Paris is Burning
by James Tuttle
My friend BJ’s birthday party on Saturday night left me in a rather delicate condition on Sunday. The signature cocktail of the evening, The Godfather, was two parts scotch, one part Amaretto and an ice cube and sounded like a really good idea at the time. The next morning, with my clothes spread across my closet floor and the bedroom door inexplicably propped against a wall, I realized that it clearly wasn’t. After managing a hike in record heat and splitting a cheeseburger and onion rings with Scott, I wasn’t in any condition to do much but cradle my head on the sofa in front of the TV.
I had a choice between Teen Mom 2 and watching the Sex and the City movie again, but I scrolled down a bit more and chose the E! True Hollywood Story on illusionist Criss Angel. I guess they ran out of celebrities and are doing magicians now. I remembered his show Mindfreak, where he would take off his shirt and do things like jump into a wood chipper yet emerge totally unscathed. He also did some tricks with his shirt on but I don’t really recall any of those.