This is real: The Mr. Lower East Side Pageant

Quizfans, as you all know, I am an extremely beautiful human being. Odes have been written to my Adonis-like visage, my perfectly chiseled corporeal form, my bountiful charm. I'm hot stuff, in a word (or two). In fact, I have a history in the hot-stuff business, having twice been a contender in The Mr. Lower East Side Pageant, New York City's No. 1 ironic hipster-doofus male beauty competition. Prior to my quizmaster career, I had a life as a wacky-ass stand-up comedian, and it's under that persona (pictured above) that I competed two years in a row—the first runner-up, in fact, on my second try.

This year's Mr. LES, the 11th annual, is tomorrow night, the 12th. While it does adhere to certain classic pageant tropes—evening wear competition, vacuous Q&A—it's a couple million miles away from Bert Parks/baton-twirling territory (dated references?). First, it's hosted by Saint Reverend Jen, a, shall we say, unique local celebrity I'm rather fond of; second, the winner is determined by the whooping and hollering votes of all women and gay men in attendance. And third, the one-minute talent portion defies basic description: One year, I stood in a plastic bucket and poured various strange items down my pants (laundry detergent: among the worst ideas of my life); the next I did a condensed puppet-show reenactment of Say Anything. Man, I forgot how weird I used to be.

And what happens if you win? Allow me to quote Rev Jen herself: "The new monarch will receive a crown, which comes complete with a detachable bong along with a slice of pizza from Rosario’s, a six-pack of Budweiser, and the knowledge that he has been chosen by the people. Runner-up will receive the dubious honor of Mr.
Tribeca, and will get to wear a smaller vagina-shaped crown throughout the year. There will also be prizes given for 'best male tits,' 'congeniality' and 'best nutsack.'" Congeniality—crazy. I will say, though, that the winner finds himself with some actual responsibility, having to maintain a solid presence on the downtown underground performance scene. But having done that with no royal standing myself for several years, I can tell you there are far, far worse fates.

Get more details here: It's at the Bowery Poetry Club tomorrow, 10pm, $7. Arrive at 9:45, ladies and light-loafered men, if you want to get in on the judging action.