$21,000 can buy you a bare bones Volvo. It can buy 140 iPod nanos. It can even buy you 1,050 premium bedazzlers. Or, if you’re one lucky British homosexualist, it can buy you the world’s most awkward gay date. And if you ask me, if the date is meant to make notorious vagina connoisseur Anderson Cooper sweat bullets in his powder pink necktie, then it might just be worth giving up the Volvo.
Yet someone in the Cooper Camp seemed to forget that auctioning off a date with one of America’s most sought after silver-haired bottoms (right after Richard Gere and right before Tim Gunn) at an AIDS benefit, might draw the attention of some, uh, wealthy gays.
Well, British bachelor Oliver Hicks (could he have been named anything else?!) has won Andie’s arm for an evening of white knuckles, clenched teeth, and buttered buns. And also dinner.
Can you imagine how the dinner (or, as I’ve imagined it, brunch) conversation will go? I can. And will:
Anderson: So, you, like… uhh… supporting AIDS?
Oliver: Yes, um, it’s killed nearly a dozen of my friends. As you know…
Anderson: NO! No I don’t know. Don’t know what you’re talking about. I can only, uh, imagine. Oh my god, they have sweet potato fries here.
Oliver: Yeah, I doubt they serve them at brunch through. How did you know I wanted our date to be a brunch date anyway?
Anderson: Well, when else would we have… NO! I mean, uh, one of my PAs is gay. He suggested you might be most comfortable at brunch. Personally, I’m a lunch date kinda guy myself. I find it puts the ladies at ease. And there’s nothing like a Mich Ultra at lunchtime to put my nerves at ease before a broadcast.
Oliver: Oh, a beer man too, eh?
Anderson: Oh yes. Mich Ultra, Woodchuck Cider… there’s this drinking hole in Chelsea that has this wonderful ale with actual blueberries floating in it. Oh, listen to me go on. Hey, you have nice facial hair. Do you groom it to that length or does it just come in naturally like that?
Oliver: We should get out of here, shouldn’t we?
Anderson: Oh, so it comes in naturally?
Anderson Cooper Inadvertently Outed by Charity Auction [Socialite’s Life]
How gay is Vin Diesel? So gay, apparently, that gamblers
Condi Rice’s Boston College commencement speech is met with exponentially more approval than protest, and those who did protest were mostly just angry that she’s not “Jesuit” enough. As if Elisabeth Hasselbeck’s diploma wasn’t enough to make you hate BC forever. No word on whether Condi
Anderson Cooper somehow managed to write an entire memoir without directly referring to his own sexuality. Highlights include “How I lost my virginity to…somebody” and “I felt really alienated and different during my adolescence…for some reason that I can’t really discuss. Wait - it was my father’s death. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Dead Dad.” Vanity Scare re-packages the obfuscation into an even vaguer excerpted cover story. Apparently he spent a large portion of his childhood hanging out with Truman Capote and Andy Warhol. You don’t say. [
You could almost hear the tears hitting the keyboard when Andie Cooper “blogged” about
Okay. New section. AC: Crazy (or, Anderson Cooper: Crazy).
I stumbled upon Larry King Tuesday night half way through his interview with Nicole Richie. And for the first time, I thought Larry! You look horrendous! Your face is all leathery and there’s self-tanner dripping from your nose! I then realized that Ryan Seacrest was sitting in for Larry for the evening. What ensued was the intellectual equivalent of two retarded kittens wrestling in a pillowcase. I had to turn it off when Seacrest asked a surprisingly level-headed Nicole, “Did you ever consider suicide?” To which she (may have) responded, “Well, I was kind of hoping the heroine and starvation would take care of it.”
Rob and I are both suffering from the worst cases of blogger’s block (blogck?) the interweb has ever known. So instead of boring you with forced humor about cock rings and those less fortunate than us, we took the weekend off. And when I say “took the weekend off,” I mean “drank gin rickeys until sunrise trying to name all of the horrible celebrities that are pregnant right now.” We ended in an argument over Sienna Miller’s aureolas, blew a rail off of the cover of the New York Times and called it a weekend.
