The St. James Version

Oh baby, baby. … Oh my darling.. . Oh my widdle honey-bunny cuddle-lover…who loves you? Who loves you more than lip gloss? Who? Who? BOO BOO DOO FOO GOOO GOO….

I know, I know, my all-consuming passion for the sweet-and-swoony soap star, Van Hansis, is teetering on creepy. And redundant. Also: I get the feeling you don’t find my future-husband as endlessly fascinating as I do. So you probably don’t really care that Luke, the tortured teen homo he plays on AS THE WORLD TURNS, was just lured into the woods and attacked by the fag-hating father of his almost/maybe/not-quite boyfriend, and that he woke up in the hospital last Friday, only to utter those classic soap opera words: “I can’t feel my legs” – which means that Noah and Luke (or NUKE, as we fans refer to them) probably won’t be consummating their hot, gay love anytime (because you gotta keep yer gays neutered and non-sexual for as long as you can on daytime, don’t ya know, they’ve got sponsors to think about…). “WHATEVER, JAMES,” you say. “BLAH BLAH BLAH.” You just wish I would stop blogging about BORING, GODDAMN SOAP OPERAS, and – oh I don’t know, here’s an idea – maybe dress up and go to a party and act like the Party Monster of yore… throw up on Perez or set Kim Kardashion on fire…. Something…. Anything…. Just do something that’s fierce and fun and WORTHY of a St James version once in awhile.… OK, well, I hear you.

So, um, I’m not here to write about any of those things I just wrote about. I promise. Not a word. Not gonna do it. No more gushy updates about my super-baby, hyper-humpy little cum-monkey…. OH MY GOD I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!…. But no. I mean, it’s not like he reads them. And it’s not like he’s going to fall into my arms and love me forever and shower me with Pop-Tarts and pink diamonds, even if he DOES read them. Which he doesn’t. Sigh. So that’s it. No more shameless plugs for Van.

EXCEPT. OH. WAIT. JUST ONE MORE. ONE QUICK ONE. THEN NEVER AGAIN. I PROMISE. IT’S JUST THIS IS REALLY BIG NEWS…REALLY EXCITING STUFF: Starting TONIGHT, my boy Van is moonlighting in the off-Broadway production of the Charles Busch campfest: DIE, MOMMIE, DIE! He plays Lance, the slutty, gay son, in the role that was originated by another cumly lad with an improbable name – Stark Sands – in the 2003 movie version. So you have to go, it should be totally fabulous. Even if you aren’t quite sold on Van, go for Charles Busch. He’s a total goddess. Simply the best we’ve got. Remember VAMPIRE LESBIANS OF SODOM? and PSYCHO BEACH PARTY? Genius! Pure genius! I remember I saw THEODORA SHE-BITCH OF BYZANTIUM my first week in New York, at the Limbo Lounge on Ave C (the same place I first saw Dean Johnson and John Sex – good times, good times…but I digress). So, anyway, if you’re in the New York area, check it out. It’s playing at New World Stages, Stage 1, 340 West 50th Street, and you can get tickets online. Oh, and tell my darling dreamboat that I said to “break a leg!” Also: “I’ll cut anyone who stands in the way of our happiness and chop them up into tiny, bite-size pieces, and feed them to the hobos I keep in the cages of my secret sub-basement. YAY! GOOD LUCK! SEE YOU SOON, MY DARLING! I’M SERIOUS!”

– James St. James

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