There I was all decked out in my mesh shirt, nipples exposed, soft leather hat and chaffs showing off my well sculpted backside last month at the store. I was staring at myself in the mirror and was thinking, there is no way, NO WAY I’m not going to win best dressed male in Soho, Queens and Rittenhouse Square. They call it Thuper Thaturday in my circles. I was so confident. I had been doing this new workout call P69x. Man, I’m not kidding when I say, I was ripped up a month before this contest. My hips looked awesome.
It was incredible the press I was getting. People were all over me. I had changed up my outfit here and there so as not to look like I was dressed the same at each appearance. I had changed up the black mesh shirt to Yellow a few times. It’s winter and yellow brings out my eyes. Then a few times I wore that spiked choker people like. I was all sexed up for Thuper Thaturday and about a week out I hear about this bougie motherfucker taking out my voters. Those boys are so predictable, a tight jeaned, banana republic model shows up and they start drooling. I don’t get it. I have what people want. I have been on top forever. I’m a giver not a taker, like this other boy people are sweating.
Well not to be out done, I simply flicked my wrist and said, “whatever, there will be Trolley Square, Buckhead and San Fran next week. I don’t care if I win in Soho, that is sooooo yesterday. Buckhead is where I really bring out my full package. I had been catching grief because my girlfriend was talking stuff and being all crazy. She was saying that the competition was a Fairy and that the paparazzi were only taking pictures of his good side. Well that is Not the way I want my bitch to act so I whipped her into shape and pulled her off the runway for a few months.
So all should be fine but then….wouldn’t you know it that bastard shows up in Buckhead right as I’m getting ready to go there! What E-Ver! So ridiculous I don’t even want to get into it. I felt like crying, and I practically did ON CAMERA! I held it together though barely. I think it was the Yellow that makes me so emotional. I was like, this is nuts. I’m working so hard. I deserve this! People were telling me I was going to win. Christ, I HAD it all wrapped up back in December. Then this, this (don’t even make me say his name!) this Sailor comes along and R-U-I-N-S it for me! I hate him. He hasn’t werked as hard as I have. He doesn’t have the experience I have dealing with the venom that the paparazzi and tabloids spew. I DO. I can deal with them on DAY one after I wear my crown! He won’t even know how to carry the freaking roses and wave at the same time until day 7 at the earliest. Do you have any idea how hard it is to make sure your Sash stays pressed and attached to your shoulder? It’s hard!
Sigh, So I’m making my statement now to all you fag hag’s voting for Mr. Sugar-in-the-tank. I don’t care about all those other places the real prom is in Austin, Cleveland (I love thier steamers) and Pittsburgh! None of those losses in those other drama cities mean anything to me. I have the press right in my hands everywhere I go. I let them see what I want them to see. I make them ride in a seperate buss. They eat up everything I put in their mouth.
Cya bitches….I’m winning the next one, this other crap tonight is so yesterday!