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Balcony Bingo
Written on 2001-08-01, at 1:50 a.m.
dizboy's disturbing daily diet...


1 Chicken Cesar wrap (Served to me by a drag queen. Interesting.)

2 Heinekens

2 Smirnoff Ices

14 Cigarettes (Hey, I WAS on the wagon...unfortunately, Joe Camel was pulling it.)



1 Boston Market meal with ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, and applesauce (Take THAT people concerned about my eating habits!)

1 Grilled STUFT Burrito from Taco Bell

1 Bag Nachos w/cheese sauce

1 Selma's Peanut Butter Cookie (It's hot, so when you eat it, the peanut butter just melts out of the cookie...*droooooooool*

3 Cigarettes (because I bought the pack, dammit, and when I start something, by god I FOLLOW THROUGH!)


Today was a fairly boring day.

The highlight was my foray into Academic Fraud.

I'll explain.

I went to sell back my books today, And had only two.

Well, as I'm en route to the buy back office, I see a hard cover Psychology book sitting innocently on a bench.

I saw it from a good 100 or so feet away, just there in the breezeway, not a soul around, taunting me with it's 30% buy back value.

So as I passed it, with the grace of a ballerina, I snatched it up, walked to the office, and walked out with $85 more than I had started with.

I feel sort of guilty about it, so I promise not to use the money for cigarettes or alcohol.

Just clothes and food.


Besides that, nothing too interesting happened today.

However, last night was a stroll down memory lane for me.

As stated in my previous entry, I went out to paint the town last night.

Well, not so much paint, as dabble.

I was going out with a friend to have dinner at the new queer diner du jour called "Moodswing Cafe"

Funny, my mood didn't seem to swing.

It teetered...

It wobbled...

Though swing, it did not.

I was impressed by the fact that they had real drag queens (not just boys in dresses) serving. It was ok, nice place to chill at, just don't order the "spotted dick".

I think perhaps only Eon will get that, as I believe he is the only British person to read my diary.

So Eon, that was for you.


So it just so happened that last night was the finals for the amateur strip competition at The Parliament House.

And it just so happened that there was free cover to get in.

Now it just so happens that when the 2 words "strip" and "free" enter my brain, they float about listlessly for about 0.8795ths of a second before connecting and causing a chemical reation that makes me drink overpriced malt beverages, and smoke too many cigarettes.

Thus, I end up at the Parliament House.

People in Orlando, go read a book, have a ciggy, write a letter to mom (or sign my guestbook. shameless plug, I should be beaten with a tire iron)...do something...because you all know the feeding frenzy that IS the Parliament House, or, The "P", as it's affectionately dubbed by the locals.


The P-House it a Hotel.

No, it's a gay hotel.

No, it's a seedy gay hotel.

No, it's a seedy gay hotel that has a disco in it.

No, it's a seedy gay hotel that has a disco in it, and hours of entertainment, if you know what to look for.

It REALLY is a gay hotel.

It was bought out about 2 years ago, and the new owners have come in and disneyed it.


Pronunciation: diz-nee

Function: Verb

Etymology: From the American "Disney", company which makes everything it touches sinisterly sweet and pure.

Date: Circa Times Square, 1996.

1: to take something widely accepted and lovingly beheld as sleazy, immoral, or corrosive to the whole of humanity (i.e. Times Square, Miramax Pictures, The Olsen Twins) and strip down, remarket, and re-sell with a 200% markup.

And because of that, this quaint little love shanty has become a fairly respectable destination on all the Queer guides to Orlando.

But let me tell you, my children...

Let me tell you of the Parliament House I knew...That I was exposed to as a wee lad of 18...

"The Parliament House"...Because you can't spell Orlando, without ORAL.

I actually made that up, but it's right along the lines of the Marketing they used to have on their gi-normous sign along 17-92, AKA, Orange Blossom Trail, AKA "OBT", AKA, "The Trail".

You all know what I'm talking about.

Because every single city has this street.

Because you and your friends all make fun of it.

Because whenever you're all making jokes about not having a date, one of you says...

"Yeah, I just need to go work it on (INSERT LOCAL STREET OF MALCONTENT HERE)."

Anyway, this place is an absolute (<---when I first typed "absolute", I typed "absolut" instead...maybe I am an alcoholic) culture shock. ESPECIALLY for a fresh faced queer teen who's exposure to mainstream homosexuality had been watching womens golf, and seeing Richard Simmons on "Letterman" reruns.

Dropping someone with little to no knowledge of gay culture into this place is about relative to dropping a paraplegic in Pamplona for the Running of the Bulls.

Because in either situation, there's gonna be a lot of men with moustaches wearing red, and someone's bound to get "gored".

It's actually very tough to describe this place...It looks like your average motor lodge.

Reception Desk.

Swimming Pool.

Vending Machines.

Leather Bar.

But the thing you notice almost right away is...

No one seems to be sleeping.

There are a few sights in life one must see in person to truly appreciate.

The Northern Lights.

A Key West Sunset.

The Gardens of Versailles.


And the mating ritual of the Parliament House male.

I'll set it up...

The place is 2 stories, ok?

Well, it's 2 large buildings, all rooms.

With walkways all around.

These...are the famous Balconies of the Parliament House.

I'd wager my Prada backpack that if someone ever made a list of the Seven Wonders of the Queer World, they would be near the top.

People literally wandered these balconies night after night, slinking into open doors, slinking out...Large naked men lay spread eagle in their rooms, visible through open windows, and lit only by the eerie glow of pornography on the hotel TV.

For those of us here in Orlando who were able to witness this wonder of nature before it was cleaned up, even fewer of us dared to brave the balconies ourselves, much less without a large jug of industrial strength bleach.

It's...this is where it gets tough...

It's not dangerous, per se, unless getting accosted in both flattering and terrifying ways would do something bad to you...

It's...Exhilarating...to say the least.

We locals had a game called "Balcony Bingo".

The idea was to spot as many odd things as possible in the shortest period of time.

Like...an old man in a tutu.

JUST a tutu.

There are many variations of this game in Orlando, but it is quite infamous.

But alas, much like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, this ancient wonder is no longer with us.

You see, the new owners have made this place, ugh, respectable.

Oh, you can still see people on the balconies, but now, you're not allowed upstairs without your room key.

Memories....light the corners of my mind....Misty water colores memories....of the way, we were...

So the strip show was a tad disappointing, there was a 3-way tie, and it was all just a little anti-climactic. But these were a few of the snippets of conversation either said, or overheard throughout the night...

"Well why don't you lift up the leather thing and lick his ass??"

"No, he had a Prince Albert...I just looked at it and thought about my mother..."

(By a girl) "That's my ex-boyfriend, he's totally straight, but he doesn't mind sucking cock, or taking it up the ass."

"Hey, aren't you that guy from AOL?"

(about a drag queen) "Shit, she looks like Jane Fonda dropped 6 tabs, and went to Mardi Gras".

"They tape it to their LEG???"

"We're outta Smirnoff Ice, but the Leather bar still has some"

That last one was my cue to stop drinking.

Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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