Ruby Ridge

Flaming bagels of death

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So, darlings, a few mornings ago at the Bunker du Glamour, I had just put a cinnamon-sugar bagel in the toaster when the phone rang in my office. The call lasted only a few minutes but all of a sudden the smoke detectors started going off and the house was filling with smoke. My innocent, little breakfast nosh had turned into a flaming bagel of death and was trying to set my kitchen cabinets on fire! Not exactly a pleasant way to start the morning, I must tell you.

What I didn’t realize was that there was so much sugar in the bagel topping that as it heated, it started spitting out crackling, flaming globs of sugary napalm all over the counter. Seriously, pumpkins, between the smoke, the smell and the sticky, burning crap everywhere, my kitchen was just one rice paddy shy of a Vietcong village! I smothered the toaster and stomped out the little, burning globs on the floor. (Thank god I was wearing shoes and thank goodness I’m replacing the kitchen floor this winter.) I tell you, I was traumatized, cherubs, traumatized! I just know I’m going to get PTSD panic attacks whenever I go past the airport Cinnabon.

As if that wasn’t enough of a near-death experience, QSaltLake‘s Fun Bus to Wendover blew its front right side tire as we passed Lake Point. Of course I was standing up with the microphone hosting the trip, directly over the wheel cover when it happened. Thankfully, our plucky little bus driver navigated the vehicle over to the side of the road, which was amazing because as we found out later, parts of the shredded tire had lodged between the wheel and the drums and had taken out the brakes. His calmness and professionalism were amazing, petals, because if I was in that situation, I would have been screaming like a 10-year-old Japanese schoolgirl and praying for Jesus to take the wheel!

Our riders had not consumed too much alcohol at that point so we were able to make an orderly transition onto another bus and we continued on our merry way to Wendover, unfazed. Oh, and while I think about it, our good friend, Gene (from Club Try-Angles) has supported our bingo and fundraisers for years and yet he has never won a prize. Well, good things come to those who wait, bunnies, because on the bus he won a lovely Park City hotel stay, show and restaurant prize package, so I never have to hear him whining that he is “always a spinner, but never a winner” again!

I survived my bus and bagel ordeals just in time for Halloween weekend and a few mandatory house parties. In retrospect, I should have gone dressed as a flaming queen, but then again that’s my idea of a casual Friday, so I decided I needed something a little more festive. Technically, I was dressed as Friar Tuck but wherever we went, random dogs and pets seemed to end up on my lap, so I changed my theme mid-evening into “Saint Francis of a Sissy.” I could have gone dressed as a priest, but seriously, who wants to drag around a roofied alter boy all night, just to look authentic? I can barely keep track of my car keys!

Anyhow, I went to my first lesbian Halloween party, which was a hoot. Naturally it was in the Sugar House bungalow belt and there were members of the lesbian rugby team. The girls had a great party mix on shuffle and despite being packed like sardines they were dancing up a storm. I spent half the night trying to remember some of the cool retro songs so I could download them off iTunes but by the next day all I could remember was “Super Freak” by Rick James, which despite being misogynistic, sexist and crude makes a surprising amount of sense at a lesbian dance party. Maybe they will play it again at my first lesbian Christmas party? Hint, hint.

Ciao, babies!

You can see Ruby Ridge and the Matrons of Mayhem in all of their polyester glory, every third Friday of the month at Third Friday Bingo at 7 p.m. (First Baptist Church, 777 S. 1300 East). 

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