After eating my unfucked garlic bagel with cream cheese, I headed over to Space 180 for APAture's Closing Night Gala. I don't really get nervous before a performance, but I usually have to pee like 15 times before going on, so I didn't really get to see any of the performers who preceded me. I do know that the always luminescent Maile Arvin charmed the crowd because she was responsible for lubing them up before I came in (metaphorically, people!). (Incidentally, Maile wrote her own blog entry about the evening, which is far more detailed and generous than mine because mine is pretty much all about me.)
After one of the MCs, Han Pham, felt up my ass (eww! girl cooties!), I opened with a story about the horrifying thing that happened to me at a bar last Friday, which I will recount in a later blog post. (APAture audience, holy shit, I forgot to tell you the best part of that story—what the girl said that made us all run away screaming!)
After talking about the terror of Tiger Balm, I was ready to chat at length about Neil LaBute because I like to air my grievances in as many public forums as possible. "How many of you know who Neil LaBute is?" I asked. Only one or two white people raised their hands, as the rest of the audience stared at me blankly. I threw my Neil LaBute stories onto the floor—he got no game with the minorities, which I suppose makes sense.
Instead, I talked about how gay the High School Musical movies are and read out loud some of the angry tween comments that those blog posts generated, which sent people into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Tween girls, you're funnier than I am! Man, that's gaytarded!