So never judge a book by it's cover, Or who you're going to love by your lover,Love put me wise to her love in disguise, She had the body of a venus - Lord imagine my surprise Full
I woke up when my friend came home last night. It was about 10PM. Things became odd. But it was a good kind of odd, I think.
There's no way to say this right, so I'll just spill it. I spent the evening in drag.
I, Sakharov, the dissident, looked like an Anastasia.
What does one say once that is revealed? "I'm not gay" comes to mind. My friend, whom I shall refer to as "Walensa," is gay. He's a transvestite.
A transvestite knows more about being a woman than a woman knows about being a woman. He took me to several clubs. We spent the evening dancing and being hit on by all sorts of men. I make an ugly woman, but Walensa said it doesn't matter that much. If I work at it, I'll look perfect to a man that likes that sort of thing.
So what does this have to do with anything?
The man in charge of employee records at city hall likes his transvestites. My source is unimpeachable on that one. Useful tools aren't always conventional. See you on Monday.
