Dranksgiving Tidings!
Kiss my dicks, Easter Bunny! When I turned 21, I discovered the real holidays in life. I'm talking about grown-up pastimes like Red Christmas Cup Arrival Day at Starbuck's, Boystown's monthly Madonna night at club Berlin, "Irrational Fear of Cotton" episodes of Maury, and most importantly, Black Wednesday. Have you partaken?

Black Wednesday first occurred in 1620, when a wayward pilgrim built a very important eyesore in Lemont, IL, called the Carousel. Upon establishing the tavern, the pilgrim loosened his traditional belt, slapped his traditional Dungarees, and declared, "May Lemont High School reunions abound here and inspire parking lot blowjobs. Liberation on tap!" Almost 400 years of Miller Lite-sponsored regrets later, the tradition continues every Wednesday night before Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, this year the Carousel's uppity owners messed with the righteous Injun gods, and our beloved bar will be out of commission. Luckily, the scrappier of Lemont's citizens plan to convene in downtown Lemont, where equal amounts of fist-fighting can break out just feet from the police station. That freakish squealing you hear is my joy.

So I'm fucking thrilled. Speaking of milestones, I just passed my (woah) five-year coming-out anniversary. I plan to commemorate by assembling the likes of Kimmie Cummings and Elyse Brannigan at Starbuck's and coming out to them again, a renewal of homo vows. Maybe this time I won't wear tube stocks or ancient Kohl's cargo shorts. No promises on that front, guys. Maybe Rachel Fields and I can bust out some 2003 Liz Phair and ponder again the plight of "Little Digger."

All in all, Lemont is Lemontish lately, which is stupid and sweet. Folks from The Advocate keep relaying encouraging news to me, so maybe I'll report a Dame Edna-sized triumph soon. Definitely no promises there.

Anyway, Dranksgiving luv is upon us, and I plan to revel. Hope you will too.

Thug kisses, xoxo,
Louis