Boogie avec le Marquis le Marquis’ Intimate Diary

SUNDAY, 17 DECEMBER, 2000, NEW ORLEANS
I have a crush.

(Tee hee hee! Schoolgirl giggle!)

I have a crush on someone.

(Giggle giggle, <BURP!> oh-exKEWZ me!)

I have a crush on every single person I know.

(Blush, blush, run-from-room, giggle into taffeta prom gown, tee-hee-hee.)

I’ve been looking at all my friends in a new way. I want to kiss everyone. I want to press my body against everyone I know and grind about for a bit. I want to swap, swing, and swagger onto the next one.

Whence comes this exuberance of libido and whither wends my crazy crush carousing, I know not. Perhaps it’s just because it’s getting kinda chilly down here and the best way to warm up is to get naked with someone under a duvet and breath heavily for a while.

Maybe it’s because Patti Labelle is singing, “Gitchee gitchee ya-ya mamma,” on my computer right now.

Mabybe because it’s the holiday season, and I want to give the gift that keeps on giving — CRABS!

(Okay, that was a joke, all right? No crotch crickets here, I’m so sure!)

I have a crush on a boy whom I see at a nightclub on Saturday nights. Last night I tried on about six different permutations of clothing (with his benefit in mind) until I looked so fucking incredibly delicious that I almost couldn’t leave the house because I wanted a hot date — WITH MYSELF!

Cute Boy was not at the club! Vanity in vain — oh so cruelly thwarted. Fates, taunt me not in this manner!

But as I gazed about at the people I knew, and some I didn’t, the rest of my crushes came flooding through my hot veins. Izzo the bartender was simply stunning in a silver-sequined item she had on. I couldn’t keep my hands off her. Pet, pet, pet the Izzo. Kiss, kiss, kiss the Izzo. See Izzo giggle and kiss back. See the Marquis have a crush on Izzo.

(I think she’s exclusively a lesbian, but I am always up for a challenge.)

Cami was looking extra-lovely as well in her brown furs and red hair, cut in a wavy Bettie Page ‘do. I kissed Cami, then went to apologize to her husband for sleazing with his wife, and then kissed him too.

Joey/Stacia, who looks like a thin Divine and dresses in half-drag (make-up, capri pants and heels, though he is certainly a boy). I just wanted to pinch his face right off! and take it home with me and put it under the covers and have my way with it.

His stunningly gorgeous wife in knee-high leopard-print boots. Mmm. I could have dragged her by her hair into the alley to demonstrate my affections.

Patti is out of town this weekend. Best thing really, for if I saw her last night, I would have absconded with her behind some conveniently stacked empty kegs and played the Procreation Game.

She’s told me she wants to have my child. Now’s good Patti. How’s now for you? Now would be best, I think. What the fuck with Connecticut n’ shit, huh?

And this boy had some surprise party to attend and thus was not there last night. He would not have been safe around me in the slightest bit. He would have been a magnet to my metallic, electric hands.

I have a desire to kiss my way across the UK and Canada. It’s as easy as 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and finally moving in with 7.

People are so beautiful sometimes. Why is it that the most noble hommage I can make to them is to coat them in saliva and other viscous fluids and simply chant, mantra-like in their ears, “You are beautiful, you are beautiful, you are beautiful…”

Check out the Marquis’ Crush o’ the week! Yah, her, among a regiment of others.