It was too friggin hot for a parade during Gay Pride weekend, and you sure-as-shitbags won't find me in some thumpin' dance club. So how else was I going to celebrate than with the rock sluts at CBGB for the very last HomoCorps? (Oh honey, don't cry, you'll shmear your mascara!) Everyone's favorite bald queen Dean Johnson has presented the gay showcase for some time, but due to the looming closure of 315 Bowery, we were faced with the last hurrah on June 25. Hosted by the dahling drag duo The Dueling Bankheads (as in Tallulah), we raised our gay glasses to the last crop of performers including Carol Channing Rox, Gay Pimp Jonny McGovern, Miss Guy, Cazwell, DaLipstyxx, Velvet Mafia, The Maul Girls, 3Puen, Dirty Excuse, and Altar Bois. I was upright for the following acts only.

3Puen (pronounced "pyoon" – the 3 is silent) got onstage and performed wonky, crack-ass, creepy tunes about… hell, I'd be lying if I said I had any idea what the songs were about. Pint-size sweetie Otis Von Darling performed the instant-classic (and my new obsession) "Sugar Cookie" along to a keytar and the unabashed love of the audience. "Hi Sugar Cookie brrappboopbeeboopbeebahahyayayawooahhbabrap, Sugar Cookie." Applause!

Everyone was buzzing out of their knickers for the Maul Girls reunion, so when the band appeared, people were loudly slurring "Where ya been?" and "I haven't seen them since I was 15" and "I remember at their last show blahblahblahblah." The band delivered their funk-fused power pop as if nothing changed save for the drastic aging of their beloved fans. Once a rock slut, always a rock slut. Or so says my mom.

The rap portion of the evening heated up with Cazwell, who spray-painted "CBGB" all over his lean back and torso, and spit crazy rhymes that would bring Eminem to his knees. Oh no I di-n't! Oh snap, I did! Cazwell said the reason he moved to NYC was because of HomoCorps and thank goodness for that. This boy's got talent up the wazoo. Oh no I di – yeah, yeah, you get the idea.

Three rappin queens known as DaLipstyxx were like the Pointer Sisters of the Bowery – so damn exited and they just couldn't hide it. The self-proclaimed "tri-sexual, pop-hop gender-benders" raised the bar – raised many a bar, I'm sure – in terms of unbridled enthusiasm for all things queer and musical. They danced, grooved, and spread so much sass, they were called back for two encores.

Of course, the stars of HomoCorps are Dean Johnson's famed band, the Velvet Mafia. (And how much do we love that his last name is synonymous with cock? Much too much.) At six and a half feet tall, Johnson is queen and king, especially swaying his hips and tossing his ridiculously broad shoulders to and fro. Feeling my loins pulse along to "The Girl from Planet Muff" and "This Stud's For You," I couldn't help but think the moment was bittersweet. Oh, HomoCorps, in the worlds of that filthy minx Tallulah Bankhead, your heart is as pure as the driven slush!

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