Oh yes she did

America's Next Top Tranny?


AMERICA'S NEXT TOP TRANNY Why would Felicia Fellatio, a 6'7" drag queen from Trashville, USA, get up at 5 a.m. on March 20 and wing it down to the Serramonte Center in Daly City to audition for America's Next Top Model? Well, why wouldn't she? In six-inch fuck-me pumps and a belt whose giant buckle spelled "ORAL" in diamonds, even. Glittery! We hit her up at her Dumpster that morning, cheered her on as she desperately Bioré-stripped her cleavage and puffy-penned her eyebrows (no time for a tuck), then hitched with her down 280, tossing back the Peet's and Chivas.

Oh, how they make those poor, hopeful creatures suffer! First, Felicia had to stand outside Mervyns for two hours in the freezing drizzle with about 200 sticklike beauties, weathering the intrusive queries of passing senior mall walkers. Mervyns! Really. Luckily, she had warm company in adorable fellow aspirants such as Jamilee "Can you see my butt in this dress? Good!" Mills and Tyra look-alike — therefore doomed — Chelsea, a sexual-violence social worker who decried recent Western Addition gentrification as "cultural genocide." Tell it to Twiggy, sweetie.

After slogging it through the exhausting line and dutifully saying, "Next up on the CW: The King of Queens!" into a waiting camera, the girls were corralled, 50 at a time, into a private office with no windows. No one blinked twice about Felicia. Gotta love the new generation: even the ogling homeboys passing by in their souped-up Sentras offered catcalls of encouragement.

Inside the office the girls were asked to step forward and give their name, age, height, and weight. Sadly, although they knew their weight to the ounce, many couldn't recall their height — even though this was an early question on the 15-page application. (Other questions: Have you ever had a restraining order issued against you? Have you ever been to a nude beach? How do you deal with anger?) Three slick LA model-picker types — sorry, no Miss Jay, ladies — silently, nerve-wrackingly conferred and asked eight girls to stay for semifinals. The rest were left somewhat wrecked.

"Even though I had no chance in hell, I feel like a sledgehammer hit me," Felicia sighed. "Fuck modeling. Let's get McDonald's." (Marke B.)


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