the Golden Duo

Oh honey, let me paint you a picture.

It’s show night at The Golden Duo—drag queens in orthopedic heels, dishing out sass like it’s soup at a retirement home.

I’m in the audience, clinging to the edge of my seat like it’s a Life Alert commercial.

Dorothy’s got a tongue so sharp it could julienne a zucchini. Sophia’s swinging her purse like she’s late to bingo and out of pepper spray.

I laughed so hard I dislocated a memory.

The woman next to me snorted. Loud. Then apologized to Jesus.

This isn’t a show—it’s a glittery hurricane of one-liners, hip pads, and emotional damage... wrapped in a hug and served with cheesecake.

Don’t be the poor soul stuck at home folding laundry and questioning your life choices.

Get your ticket now or forever sit on the couch wondering what went wrong!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to ice my abs. From laughing. Obviously.