"Linda Evans was going on about how fabulous it was, so I tried it and it was absolute agony. After he put his prick in three times, I screamed and got out of there. I've never done it again."—I was sure Joan Collins was going somewhere good but, alas, she's only talking about her one and only Botox experience. This is the first story she's ever told where she disliked someone putting his prick in her ... three times.
Not rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor a head-on collision could keepeth Billy from New York City this past week. After all, I had appearances to make, shows to see, friends to catch up with and boys to flirt with—and if I had to do that from the confines of a wheelchair, then so be it. I will, my dear readers, endure—unless, of course, you're with an insurance agency; in which case, I may never shtupp again. My current paramour is thinking of joining me in a suit for loss of consortium. Or is it loss of husbandry? Maybe it's animal husbandry. Either way, it's starting to sound like something Sarah Mclachlan will eventually sing about.
On my first day in the Big Apple, I enjoyed two entirely opposite extremes of the gay experience, which, strangely, fit together. First I took in the hit Broadway production of The Normal Heart. What's intriguing about seeing this play 25 years after it was written (and some 30 years after the events depicted) is that it almost takes on an air of a stage documentary—aided, no doubt, by the loose, episodic nature of the writing. Regardless of how many years it's been, the play has never been more potent or visceral as it is here. While the cast is uniformly excellent, I'm going to single out Ellen Barkin—whose portrayal of Dr. Emma Brookner drives the entire proceedings—as a perfect counterpart to Joe Mantello's marvelously etched hellion Ned Weeks, while also walking a fine line between town crier and healthcare provider. Definitely see it if you can.
Later the same evening, I went to the 21st installment of Broadway Bares. As I have oft reported over the years, this annual event brings out the best performers to raise funds for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. And they do so while wearing as little clothing as possible (see? I told you it was the opposite extreme). This year's event was subtitled "Masterpiece" and took inspiration from great works of art—appropriate since most of these performers look like they were chiseled out of the finest marble. An audience favorite this year was the luscious Joshua Buscher, who portrayed George Washington crossing the Delaware with a group of hunky attendants set to Billy Squire's "The Stroke." My personal favorite was the Picasso number, which found the dancers slathering each other with vibrant-colored paint. As it turns out, these two numbers had something in common. Joshua's longtime beau, Matt Skrincosky, was featured in the Picasso piece—a fact which I think makes the whole thing even sexier (perhaps not as sexy as the now-legendary Christopher Sieber/Kevin Burrows "Batman" number).
Seeing that all this gay stuff on TV is here to stay, what about a same-sex couple on Dancing with the Stars? After all, they did it in Israel—and no one got shot, which I think means it was a success. This inspired Mark Ballas to say he'd be open to being partnered with a man ... that is, if he couldn't get his dream partner: Pippa Middleton (Kate's sister—in other words, not bloody likely). As to dancing with a guy, "I would be totally cool with it. There are other competitions where they have same-sex couples. I'd support it. There is a slight inherent disadvantage. Two girls and two men just can't move like a man and a woman. But you can try." Which, of course, leads to the obvious question—has he tried? "We have eight male professional dancers and one is gay," says Mark, alluding to the out and proud Louis van Amstel. What Mark should have said is that "only one is openly gay." It's like my quip about recognizing a former beau on The Bachelorette—which sparked a flurry of questions "which is the gay guy on The Bachelorette?" And I said, "The gay guy? As if there's only one!"
Days of Our Lives may be going, but they ain't going quietly. Having nothing to lose, the soap has decided to tackle its first gay storyline in 50 years—I'm sure they would have gotten around to it eventually. You may recognize actor Freddie Smith from playing gay on 90210 as Marco. He just debuted on "Days" playing Sonny. From the sexy pics we have on BillyMasters.com, I'm looking forward to some hot bedroom action.
Speaking of sexy photos, Joe Manganiello once again is parading his perfect pecs—which means the new season of True Blood must be about to start. First he turned up on the cover of Muscle and Fitness magazine showing how he gets so ripped and limber. Then he showed how good he looks in the pages of GQ. Inexplicably, these photos are even better than last year's—meaning he looks even hotter! Check 'em out at BillyMasters.com .
Someone who is branching off into a whole new career is little Chris Crocker. Do you remember him? The sometime drag queen who took to YouTube intoning "Leave Britney ALONE!" Well, he was recently cast in a pilot opposite Don Johnson that went nowhere. So the next logical step is to show his Johnson! Chris is about to make a porno flick with the irascible Chi Chi LaRue. A few test shots that Chris took have slipped into our hot little hands. We have him naked. We have him erect. We have him sucking a dick. And we have him getting fucked. So I'm guessing he's going to bottom. The word versatility doesn't seem to have yet entered the poor dear's vocabulary. But he seems to enjoy what he does, as you will see on BillyMasters.com .
When we're lusting after werewolves and drag queens, it's definitely time to end yet another column. Hmmm, I'm in New York and, BAM, gay marriage is legalized. I'm not saying I had anything to do with it—but draw your own conclusions or, better yet, share them on www.BillyMasters.com . If you've got a question, send it to Billy@BillyMasters.com and I promise to get back to you before Britney asks us to leave Crocker alone. So, until next time, remember, one man's filth is another man's bible.
