Homo Harry Potter?

(Daphne Ruth Jenkins weaving her spell on Viktor Krum.)

Being the geeky J.K. Rowling fan that I am, I insisted that DJ bring me to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on opening night. The place was packed! Luckily, we only had to trample a few small children to get excellent seats.

I'd been anticipating this one with a mixture of excitement and fear. The last installment by acclaimed director Alfonso Cuarón was such a high point that I worried we were in for a disappointment. The bad news is that the newest film doesn't measure up to that Cuarón's masterful artistry. The good news, though, is that British director, Mike Newell's turn at bat results in 2.5 hours of solid entertainment that magically flies by. And hell, it's still light year's better than the first two installments by hack director, Chris Columbus.

Of the returning characters, Hermione Granger gets a good deal of time in the spotlight as she begins to transform from ugly duckling to swan. Maggie Smith's Professor McGonagall also gets some much deserved screen time and a few of the best lines in the film. On the other hand, Ron is wasted by being relegated to the envious friend mode for most of this outing. There's also precious little of the slithery Severus Snape to enjoy this time around.

Of the new characters, the hunky Victor Krum makes the strongest impression. Of course I don't think he had many lines; so that may just be my libido talking. Meanwhile, I found Fleur Delacour to be underwhelming as the supposed siren of the piece. Girl looked a little pasty and bland by the Jenkins standards of divadom.

But, the fact is that you're all going to go see this movie even if I said it was about as appealing as a box of ear wax flavored Bertie Bott's Beans. Thankfully, the filmmakers delivered a satisfying and guilt-free trifle this time around.

By the way, those merry maniacs over at The Malcontent have been kind enough to post a clip from "The Soup" that will have you thinking Goblet of Fire is going to give "Brokeback Mountain" a run for its money in the homoerotic angst department. Check it out; you'll pee!

Smooches,
Daph

Gay Sex In The 70's

(Daphne Ruth Jenkins soliciting demonstrations of what gay sex in the 70's was really like from Allen and Dale.)

Ladies, you know Daphne always did love her history lessons; especially when they involve cruising and hot man-on-man action. Therefore, it was a no-brainer that Velma and I decided to attend the screening of "Gay Sex In The 70's" at Out On Film: Atlanta's GLBT Film Festival.

Apparently, we weren't the only slags looking for a little education. We bumped into Bambi and Marsha on their way to the restrooms. Maybe they thought a special workshop would be taking place there. In addition, we were delightfully surprised to run into the gorgeous Gigi Monroe. It must have been her night off...for the month.

Centered mostly around Manhattan, the documentary was a fascinating exploration of the wild and wanton abandon that occurred after the liberating events of Stonewall and before the onset of the AIDS epidemic. Naturally, there was much discussion about the obvious hotspots of anonymous amour: the bathhouses and backrooms. However, the horndogs interviewed revealed other intriguing locations for late-night liaisons such as the abandoned piers and "the trucks". The trucks were a raunchy row of big rigs that people would crawl into at night and bump uglies in the dark. I especially enjoyed the segment revolving around the natural naughtiness that would occur in the Pines on Fire Island.

Following the film, a panel discussion took place in which the Atlanta perspective during this timeframe was conveyed. Apparently, the big cruising areas in old Hotlanta were the gay bookstores and "the trees" in Piedmont Park. I believe "the trees" is the area where they now have a dog park. At least there's still plenty of butt sniffing going on there.

Smooches,
Daph

Hookers and Blow

(The movie poster for Transamerica before all of Daphne's scenes ended up on the cutting room floor.)

The title of this post is the perfect description of my weekend. Don't get the wrong idea, darlings. It simply encompasses a few of the themes running through the movies that Velma and I watched this weekend at Out On Film: Atlanta's GLBT Film Festival.

First up, we attended the opening night gala's Transamerica. Felicity Huffman of Desperate Housewives fame shines in the lead role as a working class tranny about to have sex reassignment surgery to become a woman. Kevin Zegers, a long-time lust of mine from his days on the short-lived soap Titans, is surprisingly convincing as the son Felicity never knew she had. If you ever wondered what that kid from the Air Bud films would look like all grown up as a coke snorting street hustler, this is the movie for you. The film, written and directed by Duncan Tucker is a real crowd pleaser. And, don't be surprised if Emmy-winner Felicity adds Oscar nominee to her resume as a result of her fabulous work here. She had several queens in the audience sitting behind us convinced that a man had actually starred in the film. However, Duncan Tucker, who was there for a Q&A after the screening, explained that he wanted to use a woman in the role in order to honor the character's journey and what she was striving to become.

Saturday afternoon, Velma and I returned to the festival to enjoy Explorations - A Boys Shorts Program. My favorite entry in this program was Gold, a tidy little thriller about an aging and blind artist who uses the eyes of a coke snorting street hustler (notice any trends here?) to continue painting. While many short films fall prey to dumbing-down their storylines and relying on broad stereotypes to get their message across in a condensed timeframe, Gold took it's time unspooling its surprisingly deep tale and developing nuanced characters. The director Armen Kazazien is clearly a talent to watch.

The audience favorite of the short programs was definitely Ryan's Life. Apparently, this gay version of The Wonder Years has been picked up as an ongoing series by the Here network. I can see why. The cast was uniformly hilarious; especially the all-too-wise grandmother of the 16-year-old gay youth that the show revolves around. If they can keep the writing as sharp as this pilot, they might actually get me to tune into a sitcom again.

To hear more about our thoughts on the festival, stop by Drag-O-Drama and listen to our latest podcast, DOD#3: Transcendental Trip.

The next film on the agenda for us is the documentary, Gay Sex in the 70's on Wednesday. I just love educational films! After all, I'm much too young to remember what gay sex was like in the 70's. Maybe I can ask my older sister Pinkie all about it.

Smooches,
Daph

Deranged Drag Queen On The Loose!

(Artist rendering by Tray Butler of Decatur's Deranged Drag Queen.)

Stop the presses! I just picked up the latest issue of Creative Loafing and found a scintillating story in The Blotter describing the disturbing antics of Demensha, the Decatur Deranged Drag Queen. Apparently, the whole sordid tale started when this chemically unbalanced vixen picked up a sweet little piece of "chicken" at a Decatur gay bar on a recent Saturday evening. Now, the only gay bar I know of in Decatur is "My Sister's Room", a lesbian hangout. Who knew that was the place for gals like me to pick up hotties?

Anyway, according to the twinkie, he decided not to postpone freaky with Demensha until the morning. However, when he awoke, the little man with issues supposedly changed his mind altogether about bumpin' uglies with Psycho Sister because of the live-in boyfriend waiting for him back at the homestead. At this point, girlfriend apparently flipped her wig and proceeded to tie up the dimwit and leave him in the woods. Then, she called 911 to let them know where he was.

If you ask me, chicken little's story isn't holding any vodka...I mean water. Obviously, he did get plowed by Cruella Deville (in the woods no less). He must have done something during their act of passion to piss Demensha off. Maybe he forgot to compliment her ability to pound his butt while balancing in heels. Honey, this whole elaborate fable about how he didn't sleep with a drag queen is clearly just his way of saving face with the boyfriend.

Of course, the really interesting question is: who was this seriously whacked-out diva in the first place? From the artist's rendering, I immediately noticed that distinctive Jenkins family resemblance. According to the article, the suspect lives in Decatur. I may live near Dick-hater, but I actually have an Atlanta address, unlike my dear sister Pinkie. Oops, I hope no one thinks I was trying to imply anything by that. Oh, and did you notice the color of her hair? Very interesting....

Smooches,
Daph

My First Time

(Daphne Ruth Jenkins opens herself up to new experiences.)

Believe it or not, I lost my virginity Tuesday night. No, not that virginity, silly. If you thought that, you obviously haven’t been paying attention. I’m talking about my podcast virginity! I joined Momma Dale, Pinkie and Peggy for I Don’t Wanna Grow Up, I’m a Drag-O-Rama Kid, the second episode of our brand new show, Drag-O-Drama.

The first episode was great. However, it was missing a key ingredient: DAPHNE! Thankfully, that error has been corrected and the latest podcast has been Daphne-ized. It’s the best place to hear about the latest in drag culture and to get the inside scoop on all the upcoming Drag-O-Rama events.

In addition, you get to learn a little more about the enigmatic Jenkins clan. This week’s topic of discussion was stories from our childhoods that prove we were meant to be drag queens. Girl, they should have signed us all up for Drag Idol before we were out of preschool.

We have lots of exciting shows planned, so do stop back frequently. My next big challenge will be to interview one of my friends and idols, Alexandria Martin. I’m going to do my best Barbara Wawa impression and uncover the girl behind the legendary performer.

We’re learning the ropes as we go along, but we’re having an absolute blast doing it. If you have suggestions, be sure to pass them along.

Smooches,
Daph

Get Out The Vote!

(Daphne Ruth Jenkins realizing she's just dropped four slots on the My Favorite Drag Queen website.)

One of the most important duties of any patriotic American is to get out and to exercise their right to vote. No, I'm not talking about the Atlanta city elections. There's about as much chance of Mayor Shirley Franklin not winning a second term as there is that queens aren't going to run out and buy Madonna's new album.

What I'm talking about is the cutthroat race over at My Favorite Drag Queen. This is a brand new site that we're hoping fills the gap left by the recent demise of the dearly departed Dragtastic website. That maternal maven of mirth, Momma Dale submitted some lovely images of the Jenkins girls to the photo booth at this new oasis of drag culture. You just roll your cursor over the thermometer to the left of the picture and select the number that you rank the photo: from 1 (booger) to 10 (dragulous).

So get over there to check out the photo booth. Besides the gals of Drag-O-Rama, you'll find lovely images of everyone from Wanda Wisdom to Atlanta Drag Idol Gigi Monroe. While you're there, don't forget to give the Jenkins clan some nice high marks. When I left for my weekend retreat in the country up at the River's Edge, I was in second place. I returned home to find that I had slipped to 6th place! Where are my fans?

At least my gorgeous sister Peggy Sue Jenkins managed to claw her way to first place in her beautiful Bjork swan dress. Of course, I'm still not sure how she wound up with an average rating of 19 when the voting is on a scale of 1 to 10. Very curious!

Smooches,
Daph

I Hear Drag People

(Daph looking for, "Bbbbbbrrraaaaiiiiiinnnnnnsssss!")

Daphne Ruth Jenkins, your undead drag superstar here to let you know about the latest sensation to sweep the web. Apparently there's this thing called a podcast in which you can actually listen to the inane ramblings of website authors instead of just reading their illiterate diatribes. What fun!

One of the pioneers in this burgeoning corner of the netosphere is the wonderful Wanda Wisdom. Her upbeat and provocative podcasts are a revelation. Wanda's even mentioned the girls of Drag-O-Rama and me specifically in recent episodes. Who knew that a sober gal could be so wacky!

Well, Wanda has inspired our very own Momma Dale and Pinkie Jenkins into throwing together their very own broadcast over on Drag-O-Drama with Momma Dale. It's just a sneak peak, but I think it will give you a savory flavor of the stream-of-un-consciousness that's to come. Each of the Jenkins clan has their own bag of tricks and will be contributing to future episodes. So, be sure to check back and tune in for the latest and greatest in dragulous delights.

In the meantime, sensation is slowly returning to my recently lifeless limbs. Hopefully, the blood will be back to circulating in my naughty bits by the weekend. We're thinking about visiting head model Marsha B. Jenkins up at her country estate, The River's Edge. Like those alien vampires in the movie "Lifeforce", I plan to suck the life out of the first stud I find until there's nothing left but a dry husk. Daphne is cummin' back to life, girl!

Smooches,
Daph