Back at home, John started telling me about Club 57, a tiny basement on St. Mark's Place where the locals congregated in the bowels of a Polish Church, to watch monster movies and dance to the deejaying of Dany Johnson. It was like the Little Rascals clubhouse with weekly "talent" shows and theme parties put together by Ann Magnuson. It was there that I started performing some of my first characters like Dolly Hard-on, complete with a size 50DD bust and Dominatrix Cornelius for the Solid Gold perty. Many people who went on to become famous hung out there, like Keith Haring, and Marc Shaiman (who was up for an Oscar this year). It's funny that such a creative den of depravity would end up becoming a mental health clinic.

Club 57 was a good experience for me, because it got me warmed up for my next job, which was the house MC at Privates, an uptown rock club. Every week I had to come up with a new concept or character to go along with the night's theme. For example, when I opened for Wilson Pickett, I did Little Richard, complete with blackface and a blow-up doll, dancing to "Lucille". I almost got lucky at the end of the night until the girl in the front row saw me without my make-up. My favorite night was when I did the Halloween Show dressed as a tarantula, with people in sunglasses dressed as flies, and trapped in a giant web. It looked pretty cool with the strobe lights flashing, and me pouncing on them. Then, before announcing the band, I had the unfortunate job of reading the next weeks line-up. I didn't know why the crowd was howling so much, maybe it was because Lux Interior and Poison Ivy were standing right behind me, waiting to start playing. So, like a good little spider, I squealed:" Ladies and Germs, Here Are the CRAMPS!", and quickly crawled off the stage.