Hearsay

Secrets, Oscar parties, more


Published on March 4, 2004, 12:00am | Comments

Not so secretly taking the stage at Secrets
Lord, who knew there were eleven rings…
Lapses at the Lantern…

This isn't a family magazine in the Focus on the Family kind of way. Thank Mel. Oops, wrong deity. Thank dick. See, Hearsay can say dick here and not risk the wrath of the FCC's Michael “Semi-Colon” Powell. He doesn't read our Filth anyway. Thank dick again. Even better, Hearsay can report on dicks about town, and get passionate about dicks about town, and get paid to report on dicks about town. Can you think of a better job to have in this town? Well, maybe the locker room staff at Results. Or the manager of the Crew Club. So, in reality, there are many jobs as visually stimulating as this one. A job is what you make of it anyway, right? At least that's what David “I Can't Imagine My Empire without Lena” Lett always says. And, well, could anyone but Donnell “Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitgzerald's Love Child” Robinson make more of his job emceeing the monthly amateur night at Secrets? “Oh, the shots are kickin' in.” “Jack Daniels is taking control.” “I'm getting hungry, anybody else feel like some hot cakes?” Donnell bantered in between contestants last Thursday at what the club bills as “The Biggest Dancer Contest in Town!” It's hard to argue that -- most of the  evening's eleven contestants were definitely big boys, in more ways than one. “Come find your secret,” Donnell, whose Ella wigs and figs were packed away for the night, replaced by a homeboy ball cap, beckoned to the impressively cute crowd, trying to get them to size up the merchandise. But Marius was the only contestant who truly had a secret, since he never revealed his family jewels. (And that's the kind of Focus on the Family Hearsay demands.) His friend and fellow contestant Alex, on the other hand, had no discernible secret, except well, just who is he? What is his relationship to Marius? Hearsay was too intimidated to ask: He was the biggest dancer of the night, with his bodybuilder mass, tree-trunk thighs, maximum gluts and his max. cap. 69 bus. Warning: This bus makes sudden stops. But lose the shoes, some lusty crowd member shouted. Alex, you see, was wearing tan Timberland  moccasins. And they simply do not look cool, even on a smolderingly striking man like himself. Before his final five minutes of glory -- all his glory -- he took them off. Despite his physical prowess, skin the color of mocha and -- oh hell, Hearsay's just gonna say it, since Hearsay can -- big honkin' dick, Alex came in a distant second to the dirty-blond, thin Ben. His hypnotic smile had both the girls and the guys in the audience involuntarily screaming. Even better, he left no doubt on which team he and his hairy thighs squat for. Oh, what a night, as Frankie Valli might screech. There was hardly a dud among the stud-and-pud contestants -- which included, Hearsay must report, a certain Cobalt bartender and former Coverboy Confidential who apparently loves being naked, not that anyone would ever complain. There were a couple amateurs obviously not so comfortable bare in the glare and stare, but first contestant John of the curved, rock-hard and happy-to-see-ya demeanor was certainly not one of them. Chance seemed perfectly at home on stage, too, with his dirty white-tube socks and tattoo after tattoo after tattoo. But earlier, when he was amongst the crowd, he wasn't so comfortable. “We don't do that in Virginia,” he said, positively perplexed by and Pollyanna-ish about the TV screens displaying a “documentary” glory of glory holes. “Faces!” Chance proclaimed. “I need to see their faces!” It's nice to know things like eyes, ears, mouth and throat (deep, deep throat) still matter to some of us…

You should have seen the hoops Kevin “Black Bean, Red Pepper And I'm Not” Gray must have jumped through in preparing food for his small gathering of friends on Oscar night last Sunday. His was just one of what must have been hundreds of Oscar-viewing  parties around town. If you didn't watch it in the company of others ingesting alcohol, you surely must have fallen asleep by the time Billy “Diamonds and Spurs” Crystal's opening monologue never-ended. Or at least by the time Tim “Bay City Rollerball” Hollandmoritz dished up his Midwestern Meatballs at Gray's party, while Gray's boyfriend Lou “In the Stew“ Persic served as bartender for the evening, making his own variant of a Flirtini. And of course he made Flirtinis. He is, after all, a regular bartender at the Green Lantern…

And speaking of the Green Lantern, Hearsay heard a rumor that, a month into the three-month smoke-out among seven smokers of the Lantern's staff, not all are succeeding. Alas, the rumor turned out to be more than a rumor. It turned out to be true. Only three remain “completely clean” of cigarettes: Jason “Hold Me” Horswill, James “Thrill Me” Steele and Greg “Kiss Me” Zehnacker, the owner. Is he staying sane? “Yeah, but you probably oughtta ask the staff about that,” Zehnacker told Hearsay. Amazingly, he and Steele are still at it cold turkey, while Horswill is brandishing a patch. Two others are mostly smoke-free but have had a couple slip-ups, while the remaining two are claiming to be “temporarily” back to smoking. That includes Jason “Spring Fever” Watson, who's admittedly had it harder than most, since he's allergic to the patch. But Zehnacker is still hopeful all seven will have kicked the habit by the May 1st deadline. If not, he quickly added, he hopes that all seven will be back to puffing away, so they can “rent a U-Haul and drive to North Carolina to stock up on cigarettes,” with the pot of $800 to which they're all contributing. Uh-oh, sounds like Zehnacker's getting nostalgic for the habit. Hearsay hopes the boys can nip that nostalgia in the butts. Maybe somebody can give them a hand?…

Got a Hearsay-worthy tip? A piece of gossip you must get off your chest? Write Hearsay at hearsay@metroweekly.com or visit it in the Nightlife section at www.metroweekly.com and fill out its handy-dandy easy-as-pie web form.


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