http://www.laineygossip.com/Jason_George_The_Fearless_Flamer_and_the_Locker_Room_Staredown.aspx
Gossip, conjecture, rumour - my lawyer would want me to remind you of those 3 beautiful words when considering the report below. And fair enough, certain celebrities are a lot more vicious than others, especially when protecting their inside gay… you know what I mean?
Again… gossip, rumour, conjecture…bullsh*t… blah blah blah
And in the interest of protecting those who can be harmed by the Fearless Flamer, and since I am nothing if not a cowardly little bitch, let's use superfun, supereasy code names. Trust me, don't even bother emailing me afterwards. YOU KNOW the answer… I promise.
The scene: Toronto. An elite celebrity, an internationally recognised married celebrity, a BIG BIG name is in town shooting a movie. We'll call him the Flying Star. The Flying Star spends time relaxing and working out - so to speak - at an exclusive, private health club that offers members access to a full range of amenities, good enough for the rich, good enough for the famous.
Two incidents…
The first: another club member, a very goodlooking man I've named Daniel, finishes his work out, showers, puts a towel around his waist, heads back to the locker room, and notices a portly man staring at him. It is, of course, the Flying Star. Daniel is a nice fellow so he obliges the Flying Star in some idle chitchat, becoming increasingly uncomfortable under the heavy weight of the Flying Star's heavy-lidded gaze, an appreciative gaze, as the conversation progresses, even though Danny is not one to read to the National Enquirer, or any of the blogs, least of all mine, meaning he had no advance knowledge of the Flying Star's legendary leanings. And yet he knew that the Flying Star was 'going there' but did his best to ignore his gaydar… until the question came…
Flying Star: Do you like to sauna?
Daniel: errr… ahem… yeah… sure…
Flying Star: Wanna go to the sauna with me?
And this was not a football sauna invitation - like cracking knuckles and drinking beer and picking your nose…it was the kind of invitation George Michael would accept - you know what I mean?
Now being a straight man, Daniel was obviously scared sh*tless. However, since he was raised with class and good manners, Daniel graciously declined and hightailed it outta there because as my husband says - 'being polite is one thing but I don't have to get naked to be polite.' Words to live by, non?
Anyway, that's a pretty innocent encounter when you take it on its own…but when you consider that there have been multiple occurrences in the same club, you begin to wonder if the Flying Star is running a little short on Martian Medication, great for making babies and suppressing gays.
The second incident is as follows:
Still at the club - our victim is a well toned male massage therapist I'll call Antony. Antony knew that he'd be assigned to the Flying Star - and who hasn't heard of the Flying Star??? As such, he was thrilled, couldn't wait…poor sod didn't know what was coming.
The day of the appointment arrives, Antony asks the Flying Star which body parts to focus on (a common question during massage therapy, nothing smutty there), and the Flying Star replied that he was doing a lot of dancing in his new movie and needed a full body, including 'glutes, stomach, and groin'. So far so good.
Antony begins to work, makes small talk, talks about his job, his aspirations, turns out his dream job is actually a fiery role the Flying Star took on not too long ago. Everything's all good, progressing normally, and then the Flying Star starts chatting about himself…said he'd been married for more than 10, less than 20 years, and of course Antony (being a man with traditional values etc) is very, very moved, and tells him so, for a Hollywood player to remain committed for so long in this day and age, he's even more impressed than ever before.
Then the Flying Star's face took on a 'weird' expression…his eyes didn't move from Antony's face. At this point, he asked Antony to massage his stomach and Antony obliged. But then the sheet 'slipped' off, and since the Flying Star was not wearing underwear, Antony was treated to the Flying Star's standing excitement, and Antony quickly pulled the sheet back up, and all the while, the Flying Star kept smiling, kept staring. Next thing you know, the sheet 'slipped' again…Antony's starting to freak out at this point, sweating, uneasy - he pulls the sheet back up again, to no avail because wouldn't you know it, the sheet 'slipped' again …for the third time!!!, And so Antony did what any straight, harassed man, powerless and faced with a million dollar c*ck would do… he made up a girlfriend and started yammerin' on about her incessantly, but the Flying Star would not be deterred.
He next wanted to know what part of the body Antony preferred to massage and a flustered Antony quickly replied - The Back! Thank Goddess the hour was up, Antony beat a hasty retreat, and went off to the locker room to regain his composure. He took a shower, wrapped a towel around his waste, and proceeded to the sink, foamed his face, and began to shave. Unfortunately, the Flying Star seemed to materialise out of a disco ball and ambushed our poor Antony. He complimented Antony on his beautiful physique, he admired Antony's 'cute'ness, he lamented his own loneliness in Toronto, and all the while, Antony can't shave fast enough, nicking himself several times in the process, finally extracting himself from the Flying Star's lechery, resorting to changing in the bathroom stall to escape any more advances.
Oh…and one more thing…the Flying Star didn't leave a tip.
Seriously…what is this dude's thing with massage therapy? And why on earth is he getting so bold???
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Update (11/11/08):clue
reveal
