Thursday, May 7, 2009

Thank You for Being a Friend

Bea Arthur died two weeks ago, not even.  

She spent the final year of her life in the absence of one of her biggest fans.  Well, Dorothy Zbornak's fan, to be precise.  

He loved The Golden Girls and quoted Bea's character ad nauseam.

He adored Will and Grace and would go into Karen Walker mode in a blink.  He'd get her spot on too (aside from the slight Russian accent and an Adam's Apple).

A Lexus.  He drove a damn golden Lexus!  Why? Because his car needed to match his fabulous self, of course.  Yeah, that's how he talked. 

Damn it though, he was fucking fabulous!  Even if I didn't share his passion of all things glittery and in your face, I secretly admired his balls to go on like that.

There was this one time I was up in Minneapolis and we decided to go out on Saturday night.  Of course it had to be a posh homo-lounge where he was friends with the owner.  He said he'd pick me up around 9pm, which meant he'd be there 8-ish to graze in my mom's kitchen.  I knew better than to greet him in a pair of jeans and a band t-shirt, so I quickly ran off to the nearby TJMaxx and picked up the most ridiculous pair of stiletto booties and a mini skirt.  If it was any tamer I'd never hear the end of it.

So I decked myself out in the hoesque get up and after submitting myself to his critical review was approved.   Naturally, the second I tried to pull the skirt down a bit, he slapped my hand.  "Hell no, honey!  You show off those legs!!"

And so we went.  The bar was loud but you could hear him over the shiny crowd without a strain.  He was the loudest person I ever knew.  Kisses were being handed out left and right and as we passed through the crowd he'd half-whisper to me: "He's such a slut" or "What does he think he's wearing?!”

He was a catty bastard but damn, he knew how to have fun.  He got me so lit that night I have zero recollection of returning to my parent's place.

Much is true for his funeral.  It was a year ago and his true friends managed to recreate that night for me.  They got me completely wasted as they tried to one-up each other with the stories of his exploits.  At some point I remember standing on a chair all wobbly-legged as they all sang me a Happy Birthday.  This got us thrown out.    

And he would’ve loved it.

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