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Comments (0) By Michael Musto Tuesday, Feb 12 2002

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I was all set to breathe life into a birthday bash for a male model last week, but it was already pulsating with choreographed chaos. The real-life Dogme film at the Smithfield Lounge celebrated an often shirtless Bruce Weberfind named Juris, who turned out to be delightful if clothed. But Juris showed no prudence when I—hoping for an Act II revelation—asked him if Weber ever made a pass. He took a long pause, sipped his drink, then said, "He shoots very good stuff." His tone changed when I asked again later, and he said, "He's a very nice guy. There's no dirt on Bruce. He's wonderful!" Still, I'dlike to do Juris duty.

On a whole new subject, johns search for trade at Red, an East Side boîte on the second floor of a townhouse, which admirably aims for some of the old Rounds crowd. While you're negotiating, they might throw in a drag diversion—like Sultana, who last week performed the appropriately clinical "Justify My Love."

photo courtesy of 2001 USA Films

Breathing the chaos: The impatient Mira Nair, director of Monsoon Wedding

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On yet another subject, male4maleescorts.com is a brilliant site filled with reviews of hustlers, as written by their sugar daddy patrons. It's the Zagat's of pay-for-gay. Logging on for a kick (not a dick), I found a few negative reviews, like one of a hustler who wanted to shower first "because my penis is uncut and it smells." But most entries are aromatic, like this one: "Whether I was playing with his ass, riding his cock, or just cuddling, he was great—the perfect cumhole with brains." Sounds like two thumbs up—way up.

Speaking of wacky reviews, I worship Victoria Gotti, but was disturbed by her Postcolumn in which she slimed the media for making such a distasteful fuss about Rosie O'Donnell's gay sexuality. Moments later, she went on to seriously gloat that she's now a celebrity reporter on TV's Extra! and had a tête-à-tit with Pamela Lee. "Is she that hands-on of a mom?" wondered Gotti. "Is she thatmuch in love with Kid Rock—and does she really have a stripper's pole in her bedroom? Yes, yes, on all counts!" And they said irony was as dead as nontraditional urination skills in the theater!