Liberace's Musuem

The Liberace museum is billed as the best $15 you will spend in Vegas. I could not agree more. [And consider that this recommendation is coming from someone who last veered from her earth-tone course in 1994.] It was beguiling, bewitching, bedazzling. The overall organizational strategy of the pink, rhinestoned museum seemed geared toward making you say “Oh no, HE’s not gay” at least every 10 feet. Sparkling stars & striped hotpants? Gay. Swaroski crystal bejeweled convertible? Gay. Ruby-encrusted piano ring from his mother? Seriously. [We’re talking Johnny Weir territory.]

Our Docent (Bette) was one of several middle-aged groupies/museum volunteers that had it bad for the big L. We’ll call them the Liberace-ina’s. She used to work as a consultant for IBM before dedicating herself to the spangle and the glitz. She was so enthusiastic about her work at the not-for-profit museum, that I now thought less of those who merely helped the poor. Liberace Docent is JUST a higher calling.

The big draw of the museum was his wardrobe. As our Docent highlighted how he had his outfits made to match his pianos, I felt a little sheepish about my brown loafer/black sweater combo. (I sooooooo could have been Liberace’s Eliza Doolittle.) Liberace even had a full-time furrier. [Apparently, Liberace was the genesis for PETA.] Honestly, no member of the animal kingdom was safe from L’s fur fetish – turkey feathers, chinchilla, llama fur (who the hell knew llama fur made such a stylish lapel?) The best part…as we’re walking away from the “Midnight” ensemble, the Docent casually remarks that it is “made of upside-down monkey furandnow, we’ll move on to this magnificent Easter outfit.” [Why! Is it made out of the Easter bunny himself?!] We were all stunned stupid by the complete throw-away line, trying to figure why the poor monkeys had to be upside down when they were skinned silly.

As Bette worked her Docent magic, however, you actually bought into the concept that Liberace must have been “a terribly strong man because he could perform in a 210 lb pink-ostrich-feathered cape.” [Oh yes, he was Atlas under that chinchilla fur. What ARE the cape-wearing muscles again?]

In the tour-ending documentary, we found out that he even had a spangle-clad protégé that has carried on the Liberace magic [“protégé” apparently being French for “lover”]. And I don’t want to ruin Rita’s birthday surprise, but he IS available for special celebrations.

HRC Dinner

For those of you unfamiliar with HRC (Human Rights Commission), it is a national political action committee for the gays. As one of their major fundraisers, they sponsor chichi dinners across the country where everyone gets all dolled up for equality and listens to hours of big, gay speeches.

Well...a week ago Saturday – I took Rita to her first HRC dinner, Nashville style:

• I will bet you that this is the only silent auction in the South that includes trips to Provincetown, Miami Beach and Fire Island [and oh yeah… a lot of gift certificates for a free cut and color]
• If the women attending Saturday’s dinner are any indication, equality’s army will be clad in a black pantsuit.
• The equality-lovin’ liberal from California sure was an easy fund-raising mark. “But Rita, if you are going to write a check, at least get me a trip to Provincetown, Miami Beach or Fire Island.”
• I know, I know….there are more Nashville City Council Members attending than EVER …but do they all have to sit together? [“I know what your preacher Ted Haggard told you…but we’re not contagious.”]
• It’s a cash bar?! Nothing says equality like a $15 cocktail.
• “Yes, honey – the non-discriminatory ordinance that we are celebrating is from THIS year. You Californians have Berkeley…we have NASCAR. You have to grade on a curve.”
• I had to explain ALL the country music jokes to Rita [When they say…"Taylor Swift can’t hit a note with a bus…”]
• Beware the elegant southern straight ladies…who knew Iris Buehl’s speech would make the gay boys blush?
• From now on, the entertainment at these things is going to be American Idol semi-finalists, isn’t it? There’s like a 1,000 year supply.

What's Cooking

Mom’s visit to San Diego was certainly eventful…because it involved the first ever non-pizza dinner I have ever cooked. [38 years old and those merit badges just keep on coming.]

In light of my success…I thought I would put together a comprehensive how-to program for the similarly untrained who want to attempt this daunting task. So in 12 easy steps, here is my dinner-for-dummies. [Wait just a minute, here…a 12 step program…]

Step 1....Pop in “unexpectedly” to a friend’s house at dinnertime and take copious notes about what she throws together on short notice. [One man’s “college food” is another woman’s most-extensive-meal-ever-made.]

Step 2....Reject any courses involving more than 3 1 ingredient.

Step 3....Take the stolen wrapper from the prototype dinner in order to purchase the…wait a second, here….Trader Joe’s Boneless Beef Tri-Top Roast

Step 4....On appointed evening, set up ambient lighting [i.e., space heater] in mom’s Terrace Bistro & Hookah Lounge

Step 5....Make menu exactly as designed [Except the roasted potatoes became Ore Ida crinkle fries and the spicy green beans became expendable.]

Step 6...Turn on grill. Try to turn on grill. [Damn…this is the part of the process my people are supposed to be good at]

Step 7...Learn how to turn Rita’s restaurant-grade stove on

Step 8...“Delegate” stove operation to Momma sous chef

Step 9...Apologize profusely for roast on the first Friday of Lent [“Of COURSE I’m going to church, mom – why do you ask?”]

Step 10...Make sure your inaugural dinner is for your mother, who is obligated by the rules of nature to say – “Well that was just perfect!”

Day 2 [that's right...Day 2]
Step 11...Refill empty propane tank before Rita gets home
Step 12...Pay Julieta extra to destroy dirty-stove evidence of baby’s first dinner

Repeat as necessary until mom begins to host herself in your house.