Juice with Junior

I've worked in bookstores since I was 16, so I am quite familiar with the bookstore customer. There are the smart ones, the ones who want to talk about new poetry collections, and you have the casual ones, who are in the place for the magazines or the free WiFi. Then, you have the dumb ones, who when discussing a book that has been out and on the bestseller list for two years will walk up to you and say "So, um, I was wondering if you had a book. I don't know if you know it. It's called something like, not sure, maybe 'The Help'?" Yes, these people are the worst. Well, today, I'm identifying with them somewhat. Why? Because I finally got around to seeing the film adaptation of said book last weekend, and I suddenly find myself walking around going "Hey, have you seen this movie, it's called, I don't know, maybe something like 'The Help'? It just came out. It's a small independenty thing."

Yes, you saw "The Help." Most all of you saw it before I did, in fact. Listen, I've said it many times, Junior does not have time to be all current and sh!t. He's currently homeless. And he had to wait for his mom to see it with him because homeboy hasn't paid to see a movie since 2008.

This post was originally supposed to be about my general impressions of the film, but after I started reading more about it online, I realized something else I should have picked up on: people are none too pleased about this movie.

A smattering of headlines:

Black Women Historians come out against "The Help"

Cover story: Is 'The Help' heroic or stereotyping?

‘The Help’: America pats itself on the back

Wait. What? They are talking about the same movie I saw, right? The one with Oscar shoo-ins Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer (above).


The one with Emma Stone and the should-be-nommed-because-she-was-that-good Bryce Dallas Howard (above). The one written for the screen and directed by Supreme Southern Hotness Tate Taylor? That "The Help"?

Surely, you jest. And by "Surely, you jest" I mean "Shut the f*ck up." I'm gonna come out and say it right now, but if you thought "The Help" was anything than a moving, inspirational portrait of a bygone time and place with a nod to the current racial struggles in America, than you are racist. And dumb. Or both. Probably both. I know some of you may be all "That was way harsh, Tai" but honestly, if a movie like "The Help" can't even be judged on its own merits without everyone getting their panties in a twist calling it racist or stereotypical, then what would we do it someone made an even more honest and searing movie about 1960s race in America.

People might die.

Listen, I loved "The Help." I thought it was touching and open and brought up some really overlooked aspects of the Civil Rights Movement that people forget. Like the fact that people still had to work every day in the struggle and that sometimes black people and white people actually got along (The horror! The horror!) But it was definitely a warm blockbuster movie. It in no way was meant to be honest or even realistic. It was a retelling through a lens, which is what movies boil down to. It isn't The Story of All Black Maids in Jackson, Miss. And The Whole South.

It is what it needs to be, a reminder that things have changed, things have not changed, and that we are all just people trying to figure out how to live: be friends, have children, protect ourselves and loved ones, move ahead. In that way, it succeeded admirably. Wrapping it up, I think people who find the movie racist or stereotyping or just plain bad are the same people who live in two camps: either the past was wonderful and nothing bad ever happened or the past was horrible and only bad things happened (but not to white people, who were somehow immune). Neither of these concepts are true.

For those who think the movie was too rosy in its depiction of black life in the 1960s, yes, there was pain and suffering for black people in the day. But it's not like it was 24-7 Utter Misery All the Time. There were moments for sleep, for cooking, for going to the bathroom, for talking that existed in between moments of racism (using a "Colored" entrance, being beaten by racists, etc.) If it was 24-7 misery, do you honestly think any black person would willingly stay in it.


For those who think the opposite, the movie has to show you how black women at the time weren't allowed to be complete pictures.

That for the sake of themselves and their children, they had to become maids to make money that they couldn't use to be as attractive as their white employers, that some had less education so they didn't speak in eloquent English, and that some simply just wanted to survive. The movie showed all that without focusing on any one group (this is not a movie about a white savior or a magical Negro), but allowed all the characters to show how each existed in this time and place.

Plus, Tate Taylor's hot so that invalidates any and all arguments.

Question Time: Have you seen "The Help"? What did you think of it? Did you read the book? Is it better or worse? What did you think of the performances? Who else thinks that Davis, Spencer, Howard, and Jessica Chastain should all be nommed? Who else was in love with Chastain's character Celia's whole life? The house? The gorgeous kind husband? The outfits? The ruby red lips? Who else is so glad that the movie didn't do the stereotypical thing when it came to Stone's character, Skeeter's, boyfriend (not a spoiler)? How hot do you think Tate Taylor is?

For reference, see the trailer below:


p.s. "Cineplexed" is the new movie feature I've been trying to start for like 2 years. We have one for music, two (!) for TV, and now one for movies! Whoo!

New York City Boys
Chapter Eleven - Repair, Maintenance, and Some Light Cleaning

(Revisit earlier chapters by clicking here)

"No, I'm not doing it," Jon shouted.

He crossed to the other side of the living room. The effort to evade Erik wasn't working.

"I know. I know," Erik wound up. "It's a big deal, but it's not like he doesn't have it, and it would be a loan, not a hand-out. I don't see what the harm is in asking him?"

"The harm would be...," Jon was speaking and thinking simultaneously. "...That we would probably be beholden to Andrew for the rest of our natural lives. Instead of solving this problem ourselves, we went to him for help. You don't know him like I do. He keeps score of people in his brain, constant silent evaluation and assessment of a person's strengths, weaknesses, debts to him, what he can or can't use you for. I don't want..."

"These people could kill me next time!" Erik screamed, and in the space between them, the dying reverberations of his voice echoed against their crepe-colored walls.

Jon perched himself on the edge of their couch. There was a part of him that knew that what Erik was saying was true. There was also a part of Jon that knew Andrew would relish the opportunity to be forever tied to him. Personally, Jon thought he and Erik could protect themselves, now knowing the full extent of the danger hovering above Erik's head. It might even be better than Andrew having something on you. For Erik, Jon knew, the decision came down to his comfort versus his real, actual, physical pain.

"If you ask," Jon offered. "I'm not going to stop you, but I'm not asking. I already asked for the rent money. I'm not asking for almost $70,000. There has to be a limit to how much I let this man be involved in my life."

"Why?" Erik asked as he sat on the couch and stroked an itchy wound on his abdomen with his index finger. His bruises were healing, but his paranoia was worsening by the day.

Jon looked at his boyfriend. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Erik eyed Jon with a kind tenderness. "Are you afraid that if you let Andrew in too much, that you'll like it, you'll like him, and you'll leave me? Because if that's what you mean, I want you to be honest with me."

Jon bristled, "No. I told you, no. That's not it. It's because we're two adults who should be able to solve our own problems, like owing money to a bunch of insane people. There is a solution to this problem."

"I know there is," Erik said, groaning as he stood from the couch. "And his name is Andrew Kirshner."

Hello my peeps. It's time for another Sunday Swoon of a gay man who's making it happen in the world. Today's swoon is extra special as I have literally been enjoying him all night long. His music that is.

You have such dirty minds. Today's swoon is: Will Young (above).

The 32-year-old British singer is releasing his fifth album "Echoes" on Tuesday in the UK. I could not wait and spent the night listening to it. My thoughts: It's excellently produced (thanks to Richard X), if still a little too soft. I was hoping for a harder sound, but Young has never really been that tough. That's part of his appeal. However, one of my favorite songs on the album is called "I Just Want a Lover," and it's a little racy for our boy. Here's a sample of the lyrics:

I just want a lover
Nothing that is complicated
I don't want to know you
We don't have to talk about it
Let us both discover
There is nothing better
Than lying here together
Staring at the bedroom window

I just want a lover
Could you be the person for me
Nothing sentimental
I want you to satisfy me

Because I wholeheartedly believe Will is singing directly to me, my response is: Yes, yes, a million times yes! My favorite song on the album is Runaway, but I have listened to this song like 800 times.

Love you, Will!

I just want to preface this post by saying that I have no idea who Jason Michael Carroll is. All I know is that he is some kind of country music singer. I have never heard him sing. I don't really plan on hearing him sing at any point in the future. None of that is why I'm here today. I'm here today because I felt it was important to share something amazing with you, and it is related to Jason Michael Carroll, whom, as I just mentioned, I have no affiliation with or understanding of.

I'll backtrack and explain myself.

So last week, I was perusing a Web site I like that talks about new albums. I would tell you what Web site, but then you'd go, and I can't have that. I have to be the one who appears like his finger is on the pulse, okay? I was on this Web site, looking at new albums, when I saw the above picture of Jason Michael Carroll and what I'm only assuming is some kind of album (or song???) that he released at some recent point in time. My prevailing thought at the time was:

"I'd definitely let that man F me. Definitely."

Because I'm never one to let a lust object linger, I took to the Googles to find out more about this "Jason Michael Carroll" to make sure I wasn't oogling a serial killer or a Republican. When I typed his name into Google, what I was met with, the first thing I saw, amazed me so much that I literally called out "Oh, what do we have here!" like I was an old-timey Southern belle. This is what I saw...


Hair! Hair! Hair! Hair! Hair! Hair! Hair! Flow it! Show it!

Long as God can grow it! My hair!

Apparently, homeboy used to have really long hair. So after I calmed down over this discovery, I kept flipping through Google images. What I found out is that not only did Jason Michael Carroll have crazy long hair, which he seems to have cut at some time, but he also never met a camera (and a wind machine) he didn't like. For someone who's career is not that big (he's no Eric Church), he has taken LOTS of publicity photos, most of them featuring his silky tresses.

After a while, I thought it wouldn't be fair if I didn't share them with you. That's why today I present My Top 5: Favorite Glamour Shots of Jason Michael Carroll. There were more, but I stopped at 5.

Let's begin.


5)


I like to start out with this picture because it is one of the last times we will see Jason smile today (except the next picture, but we're not talking about it yet. It's amazing. Just wait). I like this one because he's definitely in Phase 2 of his hair cutting, but there's still enough there to swoon over.

I like the cut, I like the color. Plus, I like the fact that he's definitely stole the face of a Hanson brother in this photo. In fact, he looks like if all the Hanson boys had a baby together, which would be weird, but after you got past the whole concept of three brothers conceiving one child together (without a woman), you'd admit, that baby would be kind of awesome.


4)


This photo is one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. It's not officially a publicity shot. I think it's from a concert. Who the frak cares?! Look at it! First of all, although this post was about JMC's hair, we have to talk about what the hell this shirt is doing. What is it doing? I can't explain... It's green and yellow and brown and there are swirls galore all over it, and are those white imitation ceramic button snap closures...?

Yes, they are, and OMG this very well may be the craziest shirt I have ever seen. I have a shirt that has a flower design on it in green and yellow but it looks like a tree or something. This shirt just beat my shirt up. JMC (I can't write out his name every time), if you see this, please send me this shirt.

I am alternately repulsed/in love with it. As for the rest of the photo, it is all also fantastic, including the hair, which kinda makes him look like a very pretty lady. Haven't decided if that's a good or bad thing yet. I'll leave that decision to you.


3)


First of all, this shirt is equally as ridiculous, but I'll skip it. Okay, it's time to get serious people. We're standing in a rail yard of some kind. We're wearing a whole mess load of rings and jewelry that you bought from American Eagle Outfitters. Don't knock it. Everyone goes through an American Eagle Outfitters phase at some point in their lives. We're rocking a scowl.

And the hair. The hair is fantastic. The hair is doing everything you want it to do. Look soft, every strand is separated, wispy, loving the chunking. You know they say that chunking is so 2003 and I say that when done correctly, chunking can still be quite stylish.

And if you don't know what chunking is: I can't.


2)


We'll call this photo: JMC, The Later Years.

Obvs, this is closer to the current (?) incarnation of JMC with shorter hair, but I chose it because the hair is looking gorgeous and also because I have a personal anecdote to tell. You knew there had to be one at some point in time. A long time ago, my mom was into wigs (I have to stop talking about my mom on the blog. It's becoming a problem). She still is kinda but I digress. She had one and we tried it on me one bored afternoon (this is why I'm gay... thanks Mom!) and that's when I decided that I would like to have shoulder length hair.

As this is not possible naturally, I plan on taking this picture into my local wig shop and telling them to give me the JMC. They will crook their necks in uncertainty of what I'm talking about. Then, they will look at the picture and understand. If we could only do something about that soul patchy goatee. I had a former friend who didn't have a soul patchy goatee and then showed up to a party with one and I actively shunned him for no other reason. I am an extremely mature person.


1)


We have so much to discuss. First, I have this jacket. Second, the hair has clearly been rinsed blonde, which is fine with the blunt cut because it looks pretty and tough at the same time. Like the heroine of a Lifetime TV movie. I love the cascade down the back action. That's fun. The face is perfect. The face looks like he's a vampire cop from the future that's been sent to warn me about the apocalypse/get his highlights touched up. That's what you want any photo to do.

There's some forest action. A little eye f*cking. I mean how could this not be a number one photo.

I love every minute of it.


Question Time: Who is Jason Michael Carroll exactly? Has anyone actually listened to his music? He does make music right? How old are the long hair photos exactly? Do you think that if we wait long enough, he will grow his hair out again and take another bunch of publicity photos for us to stare at? Why didn't anyone tell me about him sooner?! Do you think he gave the hair to Locks of Love?

Do you think there will ever come a day when I will be able to ignore something I see and not dwell on it for an entire day?

Probably not.

My mother is a generally reasonable person. She doesn't really get riled up about many things. She has her triggers (knock-off handbags, Thomas Jefferson/Sally Hemmings, granite countertops), but mostly, she's a logical, level-headed person. Except when it comes to the above Lays commercial.

When this commercial dares interrupt her evening viewing of NCIS, girlfriend loses her sh!t completely. Because I would never directly expose you to the crazy that is my mother, let me paraphrase some of her main talking points:

The "Do You Expect Me to Believe": "Do you expect me to believe that 'Jamie Reeves' (mom says her name as if she doesn't believe it) walks around her beautiful 'Lays kitchen' (mom says this as if she doesn't believe it) chopping up the most beautiful food in the world, smelling every ingredient, sprinkling fine seasonings over top, just to make some potato chips! Have you tasted a potato chip recently?! Tastes like Styrofoam, butter, and grease! And salt!"

The "No One Eats Potato Chips Like That": "No one eats potato chips like that! Look, J (my family's nickname for me)! I have never seen anyone eat a potato chip like that! She picks it up at the edge with two fingers and twirls it all around before taking one tiny bite, keeping her mouth closed the whole time! Do they think we're stupid?! Do they think we've never seen people eat before?! This commercial drives me crazy! What child eats one chip at a time?! This is ridiculous!" ...which leads into...

The "Do You Expect Me to Believe, Part 2": "Do you expect me to believe that the Lays people think we're so stupid as to not know how chips are really made? [I explain that the commercial is showing how they make the recipes, not the chips.] I know that, I'm not stupid! I'm saying 'Have you tasted a potato chip recently?!' There are no recipes! They spray on some flavoring and dip it in some grease! That's why nothing tastes good anymore!

See, back when I was a kid..."

And I'll stop because it usually devolves into me explaining how there are still foods that taste good and how hormone changes for women later in life can affect your sense of taste and my mother yelling at me "What do you mean 'later in life'?!" It's a mess. The only thing I'll add is that I agree with my mother in that this commercial features some of the most ridiculous chip eating I have ever seen. The next time you're eating some chips, try it.

It's all in the wrist.

Do you agree with my mother that this commercial is misleading and/or ridiculous? Do you think the Lays kitchen is really that nice? Will someone from Lays let us take a tour of the kitchen (airfare and hotel for all of us must be included)? Will any chip ever be as good as Cheddar & Sour Cream Baked Lays, which THEY DO NOT SELL ANYWHERE IN THE NEW YORK AREA ANYMORE! and for which I miss desperately.

Lastly, how much do you want to bet that I will now go out and buy a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and eat them in one sitting. The odds are highly likely.

p.s. you're not wrong, that is in fact hotness Kyle Chandler (left) doing the voice over for this commercial (the music sounds like a studio session).

Because of it, I recommend listening to this commercial with your eyes shut. It is a highly enjoyable experience.

You know the deal. Sunday Swoon. All undercover gay man hotness. The rest of the year. Let's do this. So today's swoon object comes to us via my inability to report any kind of news when it happens. I am not an up-to-the-minute blogger. I'm more of a up-to-the-whenever-Junior-gets-around-to-talking-about-that-thing-he-wanted-to-talk-about kind of blogger.

And one of the things I wanted to talk about like forever ago and never got into it was today's swoon: Ravi Perry (above).

Perry is hot. He has a degree from Brown. What degree? It's called a Ph... DDDamn, he's fine! (By the way, you just read the stupidest joke in Juice with Junior history. Dumber than I'd Like to Get Plowed With Speed, and that was pretty dumb).

He is also Assistant Professor of Political Science at Clark University, which is in Worcester, Massachusetts. It is there, earlier this year, that Mr. Perry was appointed the president of the NAACP chapter in the city, making him gay in a less than gay-loving organization. This confused me right away. First, I didn't know there were any black people in Worcester, Massachusetts. Second, I didn't know there were any black people in Worcester, Massachusetts. And third, I didn't know there were any black people in Worcester, Massachusetts.

But apparently there always have been (my bologna has a first name, it's s-l-a-v-e-r-y), and I learned this thanks to the very informative Wikipedia page for the city. I also picked out a few more choice bon mots. I know none of this has to do with you, Ravi, so you can sit there being all activisty and gorgeous and meaty and just like how I like it. Onto Wikipedia.

The first nugget I found states:

"According to the New York Times, Worcester, Massachusetts has one of the highest concentration of people of Ghanaian descent in the United States."

Well, okay then. The more you know.

The second:

"The Worcester State Insane Asylum Hospital (1833) was the first hospital in the United States established to treat mental illnesses."

This may be necessary for me later.

Anyway, I really have no more to say about Perry other than I'm glad he's fighting the good fight to unite gay people and black people (you can imagine how torn I am inside... not really) and that he's yummy. Should you like to stare more into Mr. Perry's dreamy eyes, click here. If you want to know more about his ideas about making the world a better place, and the NAACP, and the struggle, and goodness and light and all that, you'll have to do your own research, I'm only here to discuss important things.

When Lady Gaga happens to unsuspecting people.

Side Note: While I thought her album was a hot mess, I have been listening to bonus track "Black Jesus † Amen Fashion" like a lot so then that happened... Please don't make me explain it further.

I opened my e-mail today and these are the messages I found waiting for me:



Along with a note I saved from blog reader, Dale, that I will reprint in its entirety below (my apologies, Dale, but I couldn't help myself) because it was the cherry on top of an already wonderful email viewing session:

Hello Junior!

Last night (or day before, hard to tell the way my nights become my day these days) at work I watched in wonder and glee as New Yorkers lined up to be married and I wondered why I didn't see your smiling face beaming back at me through the CNN news cast. Sure, you don't have a boyfriend, but that shouldn't limit you. I'm sure there were literally hundreds of wanna-be-marrieds to be had outside the courthouse steps. You should have been able to pick off at least one! Now, for your information, love and marriage ain't the same thing, so don't let that little "love" thing get you hung up and keep you from your now legal right of marriage. I'm saying, go pick you one and get yourself married up! What-cha saving yerself fer?

laughs and love,

Dale

Everyone, I love you all, but could you please...

STOP FREAKIN' REMINDING ME THAT I'M SINGLE PUHLEEZE!
That is all.

I don't know if you guys know this, I may have said before but I am staying with my parents while I look for a new place to live.

I'm looking like a crazy person because my parents, whom I love dearly (?), are driving me insane. Let me give you a glimpse into what it's like everyday walking in that door for me.

Opens door. Is that what you wore to work today? I need you to do five things before you even put your bag down? What's the name of that song I heard on the radio that time? Did you call your sister (side note: the answer is always no)? Your wrong. Did you put gas in the car? I'm not making you anything to eat so deal with it. Could you put gas in the car? Again, your wrong (this is a blanket statement that could mean I'm wrong yesterday today or tomorrow). Have you seen my glasses (side note: on their heads)? You see, back in my day. And lastly, your wrong.

But there's one time that everyone in my house can agree to stop tormenting me for 1 hour and sit down and enjoy something delicious together, and that thing airs on Monday nights on VH1 and is called "Single Ladies" (cast above). Even my father. Even my father.

The show is my respite from the crazy people that bore me. If you don't know, and if you don't then really, please stop, "Ladies" is a supremely terrible primetime soap about three or four (depending on the episode) "single ladies" who live in Atlanta and who for the most part have jobs but no one really cares. Mostly, they have men and champagne and lots and lots of hair extensions.

As you can imagine, it is my favorite new show.

With soaps dropping like flies, "Ladies" fulfills my desire to see attractive people with poor acting skills emote over story lines involving sex, dating, cheating, or a combination of all three.

The show's doing well (it even got picked up for a second season), but I think it's not getting the props it deserves. I mean, no Emmy nods. No Peabodies. Seriously. Do these voting committees know the show is on after "Basketball Wives"?

That's why I thought I'd use my considerable influence in the entertainment world to help promote "Single Ladies." Instead of just telling people to watch it, I'm gonna give you the reasons why, in pictures to make things even easier. Let's begin.


You should watch "Single Ladies" because:


Stacey Dash as Val, the prickly, control-freak boutique store owner, and Lisa Raye McCoy (above right to left) as Keisha, the street savvy girl about town, are the stars. They are 45 and 43 years old, respectively.

Forty. Five. Forty. Three. Years. Old. How. Can. This. Be?



The gifted acting talents of Charity Shea (above) as April, a record company somebody (I'm not sure, they may have said but who's paying attention!) who appears to be wearing a full-head wig for some reason.

Side note: This is sarcasm. Girlfriend can't act. Like if she told me there was a fire, I wouldn't even turn around. Not that I want her to change.

It's part of the show's charm.



Champagne!



The fact that Val owns and operates a boutique that has exactly 6 items of clothing in it at any given time. Seriously. There are no clothes.



Wilson Cruz (mammaries above).

He plays the boyfriend of the gay guy who works in Val's store and does nothing but gossip during the day, and that gay guy is my personal hero.



Lisa Raye's, who is the Queen of Turks and Caicos, considerable acting talents above. Or "More mammaries!" was the thing I was gonna write here.



Clothes!

(p.s. upon seeing the dress Dash is wearing in the above picture, my mom said "It was OK waist down. The rest is just oh my god, what happened!?")



Speaking of my mom, she refuses to call DB Woodside, who plays Malcolm, Keisha's on-again, off-again, by his character's name.

Instead, she calls him "sexual chocolate." Eww.



The show is produced by Queen Latifah, who I'm hoping will give Maxine from "Living Single" a job because she was my favorite (Synclaire doesn't count 'cause everyone loved Synclaire).

...

Oh, what the H, play it!

Next.


The accent of Kassandra Clementi (above), who plays Christina Carter, Val's intern at her almost non-existent clothing boutique. I wish I had a clip, but it is both indecipherable and adorable at the same time.

Don't ever change it, girl!



Stacey Dash's weave (above in all its glory).

Don't ever change it, girl!

Question Time: Have you ever seen "Single Ladies"? If so, what do you love about it? I know the obvious thing to say is "What don't I love about it?" but try to save that comment for your friends. And who else can't believe Stacey Dash is 45? She's playing "in her 30s" by the way. And why shouldn't she? She looks amazeballs. What kind of moisturizer do you think she uses? And who else is practicing the pose Lisa Raye is rocking in the first picture in the list?

My butt is half-out just thinking about it!