This is a picture of the internet. Pretty, isn’t it? But, why is it here, instead of the usual hilarity? Because today, The Gay Uncle wants to direct you to a few sites that are featuring coverage of…The Gay Uncle.
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Outzone
Frontiers
PoshMama
Squats
The Gay Uncle had a strange afternoon today. He was asked to participate in a photo shoot for an upcoming feature article about him and his book in The London Times. Selected as the location, was a children’s hair salon up the street from his apartment. The place itself was lovely, as were its owner and its “stylists” (one of whom was recruited by the effervescent photographer as his assistant.) Of course the clientele was adorable as well–fancy little West Village kids who watched distracting videos while receiving a trim. The weird part came when G.U. was asked to pose. First he had to straddle a tiny wooden race car barber chair, while blowing bubbles, kicking up his feet, and smiling broadly. (You think pilates is hard on your “core”? Try this!) Then he had to sit on a Big Wheel on a ledge in the store window while the photographer waited on the sidewalk to capture the perfect reflection of a passing yellow cab (and avoid the reflections of preening be-shorted and tanktopped queens out for a spring stroll.) Then for the final act, Gunc had to squat in the street atop a pink, kid-sized, rubber, bouncy rabbit toy, again smiling broadly, and clutching at the bunny’s ears, while cars and bike messengers whizzed by inches from his head. He felt like a character in a Harmony Korine movie.
The G.U. wants to give a big shout out to Dana and the staff at Doodle Doo’s. [sic.] If you live in New York (or plan to visit), you should give them a call very soon…before your child goes full-force Rapunzel. 212-627-DOOS (3667) Be sure to tell them the Gay Uncle sent you.
Geese Have Babies Too!
The Gay Uncle is at his house upstate today, enjoying a writers’ retreat with his boyfriend Tal. Occasionally, they get up from the computer and go outside. This affords G.U. the opportunity to wander around in something called “nature”. At this time of year–the season of regeneration and rebirth–it also allows him to view animal babies. He never took biology in high school, so he’s not at all sure how geese or fish or turtles reproduce (nor does he really want to know: all that feathery/scaly/shelly fucking? Ew!) but suddenly their children are everywhere. He supposes there’s something sort of pleasant about this intractable cycle, and he’s always happy to see the newborn goslings and fishlings and turtlings flopping around in the lake, attempting to learn to breathe or swim while their parents float blithely nearby avoiding the spectacle, sunning themselves or eating mud. (Just like a New York City playground!) But, he can’t help but think of the wee ones’ vulnerability. A few springs ago, the goose homestead was attacked by an eagle, and he and Tal had to watch as the big raptor dive-bombed the nest. Another problem G.U. cites with baby geese (aside from their propensity to poo on his dock) is the inevitability of their becoming what he calls “teenagers”. Anyone who’s read a nursery rhyme knows goose infants are super-cute and cuddly, but they grow so goddamn fast that they go through their awkward adolescent phase within like a week, and get all disproportionate and mangy (think, Chelsea Clinton in the White House years). Gunc supposes this happens to fish and turtles too, but they fortunately remain invisible to him under the water.
Next nature report: Baby Beavers Look Like they’re made of Leather!
Scoot
It’s spring in New York, which means that–in addition to newborn rats, gay men in tank tops, and stagnant rain puddles full of wilting cardboard–another scourge is once again rearing its ugly head: adults on Razor Scooters. The Gay Uncle does not know how this trend began. He had a parent friend who once described her scooter as a way of “escaping the city in case of another terrorist attack”. Imagining her kick-pushing through the Holland Tunnel, he told her that he wasn’t sure that was the best plan. But Gunc is absolutely certain of one thing: every adult who rides one of these looks like a complete a-hole. If you’re a grown-up scooterer and you don’t believe him, just follow this simple test: Check your reflection in the window of the next store you pass. See yourself? Notice something important? YOU ARE NOT EIGHT! (And you look like an a-hole.) G.U. believes that these items are now recyclable. Just fold up the scooter, and toss it in the blue bin. It will serve the world much better as a Coke can.