Hearsay

High Heel Race, One-in-Ten transition, Apex

By Metro Weekly Contributor on October 27, 2004

A brand new winner at the High Heel Race…
Carlos “The Bear” Arias says so long…
Apex is hot, hot, hot…

Hearsay has a winner. Of the 17th Street High Heel Race. And it’s not the same guy who ran in years past and consistently beat out the others. That happy-go-lucky fella didn’t run this year, graciously stepping aside so that others might cross the finish line, which, come to think of it, didn’t really exist this year. The legion of costumed runners didn’t even have so much as a wafer-thin strand of yellow police tape to burst through. Still, the clear and obvious winner of the race was James “Minnie the Moocher” Calloway, who started the race with a burst of speed (from his calves, not the pills) and roared down the four block stretch of asphalt like a souped-up race car.

Unlike last year’s rain-soaked event, this past Tuesday night provided beautiful weather for the annual event, which pulled in record crowds. All of the usual suspects were all there, including Lena “Trim Waist, Big Big Hair” Lett, Cookie “One Day I’m Gonna Be Pwesident!” Buffet and Patrick “The Wittle Princess” Nolen, whose annually resurrected Lady Di is getting a bit long in the tooth. There was also a Siegfried and Roy, whose crowd-pleasing props included a hoop, a wheelchair and a stuffed tiger. Hearsay’s absolute favorite were the Facts of Life chicklets, who just screamed with pre-teen perkiness. And what about that Krispy Kreme Donut dairy queen — she was just ready for the gorging. And then there was the drag queen who came dressed as Carol Schwartz. What’s that? Oh, it was Carol. Too bad she didn’t run (though she’ll get her chance this Tuesday)Â…

This year, as every year, Carlos "Singing My Way to Freedom" Arias was everywhere at Reel Affirmations. Actually, this year even more so. Did you happen to catch him on screen? Yes, that was Arias making his big-screen debut in Bear Cub, the Spanish film that had all the bears talking, and not just because they hadn’t before realized just how hairy Arias was — his full beard was new this year. But Hearsay knew of Carlos’s hair all along, and still remembers the time he took Hearsay aside and revealed that a certain part of his body, a part of the body that is usually bare, was not bare on him. Unfortunately, Arias also made Hearsay swear to secrecy that it wouldn’t tell just where the hair was, and it’s a threat that Hearsay now believes was authoritatively serious. Did you happen to see Carlos’s his new police jacket and hat? Yes, it’s real. It was a gift from Brett "Blue Boy" Parsons, our town’s leading gun-toting gay defender. No, Parsons and Arias aren’t an item, though just imagine the role-playing that would ensue should they ever hook up. Carlos: “My, that’s a big gun you’ve got there, officer.” Brett: “Up against the wall and spread ’em.” Carlos: “I’d spread anything for you, my big law-enforcing cuddle-buddle.” Brett: “I’m now going to probe good and hard for hidden contraband.” Carlos: “Oooh, is that ‘I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter’ I smell?” Anyway, you get the idea.

Unfortunately, this tale has a bittersweet ending: this was the last year Arias will be talking too fast from the Lincoln Theatre pulpit. It’s the last year he’ll be taking the unfinished vodka drinks right out of everyone’s hands, kicking them to the Ben’s Chili Bowl curb after the festival’s nightly curfew to use the Absolut Tent has passed. It’s the last year he’ll be engaged in heated discussion about some thing or another in the Lincoln Theatre lobby. (Okay, that’s a lie, since he gets in heated discussions all the live long day, film festival or no.) So as was done with former festival director Sarah "Missing In Pittsburgh" Kellogg last year, Arias got quite the send off as One In Ten’s outgoing director this year at the Closing Party. Was he the reason for the fountains of chocolate fondue — in white, dark, milk and “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter” varieties? Well, if so, and it wasn’t just One In Ten board member and closing party caterer Larry "Ball Bearing" Guillemette‘s decision, Hearsay wants to thank Arias. Really and truly. Because Hearsay’s never made a bigger mess of itself, literally speaking, in public. Why, the chocolate goo pasted to its face ruined the rest of Hearsay’s night. You try explaining you had a run-in with fondue to a twink who barely knows what a Twinky is, much less fondueÂ…

A week ago Friday, Hearsay made its way to Apex, and it’s happy to report that the bitch is back and better than ever. The club is operating full maximum capacity, drawing in the boys like bees swarm to honey. Manager Joey-O doesn’t even have to be behind the turntables on a Sunday to bring the boys to his pinnacle (though his monthly Temptation Teas are, in fact, all the rage), and bartender Mike doesn’t even have to serve alcohol to make the boys come to call. And then there’s VJ Dave "Sinner-Men" Linn‘s "Naughty Girl" ways that makes Brad "di" Russi smile, and DJ Rob "Throb" Harris‘ thump-thump sashays that makes Mike "Senior Junior’s" Izeta go wildÂ…

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Hearsay

Wet amateur night, WedRock at 9:30 Club

By Metro Weekly Contributor on October 13, 2004

Amateurs in their underwear at Wet…
Going to the rockin’ chapel at WEDRock…
Getting hitched to Henry Rollins…

A couple Fridays back, Hearsay wandered into Wet, initially for a drink of water. But it ended up staying to watch as the venerable nightclub hosted its regular Friday Night Underwear Contest — ooh, la, la! — where the contestants were plentiful and had plenty of underwear-type garments to show, if you know what Hearsay means. Now, if it was your birthday, would you go ahead and enter the contest, hoping to scoop up the first place prize of $200 Cash? Hearsay says yes. And so did contestant Rick, who was sporting a leather harness all night long. But what if you had brought all your friends along with you? Even better. That way you’ve got a built-in audience rooting for you. That’s not to say Rick didn’t deserve to win, though second runner-up Bill gave him a run for the money. But entering the contest on your birthday also means you have to get into your birthday suit (well, underwear, anyway) in front of all your friends. If that’s not ballsy, Hearsay doesn’t know what is. Just three Saturdays from now, on November 6th, Wet will host its semi-regular Ultimate Amateur Contest, featuring a whopping $1,000 cash prize. All first and second place contestants from this month’s contests are eligible to compete. So, if you missed Rick and Bill, you’ll get another chance to see their tightie-whitiesÂ…

Hearsay’s knee-deep in benefit season — the past few weeks have seen more than ever before — a time when one organization after another, after pop stars, after giant turtles asks for $40 and up to help them make progress on civil rights. Whenever they call, Hearsay’s first question is always, "Can you help Hearsay get listed on a gift registry at Nordstrom’s?" So far, everyone quickly hangs up. WEDRock organizer Steve "Gnocci" Gdula slammed the phone down the loudest, which only piqued Hearsay’s interest in his little wedding party. And then when Hearsay noted that Sandra "Master of Annoyance" Bernhard was a top-billed performer at last Tuesday’s event, Hearsay made its way to the 9:30 Club. There weren’t too many Nordstrom-attired folks in the room or on the stage. "Do I Look Like A Slut?" the gals of Avenue "Double" D asked in song, as they wore loose white nighties and little else. As they explained their wardrobe a few lines later, "It really doesn’t matter, I’m just gonna take it off anyway." Truth be told, they did look like sluts. All in all, they fit right in with the slate of left-of-center performers on this night. Hearsay had thought maybe the Avenue D girls would pull the wig down from the shelf and take on the role of Hedwig, created, of course, by John Cameron “Blood and Black Lace” Mitchell. And in the end, no one picked up the wig in a box that night: not Bernhard, who kicked off the night with a rollicking and rocking half-hour set with her band; not David "Free from the GOP" Catania, who didn’t perform at all, only speaking about the importance of the cause; not even Mitchell, who gave the crowd — which included many of his relatives — reason to cheer, after his brilliant performance of "Origin of Love." He also sang with Bob "In My Spare Time, I Produce Penicillin!" Mould on another number, though it wasn’t as memorable as Mould’s later set, closing out the night, thrashing around the stage with his electric guitar alongside Brandon "Killer on the Bass" Butler and Brendan "Fugazi Drummer Extraordinaire" Canty, the latter of whom ended up injuring his hand hitting the cymbals early in the evening, not that it stopped him for a second. Mould was electrifying, and the performance was as loud as even aging (but only numerically) punk rock trendsetters should giveÂ…

And now, to answer the burning question probably on your mind: How could Hearsay go so long without mentioning Henry "Rock ‘n’" Rollins, the night’s emcee? (Hank, as he’s known to no one, told tales of hanging out with the "girls" — as in old-school fey guys — at Georgetown’s Biograph Theater when he was a boy, working the ticket booth, alerting the "girls" to any cute boys in the crowd. They all called him "Henrietta." AhhhÂ…) Well, it took Hearsay until the bitter end of the night to push people out of the way to get its chance to talk to Rollins. Everyone, boys and girls (but mostly boys) were fawning all over him, hoping to meet him after the show in the VIP area. Rollins was more genial than Hearsay had expected he’d be, since he has said he’s not a mingling, hanging-out-after-the-concert kind-of guy. Because inquiring minds want to know: His hair’s almost greyish white now, and he’s made no attempt to color it. But the muscles were still bulging under his tight black t-shirt, which, despite a couple catcalls, he never did take offÂ…