Friday, December 08, 2006

'Ray of Light' Pierces Amuse-Biatch's Dark Disco Night of the Soul

And no, for once we're not talking about Madonna's techno-flavored album.

As you may know, we've been most troubled since witnessing Marcel Vigneron's Immunity Dance. We spent a sleepless night, wringing our hands in their Borghese Moisture Restoring Gloves and shredding peacock feathers. How could we have been so wrong about Marcel? How could our gaydar lead us so far astray?

And then the voices of reason began to prevail. Reader (and self-avowed Gay) Laz cautioned caution--"let's not be hasty here." Both our pal Eric3000 and his Eric3001 reminded us that guest chef "Raphael [Lunetta] and Marcel are totally staring at each other like they are in love." Laz also pointed out that Marcel "was practically undressing guest chef Rafael with his eyes when he was declared the winner." Ms. Place, too, chimed in with practical Dutch wisdom.

Thus fortified, we reviewed the episode once more, and things began to pop out at us. The sisterly interpretative dance by the seashore, and Miss Elia Aboumrad's protectiveness of him on previous shows? We recognized it at once from high school. Why, of course, it was the "kooky, artsy girl protects fey fledgling homo from the bashing jocks until he realizes for himself that the pigskin bus should be pulling not into Tunatown but into Funkytown" scenario all over again. Elia is really acting in the best traditions of the Drosophila Sorority (darlings, we like our fruitflies to have their Latin tags).

And then there were Marcel's exchanges with the surfers, trying out his idea of "surfer" lingo, "brah" and "bro" and all the rest. Why, what was that, if not the classic "trying to butch it up by using the same words straight guys use"? And Marcel sounded just as convincing as all the other gay boys who try that. (Seriously, the next time a gay man greets us with, "'Sup, bro?", we are going to beat him senseless with his own Abercrombie & Fitch flipflop.)

And when we happened upon the above picture of Marcel's attempts to butch it up, the clouds parted and Madonna's "Ray of Light" began playing. Of the many sentiments to be read on his face, one was clear. We could tell he was a little sorry to be talking to the scrawny chap, and not to the other one, you know the one we mean, the one with the meaty pecs, the beau-laid proboscis, and perfect (if undersized) nipples. Yes, him, that's the one.

When we showed Miss XaXa the photograph, she said, "See? You had nothing to worry about." As she put it, "I don't know if what Marcel is doing with his hand is supposed to mean hang ten or hung 10", but it definitely involves digits. And with his pinkie up, it looks like he's drinking tea. And we all know what it means when you drink tea with your pinkie up.... "

"We do?" we asked rhetorically, hurriedly placing our Sèvres teacup on its saucer.

"You can ring my be-ee-ee-ee-ll, ring my bell," sang Miss XaXa in her sauciest Anita Ward imitation, wagging her pinkie at us.

And just like that, amidst much blushing, Amuse-Biatch's dark disco night of the soul came to an end.


eric3000 said...

Wow, I'm a voice of reason! I'm not accused of that very often!

By the way, your labels are almost as funny as your posts! Are they a new feature on your blog?

mr. t said...

i just discovered your blog and i have to admit that i luf you already.

Ms. Place said...

Dahlings, I agree with Eric3000, these labels are funnier than the last.

And I thank you for the mention.

mr. t said...

the force of your logic, as always, is staggering. but i have been contemplating our dear friend's myspace page:

even if we look past the closeted proclamation of straightness, his pluralizing of words with "z" (firefighterz, organizerz) made me cry. and his choices of movies, tv shows and books lost him points.

David said...

your top chef posts crack me up.

just wanted to point out that what sealed lunetta's infatuation with our gayboi-in-hiding marcel was the way he announced the quickfire winner.

watch the episode again (since bravo, of course, rams all the episodes down our throats before every new episode), and you'll find chef lunetta coyly, shyly whispering marcel's name to padma as she asks who the winner is.

what he probably thought he was answering was: "who do you have a crush on?"

and like the little 12 year old girl that he is, mr lunetta turns and lowers his head, and ever so gently whispers to padma the name of the boy whose perky white butt he so wants to munch.