Touch of Gay

So I had myself a nervous breakdown this morning, and figured I’d share my thoughts on this experience with my dedicated fan base.



As I was doing my daily flexing, spritzing and plucking regime (ehemm), out of the corner of my eye, a patch of shimmering gray hairs snatch my attention away from my flabtastic muscular physique. Before I decided to sashay my way to Walgreens to purchase the first economy size bottle of Just for Men in sight, I began to marinate on the situation...and then…

Light bulb!



A little bit of gray hair is natural, and, not to mention, the perfect scheme for getting me into the bars I’ve been trying to creep into since ’08; like Minx Nightclub and Lounge, Crocodile Rock, Hair of the Dog, The Hen House, The Thirsty Turtle, Horse Feathers Grill & Lounge, Pelican Pub, Green Iguana, Red Dog Bar, The Fox Jazz Club. 2011’s blessing in disguise, really. Thanks Father Time!

I mean, who’s ever heard of a 4 year old with temples of ash and a beard of steel gray? I’d be Atlanta’s sexiest silver fox. Almost reminiscent of Brad Pitt’s character in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button at his absolute dog-gone finest (or when his age actually matched his appearance). Am I comparing myself to THE Brad Pitt? You bet your stanky leg I am.

But just picture this: me waltzing into the club, dawning a captain’s hat, a blue fitted sports coat and crisp, white linen shorts. There hasn’t been a more perfect match since dingy, coarse hair met coconut-infused leave-in conditioner (at least in my case. Thanks Miracle Coat!) Every pair of hungry eyes would be on me (predictably so). I’d be the center of every little man’s nautical fantasy… It’d be just like that episode of Will and Grace....



Or perhaps, I’ll try a Latin club like the Minx. Even if the gray hair didn’t do the trick, they’re pretty lenient on letting minors slip under the red rope. I can see it now: I’d rumba, samba, merengue and salsa my way into the hearts of Benjamin Bratt and Emilo Estevez. Speaking of Emilio, let’s take a minute to appreciate my all-time favorite movie indirectly staring Mr. Sheen’s bastard brother himself… Now! Roll that beautiful bean footage…


Emilio

SAUTER | Myspace Video

Ahh, Night at the Roxbury… Such a classic film, especially for its script and cinematography…

Now! Back to me and my stance on the situation at Walgreens. While part of me wanted to completely get rid of these atrocious, stringy grays, I decided to take advantage of this ever-sophisticated look, threw the Just for Men into a discount barrel and opted for the Touch of Gray. I hope this urbane yet classy look will reel me in a top-notch stud—you know, a mountain of a man who’s dark, handsome and sweeter than 8 pound baby Jesus’ leg rolls.

Plus! Mom’s super busy looking for her perfect new condo, so I’ll have ample time to slip Johnny and Rosco in to help me make my fake I.D. I have to think of a good alter-ego name to use. Here are a few ideas:



1. Stevie Turnipseed
2. Muhammad Golightly
3. Dan Dazzle
Or my personal favorite…
4. Demitri P. Ennis

I’d like to hear some feedback, blogspot. Or maybe, throw out a few new bones for me to chew on. Until next time.

-Joe

Foot loose and prancing free :)

This just in: Dance Moms equals my new favorite television show (the marathon on Saturday had me squealing and running out the door to Michaels for ribbons and bows). Not because my mother reminds me of the haughty, vile creatures who lure and stir above the fruit of their loins, critiquing and bellowing over a mediocre pirouette piquee. But because I so desperately dream of meeting Abby Lee Miller, taking her ponderous, curvy rump for a drag and draft at the Church Brew Works, and prodding her oversized brain with questions such as:



1. Must all good dance instructors fit within the stereotype of being overweight and over-bearing with cane in right hand and cigarette in left?

2. How long did it take you to realize that you were more of a “behind-the-scenes” kind of gal rather than a front and center stage sister?

3. What’s the earliest age a child should begin smoking cigarettes to make sure they maintain a dancer’s frail-frame and a neck longer than Alexis Bledel?



And finally…

4. Can a short, black person, like myself, have a real future in ballet?



I have no doubt in my mind that Abby and I would become fast friends. I could entice her with my cat-walk (it’s more of a prance, really) and show her elegance, lace and curls really does come in a small, black (gay) package. Also, I’ve become quite the seamstress as of late (I’m currently working on a trendy bag for my friend Ophelia). If she had a place for little boys who love to reap what they sew (pardon the pun),

then I’m her sequined and stunning knight in shining (metallic) armor!!

I’ve always dreamed of dressing up little girls (and/or boys) in rhinestone leotards, poufy pink skirts and banana-shaped headbands, and that’s probably because I so badly want to be a little girl















…uhmm… uh… anyway!

Wait a tick! I think I’m on to something…MaryKate and Ashley Olson I’ve got it!!!!!

I’ll become a DRAMA TEACHER!

Oh my gosh! I’ll be able to put on performances (like I do around the house), choreograph skits, duets and numbers, all the while being behind the scenes yet indirectly at the forefront of the entire show.

It’s absurdly brilliant how brilliant my brilliance can be.

It should be a sliver of pie to get a job no one wants… right? Guess we’ll see. Maybe I’ll phone Greg Gregson and see how things are on his end of the rainbow.



I’ll be in touch <3 hugs and meechums.

-Julian Joe.