Golden Girls in drag / Giant Scrotums n' such


Karen's birthday was on Monday, so the weekend was a jam-packed event extravaganza.

Her BFF Sara drove up from D.C. to surprise her. First we stopped by my old pals Marty & Nicole's house for a cook-out. Nicole is a wonderful cook, so it was incredibly difficult to not eat anything (had to save our appetite for dinner).

Then we met up with Thomas "T-Bag" Smiley & Denise for dinner and fireworks on July 4th. We were looking forward to an amazing view of the fireworks from the Promenade along the East River in our new Brooklyn neighborhood (we moved from Manhattan in April), but Henry Hudson screwed everything up. He discovered The Hudson 400 years ago, so they moved the fireworks show over to the west-side of Manhattan this year. Being the non-conforming anarchist ne'er-do-wells that we are, we decided to watch from the Brooklyn shore regardless. The most excitement occured when a spectator shot a single rogue firework of his own and was promptly arrested and carted off by the cops to a chorus of booing.

I managed to keep the all drag-queen musical interpretation of The Golden Girls a secret from Karen for the last few weeks. A bunch of her friends met up with us at one of her favorite restaurants, and then we headed over to the show. She didn't know what she was seeing up until we walked into the theater. If you know Karen at all, you understand how bittersweet this show was for her (she is obsessed with The Golden Girls as can be evidenced by her jewelry line and oil paintings, loves drag-queens, but HATES plays in general, musicals in particular). These photos don't really do it justice (I snapped them randomly from my seat).

We took advantage of Sara's car on Monday to drive down to Philadelphia to finally see The Mutter Museum. It is an amazing museum full of disgusting medical-related phenomena...every kind of ailment and anomaly is on display in ancient belljars and such. It's a goth's dream come true (there were a few in attendence). If you've ever wanted to see a collection of genital warts strung together like some sort of sick necklace, any number of deformed babies floating in formaldahyde or a gigantic scrotum, this is your museum.

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