Giving Josh Myers of Factory Videos a hand!
President of Factory Videos and all around fantastic guy, Scott Morris!
The A List: New York, for those of you who actually have lives and did not catch the show’s first season last year, claims to be a reality show about a group of gay friends living “glamorous” lives in New York City. What it really is, is a show about bitchy queens so overflowing with venom that they can barely contain themselves. It's apparently their job to be thin, rich and hot while doing nothing whatsoever redeeming.
Full disclosure: I am completely addicted to this show. I would say I’m ashamed to admit this, but I’m too busy checking out the pictures of cast member Reichen Lemkuhl’s cock that were “leaked” on the Internet and served as fodder for most of the premiere episode of the second season, which just began airing. Now that’s entertainment!
If I really cared about giving a critical review of this show, I might actually give you the names of the men who star in it. But since I don’t care and this is not a critical review, I won’t. I will however give you the names I have given them, which I feel sums up all you need to know about them and the show.
Of course I’ve already mentioned Reichen, who was introduced to the world as a cast member of another reality show, The Amazing Race, but is more well known for being the guy who used to ass fuck former boy-bander Lance Bass. While he is the best known of the group, he’s not necessarily the most engaging. He tries to come across as reflective and sincere, but as any fan of the reality genre will attest to, this isn’t what attracts viewers. Whenever he opens his mouth and starts his kumbaya-ing, I long for him to just put a sock in it and go back to showing off his beefy cock, which, at least judging by those “leaked” pictures, has more personality.
There's also Blonde Hairdresser guy who, despite being the funniest of the group, scares the hell out of me with his over-plucked, perpetually surprised eyebrows. We’re also treated to his gossipy assistant, Little Bitch Boy, some other dude who’s function is completely lost on me that I call Skinny Sour Puss Guy, and Reichen’s ex-boyfriend Looking For a Sugar Daddy Guy.
My favorite: Sexy as Hell/Shit Starter Guy, whose real name is Austin Armascost. He is, if I may be so bold, the sole reason to watch this train wreck they call a show. He’s an unapologetic scene-stealer and works the camera to his advantage, which may make him the smartest of the bunch. He will be remembered long after this show is gone. Think Omarosa from The Apprentice.
And speaking of fierce divas, the second season has brought the addition of a sassy female counterpart to the fellas. Her name is Nyasha and the boys are terrified of her. Ironically, she’s the butchest of the cast, even with her painted face, fabulous weave and acrylic nails. Work, Girl!
While most queer reviewers have called out the cast of The A List: New York for being a bad representation of the LGBT community, I’m not going to join them. I don’t look at any form of media to be my representation. It’s a TV show folks. For entertainment purposes only! I do however take issue with how they represent vain people. While I’m not thin, rich or hot, I am completely stuck on myself and think I’m the greatest thing since do-it-yourself boxed hair color. Everyday I tell myself I’m fabulous, and I don’t give a flying fuck if you think so or not. But, unlike these bitches, I don't have to tear others down to make myself look better (well, I suppose I am ripping these guys to shreds, but boo fucking hoo. I'm sure they are way too busy waxing their asses to read this...if any of them can actually read in the first place).
Even though it's completely ridiculous, I will continue watching The A List: New York. Mainly because, like watching zoo animals screw, I’m horrified by the image, yet I can't look away, but mostly because there’s nothing else on.
P.S. One cast member that I have absolutely nothing catty or critical to say about is celebrity photographer Mike Ruiz. The man can do no wrong in my eyes. He’s brilliant and creative. I’m chalking up his willingness to participate in this delusional televised fantasy as a clever marketing strategy. And I’m not just saying this because I want him to shoot my book jacket.
P.P.S. Full disclosure (again!): The truth is, I admire anyone who puts their shit out there in public, whether on camera or on paper (or in my case, on a computer screen). Even these vapid fame whores. Any man (or woman) who has the balls to live their life out and proud and support LGBT visibility is pretty awesome to me. Plus, I really don’t want them to D-List me. Apparently they’re powerful enough to do that.
Now that I've had my say, let's hear yours! Email me at email@example.com!
I’ve spent the last several months on a self-imposed hiatus from writing because I, dare I say, lost my muse. Yes, that little voice in my head that gets me fired up or amused by something I encounter in life decided to go on vacation. And without so much as a farewell text message.
Perhaps this wasn’t a bad thing. Quite frankly, I was becoming a little weary about some of the conversations we were having in the gay community. Marriage equality! Yes, please, but I’m barely committed to a hair color let alone another human being. I have nothing to contribute to this conversation. The repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell! Yes, please, but I can’t relate. In every aspect of my life, I DO ask and I DO tell, so the struggle doesn’t really resonate with me. The It Gets Better Campaign. I have nothing snarky to say about this. My first boyfriend committed suicide in 1995. We were both barely 18. It has haunted me for 16 years. However grateful I am more light has been shed on this issue, I think it’s a shame we had to wait so long and that it took an unprecedented number of tragedies to occur for people to get the message that some serious shit goes down with gay teens.
But I digress. When you have nothing useful to contribute, sometimes the best thing to do is to shut the hell up. I think that’s the unspoken message my muse was trying to impart to me as she packed for her cruise to destinations unknown.
So for months I’ve been curled up on the sofa watching television, picking lint from my navel and occasionally turning myself as the world has gone on spinning around me. One bright spot while I was in exile: Rochester’s very own Domestic Goddess/Queen Kasha Davis’s YouTube videos. If you haven’t checked them out, you should. Her brand of humor is better than any SSRI. The voices in my head say so.
One night, I was sitting on said sofa watching my other favorite guilty pleasure, RuPaul’s Drag Race, while surfing the web. In a moment that I can only describe as life altering, I came across an article on one of the gay blogs I frequently skim. Under an advertisement for CockyBoys.com (shout out to my Twitter buddy Mason Star, their newest cutie and all around cool dude!) was the headline “Has Gay Gone Mainstream?”. The author opined that with all of the progress in equality and visibility today, gay businesses, groups and organizations were becoming obsolete. We were starting to blend in. Hooray!
What the fuck?
Yes, there she was. My muse. She popped back into my head just as quickly as she left. And let me tell you, she was one pissed off diva!
Ironically, reading this article and the dramatic return of my muse just so happened to coincide with the announcement of this year’s theme for our Rochester PRIDE Parade, It’s a Gay World After All. Think Disney and fairy tales. With all due respect to the committee who organized this year’s parade and theme and my employer who funded our business’s participation in it, my muse was not interested in playing by the rules. And now that she was back, she had only one thing on her mind: WE’LL SHOW THEM! WE ARE NOT MAINSTREAM! Caps fully intentional. She was loud and more than a bit overbearing (the similarities between my muse and my Mother are a therapy session in the making.)
As if she was never gone, my muse began to take over my life, or at least my PRIDE obligations. She decreed that I would step out of my comfort zone and do the whole thing in full drag, which as I’m sure you can imagine, is every 300 pound man’s dream come true. I was to be serving in your face defiance! And like the film Field Of Dreams, and I’m paraphrasing here, if you build an over the top PRIDE float, they will come. And they did. Ranging in ages from 21 to 60, straight, gay, black, white, Hispanic, male, female, gender benders, Goth boys mixing with Leather Daddies, a 7 month pregnant woman arm in arm with a queen, my peeps showed up to join my rebel alliance. We were diversity personified.
Armed with the wisdom of Lady Gaga (whose lyrics served as our anthems of individualism on the signs we carried) and borrowing more than one make-up tip from RuPaul’s book Workin’ It, I, in full glamazon hooker drag, and my merry band of fabulous freaks, took to the streets of Rochester to remind everyone that though we want to be treated the same, there is nothing wrong with being different. And while equality is our ultimate goal, we are not sorry we stand out. I am a little sorry we didn’t stick closer to the actual theme of this year’s parade (we might have actually had a better shot at earning an honorable mention by the parade judges instead of confused looks), but recognize that sometimes you have to color outside the lines to get noticed and get your point across.
Though that day I chose to let how I look speak for me, one set of false eyelashes (not to mention a whole lot of make-up and duct tape) reminded me that I have so much more to say about this crazy world we live in. As RuPaul says so eloquently, “My goal is to always come from a place of love, but sometimes you just have to break it down for a motherfucker.” Amen, sister.
Now that I've had my say, let's hear yours! Post a comment below or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org!