Why does it always leave me in such a good mood when I catch Priscilla on TV by accident? I kind of want to go out and make it with an Australian drag queen now. While listening to Abba. Or “Take a Letter Maria”.
It’s also got me thinking about 1994 when I had a boyfriend who was neither Australian nor a drag queen. I’m having this very strange mental picture of the two of us flying up I-5 from LA at 4:00 in the morning, listening to Abba’s greatest hits really loud. It seems strangely comfortable now, but it didn’t at the time. I think I ws pissed about something, probably the fact that we were driving home from LA at 4AM.
But I don’t think I’d mind doing the same thing again right now, albeit maybe with a different companion…