My American Idols

I’ve met Margaret Cho and Bruce Daniels; shared Krispy Kremes with Paul Oakenfold; saved Paul Van Dyk from a drunk tranny; helped Sasha push a K-holed Keoki off the turntables at Club Firestone; insulted closeted Hollywood stars with John Cameron Mitchell; and, along with Ashley Kruiz and Nicole Paige Brooks, was part of Kristine W’s entourage for an entire weekend; hell, I even brought dance icon Shannon down to Charlie Brown’s Cabaret to watch Shawnna Brooks perform to her single “Give Me Tonight.”

In the words of Missy Elliott, “I don’t brag, I mostly boast.” I mean, who else gets to do that kind of shit?

I often wonder when my luck will luck out. I have these idols that most people would never get to meet and up until last night, I’ve met them all with the exception of two: Anderson Cooper and my favorite author. The former I watched on Oprah yesterday and secured a copy of this month’s Vanity Fair with his mug on the cover, so I’ve got my fix for a while – he’s just so damn sexy and smart, not to mention a Vanderbilt.

The latter I first fell in love with when he-who-shall-not-be-named stayed with me for a little while. I had discovered Magical Thinking and blasted through its pages within days. I was hooked. I picked up Dry and Running With Scissors and read them both in large helpings at a time.

His name is Augusten Burroughs and I worship him. The man is hysterical, dark and troubled, and a damn good storyteller. Last night, Mr. Burroughs made a stop in Atlanta for his newest memoir, Possible Side Effects. He’s over analytical, deviously mischievous and is obsessed with dangerous escapisms. He went through some seriously fucked up shit, turned it right around, wrote about it and, naturally, became a New York Times Bestseller. He also met his husband and lives with him in their dream house. Can y’all see how he could be a role model? Well, I’ve got the writer and alcoholic thing down pat…