Gay bar, gay bar, gay bar, gay bar! Sigh.

So we were at the bar this weekend, and I got all pissy because the DJ showed his lack of creativity or risk-taking chutzpah by playing pretty much the same songs we've been hearing for the last couple months. I know that it's important to play popular music ... drunk ass bitches are comforted by it ... but does it always have to be thump-thump-hook-up-at-the-club crap? I swear, if I hear that damn Pussycat Dolls song one more time, they'll be singing "Dontcha Wish Your Boyfriend Wouldn't Have Gone Psycho?" Hands down, my least favorite song of the year. Ugh. Utter tripe.

Of course, I could be considered something of a music snob ... I like to think my tastes are eclectic ... but that's a fallacy. Sure, I tend to gravitate toward the folky side of things, getting lost in the sounds of Patty Griffin, Bettye Lavette, or David Gray, but that's not all there is to me. I have some guilty pleasures buried in my collection. I groove with Justin Timberlake and Kylie Minogue occasionally, and I'm only slightly embarrassed to admit it. But there's got to be something else. You can't tell me these DJs don't have some gems they're dying to play, but don't, because the queens will get their wigs in a snit if they don't hear Daft Punk or Madonna. It's always dull, soulless dance music. Always. Remixed Jody Watley croons to me damn near every time I'm in that place. And this is supposed to be the leather bar we go to (and if I start in on that ridiculous claim, we'll be here all day)!!

Our friend David always talks about wanting to open an alt-country/folk gay bar. If I had the money, I swear I'd be right there with him, spinning the tunes and drinking my rum and Coke. You can't tell me we're the only ones sick of the shit that gets played and played and played. Instead of boring "amateur" gay porn, we'd show music biopics. Can't you see a gaggle of queens drinking mint juleps and quoting Coal Miner's Daughter? Or Sweet Dreams? (However, I draw the line at made-for-TV crap like Big Dreams and Broken Hearts: The Dottie West Story, Get to The Heart: The Barbara Mandrell Story, and Stand by Your Man.) And our bartender, decked out in requisite western gear, would spin on his Dingo heel and shout "Y'all stop fightin' and listen to me sing!"