Sarkastickunt

They used to call me The Referee.

I used to be a Limelight club kid and my fashion of choice was always this black and white striped shirt with short booty shorts and fishnets with red doc martens. 

 I also wore this sparkly red and black whistle around my neck that I used to blow the fuck out of on the dance floor when I was shaking my ass to some crazy loud techno music.

I had long hair, to my waist and I used to wear it in two tight Princess Leia buns that were usually frazzled and haggard looking come 4 am.

I used to hang out in the VIP room and dance on tables with celebrities.

When I would get too drunk Richard Bey would throw a red cocktail napkin on the floor and scream, “Foul on the field”.

I made out with drag queens and gay guys and drug dealers and chewed insane amounts of gum to keep spit in my mouth because coke always made my tongue dry like a kittens.

One night I got crazy high and fell asleep on the couches upstairs and when I woke up the club was opening for the next night, so I just wandered into the bathroom,  used my fingers as a comb, splashed some water on my cooch and sprayed my whole body with hair spray and then bathroom cleaner so no one would know I was wearing Thursday’s panties on a Saturday.

Twenty years ago, the hardest decision I had to make was if I wanted to sleep on a nightclub banquette and save the price of admission the next day or with a crack smoking talk show host.

Oh…how the mighty have fallen.