Nice body, good dresser but most important - a turn out the lights and call the law dance until dawn freak.

I’d wear my favorite jeans/tennis shoes/some little nothing top and we would cut loose for hours. It was my favorite cardio.

We hit all the boy clubs. Fun walking into a sea of men all - with their shirts off - being upstairs at the club on Highland and watching the dance floor so packed with men you saw nothing but six pack's, biceps and wall to wall skin. So yummy.

Some of my girlfriends would say,
‘…gay bars are no fun, they don’t want you…’

But that was the appeal for me. I was never much of a player, more of a serial monogamist.

Not having to think about the men I’d been petting and grinding on all night, not having to worry about some fucker following me to the bathroom or parking lot, not having to fight them off, hurt anyone’s feelings was perfect.

Mr Rightnow would go dancing once in awhile - not 3 days a week.

Dancing for the release, the flight up, that euphoria you get from dancing all night to a good DJ surrounded by throbbing masses - and burning 2000 calories - heaven.

Gay Pride 98.

A bunch of us danced easy all day, a few margs at Cobalt, little schnizzle, this n that - 4 am found a pack of us sitting on a large carpet covered cube on the edge of the Axis dance floor, wiped out.

It was starting to clear out but still 3 - 4 hundred people in the club.

We were having a quiet moment no one saying anything. I’m leaning on Sebastian’s chest.

‘…oh man…I feel so…Debbie…’
A minute goes by.
I finally said, ‘...baby, did you just call yourself Debbie?’
‘Yea I think I did,’ he laughed.

Anytime someone said something remotely stoned or stupid they were Debbie, so inside 15 minutes we were all Debbie. When we met someone it went something like this...

‘Hi…this is Sebastian, Alisa, Chuck, Trevor, Grace – you know what? Just call us Debbie - we’ll all respond to that.’

So Deb was in clubs having fun, she’s a party girl. The name started to catch on in the pack.

Gay Pride is in June and Burning Man is Labor Day. By the time we got to BM it was the easiest way to keep track of each other - everyone in our camp was Deb.

Example: Yelling into the walkies, 'Debbie! You have to come see this huge glowing thing on the corner of 5th & Jupiter!’

My friend Lana wanted to have a Theme Camp and call it Debbie’s Petting Zoo. It was up for BMan 99 – but 2000 was the year the Petting Zoo really went off.

Lana had decided to whip Debbie into shape and build a proper camp - and Dog bless her she did it – although Deb was a bit surly. Deb doesn’t really like work.

Debbie had taken on a life of her own – she was an extension of our most hedonistic/debauched/feral urges.

She was becoming a Diva. A temptress, a drunken, ecstasy chewing, nitrous sniffing, chain smoking n tokin' gorgeous, slutty, monster - always doing something naughty.

She had become the pink elephant in the Chinese bell tower. Chaos followed her like a whirlwind.

Something had to be done.

2000 was my favorite (and last) year at BMan.

I was the homeless cab for Debbie, lord knows she needed one. I rented a convertible mustang at the airport and covered it with boxes from U-haul and covered that with turquoise neon wire signs.

'Homeless please give generously’ 8 ft across on either side with a red ‘VET’ across the back.

All Lana's bitching had paid off. She had A BIG circus tent set up with a mandatory shoe depository in a square tent attached to the entrance.

No matter how rainy, muddy, windy and God awful it was outside (2000 was a harsh year) inside The Petting Zoo it was nice and warm, furry carpet, no shoes dragging in mud and so deliciously smutty.

It was dark and made 4 luv. Killer line up of DJ’s playin’ smoky/sexy beats, Ryder truck full of speakers and our walls were lined with sofas and beds. Sin fuckin’ City.

The Petting Zoo was full to overflowing every night. It brought to mind old Roman orgies/Plato’s Retreat/ClubFuck in the 80's, if you wanted to hook up, you could go to the Petting Zoo.

One afternoon - the last weekend - a few of us stopped in a little tent on the playa to see about some schnizz.

‘So what’s been your favorite thing at Burning Man this year?’ Vic asked the couple sitting next to us.

‘Debbie’s Petting Zoo! They responded enthusiastically, have you been in there?’
Vic and I beamed like proud parents. In the land of extra excess, Deb still stood out like Pandora.

Doing a camp of that magnitude that takes a ton of work and a big cash flow - Lana couldn’t keep it together, besides she was tired of being Deb’s Big Bitch. The Petting Zoo kind of fell apart after that.

I skipped BM and went to Oz the following year – some Debs split off & started a Black Light camp – some Debs went to Europe, some got married – but we all sort of escaped.

Debbie needed some alone time. Perhaps a bit of detox. Years passed while she snoozed, dreaming of the next thing.

Thinking up names 4 my site it came pretty naturally.

CafeDeb is something that’s easy to remember if you’re coming home altered at 3 am and want to look at sweet gorgeous babies.

I didn’t want ‘Club’ in the name because that denotes hard core and XXX = Yuk.

A Café is a place where women R welcome, too. Debbie is sexy & perverted but on her own terms. She can be Debbie does Dallas or a Debutant, depends on her mood.

So that’s the Story of Deb – the way I remember it anyway – I could be off my head, depends on who you’re talking to.

Deb's fondest memories are clouded with long ago halycon dreams, surreal/misty/sexy/bizarre amusement's - and she's fairly narcisstic - she remembers only what’s entertaining to her.

That’s our little Debbie, she’s just so cute when she dances on table tops you forgive her the occasional minor trespasses, larceny, binges, misdemeanors and soft core web sites.