Against a tough, hungry field of boards-treading beefcake, Mamma Mia's Andrew Chappelle recently claimed the title of Mr. Broadway atThe 6th Annual Broadway Beauty Pageant. As usual, good looks and a body unlike yours (well, at least unlike mine) were prerequisites, but the show also tends to reward over-the-top talent, as in the case of Chappelle's hysterical stand-up routine about the ups and downs o high heels.
I pounced on Andrew in his moment of happiness in order to bring you this peek at the man behind the crown...
The 23rd Annual GLAAD Media Awards at the Marriott Marquis last night was a fun time once I decided I was for sure not dashing to Connecticut to support a friend's event starring Mickey Rooney. I'd already committed to GLAAD and couldn't quite wrap my mind around three hours (both ways) of travel for an hour of notoriously curmudgeonly Rooney fielding questions about his career and undoubtedly griping about the filth that passes for entertainment today, but I was happy to hear later that Mickey's gig was a treat in the end.
José was my camerman (which removes a lot of the stress; having to stick a video camera directly into someone's face is awkward, especially when they're not performing sexual acts and high on whatever people get high on these days).
He and I and everyone I ran into were kvetching about how tired we were, didn't wanna do this massive red carpet, etc. But it wound up being rather cool.
I was next to a really fun girl whose hair, nonetheless, kept creeping into my face and all over my body (she had a mane on her). At one point, it worked itself under my MEDIA sticker and tugged it partially off like one of those cartoon vines. She apologized and I accepted, but I have enough hair all over me.
As a member of the Host Committee, I'd pledged to sell $500 worth of tickets, which I absolutely did—mostly to myself! I took José, brought my pal Jason along (VIP tickets including the afterparty) and the rest went to a Boy Culture reader who later informed me he'd been a homeless gay youth just a couple of years ago and to a lucky, last-minute couple.
As much work as it was trying to interest people in tickets, the show would go on to sell out, raising a record-breaking $75,000.
Arrived early to cover the junior red carpet, but it was kind of a bust for me because as a hobbyist blogger, I don't have pro lighting and it was in a 100-degree antechamber that might as well have been a cave.
I grabbed a few quick tidbits from the contestants but skipped everyone else, including judges Jackie Hoffman, Michael Musto and Tonya Pinkins, feeling bad about taking up anyone's time when they were impossible to see. Speaking of which,I didn't see expected guests Paul McGill, Rachel Dratch or John Glover, but I did at least make the acquaintance of Broadway expert Richie Ridge, one of whose helpers turned out to be Alex, a Boy Culture reader who kept my spirits up in the stifling heat.
Probably lots of Preparation H on those fresh faces (in some cases, perhaps coincidentally)
Sat down just in time to see the show open, featuring hysterical emcee Tovah Feldshuh who, as she pointed out, starred in Broadway's longest running one-woman show—take that, Lena Horne. She cracked wise about Grindr, Boy Butter and her many unconsummated Tony nominations. She was, without a doubt, 10 times funnier than last year.
Tonya Pinkins, Jackie Hoffman, Ali Forney's Carl Siciliano & Michael Musto
With Body (& Soul) Beautiful, Carl Siciliano, the director of Ali Forney
KEEP READING FOR TONS OF PICTURES & VIDEO, SOME OF IT RATHER REVEALING...