You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June 2009.
June 25 2009 was a downer. A major downer. I was at home, getting ready to leave the warm comfort of Brooklyn for the mean streets of Manhattan, when I checked my Facebook and saw Lefty Lucy had updated her status. It said “Ed McMahon, Farah Fawcett…Michael Jackson?” I thought she was kidding. I commented “<gasp!> You just jinxed him!” Then I saw that the news feed was adding posts rapidly. People from all over the world were saying the same thing: Michael Jackson, RIP.
Jo Boobs
by J.D. Oxblood
How’s this for a day in Vegas? Lunch at the patio steakhouse at the Paris, with blazing sun and views of the fountain show across the strip at the Bellagio, a kick-ass pool party, sitting in on a panel of legends, and then a show that ends with El Vez. Not bad, right?
This video is a sample of what J. D. got at the Vegas show. Enjoy!
1st Runner-up Roxy Dlite
by J.D. Oxblood
(Editor’s note: the first paragraph of this piece has been moved below the fold due to profanity, suggestive language, nudity and adult situations. Please click to read the entirety of this story.)
Satan's Angel
By J.D. Oxblood
LEGENDS OF THE MOLL
Friday, June 5th, the Orleans Showroom, Las Vegas
Hot comes in many shapes and sizes. And colors and ages. And flavors and aromas that, when they pass your palate again, can send you back into nostalgic reverie at inappropriate moments. Hot can’t be limited—or contained—by looks. After all, a chief ingredient of hot—sexiness—is defined and expressed by movement. You might not spot sexy in a photograph, but you’ll see it as soon she walks in the door. If you don’t think Amazonian, zaftig, or full-figure chicks can be hot, you’ve been banging the wrong big girls. And if you’ve never had a wanton night of boot-knockin’ with a woman over the age of 50, I don’t know how you can call yourself a man.
If you can’t dig it, try a strip club and skip the burlesque. As for the blogosphere, I suggest you get your narrow worldview over to Gawker and leer at some 20 year-old pleasure models and join the riff-raff carping about how so-and-so put on five pounds, was caught at the beach with a belly, or—ohmygod—is starting to WRINKLE. Beauty fades, bitches. Hot is eternal.
Madame Rosebud -- "Best Bikini"
by J.D. Oxblood
Pulling up a porcelain chair in the McCarren airport, I think, I could use some vegetables. I could use a drink that doesn’t contain alcohol. I could stand to inhale without sucking on a cigarette or breathing overly-oxygenated canned air. It would be nice to make a decision—about anything—without first weighing the odds and placing a wager. I need to sit without looking around for a cocktail waitress, to hear myself think without tuning out the din of slot machines, to look at a woman without immediately, instinctively imagining what she’s going to look like when she wriggles out of those clothes. A couple days in Las Vegas will do that to a man.
by J.D. Oxblood
Wow. What a weekend. I still can’t see straight, reek of booze & smoke, keep hearing slots in the background and am still finding body glitter in unmentionable places. In other words, we had a fantastic time at the 2009 Burlesque Hall of Fame Weekend. I can’t even count how many gorgeous women I saw in various states of disrobe–between the shows, the stripperiffic after parties, and the oh-my-dear-Kali pool party, I’ve got “me time” material for a decade. It’s gonna take a few days to put all of this overwhelming material into a readable format, not to mention the over 3000 photographs Melodie Mudd shot, kneeling at the front of the stage.
So you’ll just have to wait for the good stuff. We’re gonna do this fab weekend justice and give all the participants a blogorific experience that’ll make them think they’re still in Vegas, and make all y’all suckers who didn’t make the trip positively verdant with envy. You snoozed, you loozed. Tune in later this week for what promises to be a 4-part series of COMPREHENSIVE coverage on the annual event previously known as Miss Exotic World.
Meanwhile, I have to pass out some awards of my own. Sure, the judges made up some honorary awards–probably to kill time while they argued over who was gonna win best boylesque–but they had some trophies to back it up. I have no trophies, so… WINNERS OF THE 2009 BHFW “BLOODIES” WILL RECEIVE A MARTINI OF CHOICE ON ME. Dirties, Manhattans, Cosmos, what have you, courtesy of yours truly, payable the next time you see me in person–wherever we happen to be. Hey, that’s a $10-15 value, and you can’t drink a trophy. Don’t ever say that anyone loves you more than J.D.
(tympani please)
Best Reveal — Dinah Might
Most Badass — NANDA
Most Slammin’ (Badonkadonk Division) — Perle Noir
Most Slammin’ (Badinkadink Division) — Kellita
Most Overlooked — Peekaboo Pointe
Best Bikini (pool party) — Madame Rosebud
Most Devastating Glare — Miss Astrid
Most Likely to be a Contender in 2010 — Sapphire Jones
Hottest Photographer — Melody Mudd (no competition)
I should get a better camera. Or at least not be so shy when taking pictures.
John Hodgman was performing a comedy show last night at Union Hall in Park Slope. I didn’t know that, so the giddy joy I felt as I told my companion PC was standing in front of us at the door was genuine. I thought perhaps that he was just there to soak up the hipster vibe like the rest of us. It turned out he was amplifying the hipster vibe, by a factor of ten at least.
by JD Oxblood
The winners are in. Check back for my full coverage. Right now I gotta go to a pool party, play some craps, and schmooze the winners.
Best Debut: Melody Mangler
Best Variety Act: Gigi & Pop (feat. our very own Anita Cookie)
Best Group: NANDA
Best Boylesque: Hot Toddy
Hall of Fame Legend’s Award: Satan’s Angel
Most Innovative: Arabella Trapeze (Harvest Moon & Mr. Fantastic)
Most Classic: Amazing Knicker Kittens Burlesque Review
Most Comical: Little Brooklyn
Most Dazzling: Kalani KoKonuts
2009 Queen of Burlesque:
2nd runner up: Perle Noire
1st runner up: Roxi Dlite
Queen: Kalani KoKonuts
Congrats to all the winners and all the competitors! Last night was so hot I need a cold shower and a cold herring face-slap!
by J.D. Oxblood
I’ve trolled the sources and, as usual, the best coverage comes from the AP.
It’s a sad day in the world today, as we mourn the passing of one of our favorites, one who made our days a little more pleasant, whether it be from reruns of “Kung Fu,” the forty-second viewing of “Kill Bill,” or even just those fab derivative Yellow Pages commercials. That voice, the voice alone that made the first “Kill Bill” so… enticing, knowing that was Dave-C fondling that sword and never seeing his face. And for children of the 70s, who goaded our friends on the playground with “grasshopper” and “until you can take this Jolly Rancher from my hand” or “until you can walk on the sand box without leaving a footprint”—this man is a part of our Jungian psyche, both an archetype to inhabit and a Campbellian hero to emulate. It’s a sad day.
And then there’s the question of the cause of death.
This is what I get for living near art students.
Oxblood Covers the Miss Exotic World Weekend
Gidde up, cowgirls, I’m Westbound and down, heading out to the City formerly known as Sin to gamble, cavort, and watch gorgeous women entice with abandon! The Miss Exotic World Weekend is on, this Thursday through Sunday. Check out the lineup at http://www.burlesquehall.com/. I’ll be taking it all in and writing it all down, and staff photog Melodie Muddd will be snapping the pix. Tune in next week for full coverage and candid snaps, and feel free to follow me on Twitter (oh, god, no) for up-to-the-minute Gonzo commentary.
[Ed.'s note: the Twitter widget is in a sidebar on the left side of the main page.]
OPEN CALL FOR HELP. Sadly, due to “scheduling conflicts” (read: paying gigs), I won’t arrive in Nevada until Friday, totally missing the Thursday night throw down, which features some of my favorite New York performers, like Amber Ray, Anita Cookie, Nasty Canasta, and Ruby Valentine, as well as some of my new-fave babes from beyond our borders who I got turned on to (and who turned me on) at last fall’s NYC Burlesque fest—namely Chicago’s Mimi First and Tokyo’s Violet Eva. Man, that Violet is stunning! So, to all my friends who work the other side of the curtain, and for anyone else who may be tagging along to Vegas to witness the spectacle, PLEASE OH PLEASE tell me all about what I miss on Friday. If you have any observations or—better yet, any pictures—of our famed city’s best doing their thing in Vegas, send it to me so I can spread the word. Gmail me, twitter me, text me, rub up next to me at the airport—just pass it along and I promise to give due credit.
EXTRA love to anyone who provides pix from the bowling bash. Man, what I wouldn’t give to see Dirty Marini bowl a few frames in heels.
Jo, I will pay handsomely for backstage gossip.
See you in Vegas!
Kiss kiss,
JDX
Rock of Love
Sunday night is Kitty Nights at Bar on A. I showed up because I heard Calamity Chang was debuting her tribute to Brett Michaels, and I had just finished a three day DVR marathon of Rock of Love. That and our star reporter has been feverishly packing his suitcase for Vegas where he will be covering the Miss Exotic World show, so he wasn’t able to make it. He is going to be giving up-to-the-nanosecond updates from the big event on Twitter, so if you aren’t following him already, do yourself a favor and put him on your list. You won’t regret it.
Stars and bars forever!
Who is laughing now?
Just five years ago some Americans were painting their Hummers in the stars and stripes, confident that the “liberation” of Iraq would bring global peace and low, low gas prices. The Hummer symbolized American strength, wealth, and frontier attitude. Now all those cowboys who thought they were starring in an Old West flick have been told “Go East young man!” as the Hummer brand is sold to a Chinese company.
It’s too easy to say that their jingoistic hubris is the root cause of this national humiliation. Instead I’ll point out that passing the baton of overweening douche-baggery to the Chinese might be exactly what saves our republic.
