When I was 18 years old, I moved to Los Angeles, a city of palm trees and mansions on hills. Where you could have a thoughtful conversation about whether She's All That still held up as a film and feel like you were intelligent and cultured. And, like the biggest cliche in the fucking world, I wanted to be an actor. One to not shy away from cliches, I took it a step further and wound up dancing at a night club in my underwear.
That first night, I came into the back room and half of dozen boys were changing into their "uniform," which was a variety of designer underwear, wristbands, and baseball hats. The more serious ones even had body glitter. Because it was my first day, I had to fill out paperwork (YES! There was actually PAPERWORK -- I believe it was an I-9). For some reason, I thought go-go boys would be paid in a manner that was as unprofessional as the job itself. Like the boss would throw a wad of gross bills at you and maybe some drugs? I don't know guys, I was 18.
As I filled out my name, my address, and what I believed to be my social, there were two check boxes. One said "dancer" and the other said "model." "Model?" I thought. Fantasies of me in a denim jacked against a white wall for a GAP ad danced in my head. "Could I handle the pressure of being on a huge billboard on Santa Monica Boulevard?" I thought to myself.
"That's for if you want to do porn," a drag queen basically coughed at me. Her eyes were half open. I couldn't tell if she was high, or if I had just woken her up.
I stared at that check box. I was just a nice boy from Bedford, Massachusetts. I couldn't do porn. Or could I?
In this episode of Go-Go Boy Interrupted, Danny Carter makes a last attempt to be relevant by shooting a porn. But with Danny's stupidity, it's questionable if he can even make it through the first 1 minute of dialogue.
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