By Monica Alonzo
By Stephen Lemons
By Jason P. Woodbury
By Dulce Paloma Baltazar Pedraza
By Ray Stern
By Pete Kotz
By Monica Alonzo
By New Times
Once in a blue moon, the Jettster and I catch hell from some fossilized old feminist who hasn't worn a bra since 1973, doesn't shave her ham-hocks, and, in general, looks like she just stepped out of the Shire in The Lord of the Rings. It's always the same song: that we "objectify" women, and that they don't like the fact that Jett's such a sexpot with an eye for both the squalies and the stickmen.
Listen up, the J-Unit is P-town's bi-Jessica Alba and glories in attention from both gals and gents. Don't be hatin' on the girl just because she doesn't loathe her sexuality, like you do. That ain't gonna happen. She's a dime and at the height of her attractiveness. You'd have better luck getting Britney to stop showing off that pregnant belly of hers.
On the objectifying tip, have you watched TV, listened to the radio, or picked up a mag other than Mother Jones lately? Like it or not, just about everyone wants to be a sex object these days. And in clubland, you might as well raise that to the 10th degree. Guys checking out girls. Girls checking out guys. And about every other combo under the sun. That's the deal. If you're from Planet Old and can't get with it, I feel sorry for you, I really do. Have fun sitting at home watching the animal channel.
This week the J-girl was lookin' to rub up on some hot boys, so we decided to parachute into the Tuesday night 2-4-1 at the PHX's premier gay sports bar, Roscoe's on 7th, at 4531 North Seventh Street, to be precise (online at www.roscoeson7.com). Roscoe's is basically what it says it is: an alternative-lifestyles sports pub, where the servers wear umpire uniforms. There's little, really, to differentiate it from many other sports bars, save for a rainbow flag on one table, and a few copies of Echo about. There are big-screen TVs all over the place, which this night are tuned in to a boxing match. And on the floor are a number of pool tables and dart machines, as both pool and dart tourneys take place at Roscoe's on a regular basis.
Though the crowd at Roscoe's is mostly gay male, there are a number of het males, lesbians and bis who make the scene on Tuesdays for that 2-4-1 special. Like at BS West's Wednesday night 2-4-1 special, you get a chip for your next drink as you order one. And nothing breaks down the inhibitions like a double dose of firewater for your scrilla. When the Jettster and I step to the bar, the first cats we meet are stud muffins Ryan and Brett, arm-in-arm and mackin'. Seems Ryan's a hair stylist and Brett works for America West out of its corporate offices. They've been a couple for two years now.
"Two years! That's like being married," says Jett. "So how do you keep your mojo in check on a night like this with all these hot doods in here?"
"The rule is look but don't touch," smiles Ryan, as Brett nods his head in agreement.
"Yeah, you gotta look if you're a guy," I comment. "Or you'll go nuts. Most chicks don't understand that. Right, Jett? Uh, Jett?"
Next to us, there's this blonde bombshell with cavernous cleavage who's giving the J-unit a case of whiplash. We quickly establish that this curvaceous honey's name is Kim, and she's hangin' with a crew of three others: Dustin, Christian and Jen. Jen's more boyish, with closely cropped hair, a baseball cap and a red tee on. Apparently, she plays for the home team and is trying to get next to Kim, who's bi. Dustin and Christian are a couple, however, and have been dating for six months now.
"I'm a girl, I really am," announces Jen, suddenly, after we've taken her pic. "So far I've had three guys come on to me here."
"But this is a gay bar," I say. "So they were gay guys who thought you were a boy?"
"Yeah, it's a little annoying," sighs Jen. "But then, I think, 'Well, I am at Roscoe's.' But what am I, the only butch lesbian in this city?"
"There are one or two others, but I guess they're not here tonight," I state. "So where do you normally hang? The Biz?"
"Ugh, I hate The Biz, because they all look like me! I like the E-Lounge. It's such a meat market. When I'm horny and lonely, I go there. You walk in and go, 'I like you, you, you and you. And I'm going home with . . . you!'"
"It's the same way here," offers Dustin. "You can choose who you go home with, but I already have the person I want to go home with." He eyes his paramour sexily, and squeezes his hand for emphasis.
"I love you, too, Christian," coos Kim. "Christian's my ex-boyfriend, actually."
"Really?" wonders Jett. "I'm all confused now."
"I go both ways, but I prefer girls. Thing is, I like girls who look like me, but that's hard to find."