Last Sunday I had the pleasure of not only seeing The Gossip in concert (again this year!), but also of going back stage to hang out with them.  Oh. My. God.  First of all, I owe major major thanks to Jerry Lee, who the day-of, when I still didn’t have a ticket, asked me if I wanted one and said “oh, by the way, I think they’re all access.”  !!!!! When he said that I knew it was time to shave and put on mama’s face.

(And, for the record, I should actually be thanking the wonderful Tara Perkins, their tour manager and former mama of the Sex Workers’ Art Show tour, who really sealed the deal.  It was great to see her, and I said it once, but I’ll say it again: she looks great as a blonde.)

So a couple words of wisdom to share before we got there:

1. White zinfandel in a small plastic bottle = priceless.
2. Don’t leave your friend’s ticket in your house.  Oops.  But if you do, note that it’s cheaper to beg him to go get it and offer to pay for the ticket than it is to take a roundtrip cab to fetch it.  (Thanks, Alex!)

When we got there, we went backstage.  It was funny, because the only other time I’d been to the Regency was for the Trannyshack Kiss-Off Party, where I served drinks to Heklina and the girls backstage.  Which is to say: hanging out with stars backstage is only natural to me.

Beth Ditto was sitting in one of the tiny rooms with a cute friend of hers from high school, and his even cuter boyfriend.  She knew Jerry a bit, so screamed his name when she saw him and then asked me mine after.  When I told her she asked me, “Sweetie, are you drunk and on drugs?”  I told her “no, but we’ll see.”  Foreshadowing.

It was cute — lots of San Francisco queers who either lived in Olympia at some point or know Tara.  Beth clearly had fun being the center of attention, and enjoyed the gifts people brought her, including a plastic pumpkin filled with candy, condoms, and hand sanitizer.  She ate olives out of a jar (which were on the rider), and talked about high school and her family and Olympia, and said she was going to keep eating the olives until she couldn’t reach them in the jar.  She also smoked cigarettes, had a juicer (though I didn’t see it in action), and drank throat-coat tea.  I drank some (well, a lot of some) of her wine.

And just for a moment of politics: fuck people who act like they’ve sold out.  They’ve gotten “bigger,” they’ve changed a bit, fine.  But until Beth starts hawking McDonalds or Bank of America or some bullshit like that, I’m fine with it.  It is amazing to see this beautiful, talented, sassy, political, fat, queer, working-class, femme from Arkansas be on the move.  And it’s amazing to see her working it in designer fashion every now and then.  Street cred be damned, because girl’s got it.

Overall, the show was fantastic, though I was a little drunker than I’d realized.  (I realized later it was four, not three, glasses of wine, which is a lot for this one.  Be careful what you wish for, honey.)  MEN (JD from Le Tigre’s new band) was pretty cute and fun, especially with their giant props that Chris and Greg got to be in charge of.  But, whoa, Beth Ditto can sing.  She was complaining about being hoarse, but I would kill to have her pipes on a bad day.   And she’s just so in control.  I couldn’t help screaming along with a lot of the songs, which hopefully didn’t drive people too crazy.  I was jealous when friends from backstage ran out, and Jerry dove off the stage but fell on his ass.  Is this not the stuff that dreams are made of?

Later, we all went to Paradise Lounge (which I’d never been to and, for the record, reminded me of the under-18 “club” attached to the roller-skating rink in high school), where fags just attacked Beth and the others.  (I should add that while I spent most of my time that night around Beth — and “around” is probably the most appropriate word — I also met Hannah, who seemed like a giant sweetheart in that way that I tend to fall in love with butch women/genderqueers.)  Apparently I flirted with boys, but of course that’s the part that I don’t remember so clearly!  I called it quits a little early, because darling, sometimes you need to while you’re ahead.

And now the pictures, mostly courtesy of BrownDownCrown:

In case you didn’t believe it.  And I think that was glass of wine 2 of 3 (not counting the white zin).

This boy claimed to be a bigger hot mess than me.  See below for proof otherwise.  Also, doesn’t he look like it’s his job to pose like this?  I have no idea who he was or if we were flirting.

Beth and I are clearly in love.  I secretly wish we had a more formal/posed shot too, but I wouldn’t trade this for the world.

Bearzbub must have heard that there was a “hot mess” challenge going on because he came out of nowhere to put me in my place.  I never do my lips that big — it was a mistake that turned into an opportunity — but honestly, ths photo scares me a little bit.

So, if you missed the concert, you should probably be sad.  You should also listen to the concert that was on NPR, though it’s not as good.  (Although, Carrie Brownstein sounds like she’s announcing at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, which is creepy and amazing.)  You should also find people who know people and start talking.