Hopefully you're here because you share an invested love/adoration/obsession with a little reality-TV show known as RuPaul's Drag Race, hosted by the gigantic black goddess known as RuPaul pictured above. But maybe that's not why you're here; maybe you're here because you were looking up Thai lady boys. Maybe you're here because you were looking up on some transsexuals. Perhaps you're just here on accident. Regardless of the reason, I'm glad you're here and I hope you stay, because this blog is focused on the greatest TV show in the history of all mankind (my humble opinion) and it would only serve you good to stick around and read up on the shit I've got to say about it. This blog is about a world where the terms tea, shade, gag, and eat it mean something entirely different from what you'd normally think it means. This is a world of limitless fabulosity, one of sequins and wigs and tucked penises and song and dance and sexual innuendos. This is The Drag Race Chronicles, and it serves to give commentary and evaluation on all the episodes of and queens within RuPaul's Drag Race. 

I first encountered RPDR while channel surfing sometime after season one. I remember stumbling across the reunion episode and seeing the glorious Shannel throw a bitchfit at Santino while self-proclaiming her beauty. I remember seeing a shot of Nina Flowers and being horrified because she looked evil. Then sometime after Santino called Shannel's top tacky and she refused to hug him, I changed the channel and shook my head. I remember thinking that that was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen, and that reality TV was going to the shitter and the show was only going to get people to think that the gays were all a bunch of...well, drama queens. And if you think about it, the show really is quite ridiculous. It's all about a bunch of men in dresses, giant wigs and a fuck-ton of makeup competing to see who does it all the best while occasionally taking a break here and there to scream at each other. But somewhere along the way I learned to love that ridiculousness. 

Later on near the end of season two, my roommate--who at the time was a bigger fan than I--would later show me RuPaul's Cover Girl video. I was intrigued, but didn't think much of it. Then he showed me a picture of the fabulous Jujubee and I was so taken by how fishy she looked, but I wasn't interested enough to give the show a full watch. It wasn't until the start of season three, when the bastard forced me to watch all the interview clips of the queens and the beginning episodes did I start to sway. I was so amazed by Raja's Italian Vogue chicness and Manila's quirky creativity and so amused by all the dirty sexual innuendos the show had to offer that by season three's end I was a hooked motherfucker. And I haven't been the same since.

By now I've watched all the episodes religiously and have even gone to see a number of queens perform in Los Angeles. It is by far my absolut favorite show, bar none. The show never takes itself too seriously and yet I respect RuPaul and his work enough to take his show very seriously (can't say the same for Heidi Klum and Tyra Banks). To me, each episode of Drag Race is a unique gem with something new to offer. 

I suppose I like the show so much that it would only be natural to make a blog so that I may record all the damn things I have to say. With less than a week until the debut of the first All Stars season, it was just something that felt right. So I hope you enjoy the reads (the literal definition and the drag definition) I have to offer, for there will be many. 

Holla.