A little while ago, having enchiladas with my friend Geronimo, a life sized Tina Turner is stomping about in high heels four feet from my face. (Unfortunately, she's on a 8 foot by 6 foot projection television screen in front of us and not on the table top itself.)
Actually, it takes me a while to figure out who she is, because of the closeness...and well, because of how she looks. Her face is oddly taut. Her hair looks different...but it has a vaguely familiar cut. I keep thinking and thinking, and then it suddenly comes to me:
For a minute I think I'm watching a Martha Stewart musical number. Unfortunately again, I'm wrong.
No, it's just Tina and her wig. She's dressed in silver spandex capri pants. A very tall looking Beyonce, in silver sequins, joins her on stage.
Thankfully, the volume is on mute, so they seem to be frantically gyrating to the raucous music of the mariachi band in the courtyard. It's actually quite nicely synchronized.
"Look at that, she looks like a midget next to her!" Geronimo laughs. "But then she's very tall, Beyonce is. She's like over six feet with the hair. I've seen her."
Over dinner he and I discuss his plans for moving. He's moving back to L.A. at the end of the month. He's planning to visit a few cities on the way back. He's trying to find some gay friendly town that his mother might also find amenable. NO is not it, he's afraid. It's a shame, but I can completely understand.
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