Category Archives: Queer stuff

Bears, Queens, Fags, Twinks, Dykes, Trannies, Transexuals, the whole nine inches.

The Dead Robot review of DQ: Dames

Queer stuff, Toronto

I was invited to the Friday night gala of DQ: Dames at the Hart House Theatre and I’m extremely suprised at the quality of production the actors and volunteers are presenting. So much so, I’m going back tonight.

I have to admit that I’ve seen some pretty low moments in DQ’s history via hand held, pre-digital video and I was a bit apprehensive about sitting through 2.5 hours of semi-obscure show tunes. From what I gleaned from these videos, DQ was a night of Casey House workers, volunteers and other influential community figures, crammed into dresses and paraded on stage, so they can flub a few lines and leave those who are “with it” laughing knowingly. Dames had very little “inside” jokes and actually relies on a loose story line, spanning a lifetime of showtunes and classic Hollywood musicals from vaudevillian 20s onwards, to keep us engaged. The story is loosely based on Mame, genetically implanted with Best Little Whore House while doing crack with Bob Fosse. It even took a moment to parody itself in a Ziegfeld-esque parade of tacky outfits and drunk, confused drag queens missing their cues. In the past, DQ was 90% lipsynced, just like a regular night at the 501. This time around, the cast sings nearly the entire show live (save for a couple Drag King vignettes) while full on dancing, which shocked the pants off of me. Who knew half these performers could sing? Why haven’t they sung live sooner? I’ve always said that I’d enjoy a drag show if the women displayed more talent than mouthing the words to a tired Celine song and putting on a frock found at Value Village.

Damn I miss Peggy Legs, performance Drag Queen from the mid-90s. But I digress.

I had the opportunity of meeting with the director, Graham Maxwell, at the cast party and he revealed a history of Cruise ship/Club Med performances. He has brought an invaluable talent of getting every last bit of talent from professional and volunteer cast members in a short period of time. The sustained standing ovation at the finale was greatly deserved, however a more definitive “ending” might be in order.

The techical problems with the microphones hopefully will be ironed out by now. God bless Holly Wood for being able to belt out her part without one. And my only artistic critique would be to ask why during the ’40s wartime segment, the ensemble does the “Robot” (Sharkboy explained it to me but I’m still a bit confused).

The show runs til Saturday night (with a Sat afternoon matinee). I cannot recommend this show more. It’s a great cause and worth more than the $45 tix being charged.

UPDATE: I’ve heard some rumblings that people didn’t like the format of this year’s show and wanted the old DQ back (skits and lipsyncing with outrageous costumes). To these people I say: Go to a Tuesday night at the 501, bitches. This format is miles better. I have to give my head a shake when stuck-in-the-mud people can’t accept anything new. (says the middle aged/middle class white guy)

Good Friday

Queer stuff, Toronto

I had a super day yesterday walking through High Park. In the years Ive lived in Toronto (off and on since ’84), I have never been in the Park before. Who knew it had Yaks? We must have walked over 8 hours yesterday in the sun and fun. I took some pics and dumped them into the City As Blog gallery.

Last night Sharkboy and I went to MLT’s Resurrection Ball at Fly. Sort of like High Park, I have never set foot inside Fly due to my aversion to stoned drooling morons, high on “party favours”. Yes I am being judgmental on drug use, only because it was so rampant and cliche-ridden that I could have sworn I was on the set of Queer As Folk. In the first hour, I saw guys indiscreetly e-popping pre-dance preparations as they bopped zombie-like to the thumping music. Zombie goombas who think they need to chemical their reality to have a good time. Three times we had super stoned guys come up to us and try to say something to us. One of Sharkboy’s acquaintances came up to him to say Hi and without being introduced to me, he grabbed my arm and dragged me into a lip-claming kiss. Uh. Hello.

We were told to move from where we were standing and that was the last straw. Uh…guys over there are threatening your license by ingesting illegal drugs but you want us to clear away from the foot of a staircase? That we’re not even within 6 ft of? Bye!

We went to the Eagle and had a much better time, thanks.

Overlooked

Queer stuff, Toronto

I see that blogs are being mentioned around Toronto media lately. eye magazine did a good article about CityBlogs, mentioning photojunkie and Better Living Centre. Congratz!

After that, I got to wondering why the gay community hasn’t latched onto the whole blog thing. Are we too private? Do we not “share” enough? I read somewhere that gay men were more web-savvy than most het men but yet don’t confess their geekdom. Why hasn’t XTRA or fab done an article about prominent queer blogs? I link to two really good gay Toronto bloggers on my roll (right side, down a bit). Curious, thought provoking and always a good read.

I’d love to do something similar to BlogJamDC’s night where a select few bloggers get up and read their favorite entries. I was thinking putting a Bear slant on it (since there seems to be only two types of gay bloggers: twinks and bears) and mix in some beer. But note the mix of bloggers at BlogJam: Conservative bear, bare backer, sporty, ex-party queens. Which would make for a great evening.

What do they serve at their get togethers?

Queer stuff, Toronto

From my inbox:

Toronto Small Penis Club

Hi Guys,

Looking for other small dicked guys in Toronto to join my club.
Possible get togethers etc adn who knows where it will lead. Please
ensure that your age, sex and location is in your profile when joining

Hope to see you all soon

J – (32years old, 6’2″ 175 Lbs, cute and only 4.5″ uncut in TO)

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TorontoSmallPenisSupport/

Hope to see you all soon?! It will be a short meeting, I’m sure.

My New Mom

Personal Bits, Queer stuff

A while ago my Da shocked the hell out of Sharkboy and I by not informing us that Sunday dinner would be shared with the man he tricked with all weekend: a 6’4″ African American adult student from Detroit, relocating to Toronto to go to Ryerson (I say “adult student” because they met at one of Da’s over 40, Prime Timers meeting). Imagine my surprise when I entered Da’s condo, noticed the fourth place setting and ask “Who else is coming to dinner?” and this gentleman comes out of the bedroom. Charming guy. Nice. Completely not like Da’s other tricks and dates, thats fer sher. Many were the jokes that evening of him being my “new Mom”, including my favorite: “Can I have my allowance, now?”

Then I got to thinking who would make a great Mom within the circle of friends/acquaintances I have. Here is an assessment of some with “Pushover Factor” (that is, would I be able to manipulate “mom” to do my bidding, one being “nope” and ten being “playdough!”):

Sharkboy: Beyond the obvious therapy I would need to go through if my Da and he were to start dating, I would require plenty of notice if I were to drop by their home. I wouldn’t want to see any form of coo-cooing or schmoopie doopie love talk lest I be sent into brain-locking fits.
Pushover Factor: 2. I know what buttons to push but he’s pretty crafty.

The Mailman: I think he would make my dad laugh. A lot. And they share the same anal sense of apartment living (git yer mind out of the gutter). But they’d butt heads too. Both are pretty stubborn.
Pushover Factor: 10. One whine from me and The Mailman caves. My voice is like that.

The Busdriver: I think these two would the most compatable together. They’re both home bodies, both like the quiet life with the odd shock ‘n play thrown in for fun. But the Busdriver would nag my Da when Da exerts his independence. I cant say why, I just feel it. I doubt that they’d monogamous, though. Hell I think with any of these guys Da wouldn’t be monogamous…
Pushover Factor: 4. He has seen me lie and knows when my tone changes to manipulation, Jedi-mind-trick level.

Vancouver Mike/Swollen Uvula: The most active Mom of the bunch. He’d take him bike riding and go on walks and enjoy Da’s kitchen. The horror for me would be that the two of them would gang up on me and start to berate me into fixing my life.
Pushover Factor: 8. Garlic Mashed Potatos and he’s mine.

Those are the top 4. I would have done online aquaintences but they’re a bit hard to judge. I know if DumbFuck was Da’s squeeze, I’d totally have a MILF.

Hey Baby!

Personal Bits, Queer stuff

I’m late for work having just left the Eagle after dropping off posters with the general manager. I’m hustling my ass up Church street, wrestling to get my iPod into my breast pocket of my jacket and trying to figure out what the hell is blocking it’s entry. I’m a bit disheveled as usual.

I look up into the manly face of a bear with a thick, dirty blonde goatee, so thick his chiseled lips are barely visible (barely!), baseball cap, tuft of hair coming out of his shirt, and sharp blue eyes framed by the beginnings of crows feet. Blue eyes that do two things: make contact with mine (and in that moment, the universal gay TCP/IP is transmitted between us saying “hommina hommina!” “Arooogah!” and “Rrrrowl!” all at once).

And then they abruptly show confusion, revulsion. I’m passed by with no parting backward glances. What did I do to have that connection broken so quickly? Was it my pretentious over-priced music player? The makeshift pull ring on my broken zipper on my coat? My orange carry-all?

None of that. I realize I’m walking up Toronto’s most bitter and image conscious street, holding a half used tube of toothpaste like a dagger.

I had jammed the damned thing into my jacket that morning to bring back to my place from the boyfriend’s digs. As we made eye contact, I had pulled it out of my breast pocket to make room for the iPod. I guess he might have thought I was suggesting something.

Why I Love Sharkboy, Part the Third, or Grey Chest Hair

Personal Bits, Queer stuff

This morning as I was leaning forward while brushing my teeth, I noticed I had a grey chest hair about 5 inches long. It’s not the first. My chest started to “get distinguished” a couple years back, but the length was pretty shocking.

And it’s not curly either. Its like a thick Italian/Irish strand of braidable head hair.

The first thing I saw when I looked up from staring at my grey chest hair was my UltraMan wall clock.

Gezus. I’m nearly 40yrs old.

Thankfully Sharkboy finds this sexy or I’d be dating cubs with Father Figure issues.

Or maybe Sharkboy has Father Figure issues…?

Should I be asking myself these questions?

New Feature!

Distractions, Hobbies, Personal Bits, Queer stuff

I’m using “Gallery” for my photo content management now. I’ve heard good things about it and decided to give it a try. I may convert the rest of the photos to it at a later date.

Meanwhile, enjoy the photos of Sharkboy, Barbie and I, as we take on Niagara Falls!

(Ed- I’ve long since stopped using Gallery. Check out the Gallery link in the upper right)