JAMES GANNABAN | The Hyperactive Gay Boy™: Mr Gay World 2011 Review, Part 3

Hello, Friends!

Heihei did a back flip during the swimsuit competion, and that's hot. He might have also done a hair flip straight after the back flip, but I couldn't be sure. That was when Hong Kong became the darling of the crowd. He's just too darn cute, like a Tamagotchi. Or a wind-up toy, perhaps. Besides, Heihei has 0% body fat. How the hell can you nitpick about nothing. I wanted to bust out my favourite movie line, which has finally found a perfect moment:

"What can I do with zero, you know? What can I... I can't do ANYTHIN' with it! ".

Well done, Heihei!

During this round of competition, things got ridiculously out of control. The crowd went berserk, the hosts went berserk, the fog machines went berserk, and even more annoying heads popped up right in front of my lense, which also made me berserk. FUCK YOU BITCHES, GET OUT OF MY WAY! I NEED TO TAKE PHOTOS!!!

People got hurt; elbows and claws came out. I don't blame them. At this point, I threw the camera at Chris and said, "Your turn," and I promptly joined the the crowd's hysterical shrieking. Dammit, I'm watching this bit.

Curacao did a little dance onstage, and that's hot, too. It's nice to see a boy having so much fun.

Canada was nice, and so were Macau, Mexico, Netherlands, Spain and South Africa. USA was huge. He's built like Fort Knox. New Zealand is so muscular, it's stupid. His body was just mind bogglingly perfect. Finland is the quintessential twink. I suspect he set many an old queen's heart a-flutter.

My personal favourite in this round was Czech Republic coz he's got a perfect bum and the longest, most spectacular pair of legs I've ever seen. His body was nice and toned and not too intimidating. I go nuts for that; two of my exes were dancers.

But Australia easily won this round; nobody even came close. My boyfriend, Chris, would get hot flashes whenever the Aussie dude would come downstage. He had that "I'm-not-even-trying" Aussie smoulder that Jennifer Hawkins and Hugh Jackman have in spades.

The drag performers hissed around the stage like feathered serpents, their beaded showgirl outfits providing cadenced percussion to an already overheated theatre.

I did my best not to objectify the boys, but what can I do? Am I not meant to feel anything? Am I made of marble? Doesn't blood as red as anybody else's flow through my veins? Am I not homosexual?

Yes, I am.

It's raining men.

Amen.