Sauce

After spending the past couple of weeks house sitting for my Aunt & Uncle and their cat, Eddie, and a busy few days of family and Easter, Alex suggested we have some social time together. We decided on heading to Sauce for dinner, though this time we went to the one in Scottsdale rather than the one off Glendale and 16th. There were a few benefits to heading into Scottsdale -- first off, it's a clear reminder that while the economy in the rest of the country may be headed into the tank, there's still plenty of conspicuous consumer spending going on. That means there's money to be had, which is a very encouraging thought.

The other biggest benefit, to be sure, has to be the menz. The first one that caught my eye was a little young... an attractive Sauce employee in his black, fitted Banana Republic button down shirt and snug khakis. While my initial impression was that he had a very high gay quotient -- the spiky hair, the chunky yet stylish shoes... though with today's youth there are times I have trouble distinguishing between gay and metro. I was going to reserve judgment but as he lightly sashayed to our table to deliver our food, it was becoming rather difficult to leave him in the metro category.

That raised another interesting question -- just how many variations of gay movement are there? A few came to mind -- to sashay, to saunter, to prance, to mintz... there are so many subtle variations. I wondered how many others might recognize. In stark contrast there was this floppy haired emo kid busing tables who looked like a young Severus Snape. His arms rarely moved as he slithered between tables and the kitchen.

Our attention quickly turned to a prime ASU beef who was grazing on a salad with a friend. As I was with Alex, I thought about letting my paparazzo instincts take over but I fumbled with the camera on my phone, nervous that the beef would realize he was being photographed, and wasn't able to get a shot.

We then made our way over to Fashion Square in search of more beeves for our viewing pleasure. Wandering aimlessly, it was if the Gods intervened to give us direction -- Collegiate Closet. It was indeed a sign - if we were in search of eye candy, there was only one place we need explore.

Cliché? Perhaps, but this particular stereotype is based in truth. As Alex and I made our way through The Temple of Homoeroticism, we spotted him -- a handsome, hunky college-aged veal clutching his dowdy girlfriend by hand, as if she were a talisman that could ward off evil. To boot, he dragged what appeared to be his mother and aunt in tow -- perhaps he hoped that their combined strength would save him. Alas, we all know that you cannot be saved from what comes from within.