Defamer’s Blind Item Guessing Game has faced quite the quandary in recent months during E! Online columnist Ted Casablanca’s jihad-level campaign to out Jake Gyllenhaal as (at least) bisexual. The games began in March with a titillating post-Oscar missive about “Toothy Tile,” a hot young male star (with a dimpled starlet ex, aka Ms. Dunst), who was spotted holding hands with his bf outside a Weho cafe, and culminated with a hilariously explicit tidbit once again dragging Dr. Sunken Tits into the picture.
Every column featuring a T.T. blind item has included another bit about Jake G., and Ted has ruled out every other clue-fitting up-and-comer, from fellow Dunst ex Tobey Maguire (a guess Ted described as “very close”) to closeted-by-association Chris Klein. The obviousness of the masked homo’s true identity had begun to throw a wrench into Defamer’s regular BIGG feature, which usually likes to maintain a hint of suspense by denying the reader a real consensus among the guesses. But this week, the site threw up its hands and admitted what has been clear for months: Whether or not it’s the truth, Ted Casablanca wants you to believe Jake Gyllenhaal sucks cock.
The Blind Item Guessing Game: The Neverending Story (Of Toothy Tile) [Defamer]
One Confused Blind Vice [E! Online]
In the final stretch of the Boy Scout of America two-week jamboree in Virginia, one thing has become painfully clear: God hates the Boy Scouts.
I mean, of course you’re going to expect some trouble when you pile 50,000 adolescent boys wearing above-the-knee shorts in a Virginia mud pit, but normally the incidents are contained to suspicious games of “slap and tickle,” and few awkward moments of pedophilia. So it’s a bit of a surprise, to say the least, that, after only two weeks, five are dead and over 300 vibrant scouts fell ill with man lust heat stroke.
Not to make light of these tragic happenings, but I can’t help but to wonder why scout camp is no longer just about bare-chested wrestling and sexual exploration like it was when I was a budding do-gooder. In fact, I believe the moral foundations of the PEN15 Club are a direct nod to the life lessons I learned before being expelled from the Boy Scouts in an incident involving a tube of cherry chapstick and a cupped hand. Don’t ask.
Anyway, I thought that it might make the young lads feel better about their jamboree if I listed a few more things that could have easily gone wrong at camp, but didn’t. Yet.
Continue reading ‘More things that could go wrong at the Boy Scout Jamboree’
Published by Rob on July 28, 2005
in Films.
If you thought last weekend seemed like grim times at the multiplex, fasten your suckbelts: this weekend features Kurt Russell encased in rubber and Jessica Biel getting billed above Jamie Foxx.
Must Love Dogs: Diane Lane is single. Poor Diane Lane. In Movieland, this forces her to reduce herself to (gasp!) online dating, and to break into spontaneous song-and-dance numbers with her slightly-less-stunning-so-no-one-cares-if-she’s-single sister (Elizabeth Perkins, a great actress who works almost exclusively in crap). In real life, Diane Lane is not single, but she must endure Barbra Streisand as a stepmother-in-law, and isn’t that the real tragedy? (We won’t mention those domestic violence rumors surrounding Lane and hubby Josh Brolin - oops, mentioned ‘em.) With paycheck-cashing John Cusack, hard-drinking Stockard Channing and Sexiest Man in the Movies Dermot Mulroney.
Sky High: Michael Angarano, aka Jack’s sperm bank son on Will & Grace, attends a high school for kids with superpowers. But it’s nothing like X-Men or The Incredbiles, we swear. Angarano’s superhero parents are played by a spandex-sportin’ Kurt Russell and Kelly Preston (who may have super powers, but the ability to turn gay $cientologists straight isn’t one of them). From the director of Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo (is it Oscar season yet?).
Stealth: “I shot this before I won my Oscar. I repeat, BEFORE!” insists Stealth co-star Jamie Foxx of this way-expensive sci-fi piece about fighter jets with minds of their own (or at least he would have if we could get him on the phone). Foxx takes third billing, after Josh “Beaky” Lucas and Jessica “The Rev’s Daughter” Biel. It’s okay, Jamie. Every Oscar winner is allowed one “I shot it before I won” embarrassment. See Charlize Theron in Head in the Clouds, Morgan Freeman in Unleashed and Adrien Brody in Dummy. Actually, if you ever see any of those movies, you’re not allowed to visit this site ever again. I’m sorry, but we must have standards.
Boys, throw our your Polo Blue and Abercrombie Woods, because the poster boy for male heterosexuality, Alan Cumming, has (seriously) released his own fragrance: Cumming. Taking his cue from other celebrities, such as Britney Spears whose nicotine- and placenta-scented perfume got off to a successful start two years ago, Cumming has named the apparently masculine musk after himself, and even he can’t resist the double entendre his name provides. Despite undoubtedly being heckled for his unfortunate surname his entire life, Cumming stars in a ambiguously tongue in cheek Calvin Klein-esque commercial for the manfume, in which he ingeniously uses his own name (of course meaning the fragrance) where one might use the words “orgasming” or “ejaculating.” The spot finishes with a rear nude shot of Alan’s not-so-firm buttocks.
While it is hard to believe the commercial is meant to be serious, the product definitely is. In fact, it appears in Sephora’s online store, noting the scent as a mix that includes whisky, leather, and rubber. Wait a minute - Since when does a gay male need to spend $69 (Really. 69.) on a cologne that makes him smell like booze, latex, and chaps? I, for one, spend most of my money on fragrances that try to mask that smell from emanating from my dirty, dirty body.
Sephora’s store describes the product as “A new look at the classic world of men’s fragrance: combining three distinct talents to create a scent that’s all about Scotland, scotch, cigars, and being sexy. Alan is smart, witty, versatile, and a very sexy man - exactly like his fragrance.” (Versatile?! C’mon. Look at the guy. He’s wearing eye shadow, for God’s sake.) They also ask visitors to check back this fall when Cumming will release a series of scented liquids that make it hurt less when young men try to put things in their butts.
Jennifer Garner has essentially cast husbear Ben Affleck’s unborn child in the role of her ex-boyfriend’s spawn in her series Alias. The actress and Matt Damon lookalike (that’s right Ben, we see what you’re doing) will return to her low-rated-yet-consistently-renewed ABC spy series several months pregnant, a detail that will be written into the storyline.
Since Garner’s Sydney Bristow has, of late, only had her vagina smashed by Michael Vartan’s Vaughn (or “not Vaughn,” as we learned in the season finale), it’s safe to assume he’s the father of Syd’s baby. Since Garner and Vartan used to be an item - in the second-hottest on-set Alias relationship, after Victor Garber and Bradley Cooper’s - this means that Garner’s ex is essentially playing her current husband’s child’s father. We realize Jen hails from West Virginia, but this setup seems a little incestuous even for Appalachia.
Garner to become pregnant spy on ‘Alias’ [MSNBC]
Here are some pictures of dog-faced Mischa Barton and her oil-baron-ex-boyfriend, Brandon Davis. But don’t let the photographs fool you - these were taken in March when the couple had to try everything possible to keep the paparazzi from catching Brandon, oh, I don’t know, blowing raspberries on her stomach, or trying to tear that lesion she calls a nose off of her face… with his teeth… while wearing a belt… in a swimming pool.
But Radar Magazine is reporting that, in the months following their tragic breakup, Mischa has been seen cavorting around town with celebrity makeup artist Johnny Wujek, and even claiming that the lipstick maverick is her boyfriend. All of this, reports Radar, is a desperate attempt to make Davis (who ended the relationship) jealous.
C’mon, Mischa. Inciting jealousy by galloping around town with a guy whose homosexuality even your publicist acknowledges is, like, the oldest trick in the book. I mean, just ask Katie Holmes, Star Jones, Kelly Preston, or anyone Jesse Metcalf happens to be dating. And maybe you’re making a wise move by becoming fast friends with such an amazing makeup artist, but, sorry to break it to you peaches, there’s no amount of eye shadow talent in the world that’s gonna make you look like you don’t have Down’s Syndrome.
Plus, I feel like Brandon has already moved on, spending his $8,000/month allowance on things that are far, far more important than you, Mischa. Such as an actual swimming suit.
Mischa Barton’s Heir-Brained Scheme [Radar]
Published by Rob on July 24, 2005
in Films.
Michael Bay’s $122 million clone thriller The Island estimates a laughable $12 million opening weekend gross, placing it fourth, just behind the third weekend of Chris Evans Shirtless, er, The Fantastic Four. Film critics everywhere, still angry about Bay’s Pearl Harbor and Bad Boys II, toast with schadenfreude-infused champagne over the summer’s highest-profile flop.
Elsewhere, March of the Penguins finally breaks into the top 10, sating the public’s interest in watching penguins Do It to the soothing dulcet tones of Morgan Freeman.
Weekend Box Office, July 22-24 [Boxofficemojo]
It’s late July, and if you’re like us, you’re putting to bed the image of the beach body you imagined for yourself back in April.
Does this make you feel any better? Thought so.
Dear Courtney,
J’adore you. Love you in Versace, love you drooling in the corner in a baby doll dress. Even love your unfairly ignored solo album. Wish that lesbian housewife drama you made with Lili Taylor had ever been released.
But honey, blacking out at parties and then reading about it in The Daily News is not a smart move for a newly re-rehabbed celeb looking to avoid “famous SOLELY for being a train wreck” syndrome. I mean, you’re already famous for being a train wreck. But there are still six or seven people who first think of Live Through This and The People vs. Larry Flynt when your name comes up.
And uh, Court, to be honest, we’d assumed that the Kirstie-style poundage you’ve been rocking lately was a sure sign of sobriety. What’s the fun of heroin without the heroin chic weight loss?
Anyway, now that you’ve regained consciousness, treat yourself to a box of Entenmann’s and, in the same column detailing your misfortune, laugh at the plight of Waiting to Exhale author Terry McMillan, whose gay husband is trying to extort godless sums of money from her. Stay tuned for Angela Bassett in How Stella Lost Her Shirt While Divorcing a DL Brutha.
Love’s memory of hospital visit is faint/Signs Terry is weary [NY Daily News]
Remember that one dream you had where two, young, hot actors starred in a movie together about - oh, I don’t know - horses, cowboy hats, lassos, and rampant anal sex? And then remember waking up from the dream only to be disappointed that the closest you’ll ever get to your fantasy is your Broken Hearts Club DVD that’s been sitting in your player for the last three years, freeze-framed on Zach Braff’s crooked smile and abnormally large Adam’s Apple? (What is it with gay-themed movies and the work “Broke-” in the title?)
Now, thanks to Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain, every 18-year-old “out-to-friends” homo out there will finally have an answer to his favorite “gay vs. society” question: “Why can’t they just make a movie that’s about a totally masculine dude that just happens to be gay, just like me? They don’t even have to make ‘the gay thing’ the plot. I mean, why do all gay-themed movies have to be about some flaming queen being a homo? Hand me my pre-torn khaki visor, dude.”
It’s no doubt that when Heath Ledger’s got his ankles in his hands gettin’ a little Gyllenhaal tossed in him, that same 18-year-old practically undetectable queer will be able to focus on the true story at hand — a story about love found in the most unlikely place. Not gay love; just true love. Butt Man love. And when the camera’s convenient angle obscures Ledger’s 12″ of swinging death, our young Joe Couldbestraight won’t be holding his breath in anticipation of a downward pan; he’ll unquestionably be contemplating the metaphor that is the open prairie.
Lee’s movie, which has been in production for nearly two years, has not yet been given a release date (tentatively December 9). Although much of its eagerly-awaiting audience has already experienced release after looking at the production poster. It’s ambiguous enough to attract the real cowboys who are hoping for a harrowing story of cowboy life and will likely overlook (if they even notice) the frequent gay sex scenes.
While I haven’t seen it myself, I’ve heard the version of the poster that went up in West Hollywood and Spokane, Washington features a wider shot revealing the butt-plug in Gyllenhaal’s left hand.
Brokeback Mountain [Rotten Tomatoes]
