MY MOM, LADY BECKY!

Yes, this freak is my actual birth mother, who threw on one of my wigs after a dj gig I had in Atlanta in April. My parents still live in nearby Chattanooga, Tennesse and since I'm not always in the mood to see my dad, just us two "girls" rendez-voused at the weird Hotel Indigo on Peachtree Street for a couple nights.

TWO SOUTHERN PEACHES AT ATLANTA'S HOTEL INDIGO



Mom isn't allowed to see me perform since my show's become so filthy, but she's still a loving, suppportive, drag-friendly mom who has ceramic bunnies in the yard, an 8 X 10 of me in her bedroom, and a whole Bunny scrapbook pasted on my old bedroom wall. She's left my room exactly as I left it all these years: shit, cum stains and all! A dj gig for the christening of a new Mitchell Gold/Bob Williams furniture store would be the perfect oppor-tuna-ty to have her visit me "on the job" and see exactly what it is that I do. Maybe once she figured it out she could explain what it was I "did" to my puzzled "audience."That night I "did" heroin, angel dust and Whip-its. I can't imagine she was on!







But she was "on", alright. Lady Becky certainly didn't seem to need any of drugs to steal my spotlight. The polite woman who'd asked "What on earth should I wear?" had been replaced place by a crazed party monster!

MAW ATTACKS!



Introducing herself as the queen mother, mom actually stood at the door and began to greet the guests, charming the pants off everyone whose path she crossed.

Now momma's very ladylike--unlike her vile excuse for a "daughter"! I don't mean that she's snooty in any way, she's just the type of petite Southern gal who cringes at profanity, never has more than two drinks and considers more than one clove of garlic in a family-sized dish too overpowering. You know, the kind of person for whom those bizarre miniature cans of soda are made because they might just want a little sip of something. (I always marvel at those mini-cans. I mean, who can't drink a whole fucking soda?)

In the 70's, I remember mom hating Tina Turner at the height of her PROUD MARY phase. She referred to Tina as a "buster", a term I've only heard used one other time--in TLC's NO SCRUBS.

"A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly.
He's also known as a buster."

So my moms is down with TLC, yo! She explained her use of the word to mean "someone who is overtly sexual". Well, she didn't actually use those exact words. She merely demonstrated the definition by running naked with dog food smeared all over her body to the junkyard, where she instructed me to watch her engage in an orgy with a huge group of strays. Bless her little heart! Some of her lessons really stuck with me and I've often repeated this performance of hers, though I've found that I attract more strays if I remain fully clothed with the generic Alpo smeared on the outside of my garments. My momma a didn't raise no fool!

Anyway, I was naturally enthralled by Tina and the Ikettes' nostril-flaring, wig-tossing antics to the song which went on to become a drag lip-synch classic, and have loved Tina's super-short mini-dresses and those Vegas-y shredded hemlines ever since. But mom found her distasteful. Another "buster" she found distasteful? ZUMANITY star Joey Arias, who she saw in WIGSTOCK: THE MOVIE. Very out of character for her, she made a point of singling him out to disapprove. So when she visited me in NYC several years ago, I put her in "drag" in a white wig, false eyelashes and black and white feather boa (the pic, from Paper mag, is on the MY LIFE IN PITCHERS section of my site) and went off to work at Bar D'O. When I informed her that Joey would be there, she said "I don't like him." I told her "Well maw, tonight, he's my boss, so act like you do." Boy did she! She ran up to his unmistakeable mug as soon as we walked in the door and gushed "I've always wanted to meet you!" Then we dashed off to Jackie 60 in the what was then sketchy meat market and passed a messy tranny hooker. "That", I said, as if showing her NYC's finest sights, "is known as a crack whore." A block later, we passed a well-known drug dealer en route to Mother and I informed her "And that is known as a crack dealer." I will never forget the look on The New Yorker reporter Hilton Als' face as he watched Becky and Bunny in matching black and white op art dresses boogieing to Johnny Dynell's beats at 2:00AM!

MAYOR MAYNARD JACKSON'S WIDOW, VALERIE



Using drugs as a segueway back to Atlanta in this ridiculously rambling post, I wonder if someone slipped mom a mickey. I mean, it was an upscale furniture store opening with socialites like former Atlanta mayor Maynard Jackson's chic widow in attendance, but I am told those date rape drugs are very popular. I find these reports a little tough to believe, though. Everyone always looks very mystified when I declare loudly while hanging off a bar stool "Oh my! Someone has slipped me one of those DATE RAPE drugs again! I feel woozy and am losing control! I live nearby and have a lot of money and drugs in my unzipped purse!" Everyone just looks away and pretends not to hear me. Maye I'll try it again after my cold sore heals up.

MY MOM DECIDES TO SHOW BLACK PEOPLE HOW TO GET DOWN.......................S SYNDROME



Besides, do people really go to furniture store openings hoping to drug and snare women in their 60's? I mean mom's cute and all, but really! Soon she was leading a conga-line while I "manned" the cd decks. She literally "hit the floor" when she tumbled, somehow managing to break her wrist, lose her new $500 eyeglasses, and slow dance (to fast music!) with some man who was not my daddy. At one point I joined her on the dancefloor in a spirited moment and boogieing together, she attempetd to throw her scarf over my head and shimmy. Well, considering the size of my oversized wig, her scarf didn't quite make it over my big head, so the kook almost pulled my wig off in front of the well-heeled crowd!



MOMMA SABOTAGES HER OWN "DAUGHTER" WITH THE OLD SCARF TRICK



(In case you're wondering what the black strip coming out of my bra is, it's an old-fashioned way of securing your neckline to your bra, which works really well when it hasn't freed itself from the safey pin which secured it!) She was also telling me and anyone else who'd listen "No one is here to see that furniture. They're here to see you." Well, sweets, you might not want to communicate that to my boss, who hires me regulary whenever he opens a store. Owners Mitchell and Bob must be doing very well, since in the last year they've opened new locations in Philly, Atlanta and now Austin. And mom was such a hit, we might just have to work up a sister act. Or would that be more like a mister act? I'm certainly not above the idea of using an attractive (real) female relative a la Tennessee Williams' genius SUDDENLY LAST SUMMER to lure tricks my way. Hence this "Pose with him, mom!" shot as she happily grabbed this 7 foot sweet black stud I was lusting after.



The next morning the sister act "appeared" at the emergency room to have mom's hurt wrist wrapped. Stealing her pain-killers out of her pocket-book brought back so many childhood memories.



That night, we were invited to Leslie Jordan's one short man show which we were going to buy tickets to anyway. Leslie, who you may remember from the cult film SORDID LIVES as Brother boy or from his many cameos on sitcoms like Murphy Brown and Will and Grace as the campy short Southern queen, is originally from Tennesse and he and I met in Chattanooga when I was 18 and he was, uh.,, just out of his teens. We were part of the wild crowd at Chattanooga's trendier gay club Alan Gold's, from which Leslie still remembers that my sister Jaan. he Lady Jaan snatched the $300 prize and trophy for Best New Wave dancer in about 1982, Leslie recalled in mock bitterness. Bunny as you know her had not yet been born, but her brother had gotten pretty femme sporting B-52s-ish stirrup pants with thrift shop mod boots or sometimes an over-sized mini-dress length purple sweater with housewives' white Keds sneakers died pink with Rit dye and ...wait for the "punk" part...no socks or shoelaces! And let's not forget the Maybelline eyeliner pencil in the style of Cleopatra --one group of queens from Dalton, GA even called me Cleo!



But back to Leslie. When I moved to ATL in '82, Leslie headed to LA with $1200 in his pocket and bit by bit honed his acting skills and his alcohol and multiple drug adictions, which are chronicled in this adorable autobiographical show. Leslie's delivery is pure genius and the material is hilarious and sometimes touching, as he pulls out placards which mark different stages in his descent. I've been trying to catch his show for years but I always hit a town when Leslie'd just left it. They even arranged special seats for us with placards bearing our "names," which tickled Momma pink.



Not as much as Leslie's hysterical show. This fool is a natural born clown and very adept at physical comedy. But then again, I've been a fan ever since I met him. I recall him ruling at the Vine Street market where I was a "busgirl" to his waiter and I marvelled at his use of a red eyeliner pencil (in his boy drag) which really made those blue eyes sparkle. I imagine the red in the pencil also distracted from his bloodshot eyes--drugs and booze are heavily featured supporting actors in the cast of his show.

LESLIE JORDAN DRAGS UP FOR IN LAUGH OUT



As luck would have it, I went back to Atlanta a month later without mom to shoot a pilot for a gay comedy variety show called LAUGH OUT, with Leslie, a cartoon from Shirley Q. Liquor and a street performer named Baton Bob.



Even crazier, my mom and I had seen Baton Bob during our visit as he sashayed up Juniper Street in a St. Patrick's day tutu. What an unexpected taste of ye olde Midtown Atlanta's kookiness! Eager to snap him, mom couldn't get her camera to work, so I was able to send her my pix and tales of Bob from the shoot. (You may notice that I'm wearing the same dress, different wig!) One skit in LAUGH OUT called for Leslie to get in drag and compete with Baton Bob for a slot in the upcoming Gay Olympics. Naturally, campy Leslie dropped the baton every chance he got!





I can't predict whether or not the pilot will be picked up, but I was impressed with the high production value if LAUGH OUT. The producer even had cute li'l ol' director's chairs made with our names on them!





One featured extra was simply known as Hot Guy. Above he poses with Leslie--who's wearing a vintage Versace from WIll and Grace. Though he's not my type, Hot Guy IS hot. I'm no fan of the "abs-session" which has swept the nation, but his six pack does make you wanna run his tongue own the middle of that tummy twat, doesn't it? He actually said that he goes to the gym sometimes twice a day. Christ! 'm lucky if I make it twice a week!



Before we shot the show, I got a chance to not only meet a new myspace friend Spiro, but also eat dinner with drag legend Lily White. I had never spent any time with The Witch Queen of Punk Rock (as she billed herself in the 80's) so this was a rare treat to connect with a queen I had idolized since I was a teen. I'd bumped into her at clubs before and the last time was at Charlie Brown's Cabaret at Backstreet. Lily and I sat next to each other quite tanked, and when a beautiful, young queen named Raven entered the stage in a stunning black cock feather bikini and headdress, Lily nudged me and deadpanned "There's not a crow left alive in Atlanta." She had me howling at dinner too, claiming "I don't even drink anymore. Well, maybe just a little bit of peppermint Scnappps occasionally to freshen my breath. Some nights my breath gets so damn fresh I can hardly stand up!" Genius!

Lily pared down her gigs several years ago to take pair of her ailing parents. I was telling MY mom about Lily and how her dad had passed away but Lily was still in the sticks caring for her maw. I teased momma asking her "Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous? Giving up your career to care for your parents? What is wrong with Lily?" To which mom replied "I like her. She's smart. I think you need to start hanging out with her more often." I am so lucky that I have a sweet, fun, accepting mom who will not only tolerate my sense of humor and understand that I'm not the caretaking kind, but who'll also accompany me to my gigs, wear my wigs and even out-mess me! If she's fallen in her own vomit I'd have to accuse the bitch of stealing my act!