Fun with Scruff: Bearded Twink

So, have you heard of Scruff? It's the gay "social networking" app for the bear community (bears, otters, wolves, cubs, chasers, cheetahs, zebras, etc.). A few of the awesome things about it:

• Track List: you can see who's viewed you. 

• WOOF: you can send someone the equivalent of a wink to break the ice. 

• Are You Interested: there's a button on each profile you can hit if your interested in someone, and if they hit the button for you, it'll let you both know.

• Global Navigation: there's a grid for guys online right now all around the world (and local, too). 

Here's an example of a Scruff profile. Apparently this queen thinks she can still call herself a twink at 27. With a beard. 

twunk: (n) one who has twink-like qualities after the age of 24. See above. 

Some use Scruff to find exactly what they're looking for. As you can see, this user took advantage of the more detailed sections of his profile to share his varied interests. 

Apparently, I fit the bill: 

Sometimes Scruff can show you just how small a big city is. 

no. 

And some have found quite unique ways of getting others' attention.

Some are more direct than others. 

Did I mention the block feature?

AND Scruff comes with push notifications! You don't even have to open the app to see the variety of messages guys are sending to you. 

No need to drain your battery to see what people are saying. 

this guy has the right idea!

Just don't leave your phone face-up in a meeting...

this guy doesn't.

As you can see, Scruff is a delightfully entertaining app packed with great features. It's been around for about a year now, so there are a ton of guys on it (officially: 1.1 million)! And it's not all bears. Hell, I'm on it! 

Click here to check out my Top 11 Tips for Online Dating and Hookups. 

Click here to download Scruff on Android or iOS. 

Click here to Like Scruff on Facebook. Or here to Like founder Johnny Scruff. 

Click here to follow Scruff on Twitter.

nasty-ass, peeing-in-the-water, not-showering-beforehand skanks (My night at On Top at Le Bain)

Everybody had been talking about this new Tuesday night party at Le Bain in the Standard Hotel NYC called On Top. From what I'd gathered from photos and general buzz, it was opulent, edgy and (with that huge hot tub) not unlike DR!P. I'm really not the type to pay $14 for a drink, which is pretty much what one should expect at an NYC hotel bar, but I had to at least check out the scene.

image from citytour.porhomme.com

One thing that everyone I asked seemed to agree on was that it was a hard door. If you aren't dressed a certain way (either chic as hell or over the top glam), you won't get in easily. I went with a plaid bolero, a lace-up tank top and slim-fit, non-skinny jeans. Imagine my disappointment when I got to the pre-game at Frat Boy's penthouse to find everyone dressed like they'd just come from work.

Of course, most of the people I knew at the pre-game weren't headed to Le Bain, which left me with Frat Boy, Rosebud and a few of Frat Boy's straight friends (one of whom had an 18-year-old girl with him).

When we arrived at Le Bain around 11:15, we found Daddy Bartender from View Bar (now closed) working the door. There were maybe 20 people in line, and we didn't even wait 10 minutes. Then maybe another 5 minutes inside for the elevator. Of course, there was an issue at the door with the 18-year-old (because this was neither an NYU dive bar nor 1996), but I know nothing of the details because I made sure to distance myself from the situation before it happened.

image from newyork.metromix.com

The interior of Le Bain feels tres chic. Floor-to-ceiling windows with fabulous views, well-appointed fixtures. And then there's that hot tub, which, by the way, no one was in.

We went through a graffiti-covered stairwell to the roof deck, which was packed and allowed smoking (boo). But the views were impressive, and there were a couple of small hot tubs that a few people had stripped down for. There seemed to be a Nutella bar, too, but I'm not sure it was open.

To tell you the truth, I was bored out of my mind until I ran into a twitter buddy and some of his friends. I hung out with them for a while before I ran into a foreign friend who was with drag-queen-legend Shequida. They had just come from Lee Chapelle's Café Panache, a burlesque show at Griffin. A shot and a drink later (thank you, 'Quida!), I was being getting told to strip down and to get in the interior hot tub, which was now filled with bespeedoed boys and topless girls.

Of course I didn't get in that damn hot tub! Did you not hear about that nasty-ass water in the Gansevoort Hotel pool? These were probably those same nasty-ass, peeing-in-the-water, not-showering-beforehand skanks in this scene. My ass was "watching the iPhones" on the side.

image from nytimes.com

. o (Hold up, is that a flesh-colored speedo? Oh, no. That's definitely not.)

By this time both the hot tub and the surrounding party was packed. People were buzzed, and there was a lot more of that edgy, fashion-forward and club-kid presence I was looking for. And I'm sure by this point it was hell trying to get in the door.

Shequida and I walked out together and had a nice little chat as actual people (and not our nightlife personas... not that I really have one, but whatever) as we walked back towards Griffin.

"You know I was hear in drag earlier. I want to drop by dressed as a boy and have them tell us we can't get in. I'll be like, 'You idiot, I'm the host of this party!'" *Shequida laugh* (and if you've ever heard Shequida's laugh you know it’s a major part of quoting her)

Did I mention it was like 3:15am and Griffin was closed? Yeah.

Click here to check out last year's Crew invasion of trip to Philadelphia.

MensUnderwearStore.com Giveaway (FREE underwear, bitch!)

The good folks over at MensUnderwearStore.com were nice enough to send me a pair of über-sexy underwear! Check out these C-in2 briefs.

So comfortable. So cute.

I like these so much that I couldn't keep it to myself. So they're letting me give a pair away!

Here's how it'll work. Leave a Facebook status or a tweet linking to this post and tag me (you'll need to add me on Facebook and/or follow me on Twitter). I'll choose a winner at random, and the skivvies will be shipped to you! International readers qualify, too!

I may be able to do this on a regular basis if this goes well, so get to tweeting, updating and tagging! You have til Monday at midnight. Good luck!

Click here to check out MensUnderwearStore.com.

Click here to check out the scandalousness that happened at a Pieces underwear party (hint: there was a back room).

you can't send children to the liquor store! (The McMickey Reunion Part I)

Click here for Part I. 

I got back to the room to shower and change for the banquet. I was already late, but these things never start on time anyway. Acquiring a Red Bull was my top priority at that point, but I refused to buy one from the hotel gift shop. There had to be a Rite Aid within a couple of blocks, right?

Cop: "Drug store? It's a ways away. You may just want to stop in this hotel..."

Bouncer: "You can get a Red Bull right in there."

Me: "In the liquor store?"

Bouncer (like, duh): "Yeah, it's a party store."

I walked in after my table had already gotten food, pouring my Red Bull into the glass in front of me.

Dad: "Planning on a late night?"

Me: "Planning on staying awake through this banquet."

The first order of business on the banquet program was for everyone to be introduced. All 10 people at all 10 of the tables (attendance was down this year). And each table had one representative speak for the table. Even tough my table included a super-high-ranking government official, the family matriarch (my grandmother), and my very popular and outspoken mother (I found it most effective to introduce myself as my mom's son or my grandmother's grandson the whole weekend), I was immediately delegated as speaker of the table. Awesome. 

Yes, I've done theater and performed on stage countless times (professionally, at one point... sort of). But what my family doesn't get is that there's a huge difference between rehearsed performance and extemporaneous speech, the latter of which is a specialty of many family members. Did I mention that I didn't know the name of the elderly cousin sitting next to me? 

She told it to me. I messed it up.

Then they called for participants in the talent show while they did door prizes. There were no less than 30 door prizes.

The talent show, was comprised solely of children under the age of 10. Mind you, I am obligated to sing at almost every family gathering on both sides, but somehow, I got out of this one with almost no fight. One little girl almost performed in a bunny ballet costume because "I paid $84 for this costume, so we're getting another use out of it!" but her music messed up. One duo rapped "Nice Guys Finish Last" a cappella (keep in mind: all under 10). 

image from asntown.net

One pair of girls (about 8 and 5 years old) danced to Rihanna's "Rude Boy". The very "Rude Boy" where Rihanna demands that he "Get it up", "Take it" and "Give it to me baby like boom, boom, boom!" and to close the talent show: a little girl lip synching to Nikki Minaj's "Super Bass". Gestures, affectations and all.

I was so glad when they cut on the music and opened up the dance floor.

The festivities wrapped up around 11, and no liquor was served, so you know I was ready! Plus our local cousin was supposed to be taking us out! I couldn't wait to make fun of the colorful scenery of a downtown Detroit bar!

Hippy Cuz and I went up to my slightly older cousins' room, but they still had my one cousin's kid and nephew in their care until said cousin's parents got back from the casino (pronounced "casinah"). ETA: an hour.

Cousin (handing me $25): "Here. Get something good."

image from babesesh.blogspot.com

When I'd brought up liquor before, the cousin that didn't give me money had mentioned some flavor of Ciroc. This was the same cousin that was into Nuvo, so I knew she liked her liquor sweet. The cousin who had given me money: who knows. So at the liquor sore, I figured Pinnacle vodka (whip cream flavor) and a pre-mixed cosmo would be a pretty safe bet.

Cousin who paid at 12:30: "Damn, you can't send children to the liquor store!"

Same cousin at 1:30: "Damn, I'm mad y'all let me finish this bottle of cosmo mix by myself!" 

One of these cousins works on the more educated side of law enforcement. She'd been ragging on the police cars all day, which was valid because it looked like it'd been 10 years since their squad cars' last  oil change paint job.

Me: "Well, you've heard how broke the City of Detroit is!"

Cousin: "And?! Get a federal grant get new squad cars like everybody else does!"

She definitely got a cop to pose next to his broken-down cruiser for a pic with her on the way to the diner.

poor sap probably thought this was admiration

It was too late to go out, since the bars close at 2, but the late-night diner scene was entertaining in and of itself. I managed to sneak us in with no wait (thanks to a careful ear and a group ahead of us that suddenly expanded from 4 to 7 people), but we were stuck next to the cash register. My cousins could afford to be much more flirty with the hot manager than I. They really weren't that into him, but it was something to do.

Speaking of flirting, I don't think I noticed a single gay man the whole time I was in Detroit. There were lesbians all over the hotel, though. In fact, I was in the elevator with a young black lesbian in a "Legalize Gay" shirt. Someone got off on a floor before ours, and she leaned out the door. It almost looked like she was getting out, but she grabbed something and jumped back in with a prize from the ash tray in her hand.

Her (grinning): "Fat-ass joint!"

My facial expression: "??!!!!!"

Welcome to Detroit.

After the diner, I walked with my cousins to the casino, but I had to leave them to gamble without me. Did I mention I had about 3 hours til my parents left for the airport? Yeah.

Click here to check out a Fun with Grindr post. 

Diana Ross stopped in for the day (The McMickey Reunion Part I)

My mom's side of the family, the McMickeys had their biennial reunion in Detroit this year. Considering the way the recession has affected the auto industry, Motor City wasn't exactly on the top of my vacation destination list.

image from clevelandleader.com

I'd planned my flights perfectly around when Mom and Dad were arriving and leaving (since I knew they'd rent a car for the long drive from the airport). Unfortunately, the most reasonable (read: the only direct) flights were out of LaGuardia. And if you're familiar with NYC, you know that "LGA" should be changed to "El D. Lay" because your ass will never leave on time.

As usual, I was cutting it way too close to my flight. My 4 o'clock flight began boarding at 3:20. I got off the bus at the terminal around 3:18. I'd already checked in (my boarding pass was a QR code on my phone!), and the line at security was short.

. o O (Is she's stopping my bag? What the fuck! There's nothing unusual in there. Please don't let them have to inspect all my shit!)

The TSA woman walked over, a slight smirk on her lips. In her hand: my 8oz bottle of Wet Platinum lube that has been through at least 4 airports. Now, for those of you not familiar, Wet Platinum is a silicone-based lube. This bottle probably cost about $18. I'm not going to say it's better than water-based lube, even though it is but it's certainly my preference.

TSA: "I'm sorry, this is over the size limit."

Me: "But I’ve take— you know what: it’s not even full. I have a smaller container I can transfer it to."

TSA: "Okay, but I'm gonna need you to step back through the scanner."

Me: "Really."

TSA: "Yes. Any transfer of containers has to happen outside security."

Y'all, I sat there and stared at that bottle for at least a full 3 seconds, racking my brain as to the possibility of my needing lube that weekend. But did I really want to throw away that much...

Me: "Don't worry about it."

TSA (almost tauntingly): "You sure?"

Me (already walking away): "Thank you."

I rushed to my gate to realize that they hadn't started boarding yet. And they wouldn't for another 20 minutes.

Yes, my 60-something-year-old mother texts!

After sitting on the runway for 2 hours, returning to the gate to refuel (and watch the later Detroit flight leave before us), we finally took off, landing at 10 rather than the scheduled 6 I was hoping for. The worst part: I had nowhere to charge my phone that whole time except for 20 min in between de-planing and re-boarding, so I had to sit another half hour in DTW while my phone charged.

Abandoned!

Front Desk: "Greektown Casino Hotel!"

Me: "Hi, I have a reservation with you guys, and I was wondering the best way to get there from the airport."

Front Desk: "You'll want to take a cab. That should be about $40-$50."

Me (recovering quickly): "Okay, I guess you guys don't have an airport shuttle for guests or anything."

Front Desk: "No, sir, we don't."

Cab Rep: "Hi, do you need a cab somewhere tonight?"

Me: "Yes, I'm going to the Greektown Casino Hotel."

Rep: "The one downtown? I have a car available right now!"

Downtown?! You mean to tell me I'm spending 2 nights in the very heart of the scariest urban center in the nation (I'm not counting suburbs, so sit down, East St. Louis and Watts).

$52 later, I was walking into a structure that looked like it had been plucked from Atlantic City, spit-shined and plopped in the middle of a revitalized urban village. It was actually a really cute area. But a very strange place to have only 1 casino.

It was an uneventful Saturday night. Saturday was the family BBQ at Bell Isle Park. It's huge and beautiful and has a water park that none of us made the effort to find.What DID happen was the cracking open of Smirnoff Ice drinks at 12:02pm. Did I mention our ancestors’ slave masters were Scotch-Irish? Yeah.

This was the reunion where I was thinking about inviting a friend or guy I was seeing just to find out how my family extended would react. The younger generations would certainly be welcoming, but the older generation would be pure comedy. Especially if the guy wasn't black. Especially if the guy were white. 

While I didn't end up bringing anybody (I wasn't seeing anybody I seriously in May when dues were due, and the boys tend to be difficult to coordinate with), I did find some encouragement at the cook out. One of the Elders had married a white woman (long enough ago that their daughter was out of college), and I met her for the first time as an adult. Now, I'm not sure what happened the first time he brought her around the family or who was talking shit when she arrived that day (because McMickeys love to talk shit). But she was comfortable enough to show up and stay for most of the day. And while she didn't seem particularly included, she didn't seem explicitly excluded either.

Burgers, hot dogs and chicken breasts cooked on the grill, and a DJ, who was wholly unfamiliar with mixing or transitions, spun an eclectic mix of old-school soul and current hip-hip. Family-inappropriate selections included Solo's "Where Do You Want Me To Put It". Hippy Cuz marched over to the booth, giving the kill-this-song-now sign when the speakers started to chant "Freak Beats" continually. I was curious to see where this song was headed, but I could understand how she was uncomfortable in front of the Elders.

And then there was this song:

One of the Detroit Elders grabbed the microphone to bless the food. Why they didn't get Uncle T, the retired preacher, to do it: I don't know. Said Elder started out well enough, but after about a minute, the possibility that he'd been indulging in the Smirnoff Ice's as well was pretty undeniable.

"...And Lord... help Obama... uh... dag, well, I forgot! Y'all know what I mean!"

Everyone lost it at that point! People were turning to whomever they were holding hands with like, "Are you serious!" Then, rather than wrapping it up with an "Amen", he tried to go back into prayer mode for another full minute!

After we ate and took the traditional family portrait (tall people were in the back, so nobody noticed that I didn't have a reunion tshirt), a few cousins from my generation dipped out to see the Motown Museum. I'm really not one for museums, but creating my own music was a driving force in my life for years. I kinda had to go.

Cousin: "Oh my god! Is that... Diana?!"

Other Cousin: "Or LaToya."

Cousin: "Well, I'm telling everybody back home that Diana Ross stopped in for the day and led our Motown tour!"

The woman who did the intro to our tour really did look likea light-skinned Diana. Especially with that wig and the layer of makeup!

Not-Diana told us all about how Barry Gordy eventually bought all the houses on the block to run different departments of Motown Records and how he had 13 labels with only 1 team of songwriters (I was just talking about "Heard It through the Grapevine" was by Gladys Night and by Marvin Gaye). But the most intriguing part for me was seeing the hole in the ceiling where they achieved the echo for the snaps and claps on their tracks. Actually, that was second. First was definitely being in the same recording studio where countless artists had recorded some of my favorite songs. Seeing the original instruments and fixtures really got me itching to get back into songwriting and producing again.

Check out some of my music on my YouTube Channel.

After the tour, we were waiting in the hallway for Mom to finish up in the gift shop.

Tour Guide: “And what are these two pretty young ladies names?”

Grandmother: “Tell him your names, girls.”

Girl 1: “Chanel.”

Girl 2: “Cliché.”

Tour Guide (pausing): “Well… I ain’t mad atcha.”

My cousins and I didn’t even make eye contact with each other til the family walked outside and the door closed behind them. I just hope they didn’t look back and see us falling out of our chairs, crying and heaving in laughter. These are two names that I did not change for the blog.

Me (in the car): "I don't think we want to… aaaaand we're on the Interstate."

Cousin: "Damn, [Cousin], the hotel is right there."

Me: "Please don't have us in [crap, what's the notoriously rough part of Detroit… besides the whole city…] 8 Mile Road."

Did I mention that it was time for me to take over control of the GPS? Yeah.

Stay tuned for Part II.


Click here to check out the McMickey family reunion in South Carolina *cue "Dueling Banjos"*

Review: The Opening of Flaming Saddles Saloon NYC

Last week was the grand opening of Blazing Saddles Salloon, an new gay country/western-themed bar in NYC. They hyped up the launch by sending out invites to the pre-opening event, which featured free drafts.

image from flamingsaddles.com

Checking out the website, I noticed a few distinctive characteristics about Flamers. First, they advertise dancing bartenders. Like choreographed, on the bar, Coyote Ugly-style dancing! Secondly, they're on 9th Ave in Hell's Kitchen. Most gay bars are not on avenues, and the last one to try it was Flava Lounge ("Wait, where?" "Eh, you didn't miss much."). Thirdly, their happy hour is NOT a straight up 2-4-1 like most gay bars: it's a rotating schedule of drink specials. However, they have midnight-2 drink specials Monday-Friday, which non-9-to-5ers will appreciate, and weekend specials til 6 advertised on their website.

The pre-opening was 8-9, but my lazy ass didn't get there til 8:40. I saw the line and tossed my hair as I walked up to the door.

"Oh, the line is actually for those who RSVPed. But let me check you in before you get on line."

Luckily, my cruise buddy (Atlantis, not back-of-the-bar) Calipornia was second in line. She'd been waiting a half hour. Hugh Hysell of The Men Event seemed to be running things, so it was no surprise that there was such a massive crowd.

image from flaming saddles salloon's facebook page

As soon as we got inside, two massive staff people presented with a branded, pre-tied red bandana. Of course, I immediately thought of the Hanky Code and spent the rest of the night looking for boys with their bandanas stuffed into their back pockets.

The crowd seemed to run a large spectrum of gay (with heavy emphasis on the HK variety, of course). I actually ended up meeting a few readers of the Blog in person for the first time.

The bad news: they don't take credit cards. The good news: my Absolut Citrón and sprite was $7.

Then came the bar dancing. There was always someone on top of the bar dancing, kind of like a go-go, but fully clothed. And every so often, a bartending crew of 6 would do a choreographed number on the bar. The talent ranged from the classically-trained twink who was between shows to the slightly chubby guy whom you could almost see mouthing the counts (adorable!). But all of them looked like they were having a blast... at least when they kept their balance. The crowd really got into it!

image from flaming saddles facebook page

Calipornia described Flamers as "Classy Cleo's". For those of you who aren't old as dirt, Cleo's is the former name for 9th Avenue Saloon. They even have a jukebox in the corner!

I think this bar has potential to be around for a long time. I mean, you should have seen the half-block-long line outside when we left around 10! They got some good press for the opening, and plenty of people seemed curious about it on Facebook. The decor isn't particularly chic or trendy at all, but it's charming. As long as the staff embodies that charm (and the management isn't stupid), they'll do well.

One thing to note: I was told the coat check "isn't open yet" when I arrived. Not sure if it wasn't built yet or if they just thought 300 gays wouldn't need a place to put their fall jackets and bags, but it seems one will exist.

Did I mention that I'll definitely be back? Yeah.

Click here to check out the sluttiness that went down last time I blogged about 9th Avenue Salloon. 


Click here for Flamers' Facebook page. 
Click here for Flamers' Website.


Click here for TheMenEvent to sign up for party invites, theater discounts and so much more. 

Review: Cafe Panache @ Griffin (presented by Lee Chappell)

Cafe Panache is everything.

I'd been seeing invites for what I figured to be a burlesque show with live music for weeks before I reached out to producer Lee Chappell and told him I had to see what it was all about.

The show takes place at Griffin in the Meatpacking District, which sparked my curiousity as to how they would stage the show since there's no traditional stage. But it turns out the performers use the two platforms on the dance floor (on the backs of the couches), the bar, and the aisles of the dance floor.

NYC drag legend and host Shequida warmed up the crowed and opened the show with a number before turning it over to the company of seasoned ballet dancers, singers (the two pretty much always accompanied each other for a multidimensional presentation), burlesque performers, and an amazing live band. They did themed sets: old-school boudoir, circus (complete with a hot male contortionist) and New Orleans, with an intermission between the latter two sets. Each performance was spectacular!

Tickets for this weekly event start at $25 for advanced general admission, $30 at the door and $35 for advanced reserved seating. Search Cafe Panache on Facebook for the link to purchase (as there's a new event every week). It's really not a gay event, per se, but there's a strong gay presence for sure! It's the type of event that people of any orientation can enjoy.

So yeah. Highly recommended. Go see it!

Click here to check out the last time I went to Lee's (now defunct) pool party DR!P.