Sometimes, all you need is a good drunk and a drag queen.
Once again, it was Miss Shasta Cola to the rescue. You might remember Miss Shasta Cola as the performer on the very first night the Taydo and the Kate and I actually got together and created our unholy troika of fabulosity and drunkenness (not to be confused with the other troika, which, while equally fabulous and almost as equally drunk, probably would never be characterized as unholy, given the angelic nature of its members). Three costume changes, twelve tip-jar dollars, four drinks, and a dozen songs later, Mike and I had no voice, but some new lesbian friends from a nearby bench. The "Whitney On Crack" song made a reprise from the first time I saw the Lovely Miss Shasta, as well as a bit of Peaches and that "Turn around, bright eyes" song that always reminds me of the first time I ever saw someone else's genitalia.
As a result, my mood today is much elevated over how it has been the past few. That, and my lovely boyfriend installed an air conditioner in our bedroom window, which is a) my first A/C in New York, and b) ungodly fucking wonderful.