Good Girl Goes Good

I'm not sure whether I'm more surprised by the fact that Leighton Meester has seen the inside of a recording studio, or the fact that this song has been out for three months and this is the first time I'm hearing about it.

I'm torn. I love me a spoonful of Blair Waldorf every now and then, but this is a little too sketchy for me. It's too reminiscent of the Paris Hilton/Stars are Blind days— I feel dirty listening to it.

Trying to get the bad taste out of your mouth? I recommend listening to this.

The Sassy Gay Friend Strikes Back

The Second City is at it again; this time, I'm not so sure it was a good decision.

Like many people lost in the realms of YouTube, Second City enjoyed brief facebook fame a few weeks back when the Sassy Gay Friend: Hamlet edition began raping my newsfeed more than Farmville. Attempting to do it again, Second City has just uploaded a Sassy Gay Friend for Juliet Capulet.

I'm not a fan of this one, I liked that the first video was far less complicated. I must admit, this new video has a few catchy nuances, but it just seems a bit more rehearsed. Sorry guys, but the smell of desperation is not a cute one.

Hamlet Goes Viral

I didn't like this video at first, but it's just one of those viral necessities that grows on you after hearing it resonate through the sea of office computers about 20 times an hour. Intellectual wit turns me on, and I'm newly attracted to coworkers now after learning that they had a basic grasp of Hamlet.

This video comes only days after I learned about Second City and the truly high-larious things they manage to pull off. Anyhow, Brian Gallivan is a riot. The kind of sassy gay friend I'd like to have one day when I'm pushing 40. Until then, I'll have this.

Bares + Shirts = Backwards

Broadway Bares is probably one of the most exciting things that I look forward to every year. Seeing all of my talented crushes prance around on stage in their privies has to be the most raw form of entertainment (pun intended!) this side of the Hudson. I'm certain that this past year, I wasn't the only gay man on the dancefloor questioning my sexuality when the sight of the Blickenstaff/Foster boob-combo-cameo made me shriek louder than the fact that I was less than four feet away from Jake Wilson's dick.

…Now that I got that out of my system: you can imagine my excitement when I was given tickets to see Broadway Backwards this year (the perks of my job are slowly becoming apparent to me). Unfortunately, the thing that caught my attention most was the pair of sub-Saharan wild animals that purchased seats directly in front of us.

Aside from that, the less-than-par tickets were definitely worth seeing how many Swarovski Crystals the costume designers could fit onto Florence Henderson's blazer, and a short (but sweet) Chita Rivera revival from a barely recognizable Nick Adams.

Some of the most surprisingly delightful performances came from Anthony Marantino Mario Cantone, Raúl Esparza, and Wicked sensation Julia Murney. Becki Newton was unimpressive— perfect for Ugly Betty. Less than perfect for anything else.

All in all, Broadway Backwards 5 was a breath of fresh air. A few steps down from porn, it was a great way to make sure my Broadway faves were still alive— and clothed! Although my companion and I agreed the show could have done with more shirtless flavor, at least it can tide us over till June.

(Nick Adams and his haircare products at the "afterparty.")

Diva of the Day!

Celine Dion - River Deep, Mountain High

To Shirt or Not to Shirt?

Gay marriage: uh-oh.

It's been creeping up on us like a crazy witch in a Disney movie. Now at the forefront of legislation in a number of states, we're forced to face the topic in a head-on collision. Now, more than ever, we need to watch what we're saying. We need to come together as a community and fight for what is rightfully [or so we think] ours.

That being said, this post isn't about gay marriage. I hate popping zits in the mirror.

I feel so strongly about negative terminology: fag, dyke, nigger, ginger, spic. The list goes on. I remember growing up in a suburban Michigan neighborhood where "that's so gay" was more common than a barbeque or alcoholic father. One thing I don't remember is ever being offended by the phrase. However, as I've grown older I have realized that it's not the phrase that is shocking, but how prevalent it has become. I never try to let it bother me too much, I feel the only way we're going to get over derogatory language is to forget it even exists; people would stop using the word nigger if nobody reacted or cared. (Right?)

I'd like to think of myself as setting a good example when I refuse to use words like 'fag' or 'dyke' to describe my friends. Working in the gay entertainment industry especially, I see it's become all too commonplace. Bars, clubs, magazines— they're all guilty of dipping into distasteful advertising. A gay bar that advertises a night called "Fag Fridayz" is not cute. It just highlights someone's lack of creativity.

With that being said: I was asked recently to purchase a shirt (below) for a cause that I'll be attending in February. Needless to say, I have some major issues spending money on a 100% cotton billboard that deconstructs my cause and humiliates me.

I'm gay and proud. That doesn't make it alright for me (or anyone, for that matter) to jokingly demoralize myself via t-shirt. How far do you think Martin Luther King Jr. would have gotten in a t-shirt that said "Nigger?"



It's cute, just not my style.

You've Been Blocked

My newest guilty pleasure: Nicco Sky at Randy Blue the overnight 'I-can-blog-on-my-own' sensation, guysiblockedongrindr.

A marriage between hours of laugher and a perfect platform to humiliate my ex, the website is a breeding ground for publishing those scary photos of men who peruse Grindr late at night. Needless to say, after realizing 98% of the guys on this website are real, I couldn't turn the compass function on my Grindr app off fast enough.

Although its novelty has worn off, revisiting some of the fan-favorite photos will never get old. The only thing left to do is erase my browser out of fear that someone may discover I frequent a blog hosted on tumblr. Gross.