Contrary to what some would say, I am in fact not obsessed
with testicles.
Just because this happened once.
Or this…
Or that other time when this
happened…
Or this time when I performed at Coachella as a tranny
construction builder
Or the other half dozen times I’ve showed the world some
prosthetic pancake flap, I swear that owning a pair of testicles is not an
obsession. But being a
fugly, gender bending yokel is. Who doesn’t love that?! (Actually, most people don’t. Especially that broski at
Coachella who threatened to punch me for waggling it in his face)
But whatever with that. This story isn’t about those times.
It’s about a very special talent show that took place in a
beautiful oasis in Mexico.
Every year, 500 of our closest friends head down to Canyon
de Guadelupe, to hang out in one of their 50 private hot tubs, dance until the
dawn with our friends, hike to some waterfalls, and shamelessly embark in our
wildest shenanigans.
As part of my contribution to that year’s festival, I
started a community talent show. A place where we could come together, support,
witness and celebrate each other’s gifts at any level of talent. Like AA for people with art habits. A sweet
little thing really.
People came forth and shared cute dance routines, sang
songs, pop n locked with
puppets, and one friend in particular wrote the most heart opening, tear
jerking poem. Shit that makes you step
back and say, wow, we are surrounded by some really special people.
Well our piece was nothing short of “special.”
That day we had discussed and walked through the game plan a few times, but that night it was about to get real.
“Teddy. The time has come.
Come to the dinner table and take off your pants stat! Now give me your nuts”
“Greenz and Mark you too.”
As they unbuckled their pants and lobbed their warm nuts into my
hands with such unadulterated trust, I remember thinking to myself, god, what
did I do to deserve such great friends?
Bare butts out, we sat there in the eye of the storm, as people were cooking bacon, rolling spliffs next to lanterns, and mashing guacamole next to their hairy thighs. I just remember
feeling like a surgeon at that moment. Taking out the spirit gum and brushing it on with precision to their sac, gently blowing on their nuts to get the
glue tacky, and carefully placing googly eyes onto their testicles, one at a
time. It was the most intimate I had
ever been with someone’s sperm factory, that I wasn’t fucking, well for 2 of those dudes at least.
But it didn’t stop there. These balls were getting the full makeover. My girl Jesselynn and I had made
these men, paper accordion legs, drawn in cholo eyebrows and a menacing smirk,
dressed them up with ties, ball caps, and nut sac sized shades. With the 3 boys, and my 2 sets of fakies, we had
successfully created the E.T. versions of Jordan, Jonathan, Joey, Donnie and Danny. NKOTB baby! And for you non fans- only the greatest boy band
in the world, New Kids On the Block – scrotum style.
The transformation was
truly remarkable. We were like the fairy god brothers with our wands of wonder, dawning magic on these balls for the ball. They had become unrecognizable as their former selves. What once was a humble nutsac had become a parasitic twin at New York Fashion week who was
hungrily feeding off their genitals. These fashionistas hung with such pride, ball bunched up and over their belt lines.
And now our moment to perform had finally cum. After all the
rehearsing I prayed it would be as glorious as it lived in my mind. Girls would be crying in hysterics, throwing their bodies at these alien men. And our band would just dance on like it was their every day.
We inched our way out with this cardboard diorama stage on
poles, resting just at hip height. There
were curtains to hide the cast, and holes cut out of
the top of the box, for our grand entrance.
As the music cranked, our friends in the front row started
circling their flash lights around. It felt like a real life rock concert! Just
mini, and not like a rock concert at all, but like a ghetto cardboard box dressed as a fake stage,with dust
for haze and yeah, flashlights as our pro lighting rig.
But we were about to live!
“HANGIN’ TOUGH! HANGIN’ TOUGH! HANGIN’ TOUGH! Are you tough
ENOUGH!”
And on cue we started dropping our nutsacs into the top of
the box, as our googly eyed cast jostled around, jingling their accordion legs like Pinnochio doing the Bernie.
We did it! It’s happening! If I could only see their faces
now!
As the song continued however, we quickly forgot all of our
entrance and exit cues, our crosses, the fucking grape vine. Our legs started to tear off, coming in and out of the cut
out holes, the diorama box started falling apart, eyes were sliding off, and the
whole thing just started to melt. At that moment I had never wanted to run off a
stage as much as that. I felt so naked,
and my pair was fake!
The song finally ended and with our nuts in a literal bunch, and we gimped off the stage like we were in a 3 legged race.
Though I was pretty mortified about the disastrous end to our
testicular show, it goes down in infamy as one of the most purely,
ridiculous moments of my life. A true moment of fuck it, let's get punk rock on this hippy fest. And while there have been some famous Dick in a Box moments, who the hell has ever had a Testicular Boy Band in a box? Check.
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