Vogue: A Silent Killer??

At the end of my last entry, I wished everyone luck at the onset of another school year. Last week, we packed up the car with all of my belongings, and headed back to Boston for the start of my senior year. My spirit was high, but soon I was touched by the loss of a great man.

Making headlines all over the world for the past week, the death of this man signifies the end of an era. He was a teacher to many, a hero to many more. He charmed snakes and lizards all over the planet, and got himself into some pretty sticky or hairy situations. That's right, you all know who I'm talking about:















Willi Ninja. The man who taught the world to Vogue.

Willi made a name for himself on the dance floors of New York City in the late 80s and early 90s. He pioneered a new form of dance known as "Vogue" that took the NYC scene by storm, and eventually found its way into Madonna's music and choreography. This blog is for you Willi. You will be missed and remembered.














But then I got to thinking. There seems to be a trend here: young gay males who spent the 80s voguing across NYC night clubs seems to be a dwindling population. Why was Willi taken from us so soon? It didn't seem fair. What had he done? Slowly, the pieces all came together. Those flailing arms, the thrusting pelvis. HOW could I not see it?!?! Then I realized the horrible truth: Voguing is America's number one silent killer. And it's only a matter of time before it comes for YOU.

! So take warning, America. STOP striking a pose, or the lord will strike you DOWN !

In other news, the past week has been both colorful and uneventful. Classes started, and I quickly realized that as much as I would love to learn how to design FLASH, I can't bear the 3 hours with Monotone Mary. So that will be dropped. The rest of my classes are pretty cool though.

Monday night I went to a bar in Cambridge for the Stage Debut of the Trash Boys, my friends' band. Matt and Mike looked stellar up there, and Matt is one hell of a frontman.















Later in the week, Mike celebrated his 22nd birthday with a party at Good Times!


















Turns out it wasn't with the cast of the show, but it WAS at this place called "Good Times", sort of a Chuck E. Cheese for grownups.















There was drunk driving.....















And nicest butt contests....















The week ended with a sort of challenge. We challenged Jess, my roommate's girlfriend, to eat a whole chipotle pepper, one of the hottest peppers known to man, while she was wasted. Did I say this was a contest? That was a lie. There was no prize for her. And no collateral for us. She just did it, and we got to watch. Way to go Jess! That's some hot shit.





























Anyway, make sure to check back soon as I continue my ongoing investigation into the curious "Vogue", and stay tuned to more startling revalations affecting us all.