ASL's Letter From The Editor, Lisa Timmons

The speaking engagement actually went much better than I had expected--I was surprised to find out that a year of blogging, working with publicists and advertisers on a daily basis during that time, means that I actually have (GASP!) some sort of idea of what I'm doing. It was nice validation for me, since I'm often accused by people who don't exactly understand what it is that I do, of just goofing off on the Internet all day long.

Oh yes, but let's not forget the mixer that preceded the speaking series. The theme was Elvis-based, because he spent a night in the town of Killeen, where Randy lives, however, there was only one participant in the highly anticipated Elvis look-alike contest, who won by default. Since he was wearing what looked like a plastic jumpsuit covered in rhinestones and was sporting glued-on sideburns, I'd say it was well-deserved. Twinkies and peanut-butter and banana sandwiches were being appropriately served, but unfortunately, neither were fried. Oh well.

Over the weekend, Randy and I ventured to Austin, Texas, a place I'd heard was very similar to my beloved Athens, Georgia, the town in which I attended college at the University of Georgia. This is where I got a chance to hang out with some Texas gays. First, we sauntered to your run-of-the-mill straight frat boy hang-out. If you've never attended a higher institute of learning in the South, let me describe it for you--girls in dresses, beauty-queen make-up and heels and boys in khaki cargo shorts and polo tees, often wearing baseball caps with frayed brims. Ah yes, and don't forget some Jimmy Buffet, Creedence Clearwater Revival and the occasional playing of "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" wafting in the air. The people-watching and cheap drinks were, of course, the main reasons to be there and after we tired of a live hippie-jam-band butchering Johnny Cash covers, we decided to hit a gay bar.

The first one was pretty sedate. Except for the shirtless waif-like waiters who were wandering around, attempting to sell shots to customers, everyone in the joint was pretty much dressed like they'd just stepped off the golf course. Although, I do have to say that I did come up with a great reality show idea, based on the waiters' appearances, entitled, "The Weakest Twink." At the second bar, things were much more lively. Country music was playing and in the middle of the bar, was a raised area that initially looked like a roller-skating rink. It was, in fact, the dance floor and much to my delight, I learned something about the Texas gays that night. They love to two-step. Girls danced with girls. Boys danced with boys. Heck, I saw an adorable couple in which a tomboyish slip of a lesbian lead around a graceful, slight gay man in a two-step, spinning him around confidently as she moved her hips to the strains of Dolly Parton's tiny voice.

All in all, I had a great trip and even though I know that you can't learn everything about a place in a few short days, I enjoyed my time in Texas and yes, I do think your tractor's sexy.

Mildly jet-lagged,
Lisa T.
Editor
A Socialite's Life

Send me your love at lisa@socialitelife.celebuzz.com.