UPDATED!!
A couple weeks ago I performed once again at Rainbow Mountain Resort in the Poconos, my favorite homo away from home. On the Thursday prior, the "Philadelphia Gay News" ran a big color photo of me with a writeup of the show as their "PGN Pick." It was really cool; I wish I had saved a screen grab because the link no longer works.
This just in: One of my loyal blog readers was able to grab the image from the PGN Web site! Here it is:
More about the gig a little later in this blog. But anyway, a couple of days later, the owner of Rainbow Mountain emailed me to ask for my mailing address. He had received a letter addressed to "Adam Sank ONLY, c/o Rainbow Mountain Resort."
"It's not ticking," he added. "So I guess I'll just forward it to you."
The letter arrived yesterday. I could tell it had been written by a crazy person before I even opened it. It arrived in one of those teeny tiny envelopes used only by small children and the very elderly. The seal had been completely scotch taped, like those letters The Zodiac sent to the "San Francisco Chronicle" in the 70's. The handwriting was jagged and scrawly.
I actually opened the letter in the hallway outside my apartment, afraid that powdered anthrax would come pouring out. Instead, I found a little tiny piece of stationery. On the top was a cat wearing a Santa hat and a red bow.
We Need a Little Christmas Meow...
The note read:
Hi, I saw your picture in P.G.N.
You look very good.
I write to you because
Do you have someone to love, If not I would
But I think you do.
You are good. I hope you can write back
Because, if you got this
letter OK. Good luck
What ever you do.
You are a very good looking
guy.
And it was signed with a name and a phone number.
Needless to say, I called him. We're dating now. It's the best relationship I've ever had.
No, I'm kidding. But I will say, if I'm going to have a stalker, at least it's one who thinks I "look very good." Like a choice fillet mignon.
So I know many of you want details of "Last Comic Standing." Alas, I can't give you any. I can't even show you photos from the auditions, because I accidentally just erased all of them while trying to upload them from my camera. (Sucks because I had some great ones of Bill Bellamy taping promos inches from me.)
You'll have to settle for his generic photo of him.
Suffice it to say, I think I'm going to wind up with at least a few seconds of air time, which is cool. Tune in when the show premieres in June...
The other big news to which I alluded in my last big blog: I've met someone special. No, not my stalker, an actual person. For the purposes of this blog, I shall call him Boy Wonder.
Boy Wonder lives in another city. I cannot reveal his name nor any identifying information about him because he's in the U.S. Military. And even though he serves his country proudly and honorably, our nation's fucked up "Don't Ask Don't Tell" policy prohibits him and all the thousands of other gay service people from being honest about who and what they are. At least until President Obama is sworn in.
Me and Boy Wonder at Therapy. Ain't he cute?
Anyway, he's the greatest guy I've ever met. Here's all you need to know about him: One day when he was staying with me, I left him in my apartment while I went to work. When I got home at the end of the day, he had caulked my bathtub.
Anyone who knows me knows the surest way to my heart is caulk.
Yeah, baby...
Anyway, We've spent a number of long weekends together since meeting, and it's definitely the most serious involvement I've had with someone in five years.
Here's the problem: Not only does he live in another city, but he's actually moving to another other city -- one that's even farther away from New York -- in a few months. (And no, it's not Baghdad, thank God.) And so the question is, what do we do after he moves? He has no choice in this matter; he must move to the far-away city.
Now I know what you're thinking, "Adam, how can you even CONSIDER leaving New York, where you've lived for more than a decade, and moving to another city for a guy you've known less than two months?"
And you're right. I'm crazy to even be thinking about it. Except here's the thing: I adore him. He seems to feel likewise. And kids, I'm no spring chicken. In ten short days I will be 37 years old. There will come a time in the not-too-distant future when the marriage proposals stop. And I haven't met anyone with whom I've felt seriously compatible since Bill Clinton was in office.
So it's something to think about -- that's all I'm saying. No rash decisions here. Just something to think about. Stay tuned.
Now onto less weighty matters. Some photos for your perusal:
Showing up at the car rental place, completely soaked,
in advance of the Rainbow Mountain gig.
Incidentally, don't try walking to Prestige Rental Car
on 62nd and West End Avenue during a freezing rain storm.
It feels like working towards the end of the earth.
Feb. 1, 2008, 2:45 p.m.
With me as my opener and co-pilot is
the mysterious Tom Ragu.
Four hours later, after the most frightening
drive of my life, we arrive.
Tom is thrilled by the fabulous accommodations.
Me so tired and cranky; don't want to perform...
...But I manage to pull it together by showtime.
Like the shirt? Sixteen dollars at Filene's Basement, baby!
10:30 p.m. Ragu takes the stage.
I'd give you a rundown of his jokes, but
you can just read them yourself off his hand.
Look! It's me! Back on the world's weirdest comedy stage!
The audience consisted primarily of a Jewish gay and lesbian group.
They LOVED when I chanted in Hebrew.
The Holocaust material... not so much.
And as is my custom, I topped off my set with
some shirtless karaoke downstairs.
Somewhere, my mother is frowning.
That's it for now, bitches. I gotta go; someone's knocking at my door.
Homo out. 
Come see me host the Electro Shock Therapy Comedy Hour this Sunday, Feb. 17, at 10 p.m., when my special guests will be Bernadette Pauley, Yamaneika, Matt Daly and Jeff Lawrence. Details on my web site.
