Sick and Tired of Always Being Sick and Tired

I hate being sick. I loathe it. I’d rather have complete sensory deprivation while my body heals itself than having to be conscious through the coughing, sneezing, aches and pains. What’s worse is the inability to talk. I talk in my sleep. So I’m sure you can imagine what it’s like for somebody like me being stripped of my voice.

Here’s my list of things I did/discovered a love for while incapacitated on my couch/bed.

• Project Runway Marathon on Bravo (in no particular order -- Nick, Chloe, Santino and Daniel will be the last four standing)


• Text messaging (I do believe I’m over my 300 monthly texts)


• Hong Kong Harbour Delivery (Hot & Sour Soup, General Tso’s Chicken – sick taste buds only respond to the super spicy)


• Sex and the City DVD marathon (I do like Berger the best out of Carrie’s exes)


• Silence of the Lambs on Bravo Late Night (this also made me break out the Hannibal DVD)


• Puffs with Lotion (beats rubbing your nose raw)


• Ambien (temporary sensory deprivation)


• Tylenol PM (see above)


• Not feeling guilty about rejecting incoming phone calls


• Missing a memorial (I’ve already had my bout of depression this month)


• Gatorade Rain (better flavors, doesn’t leave that Gatorade aftertaste)


• Pineapple, Orange-Banana Juice from Dole (this would make a great mixer)

Come to think of it, maybe being sick isn’t half bad. You just have to stock up on the sensory deprivation pharmaceuticals to ease the pain. Hell, I’m still on Ambien hangover right now.

Miss Jungle Atlanta Rules and Requirements

Miss Jungle Atlanta 2006 Rules and Requirements
Into The Deep, Dark Jungle

1. Entry fee of $50.00 is due by February 15, 2006. The entry fee will be $75.00 thereafter until the day of the pageant, February 22, 2006.


2. Payment can be made by cashier’s check, money order or cash. Business checks will be accepted, however personal checks will not. Cashier’s checks and money orders can be made payable to:
Jungle Night Club
2115 Faulkner Road
Atlanta, GA

3. Contestants must be males who have reached the age of 21 before the date of the pageant and must be able to show proof of age and identification.

4. All contestants must be present for registration no later than 2:00 PM on the day of the pageant. Jungle personnel will be on hand for registration beginning at 12:00 Noon. Any contestants arriving after 2:00 PM will not be considered.

5. Judging will be on a total points scored system. In the event of a tie score, the total talent score will be used to declare a winner.

6. Contestants will be judged in the following categories:

• Presentation, themed “Into the Deep, Dark Jungle” (3 minutes)


• Solo Talent, only the use of hand held props is permitted for this category (7 minutes)


• Creative Club Wear

7. Presentation music and talent music must be formatted on CD or DVD and must be clearly labeled with the contestant’s name and track number. All music must be turned in at registration.

• Jungle will provide music for presentation should the contestant desire not to submit a selection.

8. Each person is allowed only one dresser backstage. The dressing area will be completely monitored and secured. Absolutely NO ONE will be allowed access to this area without proper credentials. As a contestant, you will receive two sets of credentials, one for yourself and one for your dresser. These credentials will be disbursed during registration.

9. The use of fire and/or water is prohibited throughout any of the categories.

10. The use or dispensing of any illegal substance is also prohibited.

11. Any contestant or dresser caught stealing or tampering with another person’s possessions will be prosecuted and immediately removed from the premises.

Diary of a Drag Pageant, Part 2

Diary of a Drag Pageant – Part Two
So, last night I took a trip down to the Cabaret to see Ashley (okay, so that is a complete lie; I go down there with Shawnna every Thursday). In the short period of time at the Cabaret, we managed to bang out the official rules and regulations of Miss Jungle Atlanta 2006. Damn, I had no idea you had to be so strict with these trannies.

Please Sign In
Personally, I can’t wait until registration:

“Ma’am, it says right here that you had to be born a dude. Hit it.”

“Solo talent means you do it yourself, no extra people. No, midgets DO count as extra people.”

“The theme is ‘Into the Deep, Dark Jungle,’ when was the last time YOU saw confetti in the jungle?”

Ya’ll Lucky They Ain’t Entering
While I was there, the lovely Necole Luv Dupree stopped by to say hello to the girls. When I asked her what she would be doing on Feb. 22, she smiled and said “I’m in your pageant, I was going to compete, but I’m gonna perform.”

I LOVE me some Necole Luv Dupree.

Oh, Ashley also said that Miss Gay USofA 2005-06 will be appearing as well. Get ready bitches; Tamisha Iman will be in the motherfuckin’ house. Tamisha Iman, Ta-Ta-Ta-misha Iman – you know you know me.

It’s Your Night, No Really
Okay, so most of my wishlist of contestants was at the Cabaret last night, but I know they won’t be entering due to various reasons. First there was Genre – not to be confused with the magazine of the same name. I think Genre would totally make these bitches flip the fuck out, but I think she’s anti-pageant or something.

Then there is NPB, who would excel at this type of pageant, but she’s waitressing or bussing at Cherry that night or something. And, because EJ Aviance is also a bartender or sushi chef at Cherry on the same night, that eliminates her from the pageant as well.

Then there’s NPB’s sista, Destiny Brooks – she would also be a one to watch for the pageant, however mama says she needs to concentrate on Drag Idol II, of which she is a contestant and IMO, a frontrunner.

Ah well, that means next year will be just as interesting.

Oh, for the complete rules, check out http://theguestlist.blogspot.com/

Diary of a Drag Pageant, Part One

As the old adage goes “never mix business with pleasure.” I, for one, refuse to limit myself to such a clichéd proverb.

It’s been a while since my last post on business type affairs. Truth be told, I felt a whole transition kind of thing happening, but didn’t really know what to expect next. So, I slowed down on my weekly rituals of bar-hopping, but got very bored very quickly. Then, I took on the project of all projects: refreshing and rejuvenating the Miss Jungle Pageant.

A Little Help, Please?
First and foremost, I recruited the incredible Ashley Kruiz as the Co-Producer. Within our first few conversations, we had plotted out a competition that will rival the now defunct Miss Hotlanta pageants – not in the completely stunted way of its last couple of years, but back when the themes were super right like “Year of the Dragon” and “Portrait of a Lady.”

All Eyes On Me
Next on the list was to bring in the Host of all Hosts, Mr. Charlie Brown. To my delight, she agreed without hesitation – “for Brad Williams (owner of Jungle),” she said, “I’d do it in a heart beat.” It’s amazing how much we can accomplish as a community isn’t it?

Will You Wake Up?
All right, moving along, the next step was getting rid of tired ass pageant themes a la Drop Dead Gorgeous (“Proud to be an American,” “Amer-I-CAN”), quite laughable and extremely snooze fest, you know? Let’s have something with some bite, something that will incorporate the fact that Jungle is indeed a club, not a jewelry store (“All that Glitters” – yawn.). I’ve got it – “Into the Deep, Dark Jungle.”

I love me some animal print and I live for branches, twigs and all that.

Let's Get Ready To Rumble
Last year there were four contestants in Miss Jungle. My lovely Auntie ‘Oonch (Paula Sinclair) barely had to show up to win that pageant. This year ladies, it ain’t gonna be that easy. Without saying too much, it’s gonna be a bloodbath. And, not in a literal sense, heavens no -- who has that much Oxi-clean in stock?

Now, let’s see, we’ve got a diva host – check. Exciting theme – yup. Sickening reigning queen – absolutely. Growing list of brilliant contestants – done. Ok, so we have to do something about the categories. So, Ashley and I brainstormed a bit more.

Dress Code Strictly Enforced
While most girls LIVE for the Evening Gown category – as a viewer, it bores me. And, how many times have you seen an evening gown at a club? Yeah, never, well unless there’s a pageant. So, let’s switch that out with Club Wear. Now, that’s some spice we need. And as for a former producer’s comments about calling it the “Miss Club Kid” pageant? Yeah, well if it wasn’t for Brad, you would have been cussed out and ran out of town a long ass time ago – zip it.

All By Myself
All right, some of the new girls can’t afford backup dancers and extravagant props, so let’s even the playing field. Ashley says let’s do a Solo Talent category – no props other than what you can carry on stage with you and no extra people like backup dancers and characters. You have to rely on your true talents as a performer? Wow, now there’s a concept – book it.

So far, so good; who thought work could be this much fun?

Going Home

Families are a hierarchy. Regardless of being well beyond the legal age of purchasing cigarettes, porn or alcohol; despite having lived on my own since I was 17, my mother still has this umbilical harness that pulls me down to Florida on her command.

“You’ve got work to do? It can wait,” she said to me last weekend.

“Come say good-bye to your grandmother.”

Yes ma’am. You see, of everything I’ve learned in my 29 going on 30 years here on Earth, the most pertinent given is it’s pointless to argue with mommy. She’s a professional. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, mommy is the be-all, end-all decision maker in my life. No other person can influence my decision making process like she can, no one can make me shut the fuck up with a single glance like her and not a single soul can get me to drop everything I’m doing and drive six hours through a rainstorm with a five-minute phone conversation.

The catalyst of my last-minute trip was my grandmother’s health condition. She has lived a long life and in some higher-up’s design, her time to move on has come. I’m not a fan of saying good-bye, it’s not my job to watch someone pass away – it’s a tedious task I’ve had to perform on too many an occasion.

My dear friend Vickie was kind enough to join me on my jaunt down to Ocala, Florida as her pseudo-boyfriend Marlon has just moved to Lakeland. Marlon met us in Ocala and took Vickie on further south.

Slower Traffic Keep Right
Getting out of Atlanta on a Friday afternoon is tricky in itself, getting out of Atlanta on the Friday afternoon of Martin Luther King weekend is near impossible. Now, throw in a thunderstorm and the idea of dropping $600 on a plane ticket to Orlando started to sound like a sane idea.

We finally left the comfort of 285 only to meet the fun times of near zero visibility on 75 south. After Macon, we started to edge out the incoming rain front – until we hit Valdosta’s attempts to add two lanes through its lovely town. One would think adding two lanes would be a good idea; however the flaw in the plan is that adding two lanes means occupying one of the already existing functional lanes. Yeah, yippie ki yay.

All Visitors Please Sign In
We finally got to the urban Mecca of Ocala, Florida in time for the bitch of a nurse to tell me I’ve arrived well past the hospital’s visiting hours. Seeing my grandmother would have to wait as adhering to the hospital’s policies and procedure far outweighed any bond my grandmother and I might have.

I called my mom from the hospital lobby as my little “fuck you” to Nurse Bitchface and made sure she could eavesdrop on every word. I ignored every time she cleared her throat and tapped the “No Cell Phone” sign with her Lee Press-On. Was I being irrational? Absolutely. Did I give a shit? Hell No.

Your Money’s No Good Here
Vickie got to meet my family shortly thereafter and was amused by my mommy’s subtle control of the family. My sister-in-law, younger brother and new niece, Aimee were all a bit under the weather but were still pretty damn entertaining. Marlon arrived and was forced to sit and eat with us at the quaint Thai restaurant. Vickie and Marlon attempted to pay their share of the bill, but were thoroughly rebuffed by Mama Reyes. I just laughed and gloated an “I told you so” as Vickie put away her Debit card. Like I had warned, mommy’s a professional, she don’t play.

Day 2

Ocala is a trip in so many different ways. First, it’s like everyone that lives there are on some mind-inducing sedative. Second, I’ve never seen so many restaurants and churches in one city. Third, people talk without a trace of sarcasm. Well, with the exceptions of my mommy and my sister-in-law.

My mommy had two objectives on my second day of Ocala fun. The first and most important was to visit my grandmother. The second was to do a bit of shopping. You see, she felt my clothes looked old. Yeah, I wasn’t about to explain that vintage tees and ripped up, rugged jeans are perfectly acceptable on a day to day basis.

Action Speaks Louder Than Words
Both tasks were incredibly exhausting. Visiting my grandmother was for lack of a better term, depressing. Mentally, she had passed away long before I had arrived back in Ocala. For a moment there, I could have sworn I saw a glimpse of recognition in her eyes. In that mere instant, I felt she knew my name, that she remembered teaching me the alphabet, how to tie my shoes and the recipe of my favorite dish before I headed off to college. She wasn’t mumbling indistinct ramblings; she was telling me my favorite bedtime story to telling me to cut my hair in my Alternateen phase

My mommy explained that this may have been true, but it was a split-second thought and one that wouldn’t retain in her memory. It would certainly retain in mine, possibly forever.

She looked so frail in the hospital bed, which was lowered to a foot above the floor so on the eventuality she climbed over the guard rail she wouldn’t have far to fall. I spent about two hours with her, speaking to her like she was one of my seven year old nieces. I made her smile by making her Jell-O dance and held her hand through an early episode of the Cosby Show.

Despite her small frame and weak condition, she’ll always be one of the strongest women in my life, a true inspiration. You see, she somehow funded my Mommy’s education and got her to the United States from that small village in the Philippines. Could I raise a child from near poverty levels, get her a college education and then get her to an entirely different country where she could be successful? No, I probably couldn’t. She did though and then she found a way to get herself to the States too. Yeah, Grandma is a bad ass.

I kissed her on her forehead as the Cosby Show credits rolled; she had fallen asleep shortly after the opening credits. At some point in the visit, I was no longer there for her, but there for me. It wasn’t an ideal way to spend the afternoon with Grandma, but it was certainly peaceful.

Prices Reduced at Register
After visiting, it was off to the local shopping mall. I had been dreading this moment since I arrived. At the very least, there was a Macy’s where I was convinced I would be able to find some Hugo Boss. Yeah, their featured lines in Ocala were Hilfiger, Ralph Lauren and Unionbay. The sales girl’s response to my Diesel inquiry was along the lines of “you mean the fuel?” I simply had to walk away at that point.

I strolled through Aeropostale, thanking the salesgirl and possibly gay salesboy for their compliments on my Puma track jacket. I reluctantly followed my sister-in-law Heather into American Eagle Outfitters and my trip suddenly got real interesting. There, behind the register stood Will.

Years ago, nearly a decade actually, I moved to Atlanta for a job offer. Just months before I left Florida, I was staying at my Mommy’s house while transitioning from Orlando to Atlanta. It was in these last few months in Ocala that I had met Will. He was my first true boy crush and one that would leave me wondering for years what would have happened if I had stayed.

And there was my first true boy crush ringing up classic American fashions with modern day twists at a reasonable price. Yeah, there aren’t many moments that I can recall being truly stunned. This one, folks, was one of them. Did I say stunned? I meant gagged and I was staring. His sales associate totally clocked and tapped him on the shoulder in mid-ring up. She whispered something to him. He looked up and saw me. It took him a second to realize who I was. The funky hair color and excessively baggy clothing were gone and replaced with current day me. His eyes bulged, his words stuttered. The tables had turned; it was his turn to have a crush on me.

While he tried to desperately clear the line that had formed at his register, I browsed the store. I’m not really a label whore, but if I did Mall Couture, it would definitely be more Banana Republic in nature. I picked up some plain white tee shirts and a navy military belt and took it up to his line. I figured, you could never have enough plain white shirts and since most of my wardrobe is either baby or dark blue, a navy belt could come in handy.

He rang my items up quickly and tried to discreetly tell me how happy he was for this surprise. I just smiled and handed him some cash. Then, in a very bizarre lapse of good judgment, I jotted my mobile number down on the nearby comment card. He handed me my change and my receipt and I handed him my number. I left the store feeling confident and smug.

He called before I could even get to the Food Court.

2K5 Rewind

My favorite editor, TrayB just posted his list of favorite songs from 2k5. Quite a few of them went over my head, but I was inspired to create a list of my favorite tunes. Here, in no particular order are the spins that made me hit rewind all year long.

“Unwritten”
-Natasha Bedingfield
It’s just a well written pop confection. I don't think a lot of people stateside "got it."

“Tired of Being Sorry”
-Ringside
One of my favorite breakout bands of 2005, Ringside has an unpolished U2 quality.

“Touch Control”
-Missy vs. Amerie
What happens when you take two of the most dragified songs of 2005 and layer them atop each other? You have this fantastic dancefloor ready gem. The beats are super right.

“House Is Not A Home/Stupid Like You”
-Deborah Cox
I didn’t think it was fair to give Deborah two listings considering she dropped these two on the floor so close together. Without a doubt, these two will go down as the 2005 anthems in Circuit World.

“I’ll Be Your Light”
-Kristine W
The beloved Kristine W dropped this just as the year was coming to an end. In true KW form, the track is inspirational and epic sounding.

“Sick and Tired (Jason Nevins Mix)/Pieces of a Dream (Jason Nevins Mix)”
-Anastacia
Just like Deborah, Anastacia dropped these two tracks so close together that I had to group them together. Jason Nevins and Anastacia are no joke on the dancefloor – chunky beats, strong vocals, just orgasmic.

“Crazy”
-Alanis Morrisette
Alanis and Seal are two of my all time favorite artists. Now, take Alanis and have her recreate one of Seal’s best tracks and the result is just magical – despite the fact it was originally on a GAP CD – (sigh).

“I Like the Way you Move”
-Bodyrockers
Each year, some track grabs the attention of a Marketing Director somewhere and the slick beats are bastardized to commercial hell. This year, it was Diet Coke nabbing “I Like The Way You Move.” It’s still a damn good track; consider Frou Frou, Dirty Vegas and Prodigy from years past.

“Walk Away”
-Kelly Clarkson
Arguably the best track on the entire CD, but thankfully wasn’t a single. Everyone is allowed their pop record selection, this one is mine.

“Pon de Replay”
-Rhianna
If you take the smooth vocals of Zhane and blend it with the reggae tinged beats of Sean Paul, you’ll get this pumpy dancehall spin. It’s hella-addictive and the crowds go up every time. "Come Mr. DJ, won't cha turn da' music up." Words to live by.

“Run It”
-Chris Brown
Part Two of Usher’s “Yeah,” this track has all the nuances that exemplify American hip-pop at the moment. Warning: It’s an ear-wormer.

“Till I Get To You”
-Nikka Costa
Was it too funky for American radio? Probably, but it’s an amazing track none the less. Does the bitch sleep through the entire alphabet to get to “U?” Yup, with details to boot.

“Buttons”
-Pussycat Dolls
If I hear “Don’t Cha” one more time this year, I’m going to flip the fuck out. However, PCD has some really good fun times hidden on their LP, this is definitely one of them.

“Fascinated”
-Suzanne Palmer
Arguably, this year’s “Heart Attack.” You’ll be singing it long after you’ve left the party.

“Pump up the Jam 2005”
-Technotronic featuring Jesse Garcia
A welcomed blast from the past with a funky twist. Sickening -- in a good way.

Close Calls:
"Bad Boyfriend" by Garbage, "Pretty Vegas" by INXS

Auf Wiedersehen

I have a very bizarre addiction to Bravo’s Project Runway. I say bizarre because I’m not really into high fashion (I’m not hating, I just like street couture as opposed to haute couture), Heidi Klum, Michael Kors or Elle Magazine. However, I am a fan of brilliant imagination and the journey from conception to execution.

Another aspect I really enjoy is Heidi’s signature Rice-A-Roni good-bye “Auf Wiedersehen,” which I feel loosely translates into “Hit it, loser.” It just sounds better in German. Week after week, one of my guilty pleasures is listening to Heidi kicking off yet another wannabe designer into reality TV obscurity.

Lately, I’ve been finding myself saying “Auf Wiedersehen” in the most random places, mostly sitting in front of my computer getting annoyed every time I check either my Friendster or Myspace account. Theoretically, no one is too rich to throw away a friend, but Auf Wiedersehen bitches.

I’ve been deleting a steady amount of “friends” from both Friendster and Myspace. It may sound insensitive, but I get annoyed at fleeting posts from so-called tortured artists that have to post shit I don’t care about every fifteen minutes. Auf Wiedersehen.

Another major annoyance are the people that insist on filling out as many getting-to-know-you surveys as possible and then have the need to send it to the personal inbox with a note that it must be responded to and sent to fifty friends in three minutes or your dog will die.

And, the odd thing is that these are the people with over 200 friends. Newsflash: If they have to read those surveys to know you, then that doesn’t qualify them as friends. Auf Wiedersehen.

So, there I am happily deleting people left and right, pretending to be a pregnant supermodel, married to Seal, wishing people the best of luck in their Arman-less lives. And, please don’t start – the way I look at it, these fuckers have over 200 friends, they won’t even notice if I drop out of their list. Sure, it takes my number of friends down a notch or ten, but at least you won’t find me posting some tortured artist, passive-aggressive fake friends bullshit post about how I don’t understand why there are so many people on my list that aren’t truly my friends.

Hello, you clicked “Accept” dumb ass.

Delete Friend?

Yes.

Auf Wiedersehen.

Caller are you there?

Recently I got a surprise phone call from an old friend (well, fuck buddy from a former life really) that came up a tad short of good news. You see, during his yearly physical, he came up HIV positive. Unlike most gay men I know, he actually set aside his nervous breakdown and melodrama to go through his black book and inform past sexual partners of his health status.

For this, I am proud of him. My long pause between his disclosure and my response wasn’t because I feared for my own health, but because I was in utter disbelief of his lack of selfish behavior. For the record, since he and I had last hooked up, I’ve had several HIV tests, all of which have come up negative.

Also for the record, had I been given the news of being HIV positive, I would be the first to admit complete selfish behavior and melodrama.

To hell with those fags, I would think – they’re the ones that got me in this situation in the first fucking place. Oh no, it wouldn’t be my fault a condom wasn’t used, it was automatically their fault.

But, I digress; I thanked him for calling me so expeditiously and asked how many others he’s called before me. Once again, there was a long pause between my response and what he said next.

Apparently I was first.

For this, I was confused by him. It had been nearly a year and a half since we last hooked up. And, because of his above average looks and worked out body, I know there were plenty of others since then. There just had to be. I also know I’m not the first name in his little black book especially with all the Aarons, Adams, Alexs, Andrews, Andys and Anthonys in fag world.

He said he called me first because he didn’t know what to say to the others. He couldn’t find the right words. I told him what he said to me worked just fine. It was concise, it was to the point and most importantly, it was the truth.

He said that I wasn’t really his typical audience and that I wouldn’t just hang up, that I’d care what happened to him. The truth is, I do care. He’s a good guy beneath that party boy exterior. I remember talking to him about his county boy adolescence after one of our hookups. He said he remembered that too, that I actually took the time to ask about him and he appreciated it long after we stopped seeing each other out.

For this, I was touched. To be truthful, I probably wouldn't be the first person I would call had it happened to me. I have a long list of people I would put before me that would be a better crying shoulder.

I did what I could and gave him names, phone numbers and e-mail addresses of contacts at AID Atlanta and counselors and doctors that specialized in HIV treatment. Having been a writer in the gay industry for the past seven years has paid off in the oddest ways.

The last thing I told him was something I recall hearing on Real World San Francisco years ago. The token gay roommate, Pedro Zamora was HIV positive and often lectured to college campuses about HIV/AIDS awareness. Pedro passed away just months after the season ended when his HIV converted to full blown AIDS. (Yes, there is a difference, educate yourself immediately if you’re not aware of it.)

I told him that he’s living with HIV and not dying of it. Until that phone call, I didn’t really get what that meant. I truly hope that he does.