...behind my back I can see them stare/ they'll hurt me bad but I won't mind/ they'll hurt me bad they do it all the time....
Hard punk guitar balances the soft night air rolling across my skin.
And sometimes pulling out of a blue funk can be accomplished by a teasing comb and half a can of hairspray.
I do me first, then Fuzzy, and we are a hit.
I trot out the Hooker Barbie Heels, a pair of ivory capris that I pour myself into, and a hot pink satin spandex halter top. The scarf matches the shoes, which match the bag, which matches the lipstick. My hair is very high, though not as high as those who were done at The Glamour Lounge, and if I'd known a beehive would be that reasonable, I'd have gone earlier and had it 'done' instead of tiring out my own arms.
My daughter and I are interviewed by Channel 11 News, and a random stranger in a bar photographs my girl learning to play pool. (Go, baby!) Hawk is patient and generous with cash, suffering in a bowling shirt with Buddha on it. Fuzzy's capri pants and tank top are a foil for her co-ordinated earrings, scarf, handbag, and jelly sandals. Her baby beehive turned out well. Fluffy wears black socks with his Keds, turns bright red and demands a pit beef sandwich.
It's HonFest and I buy Natty Boh, pink flamingos and a velvet Elvis. Also, a Nixon/Agnew button, which might only be amusing to me, but, as Martin says, we must each take responsibility for our own entertainment, and this is mine.
Everyone grins at everyone else, and greets each other with the requisite greeting. Except for those who are mopping their brows and complaining that their feet hurt. There's plenty to see, all of it tacky. There are live bands on the far stage, but I'm too busy checking out hair, catseye glasses and animal print handbags. Fuzzy does not win the Lil Miss Hon contest. I thought there was to be a 'drag Hon' competition, but I don't see it listed. The sidewalk scenery is amazing. My favorite? The 'accidental Hons,' ones who didn't dress this way on purpose.
We leave early, just as the Baltimore's Best Hon contestants are lining up.
Good luck, Hons.
"Thanks, Hon!" they chorus.
Next year, I'll go with someone who'll enjoy it as much as I did.
Read: 'not my family.'
(Kiss Off; Violent Femmes)