Burnt Umber Chenille on the Right Means the Kisses are Hers and Hers and His

[A conversation between myself and my friend Mike, which took place after he read my IML bio in this month’s edition of The Leather Journal.]

Mike: “I’m tempted to review each of the IML contestants the way I reviewed all of this year’s Eurovision songs.”

Me: “I support and encourage you in this endeavor. But when you get to me, please know that I tried to adjust the midtones of my picture before I submitted it, and now it has a weird tinge. Everyone is going to know me as that guy with the deathly pallor who is probably dying of consumption.”

Mike: “When you’re on the runway, you should cough and spit blood once you reach the judge’s table.”

Me: “Couldn’t hurt. I’ve done a terrible job of bonding with the other contestants. I barely know any of their first names.”

Mike: “You are not going to win Miss Congeniality that way, Marjorie. And huh, one of these guys flags white velvet. I had no idea that was even a hanky color.”

Me: “It stands for voyeurism. Who’s flagging it? Is he cute? Did he say anything about me? How’s my hair?”

Mike: “You are the worst stalker ever. Did you not even read the other bios? We are so going to have a lesson in gauging the competition.”

Me: “I’m really more into impromptu stalking. But I can’t remember which color that is.”

Mike: “Plaid cordouroy.”

Me: “Love it. I wish I’d made up a bunch of nonsensical flagging attributes before I submitted my blurb. ‘Thomas is a vertical median who flags Post-Its in the front left pocket and elastic around the waist.'”

Mike: “‘When he’s feeling particularly transgressive, he wears a Little Mermaid pillowcase ripped in half as a durag.’ Wait… a holstein hanky means milking? What is miking? Are we talking dick, or turning man teats into cream dispensers?”

Me: “I’m pretty sure we’re talking prostate massage.”

Mike: “Ah. I can see that. Seriously, though, do people really walk around Ripcord with doilies or gold lamé hankies?”

Me: “People usually stick to the primary colors. Although now I want to flag doily, and if anyone hits on me, I’m going to be like, “It means my grandmother just died, asshole.”

Mike: “We should write a skit for IML about hanky code misidentification. ‘Psst. Chad. That guy over there is cruising me. What does avocado green carpet on the left mean?’ ‘Oh, um. I think it means he wants to rim you while you eat a bowl of Booberry and watch Scooby-Doo reruns.'”

Me: “Awesome. He’s flagging my childhood. That is in no way unsettling.”

Mike: “EXACTLY. ‘Say, I can’t help but notice you have a Star Wars bed sheet pocket square on your left. I think I’m the droid you’re looking for.'”

Me: “This is all going on the blog.”

Coincidentally enough, the Misfits do need a new skit concept for next year’s LUEY Weekend. and wacky Hanky Code mishaps would make for an epic farce — like a cross between The Big Gay Sketch Show and Three’s Company. I will get cracking on the script as soon as I have the best obscure colors picked out, and after I decide who among my brothers is most deserving of the nickname Chrissy.