Diapers aren't just for fetishists anymore!

I'm watching Logo, the network for homos who don't get out much, because I was in the mood for a little Graham Norton. I was having a few chuckles as Graham chatted with has-been spook Marilyn Manson when during the commercial break, I saw an ad for a queer retirement community in Santa Fe called Rainbow Vision.



Naturally I have some things to say about this. First of all, let's face it...the gays (especially this one) can be bitchy enough under normal circumstances. Why would I want to spend the final years of life trapped in an overpriced condo complex with them when we're also incontinent and in chronic pain? I fully intend on spending my golden years at home scaring the neighborhood children and chasing them off my lawn as was intended. They'll creep past my house, and tell my tale in hushed tones: "That's where crazy Old Man _______ lives with 400 place settings of Fiestaware and ten cats. Sometimes, he'll come out in his bathrobe and bunny slippers, water the dead flowers, and throw rocks at us!"

Second of all, why oh why does everything marketed at us have to have something to do with freakin' rainbows?! Where the hell was I when this was being decided at the Gay Agenda Annual Conference? I can't have been at the bar the entire time. Anyway, I'm with David Sedaris on this one...in picking a flag for our people, I would have much preferred a nice skull and crossbones.

What kind of amenities would one find at a gay retirement home? Porn star orderlies? Womyn-only automotive workshops? An on-call cosmetologist to wax earlobes before a big date? No, nothing that fancy. But for your $4100 a month, you do get a membership to the Billie Jean King Fitness Center & Spa, which I can only assume is some sort of lesbian bathhouse or something, and access to the community organic garden, which I can only assume is some sort of lesbian playground where they grown their own granola and sing folk music. And what do gay men get out of living at Rainbow Vision in Santa Fe? Well, Carol Burnett and Oprah live there. Really, that should be enough.

Have you scrubbed the bathroom floor today?

For those of you who read of my recent home improvement problems, no, I have not yet finished the bathroom.



I can't imagine why I can't get anyone to help me.

Why I'm going to law school...

This was my fortune this morning from Bad Cookie:

















You just knew it would come to this eventually.

Betrayed!

Check out this snippet from Gawker:






















WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS JULIO?!

Clearly Andy and I are going to have to have a discussion about the boundaries in our relationship, not to mention our shared tastes.

Kylie!

In honor of this most blessed day, the 38th anniversary of Kylie Minogue's birth, check out the Blue Monday remix of her biggest international hit, "Can't Get You Out of My Head". This version is so hot, it is the number I did out in New Mexico when my drag alter-ego visited earlier this month. Unfortunately, I have only seen one picture of that number, and somehow I ended up looking like Peggy Lee on her deathbed, so we'll stick with this image of the most beautiful pop star on the planet.

The Trading Faces Movie Review

Tonight Craiggers and I went to see the third and supposedly final movie in the X-Men series, "X-Men: The Last Stand" after a day of being mostly useless slugs. For those of you who know us, he with his hundreds of sci-fi and horror DVDs is what is known as a Fanboy (i.e. a nerd lucky to not be a virgin and live in his mom's basement, except cute) whereas I'm a snob who will watch quality sci-fi or really really campy sci-fi, but who cannot abide middle-of-the-road messes. The X-Men movies appeal to both of us, and we were quite excited to head over to our neighborhood arty-farty cineplex, a place where X-Men and Rocky Horror can co-exist in peace.

This photo of Hugh Jackman isn't from X3, but let's face it, he's waaaay hotter here than in that Wolverine getup.

Oh so hot.

I would almost watch the movie this photo is from, even though it does star skanky Ashley Judd, just to see his package on an IMAX-sized screen.

Seriously, someone this hot can't possibly be real. How much surgery would I need to look like that? Do you think my insurance would pay for it? I'd at least get the pec implants, but I'm afraid I'd spend all of my time playing with them and never leave the house.






Okay, that's out of my system now, and I think we all feel better. Anyway, after the movie, Craiggers braced himself for my usual self-righteous tirade, and as usual, he got it. I said, "That movie was like a breakfast of Cheerios versus scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy, and grits. I like both, but one is definitely more filling than the other. I had fun, but I don't feel very full." He responded, "You're writing your blog right now, aren't you?" Five years together have obviously taught him a few things, and I just hate it when he's right.

X3 is all about the development of a cure for the gene that creates the mutants, and the resulting war over said cure. The premise of the movie would seem to beg attempts to answer major moral questions regarding the essence of what a person is, and if part of that essence is considered distasteful to some, whether it should be "cured" if it can be. These very issues are why the X-Men comics and movies appeal to the gays. Some of the X-Men are blue and scaley or furry or whatever...they can't hide and get the brunt of the hatred from humans, much like those of us who are stereotypically gay and have never been able to hide. Others have mutant powers but aren't visibly mutant, and thus must struggle whether to be open about their powers and risk rejection. Is being a mutant (or a gay) a natural progression of genetics, or is it a defect of those same genetics? And if there were a cure, would you want it, even if it takes away something that colors who you are at your most basic level while allowing you to live an easier life?

I don't expect a major summer popcorn movie to actually provide the answers to the moral questions of what makes a person who they are, but I would expect a quality series to at least ask them. X3 does neither. The conflicting feelings of the characters toward the cure are kept to a minimum. Instead, views on "the cure" are very black and white, leaving lots of room for explosions and general grand battles. The explosions are loads of fun, and there are more than a few genuinely shocking moments in the plot for those of us who have followed the past two movies. Still, I believe the director of the previous two X movies (Bryan Singer, who passed on directing this one in favor of directing the upcoming Superman movie) with his deft touch for character development could have managed the explosions and the more grand issues at the same time.

And now that I've tried to be all Mr. Critic, I have a few other comments on the movie:
1) Why can't they get a decent wigmaster for the X-Men series? First Halle Berry was looking like RuPaul, and now they have Famke Janssen done up as one of the damn Pussycat Dolls.
2) There is a scene at the end after all the credits have rolled. Stay to watch it, but expect to be really annoyed because it is a total cop-out.
3) If you want to make Kelsey Grammar an action star, fine, but don't give him Frasier Crane's dialog. No one clutches his pearls with a phrase like, "Oh my stars and garters!" and then goes on to kick butt.
4) Was there no one else for Storm (Halle Berry) and Callisto (Dania Ramirez) to fight but each other? I kept expecting them to start snatching off big hoop earrings and pull out each others' weaves. A sister can fight someone other than another sister, you know, especially when she has some kick-ass superpowers that don't include threatening to cut a bitch.

X3 was a fun movie. I enjoyed it, and would watch it again. I just can't help but feel that a good movie could have been a really great movie if the movie studios had waited for Bryan Singer to finish with Superman. I give it a "B", and for an obsessive overachiever like me, that is deeply disappointing.

Republicans are controlling my iPod

Inspired by one of my new favorite bloggers, The GayProf, I attempted to find right-wing subtext in the music delivered to me by my iPod this afternoon rather than working on the destroyed bathroom. For this game, you put your player on Shuffle, then note the first five songs it spits out and attempt to interpret what those songs might be trying to tell you. Surely my beloved iPod wouldn't give me any crazed conservative messages...Al Gore is on the board of Apple, after all. But sure enough, it seems that the Republican National Committee is sending subliminal messages to lefty progressives such as myself. Here's the proof:

1) "Lover Come Back (12" mix)" by Dead or Alive. Divorce isn't in our plans for you because marriage is sacred, even when it happens in Vegas to someone you barely know. As long as you're a man and a woman, that is.

2) "Outrageous" by Britney Spears. Be warned, young girls, this is how you turn out if you promise Jesus you'll keep your flower until marriage, but then give it away to the first boy band geek who asks for it. K-Fed could be visiting you next.

3) "My Life Is a Succession of People Saying Goodbye" by Morrissey. See how unhappy the gays are? Is this really how you want to live your life?

4) "F*ck the Men (A Toast to Men)" by Willa Ford. I hardly know what to say about this, other than I apologize for my extraordinarily bad taste in music.

5) "Breath of Life" by Erasure, using chirpy disco music to subvert a woman's right to control her own body. Clever strategy, indeed.

My iPod has a bit of a potty mouth too. The next five songs popping up were:
1) "The Bitch Is Back" by Tina Turner
2) "In My Arms" by Mylo
3) "Asian Rut" by Morrissey
4) "Shitlist" by L7
5) "Horny" by Mousse T. vs. Hot'n'Juicy

Republican, demented, and potty-mouthed...I think I may have picked up Bill O'Reilly's iPod by mistake.

Separated at Birth?

Donatella Versace needs to stop it with the extreme close-up photos. She looks MUCH better in full-length shots.























See Donatella? Isn't that so much prettier?

Trend Death Watch: A Public Service from Trading Faces

As an oppressed minority, there are many rights we gay boys don't have. In many parts of the country, we can be fired from our jobs or thrown out of our apartments because of who we are. We don't have the right to get married. But we do, at least the stereotypical ones of us do, have the right to tell you what to wear. We generally create the trends, and here at Trading Faces, we are starting a new occasional series where we will tell you when those trends are officially dead. It is our right, and like good gay Americans, we are exercising it to its fullest extent.

Today's dead trend is the Faux-Hawk. This is the 'do for those who want to appear ever-so-slightly punk without actually going all the way. It is the Avril Lavigne of haircuts. This do is achieved by cutting the hair close on the sides while pushing all the hair on top toward the center into a point. It was a cute look for a few minutes, but today I saw at least three strayt hillbilly-looking guys in really bad outfits rocking faux-hawks. When redneck guys in Louisville, Kentucky find a trend acceptable enough (i.e. doesn't make them look queer) to follow, it is time to move on.

















And so it is that the fauxhawk is officially finished. The pedophiles over at Abercrombie & Fitch are just going to have to find some other way to style their Aryan Youth models.

This has been a public service announcement brought to you by the bossy faggots at Trading Faces.

Knight Crier

American television star and German pop star David Hasselhoff was so moved by Taylor Hicks Wednesday night on the AI finale that he's planning to personally introduce Taylor to the rabid German music market. Expect him to record Hasselhoff's big German hit, "Do You Love Me (Now That I Can Dance" any day now.
















Really, I should have just posted this photo with no text. With a picture of David Hasselhoff crying over American Idol, the comedy just writes itself. Photo from Towleroad.

A shout-out to my bitches

Waaaaay back in the day, back when e-mail was first starting to become available to the general public, a group of friends who studied at and worked for the University of Kentucky formed a party list. It was a list of e-mail addresses utilized to let everyone know who was going out to the Cha-Cha Palace for big fun, maybe a show, maybe some cocktails, always some scandal. Some genius whose identity has never quite been confirmed, dubbed this party list The Psycho Friends Network, or the PFN. And thus a legend was born.

At that time, I was the youngest member of the PFN, and they used to get me into clubs underage, a fact I think I could still use against them in a court of law. Not that I ever would, of course. These days we're spread out all over creation, but we still keep in touch through that same e-mail list, and now we even have our own direct marketing campaign. Today I received in the mail from Cafe Press my very own PFN t-shirt, with our logo starring Lexington legend, the Pentacostal Lady.






















Miss Penny Costal, as we call her, walks the streets of Lexington, Kentucky permanently frozen in 1973 in her fabulous polyester pantsuits and matching nail polish and big bows on her beehive hairdo. If you have ever lived in Lexington, you know who she is...she is one of those local legends that is instantly recognizable to all ages and classes of people. Just like Penny, the PFN is frozen somewhere in the early 90s, where we all lived in the same place, worked and played together, and generally had the best time I personally ever expect to have in my entire life. So, feel free to go online to the PFN Store and purchase yourself a Penny Costal thong. It is high quality stuff, and I guarantee you'll be glad you did.

Last Call, Paula!

Well, thank god for the DVR tonight because after finishing the plumbing in the tub and shower fix, loading the dishwasher, and doing two loads of laundry, I didn’t start watching the “American Idol” finale until an hour into the show. And yet after all that work, I still have commentary on the performances for you…all three or four of you. Thanks to the miracle of the Digital Video Recorder, I got to see the entire show, and not just the last bits when Paula is already drunk out of her mind. Here we go with the rudeness, itemized for your convenience!

1. Good for Paris, doing a duet with Al Jerreau. Maybe he can get her a job greeting guests at the Wal-Mart after the show. Just kidding, he’s a legend. Still, Princess P out sang his old ass.

2. Daddy Chris just totally pulled an Eve Harrington on the lead singer of Live. If Chris asks to be their “understudy”, that guy needs to put his foot down fast.

3. Young women of America, why attend college? You can achieve a career and even some fame by pretending you are as stupid as a sack of hammers just like Kellie Pickler. Say it with me: “Sal-mun and cal-uh-mar-ah.”

4. When you can’t get Celine Dion in for a duet, the alternative choice is clear: if ham won’t do, go for Meatloaf. It didn’t quite work out, though. Meatloaf found an old Quaalude from the 70s at the bottom of makeup case, and sadly, decided to check whether it was any good prior to his performance with McPhee. It wasn’t.

5. These god-awful production numbers seem like what the Solid Gold Dancers would have done had Marilyn McCoo and Dionne Warwick ever allowed them to sing.

6. Oh Elliott, why couldn’t you have gotten some better songs for your last show? You’d be here tonight instead of Spaztastic. Mr. Yamin was so great tonight for the three lines he got to sing before Mary J. Blige came out and blew the roof off the place. Upstaged again, my little matzo.

7. I usually avoid the first few episodes of Idol because surprisingly, my bitter butt doesn’t have the stomach for the public humiliation of people, most especially those lemmings who think it makes them special. Again, thank god for the DVR because that means I get to fast forward through Semencrest’s comedy bits featuring the Idol rejects.

8. I know Toni Braxton hasn’t been a star for a while, but that doesn’t mean she needs to ride all up on the great grey spaz. We can tell from his reaction that he clearly doesn’t know what to do when a woman touches him anyway, so it isn’t going to get you anywhere.

9. Mandissa, don’t bother with the disco-flavored soul. My people are the only folks buying that kind of music, and we ain’t buying your big ole homophobic ass.

10. Boy, they let everyone sing tonight! Even Clay’s last trick from Manhunt.net got a number! By the way, if planting a big flaming Claymate boy on stage with him to make him look more butch, even while he’s wearing a piece from the Raquel Welch wig collection, is his management’s way of defusing Clay’s mansex scandal, they might want to go back to the drawing board.

11. If Craiggers and I ever tie the knot, “The Look of Love” is going to be our first dance at the reception. The brilliant version by Dusty Springfield, that is. I was hoping Burt Bacharach would drag his creaky ass across the stage and shove Ace off it for even thinking he could pull this song off. By the way, can I just say Burt Bacharach is right up there with Lennon and McCartney as one of the greatest pop song writers ever? That’s right, and if you weren’t moved by Elliott’s rendition of “A House is Not a Home”, you aren’t human. If he had sang that last week, he’d be in the finals.

12. Tom Jones takes dumps that are bigger and more manly than Kevin Covais.

13. I don’t know why Paris got to sing “Close to You”. McPhee totally sounds like Karen Carpenter after a good square meal, and believe me, that’s a compliment. My mama used to play The Carpenters all the time when I was a kid (on the 8-track!), and I have that stuff burned into my brain forever.

14. Dionne, dawg, you are a little, shall we say, “pitchy” tonight. Time to lay off the Mary Jane! Still, you can do a quick costume change, girl, and your second number was hot. You looked good in that purple suit, but those two hootchie mamas dancing with you have to go. We don’t blame you for running from Semencrest instead of staying to talk to him, though.

15. It was so worth having the world’s most annoying man win American Idol, just to see David Hasselhoff in the audience in hysterical tears at the announcement! That is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all season!

Thanks for nothing

You couldn't take 30 seconds out of your day to throw me a vote?

Blair Warner is a saint!

Not only did Blair find time to include her handicapable cousin Geri on "The Facts of Life" while maintaining the most feathered hair on network television, but she is also a friend of the male-to-female transexual community as seen in this photo, courtesy of D-Listed.


















I'm sure Tootie was never this nice.

A woman scorned

What is the world coming to? You can be the highest election official in the state of Florida and steal a presidential election for a guy, but then he won't even support you when you run for the Senate.

Are you feeling screwed, Katherine? Do you feel like he hardly stopped to drop the gooey rubber on the threadbare polyester carpet of the by-the-hour motel before he was spouting half-hearted promises to call as he bolted out the door?
















Good. Now you know how the rest of us feel.

A pox on my house

Melodrama has once again visited our home, and I feel like I should be calling a domestic violence shelter on the house because it bitch-slapped me hard Saturday. I had a long list of small tasks to accomplish over the weekend. Item #1, re-caulk the tub and sink in the main bathroom. Item #2? I don't remember since I never got past Item #1. Want to know what happens when I take on a small hour-long task in my house?





















Chalk it up to bad installation of the previous shower surround. Still, it did give me an excuse to put on my most chic home improvement garb.





















See Brandon, I told you I am fabulous even doing construction.

P.I.B.

When I was in high school, I was a P.I.B. (Person In Black). You know those kids that wear all black, mope about, and wear their miserablism as a fashion statement? That was me, and I take full responsibility for how utterly annoying I must have been. In my defense, you try growing up the funny-looking and also really really really nelly kid in a small town in Appalachia. It is a wonder I didn't end up a serial killer.

Anyway, when I was locked up in my bedroom bemoaning the hand fate had dealt me, I was usually listening to Morrissey. I'm a far happier person these days, but I still adore Morrissey, and since it is his birthday today (oh, and since I seem to be posting nothing but music stuff this week), here is my favorite of his solo hits. The song is called "Suedehead", from his first solo album "Viva Hate", and the video is completely non-sensical and lovely.

Into the Bleach

This song, which would have been Blondie's comeback tune last year had their record company been smart enough to release it in the U.S., has been stuck in my head all day for some reason.



The clown in this video doesn't scare me at all as they usually do. I think it is because he has eschewed a traditional clown face, instead favoring a Marilyn Manson in a really good mood sort of look, probably how he would paint himself to visit his grandma in the nursing home.

Happy Birthday, baby!

Time to gush.

Who is the only artist in Billboard history to have #1 hits in the 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s? It isn't Elvis, the Beatles, or Aretha. No, it is an artist who trancends genres and continually beats the odds. It is the one and only Cher, and yesterday she turned 60.
















I believe that Cher may be the greatest female pop star of the 20th century. Many have more musical talent...Aretha has those incredible pipes, and I'm of the opinion that she, Annie Lennox, and Dusty Springfield are the greatest female vocalists ever. But Cher, she is a pop star, and a pop star is more than great vocals (although when you hear a Cher song, even if for the first time, you know it is a Cher song, and that is a mark of a great vocalist). A pop star inspires love from children, teens, and adults alike. Larger than life and yet someone who has an element about them that makes you relate, a true pop star is universal. Styles have changed a million times since her first hit, but she is even more of a star now than she was then.

People have pondered why it is that gay men have such love for Cher...well, journalists have, because we know why we love her so much. Cher is utterly unafraid to be anything less than what she is, no matter how over-the-top that might be (or if she is afraid, she overcomes it). For this, she is often repaid with ridicule. When "Silkwood" was screened to preview audiences, people actually laughed when her name came on screen. In the end, she always comes out on top...no one was laughing when she received her first Oscar nomination for "Silkwood." She overcomes the derision and the ridicule to succeed, and that is why we love her.

I also have a special connection with Cher. She is well known for her work on behalf of kids with disfiguring diseases. I've had such issues with my own appearance that I've never been able to sit through her movie "Mask." I have nothing like the kid protrayed in that film, but it is just a bit too sensitive for me. Just knowing she did that movie and still raises money for those kids means a lot to me. So, the first time I visited my doctor in NYC, I'm waiting at the reception desk for some paperwork to be processed when I noticed a photo on the wall of one of my doctor's patients...with Cher. This is going to sound absolutely insane, but when I saw my favorite lady in the lobby of Dr. Waner's office, I knew everything was going to be okay. It was like a sign. When Cher shows up unexpectedly in a place where a big gay boy is in need of some hope, believe me, it can't be anything but good.

Madge-estic!

Out Magazine reports that employees on the new Madonna tour are complaining because she makes people work and work without giving them a break, and that she doesn't like whiners. Yet again, we see why she's an icon. Do these people think she got where she is by taking a coffee break? I'm surprised her hairdresser hasn't grabbed hold of one of these bitches, and said, "Faggot, you are on tour with the biggest star in the world. You will dance, you will work your ass off, and you will LOVE IT!"

So y'all, Madge is on tour, and all the blogs are cracking jokes about her dragging her creaking carcass out yet again. But let me tell you, a Madonna show is an experience that is not to be missed, no matter what the price. I got to see her on her last tour after winning tickets for her Ft. Lauderdale show on Launch.com. My friend Twyla Knight and I were actually in a cut out IN THE STAGE!






















See that ridiculous leopard print cowboy hat behind Madonna's left leg? That's me. See the girl screaming as she cups her mouth? I sort of knocked her down. I mean, I was nice enough to let her stand in front of me because she's so short...how could she not expect to be knocked down when Madge comes over handing out the high-fives?

REVEALED! K-Fed Lyrics Written by Baby

It's nice that father and son are collaborating before SPF gets his brains scrambled by one of his parents.





Wigga, please.

Does the winner get good parking too?

After watching Taylor Hicks spaz past the competition to make it to the finals of American Idols, I have only one comment...
















Shouldn't Jerry Lewis be hosting this show?

Census

I love a good survey. I even love a bad survey. I ripped this survey off the MySpace page of my lovely friend Rhoda, and thought I might post it here for my 10s of readers since revealing post-surgical pictures of myself isn't nearly exhibitionistic enough.

TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF - The Survey
Name:	Christopher
Birthday:	June 9, 1973
Birthplace:	Louisa, KY
Current Location:	Louisville, KY
Eye Color:	Blue
Hair Color:	Red & thin
Height:	A tall drink of water
Right Handed or Left Handed:	Right
Your Heritage:	If it's not Scottish, it's crap.
The Shoes You Wore Today:	Some beat-up old black Steve Maddens
Your Weakness:	Cheese, sarchasm, vodka
Your Fears:	Clowns, baldness, Neocons
Your Perfect Pizza:	White pizza with pesto
Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year:	Top 5 ranking in first semester of law school, and a Tony award for Best Supporting Actress in a Musical Revival.
Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger:	The evil grin emoticon
Thoughts First Waking Up:	Where the hell is my coffee? And who is this guy?!
Your Best Physical Feature:	I'm letting my surgeon work that out.
Your Bedtime:	More importantly, what's your bedtime, baby?
Your Most Fond Memory:	Sophomore year of college
Pepsi or Coke:	I'm a Diet Cokehead
MacDonalds or Burger King:	BK!
Single or Group Dates:	Either, just don't tell my husband.
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea:	Not so much.
Chocolate or Vanilla:	Vanilla
Cappuccino or Coffee:	Coffee
Do you Smoke:	Not since Sept. 24
Do you Swear:	I quit smoking, so what the hell do you think?
Do you Sing:	Only when interrogating terrorists.
Do you Shower Daily:	Yes
Have you Been in Love:	Yes
Do you want to go to College:	What pimply-assed teenager wrote this?!
Do you want to get Married:	Yes, but only for the bridal registry.
Do you belive in yourself:	I'm beginning to think I might be a myth.
Do you get Motion Sickness:	No.
Do you think you are Attractive:	Read the sub-heading of this blog and ask that again.
Are you a Health Freak:	Intermittently
Do you get along with your Parents:	Of course...I don't live with them!
Do you like Thunderstorms:	I like the one going on right now.
Do you play an Instrument:	I'm really trying to avoid a penis joke here.
In the past month have you Drank Alcohol:	Indeed.
In the past month have you Smoked:	No.
In the past month have you been on Drugs:	No, but I'm considering starting Metamucil soon.
In the past month have you gone on a Date:	My husband never takes me anywhere.
In the past month have you gone to a Mall:	No
In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos:	Now I'm convinced a dateless fat teen wrote this. That or it was written by comic strip annoyance Cathy.
In the past month have you eaten Sushi:	No
In the past month have you been on Stage:	Yes, Tina Camaro was.
In the past month have you been Dumped:	No
In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping:	No
In the past month have you Stolen Anything:	Not that I'm aware of.
Ever been Drunk:	Shut up Rhoda.
Ever been called a Tease:	No, but Tina Camaro has
Ever been Beaten up:	Not since 2nd grade
Ever Shoplifted:	A pack of Chicklettes when I was 4.
How do you want to Die:	As a bomb strapped to Ashley Judd.
What do you want to be when you Grow Up:	Patti Labelle
What country would you most like to Visit:	Belize, just because I like saying Belize.
In a Boy/Girl..
Favourite Eye Color:	Black
Favourite Hair Color:	Silver
Short or Long Hair:	Either
Height:	Bigger than me.
Weight:	Bigger than me.
Best Clothing Style:	Good underwear goes a long way
Number of Drugs I have taken:	Legal or illegal? Is this being monitored by W.?
Number of CDs I own:	2500 songs on my iPod
Number of Piercings:	7, all but one are now closed
Number of Tattoos:	1
Number of things in my Past I Regret:	1...staying up this late doing a dumb survey.

Getting litigious on your ass

My beloved adopted daughter, Whitney Houston, has not come out of her room in days because she is so humiliated over recent tabloid reports that she is dying from a brain tumor. I can tell you that nothing could be further from the truth. That is not a tumor. Sometimes it is just hard to get the tangles out of a synthetic wig.

Those photos weren't really her anyway, and she may sue them. Do you have any idea how many people out there are so obsessed with Whitney that they remake themselves in her image? Thousands, and the tabloids print photos of these imposters all the time. So the next time you think you've seen Whitney in US Magazine or some other piece of trash, just remember how much trouble you have picking the real Whitney out of this lineup of professional impersonators:

Tickled Pink

Ever noticed how the title and a good chunk of the text on the first few posts of my blog would often disappear for no apparent reason? Well, I finally got around to changing my blog template, and now you can consistently read the marginally funny repartee to match the fairly hideous photos. I can feel your relief from here. Of course, if anyone with some graphic design talent would care to help me make my blog a bit prettier, please feel free to volunteer.

By the way, I've added a couple of links to the left: my Fiesta friend Val and a brilliant and hilarious writer who calls herself the Angry Black Bitch. A bitch is always all about an Angry Black Bitch, let me tell you.

Wake me up before you do blow

George Michael has had ANOTHER drug-related car wreck, but it can't even compare to the wreck he's made of himself. Back in the day, all I wanted was hair I could feather and to get big gold hoops in my ears just like George. That was back when he looked like this:

This is how he looked recently when someone went to wake him up after he allegedly passed out at the wheel of his car and let the traffic light cycle four times. After waking up, he is said to have driven off right into a traffic barrier of some sort.

George has taught us two things today: 1) Despite the theme of this blog, not all plastic surgery is a good idea, and 2) Hanging out with Elton John will eventually take its toll.

Mother abuse

This is the original theatrical trailer for the greatest movie ever made, "Mommie Dearest".



Watching this three minutes 50 seconds of cinematic genius, I simply cannot understand why Joan Crawford was so misunderstood. I mean, she adopted this rotten little child that no one else wanted, and gave her everything, despite how hard she had to work with the worst monsters in Hollywood. And what did she get in return? A daughter who was a bad sport, picky eater, slovenly in the bathroom, and unappreciative of couture.

Poor Joan...if only I had been her daughter, she would have been so much happier.

Good hair won't get you into heaven

I hate it when someone makes me agree with Sean Hannity.



Just out of curiousity, just how much of a buzz can one catch from a cup of the fury and wrath of God, Shirley?

Mind ya business!

I don't ask you what kind of panties you make Stedman wear, so you can stay out of my fantasy life, O.

Anderson Cooper is cooler than you

But we already knew that, now didn't we?


*actual ad from current issue of "Rolling Stone"

Third Woman Killed by Gator in South Florida

In other news, alligators are all the rage among fashionable pet owners in Ft. Lauderdale, the only city gayer than San Francisco.

Some of my best friends have rhythm

Seeing as how Gucci will no longer let me into their stores (some silly accusations of stretching a $2000 dress...those sales girls are so melodramatic), Target is by default my very favorite store in the world. Now I always thought that Target seemed like a store where diversity is valued because, well, let's face it...Target is sooooo gay. All those colorful and sleek home accessories? Todd Oldham and Isaac Mizrahi doing design for them? They wouldn't even let Jacquelyn Smith into their store, much less give her a collection of her own.

That's why I was surprised by what I found today when I stopped off at the Target next to my hotel to buy some cards for Mother's Day. You know how each card design has a cardboard insert behind it describing it's use and sometimes showing a company logo? Like it will say "Mother's Day, from Son", etc. This is what I found today:

Yes, Target is marketing a line of cards to attractive, upwardly-mobile black folks, and the line is called "In Rhythm". Hell to the no. Who went and gave the moron who came up with New Coke a marketing job again? Do they think that the gentleman pictured in this card could, if pressed for cash, dance and sing on stage with his four brothers and do it so well that greeting cards marketed to him should pay tribute to his inherent rhythm?

I'm thinking their next line of cards should be for gay boys, and they can call it In Fashion. Because, you know, all gay men are well-dressed. Get it? I mean, we all are, but still, stereotypes are hurtful.

Live from Nashville

Trading Faces is coming to you from the country music capital of the world. I'm down here doing some training for work, and so far I've gotten to visit with my old college roomie, Dr. Chad Medicine Woman, and got taken out honky tonking on the company dime...yee haw!

But all is not well in Nashville. I made it home from Opry Mills Outlet Mall in time to watch Daddy Chris get the boot on "American Idol." Needless to say, there is a tear in my beer down here in Nashville. There is no justice in a world when William Hung's great uncle gets to stay on the show being all spastic and Chris has to go. I may have to go back downtown and find a cowboy with broad shoulders to cry on.

Evil comes to Louisville

OMG, Starzilla and Big Gay Al were in town for Derby! I don't know why I didn't realize that her freeloading ass might come to town for our only celebrity-ish event of the year...I could have stalked her and hit on her husband to prove a point!



This photo is from some nightclub party hosted by Playboy downtown on Friday night. Given what she is wearing and the fact that I saw no pictures of her, it looks like she didn't get invited to any of the big more formal parties that fight over celebrity attendees. You know there would be photos, because the most dangerous place in America is between Starzilla and a camera. Anyway, you know you've officially hit the D-List when you don't get invited to parties that are hosting the likes of Nick Lachey and Jennifer Love Hewitt. Hell, even Gilbert Gottfried got into one of the parties...when people think you're more annoying than him, it is time to hang it up.

Off to the Races

It's Derby Day here in our fair city of Louisville. I do love being a resident of Louisville during this time of year. For the weeks leading up to the Derby, you see city workers and criminals sentenced to community service out making our roads and highways beautiful. Everyone starts beautifying their lawns...even my crazy neighbor finally cut the grass and picked up the Colt 45 empties. Ladies get out their fabulous big hats, a fashion statement I would like to see year-round. All the girls in my department at work are begging for vacation to get their hair and nails did, and across the call center floor, there are updos and extensions as far as the eye can see. In short, it is a great time to be from The Ville.

Derby, though, is really more for out-of-towners. We locals mostly go to house parties and maybe participate in a pool or two. Now I suck at picking the ponies, and the one time I picked the winner, I wasn't involved in a pool, so no one believed I really picked the winner. So, for the record, my pick this year, in honor of my pending law career, is Lawyer Ron.

And this picture shows his reaction after being told he's my Derby pick. Clearly he has realized he is doomed to lose.

Mary had a little hypocrisy

Other than my Mary "Auntie Tom" Cheney post a few days ago, I usually avoid politics on my blog because I have a small tendency to get annoyingly preachy. Well children, sit back, because it is time for a sermon. Today we'll be paying another visit to the Cheneys and how they are affecting my life because right now, I'm a seriously pissed off faggot.

Last week, my partner of five years inquired into his eligibility to take FMLA to care for me during my next surgery later this summer since we learned last time around that it is much easier on me to have him do so than my other family members. While the Family and Medical Leave Act is a federal law that does not list domestic partners as a qualifying person in cases of caring for a family member, some companies do extend these benefits to domestic partners voluntarily. Not Craig's company, though. Nor my company as it turns out (I checked out of curiosity).

Let me just be clear about this: Britney Spears got hitched the first time around in an impulsive quickie Vegas wedding. Her marriage lasted 72 hours, but in that 72 hours, her husband automatically qualified for federal job protection so he could care for her in case of a serious medical condition. Craig and I have been together for five years, but he does not qualify to take care of me (and if you need a reminder of how serious this surgery is, please click here). HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT HER DRUNKEN MARRIAGE REPRESENTED SOME SORT OF SANCTITY IN NEED OF PROTECTION, BUT MY RELATIONSHIP DOESN'T?!

Craig and I pay taxes just like everyone else, but we are denied
more than 1,100 Federal benefits that Darva Conger instantly received by marrying a total stranger on a reality television show. The fight for civil marriage rights isn't about subverting anyone's religious beliefs, but rather is about equal access to federal benefits and protections for which we all pay taxes. Thanks to people like Mary Cheney, Craig could lose his job if he takes unauthorized time off to care for me, so my mother who works in food service and lives 3 hours away is going to have to take unpaid time from her low-wage job to do it for him.

My beef with Mary Cheney isn't that she loves her father despite his connection to a rampantly bigoted group of people. I have a problem with the fact that Mary Cheney took a six-figure salary to work on the Bush/Cheney campaign knowing full well that she was working to elect an administration that has and will continue to wage war on her family and ours. Hate yourself for who you are all you want, lady, but don't sell the rest of us out while you live a life of privilege with your girlfriend, benefiting off our backs.

Hey Mary, your dad expresses my sentiments for you and your cronies right about now.

And now back to our regularly scheduled celebrity fluff, already in progress.

Just say Moe

Ricky Martin has a new haircut.

This style looks vaguely familiar. Where have I seen this before?

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Ah, yes! I knew it would come to me.

(photo courtesy of D-listed)

It's all Nancy Reagan's fault!

I've discovered the root of the downfall of my adopted daughter, Whitney Houston, thanks to YouTube and my friend Ed. It seems that she appeared in a White House produced anti-drug video in the mid-80s that featured LaToya Jackson, David Hasselhoff, Tootie, and...New Edition. Yes, my guess is that she met Bobby Brown on the set, and he was probably feeding her "diet pills" in the bathroom telling her they're not really drugs. Where was her mama at?! If only I had adopted her back then. Of course, I was about 10-years-old at the time, but I was mature for my age.



The director should have won an Emmy for this piece of brilliance. Having David Hasselhoff pop out of a poster and sing should be enough to scare anyone off drugs. Hell, when I saw that, I thought for a moment that I was on the worst trip of my life!

Busted!

"Whitney! It is 3 a.m.! Put that fur coat down and march your skinny butt back into the house now or I'm sending you to that convent school in Switzerland! And let me tell you, missy, the kind of snow they have there, you aren't going to want anywhere near your nose!"



I really do try to be a good parent, but every day, that girl makes me understand Joan Crawford just a little bit better.

Urkel Gets a Job

In an example of the continuing proliferation of the Homosexual Agenda, former child star Jaleel White is tapped as the star of a new Sci-Fi Channel offering that calls itself a cross between "Will & Grace" and "Battlestar Galactica."

CORRECTION: We were just informed by Jaleel White's management that he is not starring in any gay sci-fi shows at the present time. He just really likes this Barbarella-on-a-motorcycle look. It's the popped collar that really makes this outfit.

Father Knows Less

Posted today on The Advocate online:
In her new memoir, Now It's My Turn (Simon and Schuster/Threshold Editions, 2006), Mary Cheney, the lesbian daughter of Vice President Dick Cheney, writes that when she told her parents she was gay, the first words out of her father’s mouth “were exactly the ones that I wanted to hear: ‘You’re my daughter, and I love you, and I just want you to be happy.’”

She left out the part where Darth Cheney said, "I don't want any of the other queers to be happy, so I'll help prop up an administration that has systematically waged war against their families and used them as scapegoats to raise money and turn out the bigoted party base, but I do want you to be happy, princess. Or prince. Or whatever you'll be calling yourself after you go to my barber and get a scary dyke haircut."

I worship false Idols

A few days ago, Jim expressed his shock that I had yet to comment on America’s rejection of stupidity, a.k.a. Kellie Pickler getting voted off "American Idol." Sorry to neglect my duties, but I just sobered up from my celebration in time to watch last night’s episode. Tonight everyone had two songs, and all of them screwed up at least one. Here’s the breakdown plus all the tacky in-between bits:

Elliot did "On Broadway" for his first number. That song wasn’t that great the first time around, so why does someone on this show do this number every year? Because Elliott sweetie, do not you realize that none of those performers have ever won?

Is Paula sober? I wonder what’s on the other stations. A sober Paula is a boring Paula. She was probably sober when she recorded "Rush Rush". Thank god she was drunk when she made the video for it!

There is something mildly disturbing about Paris getting all sexual with her rendition of "Kiss". It’s very Jon Benet Ramsey inappropriate, and I think it is going to get her sent home this week. Plus, when you out-cheese Tom Jones, you know you’ve really messed up.

I’m not saying that Chris Daughtry makes me all giddy like a schoolgirl, but I will admit that after that number, I could lay on my back out on the lawn and serve as a pretty good sundial. Oh, he sang really well too. Incidentally, a certain relative of mine recently had her husband buzz his hair off so she can pretend she’s sleeping with Daddy Chris. Clearly insanity is a family trait.

Feel free to take a moment.

There, I'm sure we all feel better now. McPhee seems to be holding back, like she’s really afraid of screwing up this terrible song, "Against All Odds", which she then proceeded to do. This is what happens when she covers up her boobies, the source of her power.

Taylor "Corky" Hicks, are you fucking kidding me with that idiotic George Jefferson scoring a touchdown dance? He did win a big prize, though, for being the 10,000th guy to get Ryan Semencrest on his back, so congrats Corky!

On his second number, Elliot sounded so pretty, I was sure Paula was going to cry, but instead she was giggling. I guess her happy pills kicked in. Anyway, Elliot is so far from being a slick pop star that he could actually build a huge fan base by playing that up. He could be the straight Clay Gaiken!

No she didn’t! Yes she did, Paris and her Jeanie-goes-on-a-clamdig pants took on Mary J. Blige! She sounded great, but there was no personality to the number. Sorry Munchkin, but you have to have been way down low to be feeling a song by the great Mary J. and pull off her exquisite pain. Try again after you’re blowing rails to numb the pain of your man hocking your fur coat to pay for hookers, malt liquor, and 2 hours in a motel room.

Daddy Chris, that rendition of some miscellaneous faceless bland rock band was absolutely terrible, and I’m not just saying that because I want you to spank me.

Unleashing her girls this late in the show for her second number has obviously made McPhee go a little nutso, resulting in her inexplicable humping of the stage . She sounds great, but her weird positioning has me completely distracted. Still, I think this was my favorite number tonight. She showed she could do a little something more than get all Celine Dion on us.

My old dryer had two settings: Hotter than Hell and Air. Likewise, Corky only seems to have settings for Spastic and Boring. I’m not sure which I despise more.

Now onto the Slice & Dice night...

First off, why did Ryan call out Paula in his introduction? "Almost 45 million votes last night. That’s a lot of votes, Paula." Does Ryan bait the drunkest guy in bars too? No, he probably just goes home with him.

The Up With People production number is almost worth less commentary than this week’s Ford Focus commercial. You know someone is going to have those stupid things shown on their VH1 Behind the Music special just as an added humiliation.

Former Idol Justin Sideshow Bob Guarini is sitting behind Melissa Gilbert in the audience. I’m so happy that he found work as a personal assistant for has-been child stars.

And then Lilliputian Paris gets the boot. It is a shame because when she sings jazzy numbers, she has the best voice on the show, but she is not mature enough to have developed a definitive stage persona. She tries something new every week with the wacky weaves and goofball Destiny’s Child reject outfits, but none of them ever clicked. Goodbye Paris, we hardly knew you. Then again, I don’t think you know yourself yet either.

At least she's pretty

Jade on tonight's episode of "America's Next Top Model" on her photo shoot with an elephant: "I'll always remember this...shooting with an elephant reminds me of an ancient dinosaur, because they are in the dinosaur family."


Ummmm...yeah, I'm thinking it isn't surprising she couldn't pull off this school girl look.

Hustle and Ho

"Man, you wouldn't believe the blow I got for signing over the rights to 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'. I didn't even need anesthetic for my last nose job!"


"Court, would you sell me some? Nicole Ritchie had all her dealers cut me off, and now I have to fly to Bolivia and smuggle it back in Tinkerbell's ass. I'll give you these pearls for a teener!"

"Babysit Frances Bean the next time I'm in rehab, and we'll call it even."

Photos courtesy of D-Listed, taken at the launch party of the 1st Annual Sober Day USA. No, I'm not joking, that was really the event. Parasite will be probably be celebrating Chastity Day USA next month.

Anderson Cooper Update

Breaking news: After subjecting the public to the Lohan/Hilton set for months, Graydon Carter grounds his teenage daughter and forbids her to choose another cover for his magazine. Manorexia replaces anorexia as the cover look du jour.



My boyfriend didn't even want to be on the cover since he is so modest, but I insisted. Isn't he ever so dreamy?