There’s still time to nominate local icons for Best of D.C.
A recent New York Times analysis of census data found that, for the first time, most U.S. women are living single. But is it really so hard to find a decent, let alone hygienic, man? Sadly, yes: “When he began to dance and open up his legs, I saw this gray, mossy area that was on his sides, and I was like, ‘Is that contagious?’ ” recalls New York’s mother.
“Who knows, maybe New York and her mother will be disgusted by my white ass,” ponders aspiring paramour Mr. Boston as he prepares to strut down the runway in a thong. Given his chance to shake his moneymaker in a beauty contest called “Mr. Mangeant,” the tragically named Romance finds that his effort garners little more than loose change. Stung by his dismissal, Romance takes issue with New York’s reality-dating-show ethics: “For her to squash me like that, it’s unprofessional.”
“You’re singing opera, dressed as Apollo Creed, with a weird hat on,” mocks Simon, booting yet another seemingly escaped mental patient. It’s the early rounds of the contest, which simply means that for a few episodes Paula’s not the weirdest person on set. But top honors go to the Johnny Cash wannabe, who looks about as authentic in his Western wear as our current commander in chief. “Did you just buy the cowboy outfit yesterday?” asks a beleaguered Randy.
“This guy’s dripping blood off his face from scratching,” observes animal cop Debby MacDonald after rescuing a couple of haggard pit bulls. It turns out Detroit isn’t only one of the national leaders in murders—it’s also the home of the mange! “Their skin is cracking, it’s oozing, they have infections, and we find it’s kinder to put them to sleep than to salvage them,” explains vet Sherene. Note to Joan Rivers: Don’t move to Detroit.
“I’m not there to feed them, I’m not there to take care of them,” pleads salon owner Denise after being sued by one of her working girls over the oppressive terms in their booth-rental agreement. Denise fails to remember, however, that the key to running a successful sweatshop is an ironclad contract. “You should get a refund [from your lawyer],” sneers Judge Alex as he scans the legal gibberish.
“I love Janice more than life itself,” gushes doughy Gray, desperately vying to be picked at an open casting call. Gray’s chance to worship at Janice’s altar is cut short, however, as he becomes the latest victim in the cruel world of shopping mall talent searches. “Get over the idolization,” snaps gorgonian Janice.