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fifteen july ninety eight eleven p m
place to meet a drag queen
Boy am I ever amused.
The Improper Bostonian, a little weekly which is way too conscious of its own hipness for me to truly love it, has a "Boston's Best" article every year. (You know ... best hairdresser, best Italian restaurant, and so forth.) This is usually the only issue I pick up, because it's always entertaining, and some of the choices are actually useful information to have. Plus, they always throw in a few weird entries to keep it entertaining.
One of the weird entries this time was
Place To Meet a Drag Queen
Victoria's Secret at the Burlington Mall
You've always wondered who bought all those leopard-print G-strings and fire-engine-red merry widows. Now you know. Of course, sizing is tough, since this particular retailer seems to believe that all women are built like Baywatch extras (in addition to having the same fashion sense), but with the current fitness craze, many transvestites are svelte enough to fit into lacy lingerie cut to Barbie doll proportions.
That'd be amusingly true even by itself ... but ... guess which Vicki's I always shop at?
So much for my always bringing along someone for protective coloration!
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