Tears for Queers

Tonight I went to Madame Butterfly instead of Queer Al Anon.  And the experience was healing in a way.  I still cried and saw lots of queer folks.  Though in this context "queer folks" refers to creatively dressed elderly people.  My top three favorite outfits of the evening:

1. A woman draped so heavily in stinky fur she looked like a Russian czarina.  I think there were still mothballs in the pockets. 

2. A very wrinkley shirt made of paper.  It was tearible.  (haha, pun)

3. A woman in a magenta sequin minidress with a red plaid hunters jacket and granny glasses.

Now it's time to snuggle up with my pup for some post-opera recovery time.  That was a lot of emotion.  I’m pooped.  I wonder if suicide hotline hits spike when three thousand people leave a theater after Madame Butterfly.  Kelly Kaduce had me crying so hard my boobs are now salted.  

Incidentally, opera snobs: her name is pronounced kuh-DOOS not kah-DOO-chey.  Mispronouncing her name will not make her Italian and pronouncing it correctly will not undermine her authenticity.  She is a magnificently talented white lady from Minnesota.  Embrace it.        

Possible new tagline for the bloggy blog:

From rape fetish to opera seria, ladyface is your lady!