Friday, November 4, 2011

it didn't happen in paris

How A Lesbian Beauty Queen Spent A Year Dating Men

By: Elena Azzoni

I never expected to enter a lesbian beauty pageant. What happened in the year after I expected even less.

"Let's have a big round of applause for all of our contestants!"

The spotlight is blinding, and a bead of sweat makes its way down my temple in agonizing slow motion, dissolving into my red-sequined evening gown. Following four hours of grueling competition and eight laborious costume changes, it's time to determine the winner. We've performed our various talents, including a tranny boi band, my eighties retro jazz dance, and someone giving birth to a doll. Likewise, we've endured the ever-dreaded swimsuit competition and the nerve-racking interview segment, in which at least one contestant routinely flops. Backstage is littered with wigs, glitter, and silicone accoutrements of varying colors, lengths, and girths. It looks like a tornado passed through a sex toy shop.

"And the winner is ... "


Ok so you're going to find out soon enough. This story has nothing to do with Paris. Doesn't it seem like it could be though?

I wanted to post it somewhere but I'm Just Sayin is dedicated to covering the Occupy movements so, this was the next best place.

Hope you enjoy the rest of the story



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rather be in paris