Manhattan Offender

We don't need Madonna anymore. We have Gia.

What was going to be a post to remind you that the remixes for Madonna's Sorry were going to come out today (again)is no longer so.  All of the talents behind those singles (Pet Shop Boys, Green Velvet, etc.) pale before the video version by our newest discovery, Gia.

According to her YouTube profile under the name gialicious, she is a young hairdresser living in West Hollywood, CA.  Her hobbies include dancing and world travel.  Her favorite movie is Who's That Girl.  Her favorite book is Thing of Beauty.  Her lip-synching while holding recording device skill - flawless.

Just in time for Halloween, it's ScaryNY

Just in time for Gay Christmas Halloween, ScaryNY has come to my attention (via Cityfeeds). From the site's own description:

ScaryNY covers the frightening, and often illegal, events that are a daily part of life in New York City. More than just discussing crimes like murders and robberies, we look at unusual occurrences, too: the would-be bridge jumpers, the wild animal keepers and liberators, the steady stream of terrorist alerts, and the uncategorizable oddball happenings that surprise even residents who thought they had seen it all.

So you read the crime blotter in the Observer? Maybe "News of the WiredWeird" in the Post? Perhaps prepping party conversation for that masquerade ball this weekend? Hopefully you'll just be reading ScaryNY and not be featured therein.

Weekend Will: Get dirty

One of the dirtiest boys known, Chuck McKinney(whom many of you know as a bartender at the Cock), is one of over 50 artists featured in The Dirty Little Art Show, opening this weekend at the Leslie/Loman Gallery. The artists produced a total of more than 2000 'erotic' works, all sized at 5.5 inches square and priced at $50. Running three weeks, each week has an opening night featuring new art with each week promising to delve deeper into dirtiness. (The week for which I posed is a secret.)

"Dirty" Opening is tonight, 6-9
"Dirtier" Opening is Friday October 28, 6-9
"Dirtiest" Opening is Friday November 4, 6-9

The gallery is also open Saturday 1-7 and Sunday through Tuesday 1-6

Leslie/Loman Gallery is located in SoHo, 127-B Prince ST.

My confessions on a dance floor

So, yes, here it is, the obligatory shot of the new Madonna album, Confessions on a Dance Floor. Rather than hear the expected "O m i g o d g o n n a b e s o f e e e i r c e ! N o b a l l a d s s o y o u k n o w w h o i s t a k i n g t h e d a y o f f w o r k w h e n t h a t s h i t h i t s ! G u r l c a l l t h e d e a l e r a n d m a k e a r e s e r v a t i o n !" crystal-esque rants, would you rather hear an actual confession from a dance floor?

It's 1992 in New York and Manhattan Offender had just arrived, lucky enough to have two amazing roommates, Lady Jane and Lady Ann, who took this closeted corn-fed homo under their wing. One fine night, a new restaurant had opened in Soho. Jane and Ann dressed me, coifed me and shoed me so that I could at least get through the door. Once inside, drinks flowed, smoke wafted, music thumped, feet moved, hips swayed and time flew. Post-Boom, I found myself separated from Jane and Ann at Save the Robots furthering my adult education.

The next day I reconnected with my roommates; they waking up and I arriving home. Laughs and hoots accompanied the stories from the night before; one of which I'll never forget. My memory was fuzzy, but Ann reminded me of dancing after the chairs had been swept away. Jane reminded me that a huge line of people, myself included, were doing the bump (yes, the bump, not a bump). Then Ann looked me in the eye and said the words I may never forget, "And you, mister, your first real night on the town and you're doing the bump with Madonna."

Separated at birth?

Looking through the selections on here! tv, I found a documentary on Lulu.  Having only known her from AbFab, I checked it out, learning that she's been a British pop-tart for decades, was the former wife of both Maurice Gibb and John Frieda, and toured with Brit boy band Take That!. 

But the most strange thing that I noticed is that Lulu, in her current 'look' bears a major resemblance to New York junior Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton. 

Coincidence?  Or Separated at Birth? 

(Am I the only one that misses the old Spy magazine?)

Amber alert: Perez Hilton is missing

What the ... ?!?! Perez Hilton is missing in action. Girl, there is nothing on television and I am too broke to be drinking out of the house and my dealer won't come by this late and Mister Offender isn't horny. I need you right now! Perez, I hope all is okay. If you need money, I'll turn tricks for you in the meatpacking, just like the old days!
If you need some fixing up, here's a nice male nurse to get you through.

La Musto, Dolce

"Do you know who that is? Do you know that that is Michael Musto?" asks Nello, one of my 'neighbors' at the Cherry Grove Hotel. Nello had walked into my hotel room earlier in the day, loud, tipsy, happy and chatty. After the shock of the initial intrusion, the introduction to one of Cherry Grove's 'old guard' was welcome.

"Yes, Nello, I've met Michael." Which I have, several times, especially when I was working for a big corporation that hosted large starry events. (dreadful). I find him charming and demure. His column, with the bonus internet exclusives, is a must read.

"So go up and talk to him, numb nuts." (Have I mentioned that Nello is from Long Island?) But that is something that Offender would never do. Offender knows that unless you have something to offer La Musto, you should let her alone.

But still, as Miss Sweety was lip synching her heart out and La Musto was making notations in his pad, I wondered, "Do you need spelling on that Michael? It's Karz, with a K."

Push it real good!

What a shot weekend: working Saturday, mother-in-law in town (can't be all like, "Hey, Mama Offender, I'm going to LCD Soundsystem. I should be in by 6 or so in the morning, cool?"), one of my least two favorite parades is going on (I stopped myself from bringing up my introduction to the Puerto Rican Pride parade, watching drunken forty-something women taking dumps in Central Park), couldn't even pull together a decent workout.

And just when my inspiration hits a low point, SHE happens.

So imaginate a little: It's 6 pm on a Sunday evening. You'd rather be at the Eagle, listening to your buddy Paul spin, eating grilled burgers and swilling dollar beers, but you ain't Blanche, you ain't. Then you see her, half a block away. Because of the distance you doubt yourself, stand at the corner and await her approach. Behind the pushcart you see white shoes, a red skirt, a vivid yellow and red blouse, a sheer red headscarf, big hair, full makeup with a full red lip, and, my favorite, white gloves all enveloping a teensy tiny mid-seventies woman. This is what an evening stroll with your pushcart is all about!

I fumble around my bag because I just need a picture of this. Then I remember, the camera's recharging. (Mr. Offender went on a bender. Made several movies of subjects telling him that they didn't want their picture taken.) Next up the camera-phone. Memory is full. Delete blurry shot of Casey Spooner. Ready.

But she's ahead of me now and this needs to be a frontal shot. She pulls into the grocery store. She removes the gloves and reviews the circular. I pause in produce and await my chance. She passes by when I'm distracted by something low-carb. She swings into an aisle; I race down parallel to head her off. After visually establishing the fact that I am 'using the phone' I get my shot and leave, of course not buying anything - it's summer; I don't eat solids in summer. (Granted the normal offender would have just stopped her in the street and asked her to take her picture, but I'm off my game, loves.)

The point of this being that if your weekend just isn't living up to it, put on your white gloves and roll your pushcart out into the world.

Other Music

Probably one of my favorite emails every week is from Other Music. Other Music is what a store should be. I can wax poetic about the place but it's best that you go there yourself. It's not overly large. The staff enjoys working there. There's always great things to discover there. But best of all, it's across the street from Tower Music and flourishes in that location.

Fischerspooner and the Landmark Lovely

So the last night of Fischerspooner's residency at Canal Room is tonight. Completely recommended as a person who's gone to see the latest incarnation of the show twice.

I like to think that Casey Spooner and I have a relationship, excepting the fact that we've never met. When they were first coming out I was 225 pounds and in a dead-end corporate-slave type job, pigeon-holed by a mentally unstable tyrant. Then one day I heard the lyrics from Emerge: "You don't need to/Emerge from nothing/You don't need to/Tear away." Right words at the right time. Lost 50 pounds, got out of the job and, well, emerged.

Now at last week's show, I kept bumping into this one girl, so I started to talk to her. Very cute, tall brunette, 20-something hanging with four of her friends who also seemed to be quite fun. Shared about 15 laughs with her when she pulled out this one: Have you heard of " Landmark ?" I made the common assumption that she was increasing the comedy level and replied, "What, the cult? Why are you a recruiter?" Not a second passed, "It's not a cult ..." This conversation ended as soon as I could. Turns out that glaze over her eyes wasn't alcohol, it was self-righteousness.

Flash-forward to the final song of an impressive set. The Landmark Lovely is smashed, topless, and making out with a friend on the stage. Shame on me for being so quick to judge. If this is what Landmark is all about, then sign this fag up, honey.

Just for shits and giggles I did look at the Landmark website. From their mission statement: "A fundamental principle of Landmark Education's work is that people ... have the possibility not only of success, but also of fulfillment and greatness." Kind of the message that I got from Emerge. I downloaded the song for free. Landmark charges.