Suck Less: Where There's a Willam, There's a Way

by Willam Belli

  That being said, a performer should never expect an audience to tip. It’s kinda looked at as a given in America and that’s a shame. Nothing wrong with a park and bark number if you’re certain the audience is gonna worship you for your looks, but don’t try it if you’re just gonna do the bare minimum. It can even be artful because, again, a lot of audience members want to have their favorite porn star’s or drag queen’s attention for that one second and a brief skin-on-skin dollar exchange. Standing at the edge of the stage with a tip bucket while lip-synching will earn you the nickname Smoke Break from me. It’s twofold too, because not only does it make you look like a lazy, emphysema-ridden stage clog but you’re also the reason people go outside to get cancer. Speaking of illnesses, I saw one aggressive performer yell, “The big bills have AIDS! Gimme all your twenties and save yourself. I’ll be your warrior.” This was in San Francisco—not exactly the place to make HIV jokes. Knowing your audience is key. If people ain’t tipping, maybe suggestively do your next number with a follow spot while sitting on an ATM. At a drag queen convention in LA, with tickets sixty dollars and up, many drag queens charge for photos, and I think that’s tacky as fuck. It’s like going to Disneyland and having Mickey Mouse ask for some scratch before you pose with him. I’d rather make money off my talents than my time. No Rupaulogies.

  If you get an inch, don’t try to take a mile. I’m not super into tons of hugging and I never really kiss anyone. For one, you’ll just end up eating my wig. When a drag queen or girl does her hair, she doesn’t usually think “Gee, I hope I get to restyle my hair with about fifty people’s sweaty faces.” Smooching everyone who tips is about as smart as drinking out of a needle exchange container. F’real. If I get sick, I can’t sing and do my job. So back up outta my bubble with the stranger danger.

  How about a nice fist bump or a half hug so your arms don’t move the wig I glued to my temples? Just slip a hand around my waist and grab my ass bowling-ball style. Slip a finger in for balance and blame it on vertigo. Same thing with a stripper. Not everyone can make the clown spit, so stop tugging on his dick like you’re gonna get a prize. If a performer leaves the stage, do not bum-rush them like a fraternity party rape circle. I personally invite all gratis forms of contact, provided there is no fluid exchange (ask Katya). If you want a picture, leading with a tip is optional but a flash is not. Turn that flash on and be ready to go. Never trust the auto on your phone. Auto is a bitch. Flashes are great because it’s easier to filter something down than lighten it up. Take your damn phone case off, too. You know it makes shit crazy like an eclipse. You may only get one shot. Don’t come back at me saying “Oh no, it’s blurry.” You say blurry, but I say pre-filtered. If the occasion to take a picture arises at an organized kinda step-and-repeat gig, don’t ask for a selfie. The promoter will say no because they make their money selling as many people as quickly as possible. It’s easier to say “Sorry” than “May I?” Just run-and-gun that picture and selfie the fuck outta it. Again, make sure the flash is on! I’m a man and you’re probably drunk.

  That being said, try to have it, like, 50 percent together when meeting the person you came out to see. Don’t throw an arm up around your idol if you’re sweaty and your pit stinks. I don’t wanna smell like your BO the rest of the night unless we’re fucking. Once in the UK, a man’s breath smelled remarkably like a combination of egg salad and ass. Like he maybe fed his asshole an egg salad sandwich and then it crawled up to his face so he could breathe it into my air space. There’s always the one dumbass who thinks it’s OK to shit at the club. Believe me. The stalls are not for pooping. Think of them as vice chambers. Do your drugs in there or suck dick, but don’t fuckin’ poop. That’s nasty. Go to McDonald’s and buy something off the dollar menu so you can get a bathroom token to blow their spot up. I’m trying to dance and do not need to smell your ass wafting in from the men’s room. Oh, this is a good time to give a shout out to all the idiots in the club wearing flip-flops who like to get irate with me when I step on their toes, like I do it on purpose. You’re dumb.

  While we’re on the subject of piss, one of the best things you can do ever is go up to a performer and say, “Here is a hundred dollars. Piss yourself onstage.” Rip the bill in half and give them one half. If they actually do it, it’s one of the funniest things to watch, and you can give them the other half. I’ve only done this once, in a Dallas strip club. Nothing like making someone piss themselves on a warm summer night to really remind you of the reason you started going out.

  I started doing drag not just to have fistfights with drunk people but to also find my tribe. Us drag queens, porn stars, go-go boys, transsexuals, and the dykes working the door were always the ones who weren’t respected by the higher-ups in the LGBT world. One of the first activism groups, the Mattachine Society, in the ’50s and ’60s rejected any participants who weren’t clean-cut and white. Hell, even Logo TV, when they started, didn’t want anything to do with drag queens (I know because I was on two pilots that were flat-out rejected due to drag presence being shunned). I love going to drag shows, not just to see the shows but to go backstage and talk to the other performers. And when an entertainer is onstage, you can go through their bags in the back and really get to know them.

  The varied crew of show people aren’t the popular kids—we’re more like the ones who had detention together—but we’re always the first on the scene to help when there’s a fund-raiser or a barrier that needs to be broken down. I consider myself a slacktivist and, while we’re at it, an intactivist. I get shit done my own way. So many visible performers (mostly porn, other than me) being on PrEP and openly talking about HIV has made it less of a stigma for people to feel OK protecting themselves against it. We are not all part of that one mess they show on the news during Pride each year. We are entertainers, and our job is the best job in the world. If you’re a performer and you’re reading this, I super-duper salute you. You make people happy, whether it be by being the closest thing to Beyoncé they’ll ever get to see lip-synch live or by helping them stroke one out during your jerk-at-work bathhouse matinee show gig. Seriously. Good job. Now go wash your hands, ’cause I don’t want your herpes on my book.

  HOW TO GET PEOPLE TO MOVE IN CROWDS:

  Bend over and make retching sounds while splashing ankles with drinks.

  Put two fingers on the fat roll flank area of whoever is in your way and apply pressure. Shifting their center of gravity will make at least one foot move.

  Try cupcaking a fart up to them and then loudly say, “Whoever is busting ass is nasty,” and proceed to push through like you’re outta there.

  33

  How to SUCK LESS at

  YOUR CAREER

  Finding out what you’re good at and then figuring out how to get paid to do it is the easiest way to a solvent and happy future. (I took that from a magazine with Oprah on the cover). “Solvent” means you have money not from credit card advances or your parents. The proper job will allow you growth while at the same time self-discovery. That sounds right, right? Again, my only real job as an adult was dinner theater, and I was fired from that for aggressive improvs. I might’ve been wrong, but I was too drunk to remember so I didn’t think apologizing would be appropriate. Plus, I was eighteen at the time, so it was their fault I was drunk in the first place kinda. I couldn’t have begun to properly apologize because I didn’t know why I was sorry.

  Just saying sorry is for suckers—ya have to relay why you’re sorry or how you’ll avoid doing it again. But saying you “made a mistake” could be a potential get-out-of-jail-free card. It’s short and it basically apologizes for you without saying sorry. Using the S word indicates feelings, and everyone knows emotions are for ugly people. “Sorry” reeks of weakness and assigns all the blame to you instead of summing it up to the other variables that may have been involved. So use that GOOJF card carefully, because if you repeatedly cop to a mistake, it’s no longer a mistake. It’s a decision. Insanity is defined as repeatin
g the same behavior and expecting different results. Standing behind your decisions, successful or not, is always respectable, so don’t ever half-ass anything. Use your full ass or nothing.

  Sometimes you just gotta keep your head down, keep your nose clean, and do the gig. Be an asset in any task you’re given and they won’t care if you don’t shit rainbows. Look at Vanna White. She was made obsolete as soon as the letters went digital, but she flew under the radar and didn’t make any noise. Smiled pretty and walked over to that vowel that homeboy just bought. The hair was always right, she stayed outta the tabloids, and she was the perfect example of how to keep a job. She even laughs at that jack-off Pat Sajak’s jokes. He should be every man’s example of what not to do, because hair color on men is never the look. Pat, I’d like to solve the puzzle. What is “Please have several seats.”

  Sajak probably went to a few of that old closet case Merv Griffin’s all-male pool parties and signed a lifetime deal, but Vanna might’ve just let the right network exec finger her. Women are lucky because vaginas have so much power. They can give life, they can make noises, they can commit blackmail. That’s why I’m of the school that if you have a vagina and your boss wants to play Guess How Many Fingers I’m Holding Up in It, you should go for it. Bossman can, like, never terminate you ’cause he will always worry you’ll sue or tell the nice lady whose picture is on his desk. So trust me. Let him finger you. It’s money in the bank, girl. I let someone almost make me into a hand puppet at this one gig where coworkers aren’t supposed to fraternize, and it STILL besmirches the fags who couldn’t keep it under wraps.

  If you can’t be the sharpest tool in the shed, be a ho #FFA.

  I personally ran a much tighter business, and not just because assholes are invariably tighter than vaginas. More than a few strippers, many will not be shocked to learn, are accustomed to using their looks and sex in exchange for goods or services. They may have thought that allowing me to be their casual sperm repository would merit them better or more shifts, but if they ever asked, I always wiped my mouth and told them, “No way, José” (his stage name was Angel, though).

  I know there’s an old phrase that says that when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me, but I think it mostly makes an ass outta whoever does the assuming. I considered myself more of a one-man volunteer effort, helping underprivileged children by swallowing them before they are born. The couple of times when I may have done some things that were less than California-workplace code-compliant, it showed me that respect for the pecking order is always a hefty thing to gamble. Somewhere in the middle of Boxmeat’s fourteen-year run, I was being paid by twenty different clubs in SoCal to staff their go-go dancers. I had over one hundred people working for me. I loved it. It enabled me to be around the beautiful people, in the middle of a circle where a weird, funny kid like me could have previously only participated from the periphery. I still have a stake in the company and will never give it up. The Eagle could call and say so-and-so’s ass is dirty, and I would go right down, rip them off the box, and give them a good scolding. Wait. Never mind. They love that BO in Silver Lake.

  Being the boss wasn’t always an easy thing. Even though it’s much harder to fuck someone over to their face than on the phone, I always treated the people who worked for me how I wanted to be treated, and that meant delivering bad news face-to-face. If someone was fat or cracked out, I would go to wherever they were slinging it that night and pull up a picture on my phone of what they’d looked like when I hired them. Asking point-blank if they thought they still looked like that would usually be a wake-up call. I would always let them dance for tips or turn tricks in the handicapped stall shittercritter style until they were back in shape.

  Those who say that failure isn’t an option are super wrong. It’s actually the easiest and most popular one. You think I’m joking but I’m not. Like, I’m actually not a funny person. I’m just a dickhead and people think I’m kidding a lot. Some might only laugh because the only other option is to cry. Crying at work is the biggest no of all time. Unless you just got your hair or your balls or your ball hair caught in a paper shredder, you better never cry at work. Feelings have no place in the workplace.

  Complaining that someone hurt you or made you feel bad is crap. You feel how you feel because you’re the only one controlling you. If you’re treating someone poorly, it’s more of a reflection of whatever you’re going through than how you actually feel about the person. There’s no justifying it. Not even with some lame horoscope shit. Using the zodiac or planets to justify behavior is the worst! Mercury does not retrograde directly up anyone’s ass. Like, IDGAF if you’re a Gemini. I hate both of you! If you ever get fired, make sure to do your best Working Girl scorned bit. Get your stuff, fix your hair, and say the following: “Look, you. Maybe you’ve got everyone around here fooled with this saint act you have going, but do not ever speak to me again like we don’t know what happened. You got me? Now get your bony ass out of my sight.” (Substitute “fat” for “bony” if applicable.)

  If you’re late and need to summon tears to keep that gig, suck on a Halls menthol cough drop and then run it along the waterline of your eyeball near your lower lashes. It’ll make you start to swell right up like your dog died at your Pop-Pop’s funeral. You’re welcome.

  My main job is to entertain, and in that field, it’s best to focus only on the people who love you. The haters in no way affect the money. You don’t need everyone to support you. If 50 percent of the people hate you and 50 percent love you, that’s fine. As far as the revenue stream is concerned, being hated is exactly the same as being ignored. It doesn’t make things worse. If someone calls me a cunt at one of my shows over the weekend and it’s sticking in my brain on Monday and Tuesday, and then Wednesday, Thursday, Friday is a literal WTF, I might examine why it got under my skin. Maybe I needed a reality check or they didn’t like my outfit. Who knows? Every criticism is an opportunity to improve, even if that only includes how you handle it. At least it’s said to your face. Don’t worry about people who talk about you behind your back. They’re behind you for a reason. Try farting.

  SUCK LESS SUPPLEMENT

  I know the previous section applies to very few readers, but if doing what you love also feeds you, that’s a key component to making life suck less. I never complain about my job. It’s the best ever because I enjoy it even when I can’t feel my pinkie toe from some Loubs that are too high. The way I figure it, we’re all gonna bust our asses at some point, so it’s best to make it something tolerable. I wanted to be a clown, growing up, but that changed once I grasped that my allergies just wouldn’t do well around all that hay and carnie folk. I’ve never actually had a real boss for longer than a month or two as a teen, but I did learn a few real-world workforce tips.

  If you have a great idea at work but run up against resistance, it might be in the way you’re presenting it. Try a little dress rehearsal. Tell your best friend your idea while recording it on your phone. Then listen to it while transcribing what you said, and voilà—perfect pitch to your boss. Also, always try to get the pitch in before eleven or after two. If it goes poorly, at least you know if was your fault and not because they were wondering where the fuck their lunch order was.

  Don’t ever use profanity if things don’t go your way at the job. Cursing basically says the point you’re trying to make isn’t solid enough to stand on its own merit, without swearing. Raising your voice does the same thing.

  Interrupting is the worst! It’s basically saying that whatever the interrupter is saying is more important than whatever the interruptee is spewing. If you get called out for interrupting someone during an argument, it makes you look like an unsportsmanlike player and weakens whatever you’re saying. Think about it, let whoever finish saying whatever shit they’re spewing, then strike!

  You can’t say “anxious” without “shits.” Being nervous will make you sound shitty. Take a few deep breaths and keep your shoulders down. People mostly want
you to succeed, so there’s no reason to bring potential failure baggage to the table.

  Before I release a video on the Internet, I don’t get nervous. I get excited. I plan on people liking it. Drag queens usually make a living out of impersonating other women, but I’ve made a career outta just being myself. Many of the most successful queens are just themselves, if you look at the contemporaries in my field. I mean I tip my wig to Chad Michaels because not only does he turn out the Cher to end all Chers but he has got a catalog of other spot-on characters, like Marilyn Manson and the Mad Hatter. He puts hard work into being the best at what he does, just like I put a lot of hard stuff into me, too. Some of that hard stuff helps to make me the best professional stunt-queen that there is. The most successful people of my kind are entertainers who don’t try to push through a catchphrase or have a different personality online. It’s called YouTube for a reason, not SomebodyelseTube. So be yourself. Because if people like a put-upon version of you, you’re painting yourself into a corner for a lot of hard work, acting like that same version of you for the rest of your life. Jinkx Monsoon told me she is exhausted at the end of a meet-and-greet because she has to be Jinkxie for each and every person in line wanting to meet this great character she created. I’m super glad I don’t have the same problem. If you gotta dress up like Lady Gaga or Rihanna to make some coins ’cause the audience lives for their songs, go for it. Just don’t lose yourself under someone else’s wiggotry and face chart. What I’m saying is, just root for the home team (you) and let loose. If you find out you sucked, at least you know how to not repeat that same thing and suck less in the future.