"Moi? That is so not true! Just becau... Oh wait! Shhh! Jackie's Laying Into Peeler Again."

So today I headed down to Chestnut Hill to wish the Baron a Happy Birthday all proper like and in person. To be sure, I baked him a birthday cake. (*sigh* When will someone bake a cake for me?) It was my strong suit: devil's food with vanila buttercream frosting.

We met up at the Starbucks on Germantown Avenue, and I found a parking space at a meter right across the street. The Baron was delighted with his cake, which had survived the trip pretty well, and the two of us yacked away for hours. Then, charged up with all the sugar from the cake, we took a walk around Chestnut Hill to burn some of it off.

Chestnut Hill is pretty fascinating. WASP culture predominates in that wee enclave. Sort of surprising to remember that a wee ten blocks away, people shoot each other for giving a dirty look in good old Killadelphia.

On our walk, we passed a fabric store. They had a window display announcing that it's prom season, I guess encouraging high school girls to make their own dresses. Part of the display was a manequin wrapped in blue and purple tissue paper.

The Baron and I stopped in our tracks.

"Pretty Project Runway," I commented.

"Yeah," the Baron said, "But not very strong."

"True. Those colors wouldn't look good on anyone."

And then the Baron turned to me and said it: "You are such a Bravo Queen."

I gasped.

Omigod could he be right?

Just last night I was all about Sheer Genius. Now, I could not be less interested in hair. In general, guys with hair hold just about no interest for me. And when I meet a gay man who does hair for a living, at the back of my mind I always think, "Couldn't you think of ANYTHING else to do for a living?" It's like if I was Jewiish and I met a fellow Jew who described his job as, "I'm a money lender. I charge extortionary interest."

But those shows on Bravo just suck me right in. There I was, loving him, trying to decide of the two weakest who deserved to go. And the night before, I was watching Work Out. (Why can't Brian be the queer one?)

I think it's true. I drank the Kool-Aide.

I... am... a... a... Bravo Queen.