When I moved to Washington, DC in 1988 (holy shit, that was 20 years ago) my real introductions to the town were Adams Morgan Day and the Drag Race. I missed the Drag Race this year, but I think the Washington Post article sums it up beautifully:

If you haven’t spent a frigid evening watching a sparkly herd of men stampede as if on a life-or-death escape from a Bedazzler that already attacked them once, then, honey, you simply haven’t lived.

I’m deeply sorry I missed the polygamists.

Theory: It is impossible to witness the drag race and not utter the word “Fabulous.”

The Cher/Gwen Stefani/Princess Di-and-bodyguards? Fabulous. Judy Garland making eyes at Liza Minnelli? Creepy and fabulous.

Those nine middle-age guys dressed up as polygamist-sect members in matching pink gingham? Fundamentally Fabulous.

Tonight I forge ahead with the Frankenstein film fest. I have to admit I put on Bride of Frankenstein last night and then immediately became so occupied undoing the screwed-up sleeve on my dress that I was startled when the closing credits started running. I’d completely tuned out the whole movie, so tonight will have to be a do-over. Bride is the best of the batch, after all – if it was one of the crappy later monster flicks I might have let it slide.