Bash Compactor: Do You Wanna Touch Me There?
A bunch of gamers and frat-types showed up to the Village Pour House last week for the Penthouse Photo Hunt Tournament. The crowd swilled domestic draft and gawked at the two Penthouse pets—Krista Ayne and Justine Joli—who had come along to host. Lans, a bearded bohemian, and odds-on favorite, had schlepped in from Greenpoint to showcase his formidable skills. “The secret with the erotic Photo Hunt is not to look at the vagina or boobs,” he advised me as we watched some competitors struggle through a round.
Krista, a tan brunette pet in a purple corset—originally from Staten Island—admitted that dudes had been hurling every corny line in the book at her. Isn’t that delusional? “Well, actually, I met my boyfriend at one of these events.” What line did he use? “He didn’t, I hit on him.” Justine—billed as the “world’s hottest nerd”—was on the mic, calling the tournament. Decked out in a vest and fedora, she said that she really was “a massive dork,” and it wasn’t just branding. She showed me her Nintendo console belt, which she got at a Star Trek convention. You really go to those things? “There are a lot of hot young girls in costumes at those things, but a lot of them are jailbait,” she sighed.“I wish more girls would come and hit on me at these type things, I’m really attracted to straight women.”Then she burped.
Krista sauntered over and Justine copped a feel of her ass. “This girl now,” the fedorawearing dyke said, “is one that I have to fight off!” Have you two hooked up? “Oh yeah,” the hipster pin-up gushed. I asked Justine, who has a new burlesque show coming up at The Box and does girl-girl porn. On my way out, I ran into Laura, one of the only girls at the bar that night. She’s quick-fingered Lans’ girlfriend. Showing slight annoyance that her beau spent so much time with an erotic videogame, she said, “His biggest dream was playing Erotic Photo Hunt with a bunch of chicks in bikinis clapping for him. It came true, but it was a bunch of dudes clapping for him.” — Matt Harvey The Real Whirled
At first glance, Perez Hilton’s Friday night showcase at the Highline Ballroom— featuring a performance from Semi Pre-cious Weapons—seemed like a ghoulish knackering of rock ’n’ roll’s corpse.When I saw Chet Bannon, my old, spiky-haired pal from The Real World, I realized it was even worse. The whole set-up—the trannies, the tanorexic college girls swilling free vodka—were a backdrop for MTV’s lightly scripted show. New York’s favorite Mormon was waiting patiently at the packed upstairs bar. Had life in the house drove the abstemious youth to drink? Time to pick up where we left off. Hey bro, did you get in trouble for talking to me? “Well, they did talk to me about it, but I’m going to live my life—I mean tonight, I had to sneak out of the house,” he answered. I decided not to spoil the hayseed’s fun and listened to more of his big city adventures.
“I don’t care what people think. I know exactly what I want from all of this,” he said after chronicling some playa hating. You do? “Yeah, I want to be an announcer on MTV.” A plump tranny in a blonde wig came up and flirtatiously introduced herself as Carson Daly. “Yeah, like he’s Carson Daly” the Uta-
Cheeky magazine BUTT took a crack at a party last week.
han said with studied cool. Then he laughed, “or is it she? I can never keep it straight.” You hang out with the transgendered? “I think they’re all really funny, but my favorite is Peppermint, she’s just an awesome black tranny.”
It was a very crowded open bar, and there was plenty to catch up on. He thinks most of his housemates are unmotivated and he’s the only one that ever goes out at night. Was he still with his fiancée? “I was never engaged, that was just a rumor,” he said, adding, “I think you started it.” But you are a virgin? “That’s just a personal choice that I make of how to live my life.” The bartender was ignoring us. “All I wanted is a cup of water,” Bannon complained, giving up. So, is MTV really trying to get you laid? “Yeah, but I’m 23 and I’ve had plenty of opportunities to lose my virginity.
My convictions aren’t going to change because of some stupid show,” he said, his voice rising above his usual laconic whisper. He complained about the heat and excused himself politely.
A few minutes went by and the MTV camera crew came through, girls clutching waivers fanned out through the room. Baya, a tiny brunette in a yellow headband—she’s also from Utah—and deeply tanned DJ Lindsay Luv did a quick scene for the cameras.
I walked downstairs. On stage, heavily mascaraed frontman, Justin Tranter yelled, “Rock ’n’ roll has been dead for a long, long time bitches!” Hilton watched on—from his private velvet-rope enclosure—and guffawed. Nearby, a teen girl with highlights and a gold chain bent down and vomited.
No Ifs, Ands or BUTT
“The more liquor people get, the more butts that come out.” That’s what Felix Burrichter of BUTT magazine promised at the after party for the New York Art Book Fair opening gala last Thursday night. The menu of $3 cocktails was designed to prove him right. Though The Boiler Room’s smallish hall was packed beyond capacity with a line outside that wrapped around Second Ave., it deterred few from waiting it out. The shocking lack of celebrities—we had at least expected big BUTT fan John Cameron Mitchell—was made up for by the plentiful hordes of beautiful young things, many of whom were photographed, pants down, for the next issue of the alternagay scene bible.
Narrowing down a favorite butt for these chaps, however, was harder than it would seem. “High and hairy” was one gentleman’s response. A Brooklyn-based artist said, “Ooh, I just saw one over there! A nice little butt. And when he passed by, I brushed up against it.” Other opinions were slightly coyer. One guy, who had to whip out his feelings, asserted, “I like the butts of the boys I’m in love with.” And with that, we headed to the bar. —Antonio
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