Let's be "The Boys in the Band"

Let. Us. Not.

I'm Rick Danko

sigh.....guess I'll be Connie Casserole....

Kiss me. I'm Carmen.

I'm the slide rule.

I'm a batch of hot cross buns. Ask the delivery boy with the birthday cake if he has any .......

I'm Tammy Grimes, cleaning the cum stains the cast/crew left behind on my terrace.

I'm Connie Casserole

I’m Donald’s hot buns which sashayed into the shower.

I'm a 34 year old pock-marked jew fairy who takes some time before showing my face to the world and it's nobody's goddamned business but my own.

I’m the snow man.

I'm playing the skin flute

I’m the weed Harold should have brought for everyone else but didn’t since no one asked. I’m the real hero of this show and everyone knows it.

I'm Maud Adams making my big screen debut!

I'm the lasagna.

I'm like spaghetti and meatballs...all sorta flattened out.

Yes, I've been in the steam room.

We’re the play’s references to Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck cut from the movie to avoid the wrath of Disney.

I'm Harold's acne pimple that just popped.

I'm the airplane that's the only place Michael ever really feels at home at.

I’m the affordable and charming upper east side apartment.

R10

I thought you said you were 32 Harold ?

I’m “The Films of Joan Crawford” book, that Harold reads while spewing bitchy remarks.

I'm Lily Law.

Mary!

I'm the 1969 A&M Records 33 rpm recording of The Boys in the Band my owner found on eBay. I was cheap - $12 shipped. I'm a lot wordier than the screenplay, more funny, my dialogue is more naturalistic and things make much more sense for my listener. Yes, the screenplay is a butchered mess and too dire.

I'm vicuna

I am the floor of the john

I'm the mysterious lasagna that I wish I could have tried.

I'm Tammy Grimes' electric bill. Phew, 1001 performances!

I'm turning on.

I'm Donald's Saturday night douche kit.

I am smurks, smurks, terrible smurks

I am icks. Terrible icks.

I'm the game of telephone. I give everyone icks.

There is one troll posting over and over in this thread

I'm Cliff Gorman's hot heterosexually sculpted body disguised in a femme t shirt and short shorts.

I'm the mincing look that Emory gives the hustlers over the very gay version of "Anything Goes".

I’m Harold’s cosmetics and astringents, which are paid for; the bathroom, which is paid for; the tweezers, which are paid for; and the pills, which are paid for.

R34 threadmarm

I'm Turning.

I'm the bejeweled knee pads

I’m the photograph of Michael in a silver frame, which he gives Harold, with the mysterious inscription, about which, when asked, Harold only says, “It’s just something personal.”

But I know what it says.

When author Crowley used to get drunk and hurt people, the next morning he would send them telegrams, with the message, “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

This was told me by Edward Zang, my former acting teacher at NYU Tisch, who understudied in the original production.

Like many people Crowley could be vicious when drunk.

I'm the impish curly-blond gum-smacking parking lot attendant that Donad tells, "keep the change." Va-va-va VOOM

All the responses on here are LAME. I expected better from Datalounge. Shameful.

I'm Elaine of Elaine's side-eying that lasagna.

Resisted it all my life, and won’t watch it now.

It gives me the heebie-jeebies!

I'm Alan's wife, sitting in the veranda waiting for Alan's call on the avocado telephone, VE 4-9972 . How are the girls, Alan? They're really something, those kids.

#OhGoodGodWrongThread

I'm Maria Montez.

I'm the floor show, which, as you can see, is on the floor.

Augh, R37, I wanted to be the pills. Polly pills. That’s me.

I’m Heatwave by Martha and the Vandellas.

I'm a queen doing a Bette Davis imitation.

I'm Michael's hairdo, tortured forward.

I’m Emory’s poodle who was not invited to the party. Just for that, I will leave a little present of my own that he and The African Queen will discover when they get back.

I'm a card-carrying cunt.

R56 wins. Thread closed.

I'm the cracked crab!

I’m the valium.

I'm the air freshener that made the bathroom smell like someone threw up in a gardenia patch.

I'm Laurence Luckinbill and I'm straight, believe it or not.

I can vouch for that.

I'm Control. Nowhere on the can does it say "hairspray."

Eh, [R61] and [R62] ...

You can call me Mary! You will anyway.

I'm the combined smell of Aramis and Clearasil.

I’m who you have to fuck to get a drink around here.

I'm the colorful paper lanterns: "Oh, Mary, it takes a fairy to make something pretty." -- Emory

I’m the Cinema Center Films logo. I’m also on [italic]A Boy Named Charlie Brown[/italic] as well as Doris Day’s last movie.

[quote]I’m also on A Boy Named Charlie Brown as well as Doris Day’s last movie.

Last movie SO FAR, you mean.

I'm the ascot

I'm the sleezy hot garage attendant that Donald eventually blew.

I'm the AIDS that eventually would take the lives of most of the cast.

I'm the butchered copy used for tv airings, because prudish American society was totally freaked out by (*gasp*) homosexuality.

I'm the slightly clueless young gay who had heard about this film being important for gays so downloaded it expecting perhaps a gay themed musical.

I was a bit taken aback.

I'm Frederick Combs' perfectly sculpted ass. I am truly a work of art.

I'm Michael's internalized homophobia which extends to hating his gay friends too, that's why he makes them play the cruel "telephone game."

I'm Peter White, waiting with baited breath for THE call from Agnes Nixon.

R76 I am Dominick Dunne desperately trying to fuck Frederick

I'm Leonard Frey. The year after playing Harold in the movie of BITB, I would play a heterosexualist, Motel the tailor in the movie of "Fiddler on the Roof."

And also a disgruntled night school student in an episode of "Mary Tyler Moore."

Not just any night school, but the Ted Baxter's Famous Broadcasters School. Frey played the only student in a sea of empty chairs. Scene starts at 15:53.

I'm the Tony-winning sequel.

I'm the multi-line wall phone in the kitchen - that we discussed in some detail on one of our nuttier Boys In The Band multi-threads - leaving not a single stone unturned.

I am also the much turned stone.

I am also the books they stole from Doubleday.

I'm Denise Deluge.

I'm just resting!

I'm just ar-resting!

I'm the actual sequel, "THE BOYS FROM THE BAND".

I'm an uncredited Norman Alden as the truck driver who curses out Donald after Donald cuts me off in the Lincoln Tunnel in the intro.

I'm not Harold. I'm FOR Harold.

I’m Michael’s watch, so he can tell exactly how late people are for his party.

The sequel is [italic] “The Boys from Brazil”, [/italic] r89.

I had it on VHS tape, having found it in a bargain bin for 99¢.

I'm one of those truly rotten Catholics who gets drunk, sins all night, and then goes to Mass the next morning.

I'm Harold's tweezers all dirtied up after he has butchered his visage mercilessly. When will he learn to stop self-hating?

I’m Life. I’m a goddamn laugh riot.

I am Donald being late

Sorry. The sequel is THE MEN FROM THE BOYS.

R99 And you make The Boys in the Band look like Man and Superman.

I’m the Church that Michael goes to midnight Mass, reeking of scotch liquor.

I'm The MAKING of The Boys In the Band.

I am Mart Crowley's dick, and according to Edmund White, I am "the largest he has ever seen".

Talking of Mart Crowley. This wasn't online the last time we spoke about BITB>

I'm the appalling claustrophobia that descends on the party like a fog and never dissipates until it all finishes.

I'm Donald's inability to cope with some ice.

Hello, Connie Casserole!

I remind you all of a chicken wing.

And when you refer to me as such, I'm sure you'll mean it as a compliment.

I'm the cast album.

I know someone here owns me.

That would be me, R109, and I converted it to MP3. Is there somewhere I can upload it anonymously for The Boys in the DL?

Right here, too.

I found it in a used record store.

Don't remember how much it was but it wasn't much. At the time, I had no idea it existed.

I burned it to 2 CDs and after it, I included some older music standards.

I'm the "Peace Love 1968" chalk graffiti on the balcony wall.

I'm the horrified 18 year old gay boy watching it for the first time in 1974.

I'm that dentist that Emory called. Dr. Delbert Something?

R114 - Botts. Dr. Delbert Botts.

I’m the 13 year old closeted mid-1990s gayling renting it from Blockbuster (along with [italic]Ruthless People[/italic]) because no other store in town had it, not even the locally owned one that had and rented out early John Waters films before they got slapped with NC-17 ratings. I was taken aback by it and didn’t know what to think until I rewatched it on DVD as an openly gay adult in the 2000s when I recognized it as a landmark of gay cinema and probably William Friedkin’s best work.

I'm the Blu-ray version of the movie.

I look down on all the shitty, color-faded VHS and Beta versions.

I spit on the Laserdisc version.

I even look down on the DVD version.

R113 I'm the dismayed 18 year old gay boy watching it for the first time in 1974. I found it rather ghastly (but for some unknown reason I found 'Staircase' rather moving).

I'm the wife with lockjaw.

I am the silky cravat tied jauntily around that one guy's neck. I remind you of Paul Lynde and Rip Taylor.

I’m the sultry instrumental version of “The Look of Love” that plays over the end credits.

"I am the silky cravat tied jauntily around that one guy's neck."

My name is Michael.

I am played by Kenneth Nelson.

I am the goddamn STAR of the movie.

I'm Donald's VW Beetle convertible. I had Frederick Combs's perfect ass sitting on me longer than ANY of you.

I am the game of movie star gin that nobody wants to play.

I’m the geriatric Rockettes.

R125: And I'm the fabulous Menstrations!

I'm "A drumbeat and their eyes sparkle like Cartier's"

I’m Dusty Springfield peeved that my version of “The Look Of Love” wasn’t used on the soundtrack when they also had Martha and the Vandellas.

"I am the game of movie star gin that nobody wants to play."

You're too faggy for me.