The Farmboyz and I attended the annual Mr. Eagle pageant last night. I've been to plenty of these things and I had predicted that at some point the MC would have a big-girl breakdown and start screaming at the crowd for not paying attention. I even gave a little pre-show, "People! This is your Mr. Powerhouse! Please show some respect!" As it turned out, that was precisely the moment we walked in upon at 11:45pm.
MC: People! Please! This is YOUR Mr. Eagle! Show some respect and SHUT THE FUCK UP!
It was far too crowded for us to get within sight of the stage or the contestants, so we hit the second floor, running into Little Tom, looking fly in his harness. I was about to ask if he wasn't freezing in that thing, when a nearly naked friend of his walked by. Tom said, "Oh, that's Tony's winter jockstrap. It's insulated." Later, I bailed on the Farmboyz as they had some poor young Latino boy pinned between the two of them. I stuck my hand out to say hello to the kid, "Hi, I'm Joe. I see you've met my friends, Mark and Foley."
As far as the contest, we never saw the winner. Tom had been gunning for some little bear calling himself "Osito", but he didn't win. Apparently the winner will spend his title year working on his platform of world hunger, literacy, and fisting.