Is my taste in music degrading?

I've always taken pride in impeccable taste in music. How do I know my taste is impeccable? Most people start to like music I suggest, if not at first, but after multiple listens. For example, I'm a huge Bjork fan. And while there are lots of Bjork haters, I've turned MANY people onto her. And there's more to my coercion than merely making love to her angelic Icelandic voice. I can even convert with the clothes on. If you don't like Bjork, let me know.

So the trouble came when I sent this song to my best friend. Normally he and I share musical tastes extensively (He's one of the ones I turned onto Bjork. Although that one might have included non-G rated influencing). And I sent him a song. He didn't like it. "Meh," he said. "What's so special about it?"

It took me a moment. Because my first reaction was that there's nothing immensely special about it. The singer isn't amazing. The lyrics aren't amazing. The music isn't terribly complex.

But then one thing hit me. It's sexy. Just listen to the interplay between the guitar and bass. That's what really does it for me. I feel that lots of music today ignores the space between the notes. Or rather eliminates that space altogether. However, this band, The Whitest Boy Alive (isn't the name reason enough to love them?) treatss these smalls silences as gold.

The guitar is one hand, the bass is the other, and the notes are fingers. And think about it. What makes the interplay between appendages sexy, as they glide over each other? The absence of contact. It's crucial. The absence of contact, and a lightness of touch, are what really raise the goosebumps.

Ok, so now you want to hear them? I don't blame you. Enjoy.

Jared Zirilli: Belter Extraordinaire

This short video is the end of the musical Altar Boyz. In it the boys all discover that they are sinners, having hidden secret contract negotiations with rival music companies behind each other's backs.

The boys discover that they believe in each other, and that they are more powerful together. My brother, Jared Zirilli, who plays Matthew, is the last to discover it.

See that moment here. And watch my brother belt the fucking shit out of his notes. Good God I don't know where his voice came from. Maybe my voice once could do that, but I smoked it all away.

Oh well, here's to living vicariously through more talented siblings!

xoJR

I'm not a chicken, you're a turkey!

I'll never forget when my heroes, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, told me by way of their friend Joey to never try drugs. I did end up trying some drugs in college, and I blame the fact that this PSA was poorly dubbed and, frankly, didn't provide any really good argument as to why Joey needed to get out of his jam.

(and how old is he? six? I wasn't propositioned until I was at LEAST 15!)



But today my friend Matt sent me a visual representation of Joey - a piece of Folk Art that shows the real chicken: over the counter and prescription meds.

Matt then apparently downed his meds like a good boy. I wonder what he'll come up with next?

Morning is for sharing.

I'm not sure if any of you wonderful readers are poetry fans, but I sure as hell am. Which makes me suspect that maybe some of you are too? As I was heading into the office today one of my favorite poems popped into my head. I love this poem. I keep thinking that my next tattoo will be a poem, and really I'm thinking it will be this one.

Repetition

BY KAY RYAN

Trying to walk

the same way

to the same store

takes high-wire

balance:

each step

not exactly

as before

risks chasms

of flatness.

One stumble

alone and

nothing

happens.

Few are

the willing

and fewer

the champions.

It would most likely go on my right ribcage. So then, on the subway, I wrote one of my own. This was a first draft; please be gentle. I'll go home and edit it later. 

I don't understand

why we are so comfortated

by plush tricks of words.

Is "Surf and Turf" the brown

fur of a favorite stuffed toy?

Does "Britney's Baby Blowout"

cast the glow of a favorite lamp?

My favorite are the words of wisdom

like "We don't find ourselves; we 

create ourselves." As if the warmth

of parallel structure makes it true.

We should cast off our baby blankets.

Try to sleep through the night alone.

Getting Up the Bawls

Reading Ben's post last night on the silent subway ride took me back (why am I so goddamned nostalgic this week!?) To a time when I didn't have boyfriend Jack. To my slutty summer part 3. To many a situation like the one that Ben penned so accurately last night.

The only difference is that, when slutty summer 3 rolled around, I dropped my shyness like a snake sheds its skin.

Now don't give me credit for overcoming internal obstacles through mental dedication or inner discovery. Really the secret ingredient was vodka. Lots and lots of vodka. I ended up developing a "what the hell? who gives a shit?" attitude to the whole game. If I caught someone's eye, I smiled and said hi. I did it so quickly that I didn't have a chance to hesitate and think "wait, maybe he's too hot for you."

This resulted in a lot of meet-cutes that weren't really all that cute. I suppose it depends on what you're looking for. If you're on the market looking for a one night stand, then you're doing exactly what you need to do. If you're looking for something more formal and long-term... well, I've never met someone on a subway train that became anything meaningful in my life.

Ben I applaud your guts, and challenge you to up your ante next time. In the end, who the fuck cares? The worst thing that happens is he rolls his eyes. (Okay, worst thing that happens is he's so drunk and nauseous from the rumbling train that he promptly vomits on your Guccis.) But so what? Get it, girl. And get it good.

Learn from Justin. If you want something, just go for it. You'd be surprised how often what you want is there for your taking.

xoJR

A Silent Subway

And people make you nervous
You'd think the world was ending
And everybody's features
Have somehow started blending

People are just people
They shouldn't make you nervous
And if you kiss somebody
Then both of you'll get practice

Two A.M. and I'm waiting for the subway at Times Square. You wouldn't think much could look radiant in the jaundiced yellow light of the subway station, but there it was, radiance, standing right next to me. I hadn't noticed it at first. It wasn't until I looked away from the empty subway tunnel, up and to my left, that I saw him.

A sort of stillness curled around the man. As much as stillness can curl. He looked over at me, and held eye contact for slightly longer than one normally would, quite the feat considering that my jaw must have been slack somewhere around my collar-bone. There was no smile on his lips, and it might have been wishful thinking, but I thought I saw it in his eyes. Tyra would have applauded him.

While it's always refreshing to encounter kindred souls not subscribing to the baking-bulb aesthetic, this man held alabaster the way that few can. It was something about the smoothness of his cheeks, his cliff-like cheekbones, impressive jawline, or dark brown hair. Or the culmination of all those elements. No, even more so, it was surely the eyes like none I had seen. Blue, deep navy blue, without hint of gray. I felt sure they were some scientific anomaly, with not quite black hole gravity, but at least that of Jupiter.

We boarded the train, and, much disgruntled, were forced to sit with a very large man between us. I'm not sure how many times we locked eyes in the space of the twenty minute ride. Many. Exacerbating the effect was the fact that the train was silent. Yet crowded. Everyone else seemed to be in a slumberlike stupor. Except for mystery man and myself.

At one point, about two thirds through the trip, I started defending my resignation to remain strangers. "Why should it have to be anything more?" I asked myself. "The event can be perfectly complete, beautiful, and fulfilling ending in silence." As we reached my stop I realized how fully I was lying to myself.

I tested it one last time. I made eye contact with him, smiled what I hoped was an adorable yet seductive smile. Held eye contact for a bit longer. I stood up early and curled my fingers around the support pole so my departure wouldn't come as a surprise. Difficult as it was, I held my eyes out the window until the train stopped, at which point I lowered them to his. I thought I offered a subtle encouraging nod. It might have been too subtle. Regardless, he didn't follow me as I had hoped. I walked home quickly, eager to find a wall to punch. Angered, and slightly drunk, I wasn't so much as to waste my hand on some near-frozen object.

Late as it was, I stayed up for another hour. No matter how hard I searched I couldn't find him online. Wasn't that what the internet was made for? There were only three more stops on the line, so I guessed his zip with what must have been decent accuracy. No luck.

Cause people are just people
People are just people
People are just people like you

I don't consider myself shy. Yet still the squashing of any shyness is what I'm making my belated New Years Resolution. Never again will I allow that situation to happen. It would have been simple to ask him to go get a cup of coffee with me. Or ask for his number. But I didn't.

Never again.

Sometimes I just wanna DANCE (the history of Office Party Dance Party)

Today a co-worker sent around a funny video of some of our friends dancing around on YouTube. It made me a little teary-eyed. Nostalgic. Made me think back to my younger days at my old job. And a short-lived video series we created called Office Party Dance Party (we were aware of the redundancy).

It began with a new camera I bought, which had video recording capabilities. One day, we just started dancing in my co-worker's office:



(I still have and wear that shirt).

Then, when I posted the video to YouTube, another one of our co-workers wanted to join in on the fun. And who were we to deny?

Thus was born Office Party Dance Party 2




At this point, Office Party Dance Party had reached near-celebrity fame at the office. Everyone wanted to be involved! So this time we involved everyone including some slightly higher-up management... and coupled it with some simple choreography.

And so came Office Party Dance Party 3




And sadly, that was it. After a while, we got tired of dancing. I went and got a job elsewhere.

It makes me sad, really. I miss that crew. And the dancing. Always the dancing.

The Score with 24: ISO Agent Gedge!

Hello 24 whores, it is your pimp, JR checking in after a night so insane, stressful, and horrifying that I'm pretty sure I shat myself at least 12 times. And that is a rounded number. I may have shat myself more, and passed out for a period of time. I'd ask Jack or Kristin, but I think they passed out too.

You think you've been surprised before? YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHING. Jack Bauer is back and he's got a Bic pen and eyes that focus on shoes and his gruff voice... and he looks sexier than ever.

Now, I understand that some of you may not have seen the two-hour first night premiere of 24 last night, and so I will give you NO spoilers. (Though, sweet Jesus, I want to TALK ABOUT THEM).

But I will say this: President Taylor's husband's personal detail, Agent Gedge, is one of the hottest characters I've ever seen grace the screen of 24. His lips. His dumb looks. His blind morality. I'm sure he'll end up being a terrorist, alien, or alient terrorist... but for now, GOD he's something to stare at.

Note to 24 producers: you NEED to get some photos of Agent Gedge online STAT. Don't make me stream through an episode I've already seen to take screenshots! That's a huge imposition on a dedicated fan such as myself.

I also hope that a subplot story involves the President's husband being shot, forcing Agent Gedge to remove every article of his clothing to fashion a makeshift tourniquet. Get working on that.

Sure, you can all go crazy for your vigilante Bauer or your dead Almeida... but I'll be pleased as punch to have a night in the West Wing with Agent Gedge.

xoJR

Good morning!

Hey there everyone. Happy Monday. I say that as unironically as possible. I hope the day finds you well. And by that, I hope it finds you having had more than four hours of sleep, as it finds me. Baah.

So remember when you were in college? (If you haven't been, play along) Remember when your professors had you read the materials prior to the lecture so you'd be prepared? Well this is like that. Wait, you probably didn't read the books anyway. So this is nothing like that, because you're going to watch the video I'm posting. But I'm going to discuss this in greater length after work.

Watch this:

More later today.

Meet Ben!

This week I am excited to welcome another brand spankin' new Plus One - my friend Ben. He comes from Michigan, but spends his time living in Astoria and working in the publishing industry. We got to know each other over the summer, and have become fast friends.

I'm excited to see what he does here this week. Won't you welcome him with open arms?

And a special thanks to CL for last week's posts... really had a great time with you. Expect to be asked back real soon!

xoJR

My Name:
Ben

My Location:
Astoria, NYC

My Site/ Sites:
Find me on Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, and after this, perhaps a blog – if all goes well.

What I might post about:
Sexuality, Politics, Music, Arts, Work, Dating

What I love:
Red wine, trashy bars

What I hate:
Under-caffeination, gaybrows

The Last Word:
Hey beloved readers of J+1. Thanks for having me – I'm thrilled that y'all might be interested in reading what I have to say. But I think I might have unusual methods for saying it. See, I got a minor in creative writing, and I might try to make a bit of use out of that while blogging. So forgive me if posts aren't the most typical.

Let's hear it for bottoms!

It's funny that CL penned the post just before about the general disrespect and/or feminizing of bottoms, because I've been hearing things like this recently from many of my friends, exes, and neighborhood priests (Father Flanagan is a power bottom, or so I hear).

And, as one who is 97% top, 3% occasional bottom, I have to say the following: WTF TOPS!? Seriously, I don't understand why this happens. It doesn't make any sense at all.

PJ made a comment on CL's post to the effect of how manly one must be to take on the discomfort of a big fat hard one. I fully agree. I openly admit that I am a coward and can't take the initial pain. Yes, I've done it a few times, but they are literally countable on two hands.

Because of this I have an immense respect for bottoms. Immense. When I meet a person who bottoms I am impressed. I don't treat them like pussies or defenseless cretins. Quite the opposite, I often admit I'm a total top with much shame. I wish it were different. Hell, every once in a while I ENDEAVOR to... open myself up... to the other side of the sexual spectrum.

So a quick note to my fellow tops. Get your shit together and learn where to give credit and respect. Because we are so weak and afraid, our only alternative is to be lucky enough to find someone who appreciates and can take the sensations of bottoming. And trust me, we need them more than they need us. I've been with another top on many an occasion, and we might as well have been playing Super Smash Brothers, it was that lame.

And finally, I don't want to discount the fact that versatility seems to be the new black. Why do just one when you can flip flop and have a party of it. It's certainly a goal of mine. One I will continue working towards.

But, in the meantime, bottoms have all my respect and adoration. They aren't girly men. They're manlier men than me.

xoJR

Bottoms Up

I'm going to get almost feminist for a second.

As someone who attended art school, and travels with a pretty liberal crowd, I'm no stranger to hearing grand statements about men with words like phallocentric and heteronormative sprinkled throughout. And I always swore to myself that I would never be like one of those people so obsessed with something that they felt it oppressed them just by existing. And yet... I've noticed this weird thing that a lot of guys who define themselves as exclusively tops do. They treat anyone who bottoms (and that means both bottoms and guys who define themselves as vers) in a way very similar to the way chauvinists treat women.

The obvious example that I can think of is, look at how many google hits you get by searching for "boy pussy" (or don't. You know, if you're at work). But there are more subtle examples, obviously. I was dating a guy like that a while back, and once, when we were talking about that website Confessions of a Bareback Top (which, is disgusting, bt dubs), he said and I quote, "The worst thing is that he tricks bottoms." And the way he said it had just the right mix of condescension and concern that it sounded exactly like someone saying, "You don't hit girls." Maybe I was overly sensitive to it (it came after a string of similar comments) but it had so much weight in that sentence. And I got to thinking about it, there is something to that power of the phallus that feminists always complain about.

Look at our language, our insults, specifically. Saying your average frat brother is a fudgepacker is mildly insulting in an almost jocular way, but saying he's a cocksucker has this spite to it. If you tell someone to suck your dick, you're not necessarily coming on to them, you're attacking them. We even say "get fucked." We don't say "Go fuck someone" (unless that someone is yourself, in which case we get you twice).

At least some people out there consider wanting a dick inside of them to be just the lowest thing you can do. Even in the gay world.

I love UCB

And this fantastic sketch from some of their best and brightest!



PS: Thanks to Chris for the HTML for gays lesson... I knew how to update width but didn't know you could delete the height... brilliant!

HTML for gays

When I'm not writing blogs, watching porn for continuity errors and criticizing the grammar on advertisements, I'm a web developer/designer. I've created, among other things, the layout and functionality for my own blog (unlockforme.blogspot.com). And as a web savvy fellow, I'm always on the lookout for times when there's been an HTML mistake on someone's site, at which point it's fun for me to try and fix it.

Some of you may have noticed, as you checked out the blog this morning, that one of the posts had a video which went too far to the right and lapped into the navbar. This happens often when you have a blog with a not very wide main pane and you're embedding a video from a source like Veoh or Crackle or one of those not YouTube places. And it's easy to fix if you find that it's happening to you.

A video that you embed from a website like that, if it's too long will look like this:

And it'll have code similar to this (this comes from YouTube, but they're all about the same):<object width="650" height="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fYCzDhaRV60&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fYCzDhaRV60&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="650" height="425"></embed></object>

Now there's a lot in there, and if you're not up on your web languages, a lot of it's going to look like gobbledygook, but what you need to worry about is the last little bit, which reads as follows: width="650" height="425" (or whatever those numbers happen to be). That's telling your browser how wide and tall the video should be. If your video is running over the sides, obviously, you're going to want to change the width. I don't see you having a blog less than 450 pixels wide, so make it read width="400" and you'll probably be in the clear (if not, just keep scaling it down until it works).

Doing so will give you a video that looks like this:

Just make sure that, unless you're a percentages sevant, you erase the height (don't try to guess what the height should be, you'll be wrong). Your browser will automatically adjust the height to scale, unless you give it another number to use, and leaving the height as is will create a video that's taller than it should be, stretching out faces and what have you. Unless of course you want to look a little bit skinnier, in which case, feel free to stretch all you want.

So now you know. HTML="Not scary"

24 IS COMING!

I hate reality television. I know I've said that before. I used to take issue with people who consume reality TV like a snack product, but I thank Patrick over at A Blog About Things for changing my mind. The way he and Carolyn talk about the show actually makes it sound fun (though I will NEVER watch those shows).

But you know what I don't hate? Scripted dramas and comedies on television! And, especially, 24 WHICH RETURNS THIS WEEKEND. The New York Times has a great article on the upcoming season of 24, which has many obstacles to overcome including:

• Decreased viewership
• The writers' strike and its effect on the originally intended 7th season
• The fact that the show was actually affecting the way the army interrogates captives (god I wish I were kidding)

Wait. I need to focus on that last bullet. Am I the only person who thinks this is ridiculous? Read here:

Five years later the series, like the Bush administration, was engulfed in controversy over how it treated suspected terrorists. In fall 2006 the creators of “24” received a visit from the dean of the United States Military Academy at West Point and other experts in military interrogation, who told them that West Point cadets and soldiers in Iraq were being influenced by the uninhibited — and unrepentant — use of torture on the series.

Really? Come on, Man! This is getting out of hand. Marilyn Manson is responsible for school shootings. Grand Theft Auto is responsible for police shootings. Yaddi yadda. GET OVER IT. I like my Jack Bauer to be ruthless with suspected terrorists. If certain cadets are so brainwash-friendly to think they are impervious to bullets like Jack Bauer, and therefore can use his tactics, then they shouldn't be on the frontlines of interrogation any way.

I digress. I am VERY excited for this season. I have to give it to 24: they put themselves in a tight bind by creating a show that, by its very nature, had to do a realtime event every year that spanned 24 hours. There's only so much you can do in 24 hours!

I have faith in them. I expect the best. The two-night, four-hour opener is going to be a bullet-ridden, terrorist-butchering, ragged-voiced orgy of delights.

I'll see you there.

LiveJournal... Dead?

Oh my dear readers. Once upon a time, Justin Plus One didn't exist. (And by once upon a time, I mean a few months ago). Before this blog came to be, I had a presence on another blogging site, my alma mater: Livejournal.

On that site I maintained a blog for over five years, called Change at Jamaica. And boy did we have a good time together, LJ and I. There was My Slutacular Past, a 9-month, daily serial that recounted my entire gay romantic past. Then there was the Hump Day Sex Poll, a popular weekly poll that asked my readers important, and sexy, questions.

What began as a small blog read by no one grew into something read by hundreds, and then began to die a slow death.

Well, my Blog isn't the only thing that's dying. It looks like LiveJournal is on its way to the afterlife as well.

So sad! Poor LiveJournal. Sold off to SixApart, who then sold it off to some Russian company, who then just cut more than 2/3 of their workforce.

So what's left? Swim away, Livejournalers! Go elsewhere! Like, you know, Blogger! Or you can all just come here and be Plus 1s with me. That'd be a hoot.

xoJR

YouTube rocks

I just wish that they would come out with a similar smell for people. Because the one I got in the mail was apparently for rhinos. Not that I'm complaining.

MORE Birthday videos

My birthday testimonials continue. This time with colleagues Chris, Carla and the robotic dinosaur PLEO.

This testimonial also features a momentous announcement: drink specials at my Birthday! 12-2am, $3 well vodka drinks. And nothing beats getting drunk on the cheap!

I repeat: Saturday, Jan 17th @ 11:45PM. Pieces Bar. There will be cheap-o vodka. So come! As for you, M@, a seeing eye dog will be provided at coat check. So you have NO excuse!

Madonna has been dipped in embalming fluid and posed like a Sarah Palin blow-up doll

Remember when Madonna had kids, found religion (well... Kaballah) and started wearing clothes again? Yeah, we knew it wouldn't last either.

As part of a campaign to sell leather coin purses (get it?), Madonna has decided to act not at all like a virgin and display her skanky axe-wound to the world. I'm not one of those gay guys who's afraid of women parts, but my god lady! I feel like I'm watching Cinemax over here. Only it looks like you could stand for a good waxing.

God bless you airbrushers.

Brotherly Pride (not the gay kind) part III: Something About You

My brother is uploading videos of himself from Altar Boyz at an alarming rate. Longer than yesterday's minute long clip... here's Jared Zirilli as Matthew singing his big solo number, "Something About You."

My favorite part is when he drags an unsuspecting lady up on stage with him. Awkward, embarrassing moments in theater are what I'm ALL about.

xoJR

Hey, look at that - I'm 27!

Hello my lovelies.

Today I am coming to you live from the other side of the 26/27 divide. So many people fret about getting older but, frankly, I like it! Age demands more respect. Especially in my job where I'm the doogie howser, dark horse Associate Creative Director who looks like some nogoodnik punk kid.

Anyway... if you haven't heard already, and are in the New York area. I am having a huge, Fashionably Late birthday blowout on Saturday, January 17th at Pieces at 11:45. There will be booze. And karaoke. And tons of hot, sexy, fantastic people.

I've also begun a video testimonial series of both guests and those who regrettably cannot attend due to distance from the city.

Last night my boyfriend Jack, and his best buds Will and Matt filmed one such testimonial.

I give it to you here, and hope to see you at the party!

xoJR

The Prodigal Brother Returns

After 4+ months away, my superstar brother, Jared Zirilli has returned from playing the lead in Altar Boyz the musical in Bethesda, MD. He now goes on unemployment and returns to the winding audition lines in this fair city, in hopes of his next gig.

In the meantime, I'm glad to have that mother effer back - he really is both my best friend and my brother. Okay, before I get emotional and weep like some pussy as I write this post, I'll just go ahead and share a video clip with you.

Here's a one-minute sampling from "The Calling", a song where the "boyz" sing about Jesus calling them... on their cell phone. Of course Jared made it so you only see his part. Such brotherly pride there.

Enjoy!



More Jared Zirilli on Justin Plus One:

Jared and the Altar Boyz on DC TV

Jared and the Altar Boyz web trailer

Manhunt Post #2: Dictionaries are not scary

Let's have a small chitchat, shall we? I know how Manhunters can sometimes be... less literate than some of the smarter primates, to put it bluntly. I've gotten emails that told me that, "if u ar lookin for the bottom of smal dick look no moar i am love." I've seen how many people misspell their own username ("botom4groupfunn." Look it up.). You can't help those people. Nothing I say here will be of any use to them because they don't read blogs that don't start with a P and end with a erezHilton. But for the rest of us, those of us who I thought were better than that, I have some notes.

• The word is "stocky." Not "stalky." Stalky, if it were a word (which it's not), would probably mean "resembling the stem of a herbaceous plant" and I assume that this is not the kind of man you're looking to attract.


• "Discrete" is not the word you're looking, ever. Discrete means "Constituting a separate entity : individually distinct" (Merriam-Webster). The word that you're looking for is "discreet."


• Water sports are weird, but should you choose to engage in them, the correct abbreviation would be "WS." "W/S" would be "Water/Sports," or "I get into water and I get into sports." Or else maybe it means that you've got a little enjambment going on in your profile. Or else you're telling us that you get into the quotient of water (the dividend) and sports (the divisor).


• Please please please please, for the love of all that is good and holy in this world, do NOT use the word "boi." It's not cool. It doesn't make you cool. If you're up on your gay history, you'd know that it doesn't even refer to someone who is biologically male. It's supposed to mean a lesbian who resembles a young-ish boy. So stop using it. I'm serious.

I hope that this talk has been informative.

Oh, and no offense meant to Mr Hilton or his readers. I've read his blog once or twice. It's fine, I guess. It's just that if that's all you ever read you're probably an idiot.

This ain't yo mama's THRILLER

You've never seen a Thriller like this before. Sure you've seen the prisoners dancing the Thriller. And you've seen the actual Thriller. But here is a guy who duplicates himself at least 30 times and does a COMPLETELY A CAPELLA version of Thriller.

It's shocking. It's nuts. And it's still very odd to hear someone who doesn't speak a lick of English sing english words... such a divorce from tone and meaning.

This might actually be more creepy than the actual Thriller. No, it definitely is.

Enough of me. Check this shit out:

File under M for "M-in' F-in' Why do You Even Exist?"

Everyone's favorite go-to joke, Sanjaya is still alive, and has, much like the retarded kid who grew up down the street from me, still not realized that people are laughing at him, not with him. Fun story about that retarded kid, by the way: If you gave him a nickle, he would hump anyone you told him to, and the only way that person could stop him (because you can't hit a retarded kid) would be to give him a nickle and sick him on someone else. That little retarded kid made bank. Which I guess brings me back to Sanjaya.

He's got a CD coming out. Sanjaya: Dancing to the Music in My Head. No word yet whether or not it will suck. Oh, wait, this just in....

Broadway Bleeds Out

Shhhh. Do you hear that sound? It's like a mix between a doomsday whistle and a walrus having its throat slashed. It's the collective wail of theater queens everywhere. Go ahead, listen. Sop it up. Revel in it.

This past weekend was one of many Broadway closings. Long-standing and limited-run shows aplenty shuttered their doors, leaving the keys under the mat for more stupid juke box musicals, too-soon revivals, and odd movie adaptations to take their place.

Frankly, I'm glad to see them go. So many of them were not very good. And there's just a hint of promise in the upcoming season. It's also pretty typical that Broadway bleeds out in the beginning of winter, as tourists abandon NYC for warmer climes. But this cadaver count seems a bit high to me.

Here's a near-complete list of the deaths that stained the Great White Way a bloody red.

RIP:
To hell with you, Hairspray!
Later, Liza's At the Palace
Seeya, Slava's Snow Show
Wah wah wah, White Christmas
You're out, Young Frankenstein
Don't cry, Dividing the Estate
Goodbye, Grease
Buh-bye Boeing-Boeing
You suck my balls, 13

And don't think the carnage is over! Keep your splatter guards on because Spamalot and Gaiken are peacing out on the 11th.

Frozen bubbles are beatiful, awesome.

A friend of mine just sent me this gallery of frozen bubbles. I don't know what could possibly be cooler, except maybe finding someway to keep the frozen in a glass tube full of dry ice or something so that I could constantly have them on my desk.

Paul Blart: Long Island's Claim to Fame

Paul Blart: Mall Cop doesn't look funny. Heck, it doesn't even look so-terrible-it-somehow-becomes-funny. It just looks bad. Sure, mall cops are inherently funny - they ride Segways. They have no real power or jurisdiction. The really douchey ones wear sunglasses indoors on cloudy days. They're pretty hilarious.

But casting Kevin James as one, and then creating a whole movie out of the concept of a Mall Cop facing down a sect of terrorists a la Die Hard is not funny. Frankly, a funnier movie would be a behind-the-scenes documentary showing how a movie like this gets made while tons of better films stay on the shelf, or in a writer's sock and broken dreams drawer.

I didn't intend to see Paul Blart: Mall Cop. But then I saw the trailer, and noticed an old friend is starring in it. My old friend, Roosevelt Field Mall - the one place I go to every time I visit home on Long Island.

Yes, it seems like the scouts for Paul Blart: Mall Cop chose the fabulous malls of Long Island for their locations. Roosevelt Field Mall. Broadway Mall. Together they make up the interiors and exteriors of the production.

This will truly be a dumb movie, but I might just see it so I can point out the Cinnabon to my friends, and be that cool guy who can comment on incontinuity issues that only someone who knows the lay of the land would be able to do.

Even though I despise Long Island and most of the byproducts of that place, I often screech with joy when I see it in something. For instance, I was sure to DVR an episode of Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, because a shady restaurant in my town was featured therein. Only then am I proud to admit where I came from. I imagine this will be the same with Paul Blart.

"Hey did you see Paul Blart: Mall Cop?"

"No, I'd rather see my family killed in front of my own eyes."

"Oh, because they shot it in the mall by my house."

"So?"

"Yep, I'm that cool."

Note: I spoke too soon. And clearly assumed that shopping malls are like unique snowflakes of commerce. Turns out that is NOT Roosevelt Field Mall. It is a mall in Massachusetts. Whoops.

Well, on the brighter side - now I don't need to see this movie!

Craigslist Penis Photographer

"Craigslist Penis Photographer" featuring Bob Odenkirk - watch more funny videos

I'm sure that this sort of thing is really going on. How else could you possibly explain all the awful photos that show up on Craigslist.

Um.... I mean, the awful photos that I hear show up on Craigslist. Because I certainly never go on there myself.

A gay old time

This past weekend, my friend Ricardo brought me to a schnazzy loft party in Chelsea. I tagged along with a rabble of gays that is quickly becoming my New Posse. I didn't know what to expect, and I don't think I would have ever expected what I found.

The building's elevator let out directly into the loft. Three bedrooms. Two bathrooms. A gigantic living room area. A fully stocked bar (with hired bartender). Catered. The HD Yule Log crackling away on the television. The smell of money overrode the smell of the cheese platter.

Plenty of older gentlemen, sure, but me and the posse gave the necessary twink injection. In the end we all got a bit drunk, and then headed out. I made my way to Times Square to pick up Jack while the others hightailed it to Pyramid for dancing and lord only knows what sort of trouble.

Anyway, you know I had to make a video. And so here it is. There's incentive to stick around til the end - you'll get some hot guy-on-guy action between my friend Ricardo and his boyfriend Chris.

Enjoy.

xoxoJR

Meet CL!

This week's co-blogger is a man of mystery, and a notorious character in the online gay dating community. You may have been to his blog... if not, be sure to visit (when you're not at work, that is). I think that says more than enough about my good pal CL.

And many thanks to last week's co-blogger, Patrick - who helped me hold down the fort through the New Year, and will surely be returning in the coming months!

My Name:
CL

My Location:
Brooklyn

My Site/ Sites:
Hunters and Gatherers

What I might post about:
Video games, gay porn, grammar, zombies, Manhunt

What I love:
Candy

What I hate:
When I’m on the phone with someone and I hear a toilet flush in the background. My god there’s nothing ruder than that.

The Last Word:
I run the, now on hiatus, website Hunters and Gatherers where we make fun of Manhunters who deserve it. But our format limits us to talking about people’s profiles. So I’ll be using the wonderful Justin’s blog here to talk about other, more overarching things, like online dating etiquette. And I’ll probably pad it with some stuff about video games or Dungeons and Dragons, just like I do on my own blog.

Manhunt Post #1

For those of you who don't know, Manhunt is an online dating/hookup for gay men that's a lot like a fruity girl drink. Everyone pretends to look down on wine coolers, but when there's a Smirnoff Ice left in the fridge, they'll still drink it if no one's watching. Plus, it tastes okay going down, but in the morning you're going to regret it. In my blog, I spent some time detailing all the people who make Manhunt the go-to punchline that is today, but that doesn't stop me from staying logged in almost 24 hours a day.

Still, there are problems with everything. And Manhunt is no exception.

For all that Manhunt bills itself as a den of iniquity, it does a weird bit of moralizing. This was made apparent to me last week when an email from the Manhunt service man let me know that my profile included a drug reference. It didn't, as a matter of fact. What it said was "Shoot me an email." The "shoot" apparently meant that I wanted to find someone who took heroine regularly. So I received an email say that "for your own protection, we cannot allow profiles that promote drug use" and it was decided that I would have to change it to say "send me an email." True story.

The problem with not allowing users to say that they're looking for a partner who uses crystal meth (aside from leading to some silly redactions in innocent profiles) is that you're not given the opportunity to see a major part of your potential date's life. If you can't see, beforehand, that your date smokes five bowls a day or freebases in the bathroom while he waits for his date to pay the check because he hasn't held down a job in three years and spends all of his money on crack (another true story), you can't make an informed decision about whether or not you want to be a part of that. I thought that the point of online dating was that it eliminates some of the chance that you and your date will have some major irreconcilable differences.

Oh Nein -- Tip 6: Physician, Heal Thyself

If you give a man a drink, he'll drink for 15 minutes, if you give him two, he'll forget those drinks for a life time.

My dear friend Jonathan hosted dinner tonight and he was caught mid-sentence with a Cosmopolitan and glass of red wine.

In a year of prescriptive preaching for a better world, take 2009 to focus on you. Start micro in order to better your small space in the world.

The Real Shit Talkers of Orange County

Kanye West calls them, "Gold Diggers," Project Pat calls them, "Chicken Heads,"Don Imus calls them, "Nappy headed hos." Enter, the Real Housewives of Orange County.

They are perfect examples of, "You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you shouldn't take the sugar daddy's dick out of her mouth." Something like that. [Oh, except Gretchen. On the surface she's the likeliest Gold Digger, but is actually the only one that lives on this planet].


The dumb fucking quote of the week came from Tamra, the one that grabs her husbands dick in public and, "just doesn't really THINK that much about her food."

"I think when you're child gets a lot of tattoos, it makes you feel bad inside. It makes you feel like you failed as a parent somehow."

I think when people say things like that, it makes me feel bad inside. It makes me want to drop you off in the projects wearing nothing but your jewelry.

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT (And you did, Cause I'm a dummy)

I forgot to ACTUALLY publish Tip 4 for 2009. Check it.

Final tip to come later today!

Signs of the Apocalypse 8: Lockness Monster Lives

I hate the cold. Everyone knows this. So, naturally, I am made uncomfortable by those who enjoy it. Specifically those who revel in it, even when they don't need to.

A good example of this group of individuals that I do not understand is the infamous Polar Bears - crazy people who choose to go swim in the ocean when the windchill is so low that it is actually killing 14 year olds.

I am now even more frightened by them... I mean, just take a look at their mascot.

Oprah Takes a Break from the Buffet to Speak Out against Overachievers. "Nam, Nam, Nam!"

Aside from her obvious compulsion to fellate eclairs and a thin veneer of actually still caring about being a heifer, Oprah Winfrey is the antithesis of underachiever. Racist, clueless publicity whore, yes. Underachiever, no.

Yet, in, "Why her friends refuse to attend her parties," an article that's actually more gratifying when you draw your own conclusions about the title without actually reading this rotting piece of trash, Oprah.com contributor Lisa Kogan suggests that her friends can't stand to be around her because her perfectionism annoys them.

Here are the Story Highlights included on the page (by the way, if your half page article needs Cliff's Notes, burn it):

-Columnist Lisa Kogan attempts to throw a holiday party
-Friends, boyfriend tell Kogan she is a terrible hostess and refuse to come
-Kogan realizes she is too much of a perfectionist to relax and have fun
-Kogan's boyfriend invites couple over for spur of the moment dinner.

The last bullet suggests this woman wouldn't know a climax if she had tectonic plates on her clitoris.

Fact: Perfectionism is only annoying to losers. We can always do better. Kogan's advice is borderline irresponsible and most definitely super-sensitive Kathy-comic nonsense (Oh my god, Kathy's fat and single like Oprah! I sense a pattern). Perfectionism should inspire us all to surpass expectations, realistic or not (but don't be a sadist that constantly shoots the moon -- then everyone will hate you).

By constantly improving as a whole, we can raise the baseline standard for success, hopefully weed out the slower, weaker, dumber in order to have a shot at actually saving this planet from being overrun by hypocritical, insipid, bitchy bloggers (Don't look at me, I just work here).

It's legal, ethical eugenics (see: Free Gift With Purchase).

If you don't agree, you don't really count anyway since you obviously live in a state America will be forced to sell to Mexico to pay for the War you started in Iraq. Oh, and you'll die of Cholera cause you can't afford health care.

Oh Nein -- Tip 5:

Following the year of superlatives including "THE most important Presidential election ever," "the WORST financial crisis in American history," and a (fond) farwell to, "THE BIGGEST IDIOT EVER ELECTED TO PUBLIC OFFICE," (sadly, top prize here is really a matter of opinion), consider curbing the intensity level of your personal news in 2009.

With the shit hitting the fan the way it is, few people have the energy for or interest in, "THE most annoying woman at the supermarket," "the slowest subway ride EVER," or "the WORST commerical you have ever seen IN YOUR LIFE." If you still think your friends might want to know, click here.

Likewise, a bounty of over-enthusiastic high notes will eventually be dismissed as flakey, melo-dramatic or just plain irritating. No one wants to hear about, "the FRESHEST, JUCIEST blueberries you've ever tasted." Just shut up and bake us a pie.

Consider the significance you assign to each piece of personal folklore and note that it speaks volumes about your priorities and understanding of and appreciation of something greater than yourself.

It's said that good writers are allowed a total of five exclamation points ever. Apply this to your storytelling and proceed with care.

Less is More. If that simply CAN'T work for you, consider therapy or a high school education.

My New Year's (in 6 minutes)

God I love my new FLIP Mino HD camcorder. It saves me from having to tell you about my New Year's Eve, and instead allows me to SHOW you my New Year's Eve.

A good time was had by all, as you'll see right here:

Keep an eye out for my boyfriend Jack (the gay devil) co-blogger Kristin (MIA), good friend Krissy (Gem), friend Paul (James Dean) and upcoming co-blogger Lauren (Juno).

And I hope you're all having a wonderful New Year!

xoJR

Oh Nein -- Tip 4: Couture du Jour

NYC Boys, regardless of what the unlimited frozen margaritas at brunch are telling you, 8th Avenue is not your runway, wearing skulls makes you look like a gay pirate, and loud isn't the same as making a statement.

Consider great style icons like Carey Grant or Audrey Hepburn for you ladies (not the clownish imitations donned by Blair Waldorf): Their looks are simple, graceful, and perhaps most importantly, current in their day. Leave the anachronistic 50's haircuts and 90s bedazzled denim at your local Salvation Army before you take the L into Manhattan.

In 2009, keep it simple, keep in comfortable in light of an uncomfortable economy, and save the outlandish pieces for October 31st.

My pick for men's style role-model of 2008 goes to Brad Pitt. In his Oprah appearance where he channeled Clark Gable (sans Pistol and Confederate flag), Pitt showed the appeal of aging appropriately, and thus gracefully, and updating your image in kind. Unlike the Kevin Bacons and Bon Jovis, Pitt opted out of the bleached, blown out. feathered do and instead sported a closely cropped and slightly stylized coif (appropriate for an appearance on National TV; inappropriate for brunch in the Village.

Consider: The Playboy

Montgomery Clift
























Gary Cooper























Rock Hudson






















Ditch: The Rock(abily) Retard


Brett Michaels

























Elvis Presley

Creepy Fucking Santa!

My stepfather is an eBay fanatic. He buys everything on there from fencing foils to ancient armor to fishing poles and guitars... and this creepy Santa robot.

Maybe he's supposed to be merry... but there's just something not right about him. A Yuletide version of the Uncanny Valley, perhaps. The way his arms swing like sausages. Or his basso profundo voice. Or the fact that he stands at the bottom of the spooky stairwell to my basement.

Anyway, enjoy Creepy Fucking Santa's rendition of "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year."

What a scary way to send off the Christmas season!

Microsoft starts 2009 out right...

If you had a 30 gig Zune MP3 player, you might have had it crash yesterday. Most owners experienced this odd occurrence.

Why? Turns out that while programming the Zunes, Microsoft forgot to account for leap years. Their answer? Just wait a day and all will be fine.

Duh.

Read the full story

Get on the Rag

This job posting requires no commentary. Enjoy.

Employer looking for sales persons for feminine hygiene products (Manhattan new york )

---

Reply to: job-972955603@craigslist.org ^[?]
Date: 2008-12-29, 10:13AM EST

We are looking for sales or marketing persons or both of them for our company that sell feminine cleansing & hygiene products. The line is a new line that we are starting to market in the USA market. The products are manufactured in a pharmaceutical company in very high quality designated for women’s daily health.
We are looking to sell the products to small chain stores and big retailers, wholesalers, hospitals, the healthcare industry and where ever it's possible to sell this product. We are looking for persons that have experience in that filed of marketing and products.
if you think you are suitable to this position. pls. contact via e-mail: tammy@intimore.com , or through our website: www.intimore.com

• Location: Manhattan new york
• Compensation: will be negotiating
• Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster.
• Please, no phone calls about this job!
• Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.

PostingID: 972955603

We Need a Resolution

Welcome to 2009, where America will no longer have the luxury of indicting Bush for all the nation's wrong-doings (rightfully) and "change" is the people's demand. While some approach New Year's Resolutions with flip obligation, many set goals they truly believe they'll achieve. -- goals they truly believe they may achieve.

Typically, these resolutions are thought of as promises to improve on the previous year's efforts. In lieu of a promise or declaration, I prefer the followinf definition of res·o·lu·tion:

Pronunciation: \ˌre-zə-ˈlü-shən\

Function: noun

1 : the act of answering


Use the new year as a chance to improve on the "why?" behind the "what?". Any four year old can point to Lucky Charms and say, "Gimme," but ask him why and the likely answer is, "Because." Growth s isn't identifying your desires, but evaluating the rationale behind and validity of those desires.

In a departure from my usual snark, I sincerely wish each of you success in keeping your resolutions and much honesty and toil in the discovery of those goals.

Obama Can't Golf

Well, since Obama had nothing to do with the Blago Debacle of '08, the media have moved on to their next attack. Unfortunately they don't have much to work with, as BO has done more as President-Elect in the past month than our current schmucko-in-chief has done in 2 years.

So, instead, they've decided to attack him on his golfing ability. God, I wish I made that up... that would make me hilarious if I did.

Barack Obama might have abs that are the envy of men half his age and the ability to command a crowd of 100,000 with his speeches.

But when it comes to the decidedly presidential sport of golf, well, to put it diplomatically — he’s only a little smoother on the links than he is in a bowling alley.

(sigh).

J+1 Interview: Watch it, and get MattInc NAKED

Last week I profiled an up and coming Web Celeb. I called him the Anti-Davey-Wavey. He's a super cutie from Maine named MattInc. (See the profile here).

Anyway, I wrote to Matt and pitched him an interview. He was more than happy to oblige. Below is the video from our interview.


One important note you should be aware of: if all of you

• VIEW the video,
• LEAVE a comment, and
• SUBSCRIBE to Matt's YouTube channel...

he'll do a Davey-Wavey and make his next video shirtless. That's right, the power is in your hands. Help me get MattInc naked, and watch the video!

Oh SNAPshots!

Deco building with whacked color scheme at southeast corner 4th and B.


The Real Doll was on display in the window of a LES store. The associate told us the store had to become an official dealer to carry this anatomically correct mannequin. The carper did, in fact, match the curtains. She's a natural blonde.


Look at this wash from the Levi's store, but please don't touch.

Dress for Success -- A Note on NYE Style

When asked what I'm wearing on New Year's Eve, I had one simple rule in reply:

Whatever you wear, make sure you'll be comfortable walking home in it in the morning.

Happy Hunting.

[Pictures from my romp coming later...]

Should all the parties be forgot

New Years Eve is coming. And if you're trying to stop it, or slow it down, you are failing at your task.

What's left to do is figure out what you will be doing. Patrick over at ABlogAboutThings posted on the 5 types of New Year's parties. I am happy to say that I am not attending the first 4. The club where you dropped hundreds for a terrible time with terrible people. Or the house party you land in by default. Or the random empty restaurant where you don't have to sell your children into slavery in order to attend.

No, I will be at a house party on Long Island. A costumed New Years Eve bash. Jack and I had planned to go as JFK and Marilyn Monroe, but I think I may be too lazy, and he too tired, to pull this off. We'll probably cobble something together.

But I am a huge fan of the intimate house party. New Years Eve, I would say, is the night where every loser and his bigger loser friends hit the town because, GODDAMMIT! they are NOT LOSERS! They are cool, man! They can party like it's 1999! (Someone tell Prince he needs to put out a new track to inform them it is no longer anywhere near 1999).

And I don't want to be out with the desperate on this desperate night. Those poor saps clinging, nay grasping for dear life onto some semblance of a social life. Those drunk morons in Times Square who saw it on TV one time and fell for the tricks of expensive cameras, thinking the celebration is just as glamorous, and doesn't involve people throwing up on their new, expensive shoes.

Rather, I choose to stay in on nights like this. I go out when the losers return to their loser lives. When the people who know how to party and have a good time also return from their voluntary hermit-ization to resume their exciting lifestyles. These are the people who (usually) can hold their liquor. They are out to have fun, not out to prove to themselves that they can have fun.

I digress. New Year's Eve is a time to be with friends or family. To drink and be merry. My mom always told me that how you ring in the New Years is how your year will go. It makes sense, as I separated from my then-boyfriend for the evening (and you can see the result, as I referred to him as a then-boyfriend).

This year I will be partying it up WITH my new boyfriend. And the best friends I've had since high school. And my cousin who is the best friend I've ever had. I will call and wish a happy-happy to my Mom and stepfather, who are partying it up in Florida like the well-to-do snowbirds that they are. And my brother, who will be partying with his supermodel blonde bombshell girlfriend in DC. And my aunt and uncle, who will be doing god knows what. And my grandfather, who will be drinking Diet Sprite and watching the complete Rambo collection on DVD that I bought him for Christmas.

Friends. Family. None of the artifice or desperation. And I will be bringing my FLIP Mino HD camcorder, so I can create a short viral memory documentary so we can all remember the glory long after it is dimmed.

I hope the rest of you have an absolutely fabulous New Year's Eve as well. Each of us deserves it.

Pop-Up Idiot

Much like the XTube video recently shown to me, which involved a man popping a pool ball out of his anus, there are certain things that will perpetually elude my comprehension. Enter: The Pop Culture Expert.

Watch just about any show on VH-1 or Logo and you'll inevitably catch a lower-third touting the funny-to-himself talking head as a pop culture "expert." How does one apply, and better yet, attain this position?


I originally planned to post a job listing for a Pop Culture Expert to Craigslist to evaluate what burn-outs might actually apply, but I'm not a sadist nor do I enjoy proliferating false hope in this outhouse economy.

The fact is, most of these people are experts in nothing.

Their styles are forces, their jokes aren't funny and they're overwhelmingly one-hit-wonders rejected from Celebrity Rehab or fat black women that producers are convinced can make anyone laugh simply by opening their mouths. Reality check: If you want a funny black lady get Wanda Sykes or Jamie Foxx in drag, not some poor man's Vaudevillian knock off. It's kind of like making some watch Friends with Chinese dubbing and expecting them to laugh, or making some watch Friends and expecting them to laugh.

Furthermore, if these people have their fingers on the pulse America, they're feeling it through the armpit. Exactly, it doesn't make sense.

Sorry Kennedy, you're over. You were done a long, long time ago and even your brief stint on the Game Show Network (they get ALL the talent) couldn't revive your career. No whammy, no whammy, no whammy...stop! Please, just stop.


-

NAB-A-DATE: The Interview

Earlier this week I "sat down with" (ie: composed an email full of questions) to Lee Cavellier and Cedric Jones, two off-off Broadway producers.

We talked of many things (fools and kings?) no, but about their upcoming musical, Nab-A-Date, which is taking the stage on Valentine's Day of 2009. As well as their theatrical roots, former projects, and future ideas.

Yesterday I posted videos of their original musical, Guy Pride. You can see those here.

The interview, in full, appears below!

Okay, so let's start easy: You're producing a show set to premiere on February 14th called "NAB-A-DATE: The World's 1st, Best (and only) Musical Dating Show!" That's a lot of words, and a strange idea. Can you explain the show to me and the J+1 readers?

Absolutely! The title, though wordy, is pretty on the nose. We took the idea of the dating shows from the past and decided to utilize that convention, adding in musical numbers to help our ladies impress our bachelor and to keep a quick pace for the action.

As we played around, we found that not only was it a fun idea, but we could actually create a lot of wonderful characters, moments and turns...we could use the construct of a dating game to help drive the stories of all of these people along. It turns out that everyone on the show has enough behind them to make an audience not only enjoy watching them, but also care about what happens to them.

As for the basics, the evening will be taking place at 8pm at The Reprise Room at Dillon's on Valentine's Day (2/14/09), and will include a raffle to take place immediately following the show.

Tickets for the premiere are available through SmartTix

For more info on the show, including cast, crew and the NEW demo recording of the opening number, visit the NAB-A-DATE web site.

I know that a lot of folks (gays, straights, ostriches) hate valentines day because they're alone, or wish they would be left alone. Why should an unhappy non-Valentine come to NAB-A-DATE?

We love ostriches...Though I was unaware that they harbored any kind of hostility toward the 'day of love'. As for the rest, I remind everyone that tv dating shows have been around for a long time, and we've all had our guilty pleasures.

You don't need to be in a relationship to enjoy fun personalities making lots of sexual innuendo. Now toss in a ton of humor, lots of drinks, constant theater and pop culture references and some great voices singing tight harmonies...who could ask for anything more?

The show is not about being 'lucky in love'. Each of our girls has come there for a different reason, and we are lucky enough to view the journey that they each take.

Okay, and if you can't drag the non-valentine out of his cave, how can they see the show after they come out?

Well, that one's easy... We (Guy Pride Productions) are very excited to have been invited back to our summer stomping grounds, The Duplex, where will be doing the show for a full run every Thursday this coming March at 9:30pm.

I will spread the word though, as incentive to catch that V-Day opener, that folks arriving in March with a ticket stub from the February performance will be receiving 2 for 1 cover! So if you come out for the 14th and can't stop raving, give a friend your ticket stub and let them see for themselves, at buy one get one free!

NAB-A-DATE wasn't your first production. What was your previous theatrical project? And did it have a cool catch, too?

As a team, Cedric Jones and myself created an equally wordy titled show called "Guy Pride: The World's 1st MAN-sical!" I absolutely feel that because almost every story has been told so many times, the best thing you can do to keep it fresh is find an interesting perspective to tell it from.

Guy Pride started as a spoof of all those shows/cabarets out there where people were so proud to be gay/latin/female/a donkey...etc. We wanted to find a different angle.

Interestingly enough, what started out as a mock up of those kinds of shows, became more of a send up of ourselves. Our own quirks, flaws, and insecurities were showcased and exaggerated to create a very fun show of it's own genre, poking more fun of itself than of anyone or anything else. As the transition occurred, I believe we went from potentially offensive, to promisingly funny...and I'm pretty sure our audiences agreed.

And what learnings did you take away from this original show that you brought over to NAB-A-DATE?

We're men...it's hard to learn when you already know it all! Though my collaborator Cedric states that those of the 'pink persuasion' are consistently attempting to increase their knowledge, so I'll throw in what I understand to be his thoughts...

- We learned a lot about production, promotion, and budgets...
- We learned that friends can work together...and can create some pretty great stuff.
- We learned that above all, people want/need to laugh right now...

AND...

- We learned that The Duplex is a great spot to hold a show, or throw a party...or just hang.

You've produced a great number of shows already – what inspired you to take up this line of work? How did you get started?

Because of an early run-in with Donny Osmond (I fell in love with the show "Joseph" when I saw him in Toronto), I studied musical theater in college. As far as production, I remember taking a Cabaret course in my senior year. We had to write, produce, book the location, promote... everything related to getting the show up and filling the seats. It was incredibly difficult, but also very satisfying, and there's a great thrill to seeing people enjoy what you've put together.

And so, when Ceddy and I started to kick ideas around for Guy Pride, I felt I had a decent understanding of what to do. Though, to be honest, there's always a lot to learn.

Judging from how quickly you moved from your last show to this current one, there MUST be some other brilliant ideas bouncing around in your head… what's coming next?

There ARE some pretty brilliant ideas bouncing up there. We've got a couple shows on the back burner that I'm not yet at liberty to discuss...but I am able to mention that we are planning to reprise Guy Pride this coming summer around Gay Pride (keep checking www.theMAN-sical.com for dates!).

And following up in the fall with a brand spankin' NEW piece entitled "Addicts Anonymous: A Musical Twelve Step Program!" AA is a celebration of all those little things that "make you rave, then make you crave and ultimately misbehave, because you've just GOTTA have 'em!"

What part can I play in your next project? Or can we maybe write JustinPlusOne.com into the script? I don't have a resume, but I can make a convincing one up.

Are you addicted to anything? :-) I can certainly find a place to mention JustinPlusOne.com, resume or no!