Being Bjorn: The Movie

Bjorn arriving at the premiere, pulled by Jurmaine.

In the spirit of such gems as Coco Avant Chanel and Unzipped the esteemed world of film has decided to make a subject of the Institute’s own Bjorn Flugelhorn.

Being Bjorn traces the highs and lows of a life lived for fashion (and toilet stall peyote binges). Bjorn would not sell the rights to his story unless he was allowed to play himself, and the result is the feeling of truly being along for the ride. A rather uncomfortable ride.

Bjorn was escorted to the premiere in his airtight box by his faithful companion, Jurmaine. By all accounts he kept the lid on tightly the whole time.

What a Dik Dik!

Cute -- maybe. Asshole -- definitely.

I was thoroughly enjoying a night out at Nairobi’s newest nightclub sensation Sploosh, when I was accosted by this pompous, preppy, pygmy with an axe to grind. Had a thing or eight to say about my proboscis. And my teeth. And my suit! That my friends was the last straw, I defend Armani with my life.

I lunged across the bar, grabbed an over-sized ice bucket and turned it over on this knee-high numbskull like one might catch a spider. Then I slid a piece of cardboard under the bucket and turned it over to the bouncer to dispose of.

World’s smallest antelope. World’s biggest twit.

Holy Crap This Is Terrifying!

Get me off this crazy thing called Pookie.

You know me, I’m extremely innovative and into trying new things. And so, when a friend of my third cousin Tony’s girlfriend’s poodle’s estranged ex-lover suggested I look up his friend Pookie on my brief soujourn to the mainland from Madagascar, I did. Pookie works part-time as a bush pilot. He offered me a free sight-seeing flight. I accepted.

All I can say is this: Never, ever, ever trust a winged Giraffe. The flight was bumpy, the service non-existent and the landing abysmal.

Life is Sweeter Behind the Velvet Ropes

Go ahead and gawk, I certainly would!

What a night, what a night! After cutting several rugs to Sifaka Khan’s orgasmic opuses, I made my way to the VIP area to fine dine with the finest diners in town. Vichysoisse, Chicken ala King, Zabaglione! And that was just the appetizer.

From right to left: Sifaka Khan Head Dancer Fafah Ramboasalama, Kooky Winters, Yours Truly, Sifaka Khan warbler Hanitriniaina Rakotomalala and the ever effervescent Larry LaGrange.

Sifaka Khan: One Night Only

Connecting the Dots between Opera and Thrash Metal

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am squealing with delight as I strap on my dancing shoes (Prada distressed suede boots of course!). For one night only, the Institute Nightery welcomes this fabulous five man trio.  Their haunting mesh of klesmer beats, uninhibited howling and interpretive dance puts Yoko Ono to shame. Admittance by invitation only.

Uber Model Larry LaGrange

Cheeky primitive monkey

Seeking out the best fashion Madagascar has to offer brought me directly to the home of Mr. Larry LaGrange, Madagascar’s Premier Poser! I am not sure if it was mere coincidence, or LaGrange’s penchant for a publicity stunt, but I arrived just in time to catch Larry posing in his birthday suit. I do love the addition of the trilby, it adds a certain je ne sais quoi to this smut. Bravo Larry! Put some clothes on and let’s do lunch.

Antananarivo From Above

Like a fairytale, only smellier

To show her gratitude towards the Institute, Guinevere Ecclescake offered to take us on an aerial tour of Antananarivo by Hot Air Balloon. Unfortunately there was only room for two, and so I had to represent the entire organization on my own. I must say that as lovely as it looks, the smell was a little too much for my proboscis. I suppose odor rises.