cameras shoved in your face, and then go stand around while people stare at you. It’s a curiosity, but I don’t think I’ll do it again. Such a bizarre artifice, though it didn’t prevent me from talking to my friends and snatching my pal Thomas Roche and making him part of our VIP entourage.
And all that meant was bags of free stuff (like a Jenna Jameson porn DVD and a vibrator or something) and a long wait in line for the free booze. My bad — I recognized the ‘bartender’ as an old fellow coworker and circumvented the line. I told people I saved her cat when her apartment burned down. Actually, I gave her my old iBook a few years back, so a couple beers and no wait were a good trade.
Halfway through the films, and too far into the artsy, no-explicit-sex feminist entry I had to pee so I fled the theater. I ran into the mainstream porn people in the lobby, and when Jonathan came out to find me we watched them run across the street to a gay bar — Daddy’s. We followed, curious. We found Sydnee Steele and her friend (whose name I forgot), and they were all like, ‘omigod, we came in and realized we were the only women in here!’
Uh-huh. We had a cocktail with them for entertainment value, and while Sydnee kept explaining about how because of her age she has to reinvent herself and wanted to do ‘love coaching and write books about self-love’ I interrupted to tell her she really made a hot vampire in Nic Andrews’ Dark Angels. She seemed delighted I remembered the film.
We went back across the street, having missed the end of the films and the awards and waited in front of the Castro. Sydnee, who is sweet as pie, went on describing her goals to launch a line of dildos that use vibrational energy and the chakras to heal. I was truly glad for the champagne-vodka combo coursing through my system. Then she asked what Jonathan did. I said, ‘he’s a hacker.’ Silence. Sydnee: ‘oh, you’re into computers.’ She looked at each of us, and asked, ‘are you guys into fiber optics?’ Jonathan and I skipped a beat, and he said, ‘no.’ Then her phone rang. And we were off the hook.
I had a good time at the event: my date was attractive and cordial, and only a couple GV people were obviously cold to me — most former coworkers were gleefully happy to see me there. Such is the strange relationship I have with Good Vibrations. The films were half good, half painful art films, and overall, there was not enough sex in the selections. I disagreed with the judges’ decisions about the winners, of course. At the end of the evening, my hot tranny possy picked up Carol Queen, Robert Lawrence and Sexy Sadie and we had a late dinner at Absinthe. I fantasized over french fries about making a sandwich with Christina and Jonathan, and even came close to asking Jonathan back to my house — I never get to go on dates with guys in nice suits, and I love it. His Dolce and Gabbana was giving me ideas; I wanted to go home, strip down to my bra, panties, sock/sockgarters and heels, and drape myself across him in his suit, and take pictures. Instead, we shared a cab to our separate destinations, I pecked him on the lips and thanked him for being my date, and dropped him off. I came home and curled up in bed, fancy underwear, black eyeliner, lipgloss and all. And slept tight.
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