>Attending the Mr. Lower East Side Pageant was the most fun I’ve had since I went to the North Carolina State Fair the previous weekend and had the pleasure of watching my friend eat a fried Twinkie, a fried cheeseburger, and other fine foods while wearing a t-shirt that said “I beat anorexia.” The grease stains that eventually smeared the shirt were an especially nice touch. Maybe if she’s feeling generous she’ll permit me to post the photographic evidence.

Back to the Pageant... so I was disappointed that this year there was no award for Best Nut Sac. It seems that an individual with the moniker Tommy Nut Sac has won this prestigious and highly sought title for the last few years. Unfortunately, he was a no show this year, and I think they forgot to crown a successor because we had to be out of the space by 10 pm for another performance and were running out of time. Or maybe the MC was too drunk to remember. That’s just as likely. However, Best Male Titties was awarded to a gentleman named Chuck Funk, and very deservingly so. Like Tommy Nut Sac, Chuck Funk has won his title for the past several years. His titties were at least the size of mine (although some of you will think that’s not saying much) and about as cute, except not as cute because generally titties are not thought of as cute when they are sported by men, even if they would be considered cute on a woman. He also had gold body glitter painted on them, which added a hint of glamour, if I do say so myself. The title of Best Male Titties was conferred by the judges, not the general voting audience (which consisted of all the women and self-identified gay men who arrived before the show began.) I thought Chuck Funk also had the Best Pigtails. I was quite jealous.

The other fascinating thing about the Mr. Lower East Side Pageant is how many of the contestants wore g-strings despite their impressive girths. I’d actually say many of them actually wore g-strings because of their girths. And none of them shaved their pubes or legs. I guess there’s no point in doing so when your gut is hanging over the pouch anyway. Or when you have little candies in your pouch, which you throw to the screaming audience. (Screams of both horror, as in “He just threw candy at me that rubbed against his penis!” and delight, as in, “Yum! I love candy and this is hilarious.”) I wish more women would take a cue from these men. I mean, no one should wear g-strings anyway in my opinion unless you are flossing your ass for hygienic purposes, but if people insist on wearing modified eye patches (as described by http://www.gofugyourself.com/), it should be for lighthearted fun and self-mockery. Or you should be dancing on a pole for money. That also makes sense. I mean, every type of work has a uniform of sorts, and I can accept the g-string as the official exotic dancer uniform. (How enlightened of me, right?)

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