by Adrian Ryan

That girl from Mean Girls

Hi. This is Karen Smith. It’s 68 degrees, and there’s a 30 percent chance that it’s already raining.

Have you heard? Mama Mia is coming to The Paramount! The Broadway musical! Just like the moviefilm one Meryl Streep and that ditsy blonde chick from Mean Girls made that one time! The only question left to us now is whether to blind and deafen ourselves with foot-long rusty nails dipped in Ebola forthwith, hold hands and walk bravely into the sea, or just cut our losses and burn the whole damn city down to a scorched and smoldering crater of vengeance? Decisions, decisions…

Oh, hey! I got a letter!

“Dear Adrian, Why is that “twinks” are the biggest fans of a site called “Antitwink”? Don’t they find it kind of ridiculous?”—Anonymous

Dear Anonymous, “Twinks” you say? What is this thing, “twinks”? Is that like a badger or a chubby-chaser or something? You kids and your nifty today-talk! GET OFF MY LAWN.

Speaking of Mama Mia, I am pleased to report that Mimosas with Mama – famous for frenetic, unhinged adaptations of things – is no longer doing Mama Mia at their every-Sunday brunch show, and is moving on with far better things: namely my all-time 32nd favorite thing in this or any other universe, the 1970-something office revenge comedy, 9 to 5! The film is of course the very zenith of 20th Century filmmaking (not to mention artful casting – Dolly, Lilly, Jane – HOLY SHEZUZ!), and it turned into a pretty swell musical stage version, too. What the Mimosas crew does is take BOTH OF THESE THINGS (film AND musical) and smoosh them together into an abridged and drag-rich confection of mimosa-filled brunchy adventure. I, for one, am beside myself with joy at this development. The more 9 to 5 in the world, and the less damn Mama Mia, the better. I say.

CAN YOU FEEL MY DAMN JOY? Yeah, I thought so.

RuPaul's Drag Race

You probably didn’t see this.

So, anyway: did you watch the premiere of RuPaul’s Drag Race, Season Twelve Million?! Yeah, me neither! I simply couldn’t summon the wherewithal. But I bet Jinkx DeLaCreme is gonna win, anyway, don’t you? I can just feel it. In my bone.

Well, whatever:  if you DO suddenly find yourself with the inexplicable urge to watch further episodes crawling up your spine, allow me to remind you that little old me will be helping host next week’s show at that new, um, sports bar on Capitol Hill called 95 Slide, along with the astonishingly beautiful James Majesty and Kaleena Markos. Yup.

(Now, I know, I know! You never thought you’d read the words “Adrian Ryan” and “sports bar” written in the same sentence, and believe you me buster, nobody in their right mind ever did. (The very idea!) But the goddezz works in mysterious ways, that place started life as a totally gay bar, long, long ago (it’s true!), and it’s not like “gay sports bar” is such an outrageous oxymoron anyhow—ever heard of R-Place? And, um, Madison Pub, maybe? Or that one place a zeelion years ago where Purr is now…what was it…um…Safari or whatever? Yeah. So. Don’t front.)

And darlings? Not to be alarmed, but I will be vacationing deep in the perilous wastes of the American South next week, and it’s possible that computer technology might not even EXIST in that far off, backward land. (They are still working on basic Civil Rights and not-cousin-fucking.) Therefore! You might not hear from me until the following week, IF I manage to survive at all. So in the meantime, I NEED YOU TO DO SOMETHING IN MY STEAD.

I’ve helped (in the smallest of ways) arrange a very special screening of a new film called First Period at Central Cinema. I’ll let the official trailer speak for itself…

“I don’t have a cat…” BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Golden.

So the screening begins at 8 pm on Thursday March 12th (tickets only $7!), but get there around 7 pm because there will be drag performances before the show, as well as a Q and A with the film’s Director/Producer Charlie Vaughn right after, and for GAWDZ  sake, get your tickets now, now, NOW! Because they are going to move faster  than a tweaking twink at an H & M 2-for1 sale. Whatever the hell a “twink” is.