Girls' Night Out

The last thing my parents would expect at this point in my life is me spending the evening with a woman. However, I can't say that a night out with three women would go over well with them either. Well, maybe my dad, but that's just how men are.

On a steamy Sunday night, I am standing outside a row of blank-faced studios on Exposition Park Avenue. In an inappropriate long-sleeved shirt and jeans, I am waiting with anticipation and failing deodorant for an interview with a new band on the local music scene that may just be the next Dallas phenomenon. Or at least they are aiming to be. And if that doesn't work out, then they always have their thriving daytime jobs of fighting crime and schooling America's next top models.

No, really. They told me so.

Billing themselves as female detectives by day and pop-star trio by night, She-Dick answers the question of what do you get when you mix Charlie's Angels with En Vogue and a not-so-subtle dash of RuPaul. While we're at it, throw in some Dolly Parton, Scissor Sisters, Peaches and even Poison. In the mere eight months since its inception, She-Dick is making a splash on the local scene with shows at Rubber Gloves in Denton, walking the runway at the DIFFA benefit and getting chummy with society darlings at Goss Gallery openings. They also serve as headmistresses of their She-Dick School of Modeling. She-Dick works hard for the money.

I'm meeting the band at Teresa Nasty's studio for a photo shoot, because this is what glamorous pop stars do. Miss Nasty, a petite Asian woman in her 20s with a radiant smile, is waiting for me, and she leads me into her funky hip studio. "Where is the nasty?" I think.

There's surrealism in the air. Bustling peons abound in the spacious area as Nasty is photographing She-Dick producer Hans Handikraft, a man almost as petite as Nasty. Wardrobe-and-hair guy for the night (and friend of the band), Mattamorphosis is helping the ladies in the dressing room.

Handikraft, in sunglasses that almost swallow his head while screaming European snobbery, claims he's from Germany despite a very non-existent accent. A Kraftwerk acolyte, he's the quiet member of the group. He succinctly explains his role in the band, "I make de hott beats, yaaa!" and then clarifies that he is the producer and performance DJ.

Heavy taps of high heels make their way out of the dressing room. Annie Rex, the redhead, opts for some quickie cardio while final preening takes place. Jumping on Nasty's elliptical, heels and all, she goes at it to work off any extra calories she hasn't eaten all week. The top of her 6'1" frame, plus 3-inch heels, hits the ceiling with each upward movement on the machine. In whore-red couture of varying cuts, the trio of tall muscular women, who look like Russian gymnasts going to their first ball, is ready for a close-up.

After striking quintessential diva poses, a wardrobe change is called for, although I'm not expecting it to take place right in front of me. As Candy and Annie remove their tops to reveal—gasp!—fake boobs, we discuss a new song they are writing to the tune of Little Mermaid's "Part of Your World."

"It's called 'Under the Knife'," Candy says proudly. Annie elaborates, "It's about all the different ways women get alterations done on their bodies. Dallas is a pretty big plastic surgery center in the U.S." She says inspiration for the song with lyrics like "Did you say collagen injections? I've had 20" was right in front of them with all their fancy party invitations. "There are so many rich people with plastic surgery scars. What is the fascination with it?" she says before revealing her bandmate's secret. "Gloria's had a nose job and veneers, and we always kid her about that."

That would be Miss Gloria Hole, the Cuban-black-Spaniard-Haitian-hoochie mama. Wearing skirts that make Daisy Dukes look like ball gowns, Gloria is physically intimidating with bulging biceps that I would kill for and quads that I would only maim kittens for. Candy is the most experienced of the three with a less than successful solo run and tour under her belt. Thanks to the tour though, she met what would be her future collaborators in all aspects of her multiple careers.

"I took a short tour to Pensacola and back because that's as far as my station wagon would take me," she recalls.

Gloria chimes in to the moment they met, "I saw her crying on the beach. She was distraught about the tour not going well."