Just days after I was first with that amazing clip of Chef Ryan Durant (he of the preheated-to-375° stare) and then posted a gallery of his poses, I got a call that his manager, a fellow Madonna nut, was hanging with him in Hell's Kitchen and wanted to introduce us.
Ryan is the perfect pocket straight—ridiculously adorable and polite, and graciously thanked me repeatedly for giving him the exposure. Seems my post begat other blogs' posts and BOOM! he met with some big shots today. It's amazing to me how quickly things can work when attention is focused.
I do have to let you know that while it sometimes feels like anyone that cute would have to be at least bicurious, when I told him he looked a bit like Matt Bomer and he had no idea who that was, the case was closed: Heterosexual to the hilt, in spite of his restaurant's social media hashtag:
Which is not to say that he doesn't put up with gay-fan flirting well.
All this and the guy can cook and has natural blond highlights.
I am proud, happy, nervous, scared and hopeful to announce that my humorous, pop culture-saturated memoir Starf*cker: A Meme-oir is now available for pre-order from my publisher, Lethe Press.
I could not be more excited to be published by Lethe, home of great and interesting and offbeat works in many genres, and a publisher that is not afraid to still publish gay books, and to call them gay books.
If you have ever read and enjoyed my blog, I would greatly appreciate it if you'd give my book a shot—it was a labor of (self-) love. I think even people who know me will be surprised by some of it, and it is my intention that every reader will come away having laughed a lot.
I write about my/our lifelong obsession with celebrity, whether it be growing up with Charlie's Angels, making lists of movie stars as egged on by my mom (who invariably gave me Faye Dunaway to get me going), working in porn, running a teen mag or—of course!—observing and interacting with Madonna.
Had an exhausting blast covering the NYC Gay Pride March. I showed up just past noon (step-off time), talked my way through the barricades (having a big-boy camera helps) and then proceeded to shoot the entire thing, from noon until seven. I ran down the route until I caught up with the very first floats, featuring grand marshals Ian McKellen and Derek Jacobi, then worked my way back, eventually parking around 26th Street and shooting the parade as it unfolded around and past me.
In the gallery above are 40 superhot guys from the parade; they represent different types. If you recognize any of them, let them know I am—as of last week—not merely single, but husband material.
Also, I'm on Grindr.
Plenty more like this in the gallery!
After you get all hot and bothered by the gallery, let's starfuck, with all the stars and notable names I encountered:
Had no idea I was shooting Chelsea Clinton until she was on me, then a Secret Service dude was almost on me.
A Criss before dying
Mayor de Blasio & fam
Cuomo among homos
Police Commish William Bratton & wife
The amazing Tom Duane
NY Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-Of course)
Magic moment: Sir Ian McKellen kicks off the festivities as co-grand marshal with ...
... Derek Jacobi (& hubby), who was exclaiming over a reporter who still writes!
Fantasy figure (in more ways than one) Aedan Roberts
Inimitable imitator Bear Donna
Daniel O'Donnell & hubby
Those shameless CockyBoys, headed up by Tayte Hansen (above) and Logan Moore (directly above)
City Council Member Corey Johnson, always radiating positivity
Countess LuAnn de Lesseps & Dorinda Medley of RHONY
Lea fuckin' DeLaria, people!
Speaker of the NYC Council Melissa Mark-Viverito
Forecast calls for a chance of drizzly panties: Sexxxy NBC weatherman Raphael Miranda
Scorching-hot Mr. Gay NJ '12 Willito Rivera
Now, for the day's cutest (and in some cases hottest) couples and pairs:
Imperial Court of NY royalty
What follows are my absolute favorite shots from the parade, not counting any of the hottie photos:
A reader contacted me on Grindr on Sunday morning to say:
I skipped Broadway Bares last year after getting reamed for taking photos at a Solo Strips, but returned Sunday for Broadway Bares 25: Top Bottoms of Burlesque, the silver-anniversary installment of Jerry Mitchell's unfortunately-still-necessary AIDS charity show that rounds up as many hot and talented chorus boys and girls from Broadway and Broadway-adjacent (and a few who just have roommates on Broadway) to put on a one-night only, two-times only, razzle-dazzle-'em-at-any-cost show.
I decided to go back because I missed the good time and knew the dancers always seem to like having photos to share, people affiliated with the show “like” them on Instagram, etc. Where we stood, everyone around us had their phones out. I think the rule about photos is a misguided fear that it will bite into the show's revenues. In reality, since it's a show that happens once a year, seeing photos from it just encourages people to come the following year, and/or to seek out the merch. I have had a lot of readers say they now travel in for the show thanks to the photos I've posted. So hopefully it helps.
You would think this year's title would mean it was going to be 100% up my alley (I am the original ASSMAN), but I found it to have no more or less tail than past editions, save for its hilariously sexy opening—the curtain lifted to just above waist-level to reveal a bevy of dimpled booties peeking out at the crowd. It was not unlike waving a turkey at a bunch of starving bums on Thanksgiving and saucily asking, “White meat or dark?”
I swear Nick Adams's ass and this tableau could be a Mel Odom illustration.
Directed by Jerry Mitchell and Nick Kenkel, who choreographed it with Laya Barak, Jim Cooney, Armando Farfan Jr., Peter Gregus, Ryan Lyons, Brice Mousset, Rachelle Rak, Michael Lee Scott, Kellen Stancil and Sidney Erik Wright, the show loosely followed the travails of a wannabe played by Nick Adams, he of the Mario Lopez-threatening biceps.
Orange is the new black corset!
Adams starts out too shy to be a stripper, but luckily falls in with the wrong crowd and everything works (and comes) out in the end.
Along the way, the show included 11 tight numbers (it felt super fast this go-round, and I hated the Hammerstein venue as compared to the more spacious and now vanished Roseland), often takes on classic show tunes, always ending with a little more nudity than you might encounter in a locker room.
Baby, if Callan's the bottom, I'm the top.
“Take It from the Top” was a sterling opener starring Harvey Fierstein and Callan Bergmann, a one-time Mr. Broadway, the latter of which as a great opener. Bergmann's were choice cheeks to inaugurate a buns-hun show, and he was one of the performers who really shone this year.
I've known Marcus Monroe, a juggler and comedian, since he was a teenager. But I only knew him remotely—he would pitch me when I ran a teen mag, and I would put him in when possible because he was charming indefatigable in getting the word out about his unique talents.
Finally, we met in person last week when he did his show IAMFAMOUS at Joe's Pub at the Public. It was the perfect venue for his act, which could be described as a mix of groaner-stoner humor, anarchic witticisms and, you know, throwing stuff and catching it.
When he cracked a 420 joke, Monroe followed with, “I'm a professional juggler—figure it out.”
Monroe skillfully displays a supreme unconfidence on stage, playing a dippy character so well that his occasional zingers are doubly surprising—the topics of politics, drugs, race, gender, sexual identity and, predominantly, popular culture are touched on.
He was occasionally off the mark, such as the time he shouted, “Black-out!” to indicate the lights should go down, and two black audience members in the front row hurriedly got up to leave. Stuff like that felt a little less carefully conceived than his elaborate run-down (and stealth running-down of) what it means to be Internet-famous.
The show ended with a fake money shot of geyser-like proportions and Marcus gussied up as “Angel” from Rent, but those moments weren't nearly as outrageous as when he aggressively juggled razor-sharp knives.
The guy is good! Glad I wrote about him back in the day; turns out he deserved it.
The audience included actor Fred Weller and, front and center, Lucie Arnaz and Larry Luckinbill. I'd met Lucie after her amazing cabaret show, but had always wanted to meet Larry so I could gush to him about The Boys in the Band (1970), which I was finally able to do. It was very interesting stealing glances at Lucie as she took in the show (she has produced him in the past), thinking of the old-school comedy greats she had known and seen in action; she seemed as impressed as anyone else, and as surprised by the steady stream of out-of-nowhere one-liners coming from the dude tossing around bowling pins.