15 Minutes More

America’s Next Top Model judge Janice Dickerson or Botoxed trannie. You decide.

I’ve been spending a pretty good amount of time in New York lately and each time I’m back in the city, it becomes harder and harder to leave. There was a time not too long ago when I absolutely hated heading there: The traffic, the yelling, the prices, the tourists. It was like some sort of slow torture, testing my every sense and limit to see just how far the city could push me before I did the unthinkable… Asking the first open cabbie to take me across the bridge and into Flushing. Absolutely frightening.

She may be the ‘flashing girl from Flushing,’ but i think this DVD box says it all

…Moving on.

The city has charmed me. Getting away from the grind of 42nd street is an excellent recommendation from me to you, as seeing the various hoods that NYC has is a whole world of education in itself. This past trip, I shacked up in Soho and immediately felt the compelling need to wear immense layers baggy of clothing while walking down the street holding a Starbucks cup like some sort of manic Olsen-twin impersonator. Soho has this vibe about it that almost makes anyone not living in the area feel horribly underdressed. It’s not that everyone is dressed to the nines, but it’s more that they’re so well put-together, like they stepped out from a celebrity styling session just to see what ‘the little people’ on the street are wearing that day. It’s a bit strange.

Ate at hotspot Buddahkan, where the food was good, but portion control was akin to the small portioning of French prisons. The restaurant was incredibly designed, with a sprawling layout and very theatrical feel overall. It’s one of those places where everyone tends to look good, thanks to the flesh-colored lighting, so be wary if Miss or Mister Right (now) at the bar asks for your digits. You may want to haul them to the bathrooms to get a good look at em’ in realtime conditions. ‘Coyote Ugly’ is a very real thing. You’ve been warned.

I heard through the grapevine that Linda Eder, a favorite vocalist of mine, would be performing at Feinstein’s the following night, so I snagged some tix for what I assumed would be an intimate evening of great song.

Well, I was wrong. It suck-a-suck-a-sucks to be me.

Eder was in the middle of a really bad head cold, which obviously caused temporary insanity, as she continued with the show anyway. ‘What a trooper’ my ass! With tickets pushing $100 per person, she’d damn well better hit those money notes and hit them with gusto. I personally think she’d had a little too much Nyquill the night before, which effected her ability to reason with any sort of sense. She sounded strained for most of the show, apologizing frequently, and on her last two songs she totally dropped out as her voice was just gone.

Hey Linda: How $3 well-spent the night before could have saved your voiceless butt…

Basically, the audience got a half-assed show with two songs missing and Eder walked away with her full fee. The NYPOST ran a half-hearted review of her show, also noting that her usual (and amazing) style of torch songery and soaring ballads was seriously undercut by a very edited down show. If it were me, I would have cancelled the whole show from the getgo. Why go out in front of a crowd if you’re not going to give 110%?

Oh yeah, and the chicken noodle soup at Feinsteins sucked too.

Note to the Feinstein’s chef: It’s called salt. Don’t be afraid to chuck some in. I felt like I was at a wedding reception where the bride and groom asked everyone to pay per plate before they were seated. Y’know, it’s tough to feel like high class bitch when you’re eating what amounts to banquet food.

My newest love: Peanut Butter & Co. It’s heaven for those of us who can smear the stuff on anything that remotely tastes good. I’m petitioning Eros to make a peanut butter-flavored lube…

He makes a cute guy too…

I always end up laughing my sick ass off at William Belli’s Blog, found HERE. I’ve plugged this guy before for his various roles on television (Nip/Tuck), movies (American Wedding) and stage appearances (Rock of Ages), but lately his writing has been witty, wise and, as always, tinged with just the right amount of sass.

Yes, that’s right. I said SASS. Go read his blog. It’s super keen.

Oh. Dear. God.

I still can’t believe that this guy is getting his continued fifteen minutes of fame, but hell if it’s not twisted and entertaining in it’s own way. John Paulus, better known as Clay Aiken’s cum-rag, has started an official blog chronicling his adventures with the American Idol geek. Yep, it’s an interesting read and somewhat scary how well Paulus remembers the hook-up with Aiken with such vivid detail.

Methinks something runs a-foul here, but alas, such is life. I’m still in marvel that Michael Lucas signed this guy to a video contract. What in the world? Logic dictates that the public will have long forgotten about Paulus by the time his first DVD hits stores. Logic also dictates that Lucas will have to use some serious duct tape on Paulus to make him appear attractive enough to sell the thing as coverboy.

Click HERE to check out John’s blogspot site.

The thing I like best about being a blogger, aside from being able to clip my toenails while working, is that sometimes, through hard work and perseverance and opening my email, I come across a story that can really help you, the consumer, gain a better understanding of just how you can be killed by a breakfast snack food.

This is JUST such a time. I have received , from an alert reader in Florida, an alarming article from the New Floridian Times-Reporter headlined: OVERHEATED POP-TARTS CAUSE DOVER HOUSE FIRE, OFFICIALS SAY. The article states that fire officials investigating a house fir
e in Dover, FL concluded that ‘when the toaster failed to eject the Pop-Tarts, they caught fire and set the kitchen ablaze.’

According to the article, the investigators reached this conclusion after experimenting with Pop-Tarts and a toaster. They found that ‘strawberry Pop-Tarts, when left in a toaster that doesn’t pop-up, will send flames ‘like a blowtorch’ up to three feet high.’

Like most Americans, I have long had a keen scientific interest in combustible breakfast foods, so I called up the Dover Fire Department and spoke to investigator Don Dunfee. He told me that he and some other investigators bought a used toaster, rigged it so that it wouldn’t pop-up, put in some Kellogg’s strawberry Pop-Tarts, then observed the results.
‘At five minutes and 55 seconds,’ he said, ‘we had flames shooting out of the top. I mean LARGE FLAMES. We also tried it with an off-brand tart. That one broke into flames in like 3 ½ minutes, but it wasn’t near as impressive as the Kellogg’s Pop-Tart.’

A quality you will find in top investigative journalists such as Woodward and Bernstein and myself is that before we publish a sensational story, we make every effort to verify the facts, unless this would be boring. So after speaking with Dunfee I proceeded to my local Walmart, where I consulted with an employee in the appliance sector:

ME: What kind of toaster do you recommend for outdoor use?
EMPLOYEE: A cheap toaster.

I got one for $8.96. I already had Kellogg’s strawberry Pop-Tarts at home because these are the one of the three major food groups that I eat, with the other two being (1) pizza and (2) pizza with sausage.

Branch Davidian mass suicide? Nope. Koresh just walked away from the toaster for too long…

The experiment resulted in results that were just as conclusive as when Don Dunfee saddled up earlier in the week: Flames to high hell and a newfound respect for the deadly abilities of a Kellogg’s-brand product. It was time to draw conclusions. The obvious one involves missile defense. As you are aware, President Bush has decided to cut way back on Star Wars research, so that there will be more money available for more pressing domestic needs, such as creating new jobs and keeping airport runways clear for urgent presidential grooming. But by using currently available electronic and baking technology, we could build giant toasters and place them around the US, then load them with enormous Pop-Tarts. When we detected incoming missiles, we simply hold the toaster levers down via some method (possibly involving the sucked out fat from a now mysteriously skinny Anna Nicole Smith) and within a few minutes WHOOM the country would be surrounded by a protective wall of flames, and the missiles would either burn up or get knocked off course and detonate harmlessly in some place like New Jersey.

Jason Reitman, too young for hookers and blow, but learning the ropes of a ‘Hollywood Director’ as quickly as possible…

Quickly, before this edition turns quickly into a novel: ‘Thank You For Smoking’ is a pretty decent first foray into the movie-making world for director Jason Reitman. It’s in limited release right now, but it a film that provides views from both sides of the coin, all while constantly winking at itself. If you’ve got the time, head to the theater to see it. If the thought of teenagers running wild scares you (as it does me), then just wait for it on DVD.

And lastly, on a very serious, no-shit note…

Last week’s edition of the 15 talked about an escort on the West coast who deceptively tells his clients that he’s 100% clean while waiting until AFTER the meeting to disclose his real status of being HIV-positive. I thought at first this had to be a flub, something truly unreal, until I received more than 6 emails from separate people all telling the same story about the same guy.

I asked my readers for advice and damned if I didn’t get my fair share: Over 600 emails and counting from concerned readers, 99.9% of them calling for a full outing. While it would make me nothing but happy to expose this dangerous schmuck for the routine he’s been pulling (with both safe and unsafe sex), I’m still waiting for a couple more days for a response from him. I’ve emailed many times and have yet to get anything back, but I still don’t think it would be 100% fair if I just hauled off and exposed him without his side of things. I don’t plan to play mediator in this matter, but just want to know why the fuck he thinks he can do this to people. It’s wrong. It’s dangerous. I hope he’s stable enough to realize this.

I got so much email, I decided to create a webpage with some of the responses. Names have been left out of course, but you can read for yourself the emotional response this is creating in people. Thank you to everyone who took the time to write in and share your experiences and feelings on this one:

My STOP HIV webpage

The escort community is a close-knit one in terms of who people see and how they conduct themselves: I feel that both escorts and clients should be aware of what’s happening here, to play as safe as possible at all times and to know that it’s never just ‘themselves’ that they’re affecting when they make unsafe mistakes in the bedroom. It’s a chain of people to come. That’s what’s so frightening about this particular situation. This dark-haired, young, smooth escort is still a popular draw, with recent glowing reviews going up on M4M.

This has nothing to do with a personal vendetta, being catty or business: It’s simple humanity. Caring for people, whether you know them or not, and realizing that one person can really make a dent in several lives for the worse. HIV is no joke, especially in this industry. I consider people who threaten others with the disease, wishing it on people, making fun of those who have contracted it or anything of the like to be tasteless, tacky, hollow shells of human beings.

Due to a glitch in my upload programming, I’m putting this week’s newest EYE CANDY on my Yahoo Group. I will have this issue fixed for next week’s posting, but decided that this was going to be the best way to get new stuff up without having to totally forgo the EC this time. If you are already signed up for this FREE group, then simply head over for a new gallery in the ‘photos’ section. If you’re not a member yet, simply click here to sign up with the Groups. It’s 100% free, fast and easy to use
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