Diary of A Drag Pageant. Part Three

Time goes by…so quickly. I only have three more days until the Miss Jungle pageant. So, in the past week, we’ve picked out the overture and I’ve enlisted DJ Diva Kim Crawford to create a mini-set of pumping tunes for the contestants to walk the house down during Creative Club Wear. She played me a preview yesterday and yeah, it’s gonna be a stomper.

All the judges are ready to go – wanna know who they are? Sorry, hon no can do. All of the contestants are ready to go and it’s going to be quite a bloodbath methinks.

All right, so the Rumor of the Week goes out to the three names I’ve heard that are *supposedly* entering the pageant. So, to Raven, Jasmine Bonet and Stasha Sanchez, Ashley and I will see you at registration. Well, maybe.

Rumors are just that: unverified bits of gossip. I love me some gossip.

Curses, I just realized I’m going to miss the Project Runway reunion show on the night of the pageant.

Shit.

I know, I know; I’m such a fag.

You Remind Me Of..

Drag Idol II: Illusion Night

Okay, sorry it’s taken so long to throw my quickie review on here, but I’ve been in Pageant Hell. (Miss Jungle: three days and counting.)

All right, so the category this past week was Illusion and Characterization. Last year, the top illusions were Alexandria Martin with her Miss Piggy, Jade with her Madonna (from the “Frozen” video) and Destiny Brooks with her Lil’ Kim goes to jail talent.

This time around, I honestly felt everyone played it a bit safe. There weren’t any *real* surprises or outstanding illusions, but there were some good numbers, some with props and extra people, almost full on productions.

Tazaria was voted “Charlie’s Cherry” with her Chaka Khan routine. It was cute, she had the outfit, hair and lip synch down, but a bit lackluster.

Also in the Top 3 was Destiny Brooks with her Alicia Keys illusion and Jazzmen with her Janet Jackson “If” characterization. Both girls received mixed reviews as far as crowd response and judge critiques went -- Destiny for picking a so-so Alicia Keys song and Jazzmen because she opened up Drag Idol with a Janet illusion.

The middle girls were Knomie More and Diamond Monroe. Knomie chose Heather Daniels as her muse and Diamond Monroe channeled RuPaul for hers . Now, the crowd went up for Knomie but after relying on one or two of Heather’s signature moves over and over, they sat back down. Diamond’s routine was also pretty good, but with her mini-production had too much going on and distracted from the Monroe’s real talent. And, get your side show acts out of the bathroom girl, some of us have to pee.

Which leaves us with the bottom two – Jealouse’ and Jazelle. Jealouse’, I felt, actually had the best “pop” out of all the contestants, seamlessly transitioning from all black to all white in the middle of her set. With that said, she’s too tall for a Christina Aguilera illusion. Did she give us Christina? Well, sort of.

Then we have Jazelle with her Pink “Just Like a Pill” set. I thought she pulled it off pretty well to be honest; however it’s the crowd that has the voting power. They apparently agreed that her Pink should have been padded and more emotional. Umm, yeah, give it up for pudgy Pink. See? That’s not right.

Taylor St. Martin had actually dropped out shortly after last week’s Disco Illusion. Bye Taylor, I know I’ll miss you.

So, since Taylor dropped out, that gives Charlie a little leeway from eliminating someone. Everyone comes back for Rock and Roll week. Yay, this was one of my favorites from last season.

Last season, Alexandria Martin and her rock medley and Jade Daniels with her Evanesence medley turned out Rock Week.

Predictions for next week…

Strongest: I’ll go with last week’s bottom two, Jealouse’ and Jazelle.

Crossing Fingers For: Jazzmen and Diamond

My Own Lil' Sex and the City

I knew it. He's totally the Charlotte of the group. He's even getting hitched. Park Avenue bound perhaps?

I love ya' Chris.

And now, my Miranda is finally blogging again. Although, Sean is a lot cuter and a helluva lot more personable. That and he can't have kids, but damnit if he could, he'd make one rockin' lesbian mom.

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.

2005, Hollah atcha boy

Thank you 2005 for…

…all the great experiences. Some of my favorites? One was watching one of my best friends, Nicole Paige Brooks’ ascension to headliner diva status, opening for Kristine W, Deborah Cox and Inaya Day. I’d be hard pressed to find another entertainer with all those names on her resume.

Another was during Halloween weekend when Barry Harris called out sick from his gig at Jungle. Not to say someone’s illness caused my happiness, but when he called out, I got to call in another dear friend, local DJ diva Kim Crawford to step up and take his gig. I’m proud she took the opportunity and ran with it – and turned every faggot out in that building.

I also have the distinction of being Charlie Brown’s first date in over 20 years. Yeah, bitches, the only other person that can say he went on a date with Charlie Brown is Fred. I got to attend the Community Builder/Best Of Gay Atlanta Awards with the Bitch of the South and although the event itself was boring as hell, Charlie was a great date and had me in stitches all night.

Speaking of playing chauffeur, I got to play driver to some of my closest friends the Dancing Diva Shawnna Brooks and the white trophy bitch Ashley Kruiz. There have been just too many adventures with these two to count in 2005. And, for that reason alone, I look forward to 2006 with giddy anticipation.

Gracias to the wonderful Brad Williams and Bill Kaelin, two friends I’m happy to call my mentors. Through all my nightlife travels and adventures, I’ve never met two people that influence the way I think and conduct myself than these two dapper gentlemen. They encompass all the qualities I strive to find in myself: successful, kind, generous, intelligent, bold and influential. Thanks guys for all the advice and love.

I’d also like to extend my deepest gratitude to 2005 for all the new friends. Well, not so much new, but getting to know acquaintances better. The lovely Jade Daniels, a true inspiration in creativity; Gigi Monroe, Atlanta’s first Drag Idol, a clever entertainer with productions to rival national title holders. For the record, Drag Idol would not have been the success it was without these two ladies. The main draw for everyone was to see what these two brilliant minds were going to come up with.

To Genre and Rogue, thanks for bringing glam and shock back to the stage; Scott and Adam, the guardians of the groove at Jungle, they’re the first two faces you see every time you stroll in – and what a sight to see I may add. To Lauren LaMasters and Alexandria Martin, thanks for all the laughs – if laughter is the best medicine, you two would be the Johnson & Johnson of Atlanta.

I also want to say Danke 2005 for all those wonderful people that put a smile on my face every time I see them. To the extended family, Nicholas, Hartwell, Wes, Luke, Alex, Joshua, Danny, Jory, Janelle and Jazelle – welcome to the fam. Yeah, what an interesting future nightlife has with this group of wicked cuties. On that note, can we adopt another DJ into the dynasty? Wes, will you get right on that? I’ve given you enough tracks for an entire set I do believe. There are just too many clubs in Atlanta for Miss Kim to cover them all.

Don’t get me wrong, 2005 had its share of “that’s fucked up” moments, but at the end of the year, I like to tally up all the smiles and chuckles instead. Now, in an odd twist of fate, my favorite moment of 2005 was the Sunday of Pride Weekend. It was gloomy and rainy, but Nicole, Destiny, Angelica, Jade and I had the best time on the David Atlanta float. We were drunk, um caffeinated and as colorful as can be against that dreary backdrop. It’s kind of amazing how the entire year could be summed up in that one hour.

2006, bring it on bitch.

My AIM

Instant messages are dangerous. It’s the “power of the keyboard.” People just say things they normally wouldn’t say in a more intimate setting aka face-to-face. Let me revise that, normal people say things they wouldn’t say in a typical setting. Then, there are the special cases like drag queens, Type As, moi that could give a shit and say and do what they please.

But I digress; my point is that instant messages are dangerous. Take today for example. My buddy Scott was online so I zipped him an IM saying “King Kong me daddy.” Now, before any of you start, Scott and I have been conspiring to see King Kong in the near future, hence the opening line.

From there the conversation just got more interesting. I truthfully joked about longing to be submissive, but figured my reflexive penchant for quips didn’t make me a strong candidate to be a boy. I could just picture the scenario now.

Master: Get on your knees, boy.
Me: Have you lost your damn mind?
Master: Enough of that lip. (Stuffs ball gag in my mouth.)
Me: Mmm mmm mmm-mmm mmm mm mm! (Translation: Get this fucking thing off me!)

So, there I would be living out my fantasy and can’t even mutter the safety word because my master got tired of my lip.

That’s when I realized how vanilla I truly am. I don’t like added accessories with my sex. Hell, I don’t like additional people. I even fast-forward through the threesomes and orgies in porn. In one IM, I discovered that not only was I vanilla, but a prude to boot.

This truly was not a good self realization for someone that considers himself as a progressive thinker.

There I was in one instant message discovering my true identity as a vanilla prude with a ball gag stuffed in my mouth for being a smart ass. Instant Messages are truly dangerous.

Danke

I’m truly thankful for a lot of things. Ok, so maybe it did take a gluttonous holiday like Thanksgiving to make me realize the more important things in life. So, while in my turkey induced coma, I started making a mental checklist for all that I’m thankful for – my friends and family was sitting on the very top of the list.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, my friends are my heroes. They’re all overachievers and never cease to amaze or inspire me. They put up with my mood swings. They let me vent. They listen and nod their heads even when I’m being completely irrational. They make me laugh on my bluest of days. They are perpetually reminding me that there are better days to come.

They keep me grounded, lifted, traumatized, giggling, fashionable, frustrated, trendy, social, drunk, confused, late, caffeinated and moving.

In short, they complete me.

Thank Buddha.

And to CC, my deepest gratitude for just being you.

Accio Viktor Krum

On Friday, being the big dork that I am, I had to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on its opening day. After calling around, I found a movie companion in Genre. For the record, I adore Genre’s crazy ass – he cracks me up and doesn’t even mean to I don’t think.

For the record, Goblet of Fire was my favorite of all the HP books. I found the movie well for the lack of a better term, rushed. I mean, I totally understand that GOF kicked off Rowling’s mountain troll size books, but if Lord of the Rings can clock in at three hours, why not Harry Potter?

Most of my favorite chapters were condensed into minutes and several of the characters were either afterthoughts or disappeared from the storyline altogether. Where was my Dobby? Why was Sirius completely shut out minus a brief conversation with Harry in the fireplace? Why didn’t they have more emphasis on Rita Skeeter’s busy ass?

Thankfully, it wasn’t as artsy as Prisoner of Azkaban nor as simplified as Sorcerer’s Stone or Chamber of Secrets. It was as dark and creepy as I expected and the computer graphics were definitely top notch. Oh, and Viktor Krum? Yummy, bitches. Genre and I were giddy schoolgirls compared to the giddy schoolgirls we were sitting behind. Sadly, Viktor was fully clothed in all of his scenes with the exceptions of two quick tank top shots. Curses.

Don’t get me wrong, the movie was fantastic and I’ll probably see it two more times in the theatres and buy it the first day it comes out on DVD next year. Yeah, I’m a big dork.

Bedtime Story

...three years ago yesterday to be exact, a connection was made. It started with a smile, a few drinks (okay, a lot of drinks) and the borrowing of a cigarette. Since then, the details have been obscured by slight variations in perception.

He followed him up the steps. Once the eyes met, the attraction was mutual. He asked for a cigarette. He would have given him the whole pack. He lit the cigarette and then offered to buy him a drink. They made fun of the bad drag and cards were exchanged. All in all, it was the quintessential introduction.

The next three years comprised of on again/off again FUN (yes, big uppercase letters). There were disagreements, heart to hearts, makeups, breakups and everything in between. But, no matter where one went, sooner or later the other would be waiting just down the road somewhere with that unbelievable kiss.

They were good for each other, despite how much either didn’t want to admit it. One would say too much, the other not enough, Ying would forget, Yang would recall in detail, A had been there done that while B would try to reinvent the wheel.

Now, three years later, regardless of circumstance, they’re still working on the proverbial storybook “ever after.”

That's the Way I Feel...

It’s nearly 11 am and the phone is already ringing off the hook. People that know me know I can’t be bothered until after lunchtime. But, for some reason there’s something about today that has everyone needing to tell me something.

Apparently, some of my friends feel my column was being attacked by the DA’s Deputy Editor. Umm, big fucking deal. So, by the second cup of coffee, the mix of sugar, caffeine, artificial hazelnut and curiosity gets me to check the website.

So they have him penning a new “night life” column. Hate to break it to you, but if it’s written in the same ho-hum book report style that you write everything else in, then no one’s going to read it. So you can go ahead and save your cab fare. Don’t try to sass me, like Margaret Cho, I was raised by drag queens.

What the staff doesn’t seem to understand is that the reason why I wrote in such an “exclusive” tone is because the readers are smart enough to know what I’m talking about. The majority of the people that read my column GO OUT. There’s no fine line between knowing your audience and belaboring the obvious.

Word travels fast in the queer community. This blog is proof of that. I’m getting more response off this blog than any column I wrote for DA. It shows people are interested in what I have to say. I like the fact that I have good friends in the night life industry. And, I have a lot of them. None of my readers are average and Guest List was/is written for them. It entertains the people that entertain everyone else.

Go ahead and make your rounds, write about it and the response will be along the same lines of my own reaction: Big fucking deal.

Surprise, Surprise

My rules for surprises and secrets are pretty standard. Generally, I love surprises, but only if it’s truly a surprise. And, as for secrets – if it’s not my story to tell, then it doesn’t go any further than me. Now, if EVERYONE is telling the same secret, then it’s no longer a secret but public speculation.

This past Friday, the surprise performer for WETbar’s grand opening was Missy Elliott. Umm, yeah there wasn’t much of a surprise. Hell, I could have gotten her flight number if I really put some effort into it. And, why was management so tight lipped about it? Hate to break it you fellas, but when the trannies are talking about it – you can drop the secret agent routine. The jig is up.

In the grand tradition of Cyndi Lauper and Shannon, Misdemeanor wobbled on stage on crutches. And, just as suspected, Missy’s anthems sounded a bit out of place in a queer club sans the hands-in-the-air remixes, well with the exceptions of My Sister’s Room, Jungle’s Stars of the Century Monday nights and maybe Charlie Brown’s Cabaret. .

Next up on the surprise performer list was Vivian Green, err I mean sort of a surprise Jodi Watley. You see, Vivian was originally booked but (enter artist excuse here, i.e. missed her plane, was really sick, gave birth to a child, passed a kidney stone, joined the military), so Jodi was brought in to be the second surprise performer. Once again, not a big surprise over here, Shawnna and Ashley were trying to figure out how to get out of the Cabaret on Thursday just to see Jodi. It’s a shame half the people in WETbar never even heard of Vivian or Jodi for that matter.

Now the biggest surprise was Junior’s abrupt departure from the DJ booth. Okay, so yeah, that wasn’t a surprise either. Come on now, it’s JUNIOR. And, for the record, never ask a DJ to stop in the middle of their set (especially after two performances) just so you can wish someone a happy birthday on the mic.

Would the owner of Philips Arena ask Bono to stop U2 just so he can say Happy Mother’s Day to his mum? And, before you guys start, yeah it’s the same fucking thing.

I totally plan to go back to WETbar in a few weeks, once the hoopla dies down. For the record, the venue is beautiful and the sound is immaculate, the S&M wannabe hipsters -- well, in a few weeks hopefully they’ll be on to their next destination to stand and model. Until then, I’ll be working on my surprise face.

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

LAST NIGHT WAS A FAREWELL PARTY TO END ALL FAREWELL PARTIES AT CHERRY. The packed out Oriental-fusion restaurant was full of friends and family wishing the ATL's beloved Phoenix bon voyage.

The second generation of the House of Brooks is on her way to LA to pursue her career as the ultimate Circuit Diva. Folks, she's well on her way. Here in Atlanta, her options were limited and, just like in most cases, her talent wasn't as appreciated until she was gone -- or on her way out the door.

I've watched this entertainer grow and grow for the past few years and I wish her the best of luck. Honestly, I don't think she'll need it. The girl has got talent and a drag-mama (see: Nicole) and drag-grandmamma (see: Shawnna) that have raised her right.

Right before we arrived at Cherry, I stopped by Chapter 11 in Ansley to pick up a good-bye present for Phoenix. I wanted to give her something that would remind her how much she is loved in Atlanta, so much that we want her to excel and never come back because she's so fucking successful.

Funny thing is no other book can really reflect that kind of encouragement than Dr. Seuss’ “Oh, the Places You’ll Go.”

All you really have to do is read the first page:

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.

I think it describes the next step in Phoenix’s journey to the proverbial “T.”