Estrogen and testosterone.

During a feminist studies class I took in college, there was one day when our professor made us sit in a circle, and decide where each of us would be placed on the Gender Spectrum.

On one pole lay the ALL FEMALE behavior, and on the other end lay the ALL MALE behavior.

We went around the room, and as we made our evaluations out loud, our teacher wrote our names on a hand-written spectrum she drew on the chalkboard.  The point was to see how we’ve all got a little male / female in every one of us, and that gender, like sexuality, isn’t a this-or-that endeavor.
Still.  I was pissed off when my name was written squarely on top of the ALL FEMALE pole.
“But, but … I can jump a car!!” I protested. 
“And, um … I totally dressed up as Rodney Dangerfield once for Halloween, you guys,” I said, meekly.
My classmates giggled at me.  “It’s ok,” a Joan Jett look-alike said, patting my shoulder.  “No shame in being girly.  You always have really nice toenails.”
I thought about that this past weekend — girliness, manliness, man, woman — while Rot Rally was going on in Austin.  Have you ever experienced, or heard of, Rot Rally?  It ranks on the ALL MALE side of the Gender Spectrum.

I know I know, that’s a reductive statement.  What I meant to say is, Rot Rally is a virtual PARADE OF TESTOSTERONE.

For one weekend a year, Harleys take over downtown Austin, Texas, leaving a cloud of diesel fumes in their wake.  Hipsters don’t stand a chance.  Neither do polished-toenails girly girls.  It’s 48 hours of revving motors and non-ironic do-rags.  I snapped this picture above on Congress Avenue, right before a man’s single bicep blocked my camera lens.

But on Friday night, I had a gang too, you see.
A gang of estrogen.

You may have seen these pretty ladies before on my blog.  Note the pixie-haired beauty in the pink dress above?  That is Nina, and it was her birthday.  We went to Second Bar + Kitchen, ensconcing ourselves from the bikers outside in lounge music and chardonnay.  
As I’ve gotten older — now at the ripe old age of 29 — I’ve become ever so slightly more hermit-like.  But while I don’t go out as often, my girlfriends are a constant in my life for whom I am incredibly grateful.  Pardon the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants moment, but it’s true!  Everyone deserves friends like these.

(There’s another set of pictures we took last weekend that will never see the light of day on the Internet, but in short, we had an Ugly Face Competition.  Basically, it’s a game where you make the worst expression you could possibly make, and direct your camera-person to take the shot from the worst angle.  In case you’re wondering, I totally won.)

Alright now, estrogen night, that was Friday.  But Saturday, at the Chinaski / Happen-Ins / Bright Light Social Hour show, I found myself once again surrounded by my manlier brethren. 

Here are some shots of The Happen-Ins.  The crowd was relatively stable at this moment.

These are The Bright Light Social Hour boys, and this was when all hell started breaking loose.
At some point, the audience crossed the threshold from excited to Lord of the Flies.  I was with my friend Megan, and the reason you aren’t seeing her pictured here is because we were too busy surviving: A fight broke out behind us, one dude had a literal seizure, I felt a sneaker in my face, then looked up to see some guy sailing away on a crowd surfing sea.  All activities that wouldn’t surprise me at a metal show — or an anarchist rally — but, a rock show?  In hippie Austin?  
I blame it on all the excess testosterone in the air.
What I’m saying is, it was an intense show.  But also incredible.  Even me — toenail-painted, girly me — still gets a rush from a throbbing crowd.  Maybe it had just been too long for this little hermit. 
A very shiny me right afterwards.  Note the lipstick selection — that’s the power of ColorStay, my fellow girly girls.

hope you had a fun weekend!