Have you heard the latest about my girlfriend Justin Bond, the gender-fluid star of NYC’s avant-garde cabaret scene?



In a revealing brand-new essay on her website, she announces some big changes in her life to conform with her transgender identity.  (I heard the scoop beforehand through the gay grapevine.)

First of all, she’s altering her name to the more feminine sounding Justin Vivian Bond.  Very grande-dame!

The clever performer has also brainstormed on newfangled, nonconformist ways to describe herself.  From now on her preferred prefix is Mx (pronounced “Mix”).  Her preferred pronoun is “V.”  How modern!

Also, Mx Bond has decided to start hormone treatments.



“Not to become a woman,” V writes, “But in order to actualize what I’ve always known myself to be—a trans person.  I want my body to be a declaration and physical manifestation of my transgendered spirit.”

In other words, Hello training bra!  Can’t wait to see your new jugs, Mx Thing!

Kidding!  I wish Justin Vivian Bond all the best as V travels down a brave and enlightened path of self-acceptance!

True to my word, I stayed in on New Year’s Eve.  But on 1/1/11 I was compelled to go out—I was hosting Le Bingo.

What to wear, what to wear?  I decided on party-girl attire, as if I was celebrating, uh, New Year’s Eve!   People probably thought I was still going strong on a bender.

Le Bingo turned out to be quite lively, and afterward I hit the town with spokesmodel Shaquanda Coca Mulatta.


Dancefloor sandwich: Zuhair, Shaquanda and Elliott



Me with Princess Brittany at Woody's



The night ended very late at the Cock. On the bar with bartender Mark.


So much for a head start on 2011!  Oh well, after spending most of today recovering, I’m pumped for a productive tomorrow!

Just in time for the new year, some good financial tips in the freebie newspaper AM New York from drag millionaire$$ RuPaul:

1) Invest in real estate.  (Besides the West Village apartment she just sold for $2.4 million, she owns another nearby.  Plus a house in L.A.)

2) Don’t spend money on “flashy crap” to impress others.



Here’s to a profitable 2011!  With RuPaul’s wise words to guide me, I look forward to purchasing property and tasteful goods, including a giant white Afro.


Finally, finally, finally, after a four-day blizzard delay, I returned this afternoon from the hetero heartland.

As a welcome home gesture, the New York Times featured me in today’s Style section!   The article, by Eric Wilson, is advice from “performers of the night” about what to wear on New Year’s Eve.

Sherry Vine and Justin Bond trumped me by getting their photos included.  Scary!

 

Ms. Vine (left) and Ms. Bond

 

The article didn’t include my answer as to what I’ll be wearing.  Pajamas!

Unless I’m  working (and I’m not this year), I prefer getting up fresh and eager on 1/1.  So much better than crawling out of bed with bad breath and looking like hell—you know, like Sherry and Justin throughout the entire year.  Kidding!  I’m just jealous.  They have NYE jobs and I don’t!  They is rich and I is poor.

I’m traveling to MinneSNOWta (Ha Ha), land of my birth, on a friends-and-family tour.  I’ll write when I return.  In the meanwhile, HO HO HO!!!!!

The social holiday whirl continues…

FRIDAY – My faithful friend Bertha and I attended Boylesque, a theatrical spoof of the new movie Burlesque, written by and starring drag performer Mimi Imfurst (as Cher).

 

Mimi Imfurst (left) and co-star Candi Shell.

 

Sharing our table were gossip guy Michael Musto and his BFF fashion writer Lynn Yaeger, both of whom were startled and tongue-tied when one of the pre-show go-go boys moseyed over for friendly chit chat.  I took it all in stride—sexy guys approach me all the time—and I smoothly kept the conversation flowing and snapped a photo.

 

Go-Go sandwich.

 

Our foursome, like the rest of the audience, was deeply divided about the show: half hated it, half detested it.  Better luck next time, Mimi!

SATURDAY – Who should I run into during the day by my Hell’s Kitchen pad but my longtime pal Formika a.k.a. Misstress Formika!  “I’m meeting Jackie Beat for lunch at Vinyl.  Come with.”  Okie-dokie, said I.  Jackie was in town from L.A.  to perform her annual yuletide show of profanity-filled song parodies.

 

Holiday Beat.

 

Fueled by several cups of coffee, the three of us plus TV executive Josh Rosenzweig partook in a nonstop volley of witty gay gossip.  Were your ears burning?  We were talking about you!  No pix from the lunch—none of us had on a stitch of makeup (except for huge clumps of mascara that Jackie had failed to remove from the night before).

Later that night, it was time for some holiday partying at the lovely Fifth Avenue pad of designer and reality TV star Austin Scarlett (Project Runway) and his charming beau, Smith.  Entertainment included a puppet show, eccentric guests and some killer weed.

 

Austin Scarlett, master of mice.

 

SUNDAY – Onwards to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a protest against censorship.  As you may have heard, the National Portrait Gallery in Washington D.C. recently caved in to the complaints of the nutball Catholic League and removed a “controversial” video by the late great gay artist David Wojnarowicz.

 

Carlo's sign says it all!

 

Gimme a break!  I hate to sound like a snob, but why does our culture at large—our museums, education system, political arena, etc.—keep capitulating to the  philistines?  Thought-provoking art is a joy and should be celebrated, not shoved aside any time some ignorant old farts get riled up.

Let artistic freedom shine bright!

 

Me and Xmas tree in Washington Square Park.