That Katrina is such a bitch. I don’t mean to make light of a terrible tragedy (c’mon. We’re not monsters!) but I just read about Katrina’s most fabulous casualty: The Southern Decadence 5-day circuit party. That’s right. A gaaaay circuit party. A statement on the website alerts visitors that the annual five nights of debauchery has been canceled.
What? Because of a little devastation? What of the poor homos without electricity that won’t get your message on the inter-web? You know they’re still planning on showing up. Because, oh honey, it’s going to take more than mass casualties and apocalypse-like flooding to stop the homos of the South from blowing through their entire stash of Tina in five short days. It sounds to me that the party doesn’t need a new date, it just needs a new theme. Most of my suggestions for a new theme would be disrespectful and tasteless, so I won’t share them (except for Bring Your Own Dish Soap and making an instant foam party.)
I will, however, suggest a few activities in which the repressed queers on the bottom (of the country) can partake if, indeed, the Decadence party doesn’t materialize:
- Loot. I hear Sephora has remained untouched.
- Play drinking games to weather reports. Every time a weatherman says “Katrina” and “swelling” in the same sentence, take a shot. Of Southern Comfort.
- Rehearse for every wet boxer-briefs contest for the rest of your life.
- Don a tool belt. Fix something somewhere. Then update your gay.com profile to state that you are now “masc.”
- Rescue a pomeranian. Name her “Ms. Lucky.” Give her all the bottled water you had hoarded for yourself while desperately trying to find her a dogger daycare.
- They say “Super Dome.” I say “Super Rave.”
- Take advantage of the abundance of opportunities to take your shirt off. This is the one time people won’t suspect pretense.
- Take advantage of the abundance of opportunities to wear latex.
- Post obnoxiously on Craigslist’s missed-connections. Write exceedingly vague descriptions of people you supposedly saw: “You were the wet one with the broken house, wading through the floating debris on Canal Street.” Then, insist that people “float on over” to your roof.
- Two words: Showgirls marathon
Please. Don’t take offense. This post is all in good fun, and I’m well aware that this isn’t the time to be having “good fun.” I just couldn’t resist an opportunity to rag on the gays. Believe me. As the oldest child of twelve from a lower-class family in Canada, I know what tragedy and poverty is like. Oh shit. You’ll have to excuse me. Sometimes when I have allergies, I confuse myself with Celine Dion. Because my voice is a little hoarse, I think of “horse” and then I think of Celine. Funny, that.
Update: I’d like to issue a clarification. As it turns out, Southern Decadence caused hurricane Katrina. I guess that explains all of the world’s tragedies. Because at any given time, there’s a room full of homosexuals wearing ass-less chaps somewhere. Of course, it couldn’t have been all of the tit-showing-for-beads that happens, and public debauchery. This was unquestionably a heavenly hate crime.
Hurricane Katrina Destorys New Orleans Days Before “Southern Decadence” [Repent America]
Gwyneth “Wait, she won an Oscar? For that?” Paltrow has some harsh words for ex-fiance Brad Pitt, who is still a big enough star to command intrusive media attention. Gwyn, who’s stumping for her dust-covered Miramax write-off Proof, thinks her ex and his ex have brought the mass tabloid jeans-creaming surrounding their breakup on themselves: “It would have been a lot easier on Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston now if they had not talked to the press about each other and everything to begin with,” she says.
Paltrow, who’s down to one movie a year since View from the Top - I mean, since she gave birth to baby Apple - chalks up her lack of productivity to (you guessed it) complete and utter satisfaction: “Everything I wanted to achieve, I achieved.”
She also takes a nasty swipe at the actresses who, presumably, are beating her out for roles: “I could not have fathomed working Apple’s first year,” she says. “I look at certain women and I think, how do they just go and do films back to back to back?”
Well for starters, Gwyn, they still get offers - and find time to work even when their ex-husbands are far too scary to trust with the children.
Gwyneth offers marital advice [Yahoo! News]
Published by Rob on August 30, 2005
in Celebs.
Fiercely heterosexual movie star George Clooney has invested a chunk o’ change into a Las Vegas casino/resort development called Las Ramblas. Funny, didn’t I hear a story about Clooney and “Las Ramblas” in Central Park?
Plans for Casino de Clooney are still underway, but you won’t walk away empty-handed if you put your money on the following:
1. A Siegfried & Roy-esque magic extravaganza featuring Casey Affleck and Scott Caan “taming” Clooney’s pet pig.
2. Krista Allen - all topless, all the time.
3. Security camera footage of gaming floor cut together by Steven Soderbergh to make a series of digital video “masterpieces.”
4. K Street is no longer a Clooney-produced HBO docudrama, but the kitchen staff’s nickname for the service corridor behind the buffet.
5. Brad Pitt and Matt Damon perpetually clearing the pool with cannonballs.
6. Poolside auto-genital fondling not frowned upon.
7. Jack Black packs the house with a nightly drag performance as George’s Aunt Rosemary.
8. New version of poker in which Three Kings beats all other hands.
9. Hookers dressed as triage nurses.
10. Clooney runs afoul of the Mafia, is forced to go on the lam after Mark Wahlberg’s bullet-riddled corpse is found in his bed.
Clooney bets on new Las Vegas resort [Yahoo! News]
Published by Rob on August 29, 2005
in Rants.
Outspoken (and typically right-on-the-money) movie columnist David Poland switches gears to the small screen, declaring that “what Deadwood is to cursing, Rome is to graphic sex…endless, graphic nudity and sex.”
Still not interested? Try this endorsement: “Remember when Polly Walker was just sexy? Now we’ll all be expecting her and her 40something implants to have sex with a live animal by episode 3.” (Not sure how implants have sex with anything, let alone a live animal, but hopefully HBO will show us.)
Sort of a backhanded compliment, as the IMDB lists Ms. Walker’s age as 39. But maybe that’s in Lena Headey years.
Anyway, Poland’s readers proceed to suck all the fun out of the issue by turning the post into a discussion of whether or not HBO programming sucks now. Which it does, but who cares? We wanna talk T&A!
What Deadwood is to cursing [The Hot Blog]
Published by Rob on August 29, 2005
in Celebs.
And you thought there was nothing scary about Gothika. Susan Levin, one of the Halle Berry clunker’s producers, just married Robert Downey Jr., whom she met on the set.
Okay, Susie…I’m sure your new hubby is really clean and really sober, and the years and years of cocaine and heroin addiction are safely behind him. And he was really good in Wonder Boys. But think about it: you married a man who voluntarily joined the cast of Ally McBeal in order to convince the public that he’d stopped using drugs. And whose upcoming films include that Tim Allen remake of The Shaggy Dog.
Entertainment at the reception included, of all people, Billy Joel. Whom no one could possibly enjoy sober.
Inside Robert Downey Jr.’s weekend wedding [ET Online]
What’s absurd is that Victoria Gotti, daughter of famed mobster John Gotti and star of her own reality TV show, publicly lied about having breast Cancer. What’s hilarious is that Victoria Gotti looks like one of the computer-generated “If They Mated” creatures on Conan.
As it turns out, the bronzed-n-blinged Italian only had pre-cancerous cells removed, and was never suffering from breast cancer. On “Good Morning America” she stated that her initial claim was “for the most part accurate.”
I’d like to list a couple of things that Victoria could claim about her that are “for the most part accurate”:
Claim: The Tuscan sun is responsible for my amazing tan.
Truth: I watched Under the Tuscan Sun in its entirety while sitting in a diamond encrusted tanning booth.
Claim: I am suffering from AIDS.
Truth: I am suffering from aides that don’t know how to properly peel a grape before feeding it to me.
Claim: I am 46-years-old.
Truth: There’s no part of me that hasn’t been replaced within the last 46 years. Most of me is under 9.
Claim: How I maintain my body is a secret I keep hidden.
Truth: Since my father died, I maintain the secret location of all of the hidden bodies.
Claim: I kill time talking on my cell phone.
Truth: One call on my cell phone and I can have you killed.
In what is perhaps the most bizarre piece of marketing since the Subservient Chicken, A&E and actually created a website for the three fugly sons of Victoria, in which you can play various games as any of the sons, including one where the object is to pants tourists in Rome. It’s worth a peek.
Published by Rob on August 25, 2005
in Films.
As you read this, vaguely familiar British actress Lena Headey is totally on pins and needles. It’s her weekend. Her coming out party. Two-big budget Hollywood thrillers are opening on thousands of screens across the country tomorrow, and she’s in both of them.
Headey, whose IMDB profile rather optimistically lists her date of birth as 10/3/76 (sure honey, you were 16 when you filmed your snogging scene behind the bushes with Hugh Grant in The Remains of the Day - riiiiiiight), may think this is the moment when she can remove the pins from her Rachel Weisz-shaped voodoo doll and bask in the hard-earned limelight. Unfortunately, her “moment” is riding on the fortunes of The Brothers Grimm and The Cave, two late-summer flicks so D.O.A. that you don’t buy tickets to see them, you make a charitable donation in their name.
Grimm is yet another long-shelved Miramax dump case that has director Terry Gilliam wanting never to work in Hollywood again. He even told Entertainment Weekly that he only cast Headey after Bob Weinstein declared that first choice Samantha Morton’s arms were too flabby.
The Cave is one of those deadweight August programmers in which a team of attractive scientists, usually including Morris Chestnut, travels somewhere and gets systematically eaten by something. Last year, this was called Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid.
One thing that won’t threaten Lena’s quest for box office supremacy this weekend is Ashlee Simpson’s film debut in Undiscovered. The film, which stars Broken Flowers’ Pell James as an aspiring actress, features Asslee in a supporting role that was originally written as a lesbian, until daddy-Christian-metrosexual-Svengali-manager-Antichrist Joe Simpson vetoed the depiction of his less-beloved daughter as a muff-diver. Lions Gate has barely promoted the film and will release it at less than half as many locations as Miramax is releasing Grimm.
No, seriously. Is August over yet?
Lena Headey [IMDB]
In a somewhat disgusting example of life imitating art, Diane Keaton and Keanu Reeves have flopped dentures first into an intense and public relationship.
Those of us who would pay $11 to see Jack Nicholson’s flabby ass just to feel better about ourselves might remember Keaton and Reeves playing an odd couple in 2003’s ridiculously-titled Somethings Gotta Give. And we were disturbed then, too, although I can’t figure out if it was because, for being nearly 60-years-old, she looks phenomenal, or if it’s because she actually leaves Keanu Reeves for Jack Nicholson at the end of the movie.
This real life relationship proves that movies, indeed, are fantasies, and the prettier person always wins. Elsewhere in the world, Jack Nicholson gets another age spot, and reaffirms to himself that his “quirky” personality is sexy and intriguing. As are sunglasses.
So c’mon, Keanu. Out with the goods. Does she loose the gloves when she’s giving a reach-around? Do her hot flashes make it nearly impossible to sleep comfortably through the entire night? Does she try to nurse you? When she’s taking her old lady pills, do you sometimes role play the red-pill/blue-pill scene? Goddammit, what’s it like to sleep with someone who is a third older than you are? And goodness knows you must really enjoy it, because you certainly couldn’t act your way through the relationship.
We here at The Club would like to wish them all the happiness on Earth. As I’ve always said, “When Diane Keaton’s getting banged, the world is a better place… and someone is surely being knocked in the chin with an unrestrained breast.”
Diane & Keanu: Their Romance is Back On [Star]
Published by Rob on August 24, 2005
in Celebs.
It’s really, really not funny when 16-year-old girls go missing. Really, really not funny. Not even when their primary film credit is the 2004 tweener romp Sleepover, starring the chick from Spy Kids and seen by approximately no one.
But now that Scout Taylor-Compton is, uh, back in the news, we have to admit that, the couple of times we saw her name in the credits of Gilmore Girls, we were all, “Whoa, that chick has the best child actress name EVER! It’s like Demi Moore went on a five-day Trimspa binge, denied herself sex with Ashton Kutcher for a whole week, and then filled out a birth certificate!” And just when you think it can’t get any more awesome, E! Online reports that she sometimes goes by the nickname “Desiree.” Scout “Desiree” Taylor-Compton - sweet!
In fact, don’t believe us. Take it from Roger Ebert, in his review of Sleepover: “Farrah (the wonderfully named Scout Taylor-Compton)…functions basically as an element useful to the cinematographer in composing groups of characters.” See, “wonderfully named!” Sure, it’s damning with faint praise, but is that a resume-ready pull quote or what?
Search on for missing teen actress [E! Online]
Sleepover [Chicago Sun-Times]
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