Bad boys, Bad boys, Whatcha Gonna Do...

I GOT BUSTED BY A ROAD BLOCK.
Yeah, coming home from the Cabaret just filthy and doing about 90, I thought I was a goner. As it turns out, the really nice police officer complimented my "neat outfit," (see: mild mannered reporter costume) but gave me a citation for no proof of insurance not to mention an aneurysm.

Now, before any of you start -- I do have insurance, I swear. I just didn't have the stupid little card on me. So, a quick call to Geico this morning and a printed e-mail later, Voila I have proof of insurance. A trip to the post office tomorrow to get a photocopy of it certified and off it goes to the State of Georgia.

Luckily, Atlanta's finest didn't do too thorough of a search on my car (just a quick flashlight glance really) cause I'm sure there was enough evidence in the floorboards to put me away for 3-5 with good behavior. Lord.

So, what's a boy to do after pulling away? Yup, call the Cabaret and have Charlie announce the exact location of said roadblock. I'm such a teamplayer.

That's my girl...

LAST NIGHT, BARRY HARRIS CALLED OUT FROM HIS GIG AT JUNGLE. Just by working with the man in the past, I can truly say that he must have been pretty close to his death bed to not take the gig -- I mean, the man has got integrity.

So, in a very big leap of faith, Brad booked Kim Crawford to play substitute DJ. I say leap of faith because although Brad knows of Kim's reputation, he wasn't too familiar with her sound. I, however, am a hands-down-hardcore-the-bitch-kicks-ass type fan. I've seen what she can do with a dance floor whether there's 300 people or 3,000 people on it.

I can truly say the crowd went up for Kim last night. I was so proud of her. One of my favorite parts of last night was being up in the booth getting Kim to spin some of my favorite tunes like Jason Nevins' remix of "Nothing Fails" and just because, some "Heart Attack." From time to time a few people came up there to say that Kim was amazing and to find out who it was behind the tables. Brad even came up to me a couple of times to tell me that she was "kicking ass."

A few weeks ago, I remember having a heart-to-heart with Kim about where she "fits in" Atlanta's soundscape. She felt she wasn't "Tribal" or "Diva-Vocal-Tribal" enough for the gay masses who ideally is her target audience. I told her that there are a lot of talented DJs out there that have been playing for twice as long as she has but haven't received half the recognition that she's already accomplished. I did tell her to stick to her sound since it has done wonders for her thus far. Honestly, that's advice she didn't even need -- she won't concede to the musical trend du jour anyway.

And, last night proved she won't ever have to.

Yeah, that's my girl.

Sickening...

FOR HALLOWEEN LAST YEAR, I WAS THE MILD-MANNERED REPORTER AND NICOLE WAS MY ALTER EGO, SUPER TRANNIE. It's fun when costumes work in tandem.

This year I'm bringing back two of my former Halloween costumes instead of coming up with something new. Of course, the mild-mannered reporter will be back and the second is my postman gig, which I came up with years ago. In true Arman fashion, it can't be a regular postman, he's post going postal and the shootout with the local authorities. It's a rather high maintenance costume with the bullet holes and fake blood and all.

I'm really excited about tonight though. Barry Harris called out of his gig at Jungle because of a fever, so dear friend and DJ Diva, Kim Crawford will be stepping into the booth. I have a lot of local DJ friends, but Kim is different because I was a fan before she and I became friends. Her sound is amazing, mixing skill is impeccable and she's just a great gal in general. It's going to be like old times coordinating Nicole with Kim. Sometimes, I actually miss working at Compound.

Music: Makes the People...

LAST NIGHT AT THE CABARET, I GOT INTO THIS EXTENDED CONVERSATION WITH THE FORMER LIGHTING GUY OF BACKSTREET ATLANTA ABOUT MUSIC AND ITS CURRENT, SAD STATE ON THE DANCE FLOORS. I reminisced about days gone by and how today's tribal heavy tunes just don't have the same impact as the intricately layered jams of yesterday. We talked about the influence of meth on the BPMs, the demise of vinyl in favor of the MP3, today's DJ/Underwear model and how sex gets the booking over substance. It's all gotten a bit much.

And, just as most music conversations tend to do, we gravitated towards the pinnacle of gay man's music -- the "Diva." While most 'mos are in a tizzy about Madge's new single "Hung Up," I for one, refuse to buy into the hype. Don't get me wrong, I'll be one of a million queers waiting in line to purchase Confessions on a Dance Floor on Nov. 15, but I'm still on the fence. Hopefully, I'll gravitate towards it eventually much like I did "Music" after a few dozen spins. I was suckered into American Life and refuse to let it happen again. It's just sad when the remixes and publicity stunts overshadow the real body of work. Ahem, Damita Jo, anyone?

For now, I'm more than content with Kristine W's latest gem, "I'll Be Your Light" and Deborah Cox's "House Is Not A Home" to satisfy the "Diva" fix. Hell, even Alanis has got it going on with her remake of Seal's "Crazy." Which, by the way, the Eddie Baez Club Mix is to die for.

But, I digress. My point to all this is that music just ain't what it used to be. Will I be the jaded queen sitting there staring at my younger counterparts and rolling my eyes? Probably. Hell, the bitter and eye rolling are already givens. Give me the days of Progressive House a la PVD, Rabbit in the Moon, Sandra Collins, Sasha & Digweed; the days of Breakbeat Electro with Icey, DJ Dan and Hardware; D n' B served fast and furious by Aphrodite, Grooverider and LTJ Bukem. I long for the days when Tribal was something only Danny Tenaglia had trademarked.

Yeah, music makes the people...well, bitter.

See, what happened was...

Why is it the best stories always start out with "see, what happened was...," "I was minding my own business when..." or "Ok, here's the deal..?"

See, what happened was last night was the Oscar's Atlanta's 5th Year Anniversary. Needless to say, an open bar tends to bring out all sorts. I got there late as per usual. It wasn't my fault really, I had Shawnna and Nicole with me. Not to say that it was completely their fault, but for once, I was actually on time to pick them up.

Now, Oscar's can't really hold that many people. Quite possibly, at its most sardined capacity it can contain 200 people and that's with a bunch of people on the patio. We congratulated the staff and owners of the lovely lounge and hit it (see: left, departed, leave quickly) on over to Cherry for Nicole's show with EJ. The usual suspects were in the audience including a special visit by Brad, Debi Lowry (I love her) and Jade Daniels.

After the show, we went over to Blake's for what was supposed to be a nightcap. Yeah, who were we kidding? After more Cactus, more vodka and more of anything else the bartenders could put in the shot glasses, it was back to Ansley for more chaos at Burkhart's and (surprise, surprise) Oscar's.

And, we thought we were filthy (see: drunk, pickled, wasted)? Oh, we had nothing on the Oscar's crew. They were living it up and couldn't take none of Nicole.

I was just minding my own business and got scolded for the girls not leaving tips (Nicole), going into the bathroom together (Nicole and well, whoever would wander in there with her) and for me being the quietest (see: sober) of the group. Honestly, can anyone really match the volume of Nicole's 20hz voice?

OK, so here's the deal, next time you see her, be sure to ask about the 50 or so balloons the bitch took into the bathroom with her. When Kent (one of Oscar's bartenders) opened the door, all you could see was hair, streamers and silver and blue balloons. From the bar, it looked like a Far Side cartoon waiting to happen.