There’s a Rocky Horror remake in the works.
I’d put up a pic of myself in Rocky drag (from the late 70s) to demonstrate my true blueness – if I could find the damn thing, but it remains elusive, so the story itself must suffice.
Long story short, I lost my virginity at Rutgers University while visiting friends (RHPS virginity, that is). The following year we all decided to do a theme Halloween Party and Rocky it was.
I spent a few moments of embarassment asking hosiery department clerks if they had any fishnet stockings that would fit me – until I began to enjoy the whole thing.
Getting my legs shaved was probably the worst of it all; the shower stall looked like that scene from Psycho. My girlfriend had insisted that I couldn’t wear stockings without first shaving my legs. In retrospect I think she was just getting off on the whole feminizing thing.
Perhaps the most amazing discovery was that I had no problem with the heels. (Guys, don’t let those women snow you – high heels are not uncomfortable and you CAN run in them.)
Make up, hair teasing, corset, cape and all the rest probably took three hours under the skillful hand of the girlfriend, after which it was time for attending the school party (before heading off to the private one which was to be capped by a midnight viewing of Rocky in Hackensack NJ). My girlfriend went as an AWESOME Magenta. If we had bothered to stick around the open party we probably would have won best costume. As it was, that honor went to a giant condom.
On the way over to the private party we stopped off at my folks place where the aforementioned picture was taken.
Here’s the upshot. My father was the head of a research department for a very large international firm. He stuck an 8 x 10 of that pic on his desk so that it faced his side. Whenever an underling would come in to whine and complain about something he’d listen patiently and then turn the picture around so that if faced them, saying “You think you’ve got problems? THIS is my son…”
My Rocky viewing days ended decades ago when the theaters stopped letting us throw toast, hot dogs, cards, carry newspapers, shoot water pistols and, above all, light our candles and Zippos. But that doesn’t mean (here’s the gen-gap tie in) that I don’t want legions of kidlets to be able to enjoy (nearly) the same experience.
Go sign the petition.