So I was stressed out at work in Palm Springs, and I was stressed out about having to deal with the Sublet O' Hell in SF, and living at the parents' house had taken another disturbing turn.
They had sex. Loudly.
It's funny, you know, how you can wear ear plugs or headphones and still somehow you simply can't block out the sounds of carnal activity. It must be a primal thing. In any case, it was MY PARENTS. And it was Gee-ROSS.
The next morning I woke up with a monster head cold. Go figure. But I wasn't gonna let it stop me from attending the cabaret, darling. It was going to be at my new favorite hotel, The Viceroy, and it was the one thing I'd been looking forward to since I'd met the producers of Upright Cabaret the month before, and wrote a Desert Post Weekly cover story about it, which I'd love to link here but apparently you have to purchase the archived article. Whatever. Here's the abbreviated online version.
Um, so yeah... MAJOR crush on the producer dudes--they are FABULOUS! So charming, so handsome, so much style and class. Of course they're gay, my friends.
But you know who wasn't gay? The Viceroy's general manager, and object of yet another of my most famous major crushes. The man was the ultimate charmer, also handsome, so freakin' funny, with that awesome Australian accent, a sparkle in his blue eyes AND the man is a CHEF!! You know how I love the foodies. But yeah... he's married. Also, of course. Such is life in Palm fucking Springs.
So I took some crazy naturopathic meds that didn't do shit and bundled myself up in order to survive the frigid winter cold temps of the lo-desert--the cabaret was gonna be set up outdoors, poolside.
And the ambience was incredible. The guys did an awesome job of setting up a cozy, glamorous stage and intimate tables with individual outdoor heaters. They had reserved a table for me all to myself that was ideally situated up front and just off to the side. Then they started me off with this amazing spread of cheeses and roasted veggies and hummus and olives and... I did feel a little weird sitting at this VIP table all by myself, eating from this huge plate o' goods. But then Mr. Wonderful, the GM, came and sat with me, feeding and serving me like a queen from the next several plates of deliciousness, regaling me with tales of his fantastic fabulousness and just generally damn near charming the thermal underwear right off me.
His wife must be very nice.
But anyway, the show was great. There were five performers, most of whom had extensive Broadway backgrounds, and they were all very, very, skin-tingling good. There were some holiday songs, there was some wholesomely naughty banter, there was some crazy ridiculous raw talent. So I was really glad I went.
The next morning at 6 a.m. I hopped on a plane for San Francisco.
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