Wednesday, June 28, 2006


It’s official and it's the talk of Manhattan – Star Jones is leaving The View.

Yes, Barbara Walters has doused the the wicked black witch of the east with water. It’s no secret that Barbara Walters hated Star and wanted her removed from the daily chat fest. The solution: Hire Rosie O, who has been quoted in numerous magazines questioning Star’s suspicious weight loss and her “on the down low” gay husband.

I mean, did anyone really think Star had the balls to go up against Rosie O? I think not.

Personally, I would have loved to see Rosie beat the shit out of Star on a daily basis, but alas, it’s not to be.

And if anyone missed the fabulous catfight between Sandra Bernhard, Star and that stupid blonde republican on The View, go to and type The View into the search engine and watch the entire 7-minute segment. Trust me, it's a hoot and a half.

Sunday, June 25, 2006


Shakira, Skakira…Damn, I love that song. And honey, my hips don’t lie either.

Saturday, June 24, 2006


Yes, it's true, you can have too much money and too much time on your hands.

Let me explain.

Last week, I was having a Cobb salad with a pal from Beverly Hills who was in town for a little “work". Now I'm always up for a good nip and tuck tale, but her surgery story not only took the cake, but baked it, too.

Believe it or not, my gal pal was in Manhattan to get her ass lips bleached. Yes, you read that right. Apparently, the skin around her anal area was too dark for her liking. For $1500, a doctor was going to apply a cream to her bothersome dark area and in 20 minutes her hole’s hue would be that of a teenager. I was stunned: I needed answers.

Why are you having this done?

My new boyfriend doesn't like the look of my hole.

Well, how does he see it? I mean, it's kind of a hard area to view, right?

He likes to play gynecologist.

I had heard enough. With all the drama and craziness in the world, this is what my pal is worried about.

I now felt like an asshole asking the asshole about her asshole.

Thursday, June 22, 2006


I have a new Manhattan pet peeve - motorcycles and the fat, ugly, and obnoxious men that ride them.

I ask you: Is it wrong of me to want to take a gun and shoot these obese, balding and small-dicked bastards as they roar down the street waking everyone up? I don’t think so. And shouldn't there be a law against motorcycles and their maddening mufflers?

I mean, if Bush can write discrimination into the constitution, surely there can be a law outlawing these noisy contraptions.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006


Ok, I’ve said it – I hate shopping. Quick, confiscate my queer eye card cause I don’t want it anymore.

First off, they never have my size. I need a small or medium and those sizes are always sold out; and the only sizes left are XL or XXL. Now common sense should tell store executives that since the smalls and mediums sell out immediately, they should order more to begin with – but no, the stores end up with racks of clearance XLs and XXLs marked down to 59 cents.

This is just another example of corporate America gone amuck. Stores lose major dollars ordering all those discounted XLs that they are forced to jack the prices up for everything else to make a profit. I’m sorry, but it’s basic economics, fat people don’t buy fashionable clothes – thin people do, so order more smalls and medium clothes for thin people.

And another thing, why do stores have 10 checkout lanes, but only 2 people working? What the hell is that all about?

Finally, I just don’t get Whole Foods – who in their right mind would pay $4 for lettuce and $12 for chicken. Absurd.

Saturday, June 17, 2006


Today, Paul McCartney turns 64, and boy does he look strange. I mean, he looks like a corpse. Doesn’t he realize men his age don’t have solid one-color black hair?

He looks crazy.

And if you’re gonna have some work done, fine and dandy, but at least get the whole face pulled – Mr. McCartney seems to only have had his eyebrows pulled, thus giving him a rather startled expression with a saggy lower prune face.

Paul, let it be.

Thursday, June 15, 2006


I think it’s time I get a Dell. I was a die-hard Apple computer person, but no more. My constant problems with Apple products have forced me to look into what the majority has known all along – PC’s rule.

For starters, I am sick of not being able to surf the Internet. Apple’s browser Safari is full of bugs and constantly refuses to open pages and Internet Explorer does not support Apple systems, so what is an Internet whore left with? Nothing.

And then there is the ipod issue. My friend who works at an Apple store says they keep hundreds of ipods behind the counter to give out like candy to the throngs of people returning their defected ipods. He tells me “no questions asked” because the ipods are made to be disposable, so new ones are handed out without question.

I’m sorry, but if I pay $300 for something, I don’t expect it to be disposable.

That is why I tell everyone who buys an Apple product to purchase the extended warranty tout de suite, because it’s not "if" there will be problems, it’s when.

My own laptop broke down after 24 months to the tune of a $1200 repair. My friend’s imac broke down after 11 months to the tune of $1300 – thank goodness we both bought the extended warranty.

Sure, Apple products look nice, but like Eve with her tempting apple, only disaster can happen when you buy one.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006


Although I despise the right-wing politics of the New York Post, it does have the best gossip columns in town.

Recently in Liz Smith’s column, she reported an exchange between Jessica Simpson and Pamela Anderson.

Jessica was chatting about her role in the new feature film Baywatch with Baywatch alum Pamela Anderson. It was all very normal until Jessica asked, “How were you able to move so slowly in those shots where you were running along the beach bouncing up and down?”

Miss Anderson, a smart cookie if not a rocket scientist, reportedly replied - after a significant, sympathetic pause – “Oh, honey, it was slow-motion camera work.”

Sunday, June 11, 2006


Gay men can be divided into three groups - mister, sister and the dreaded twister.

Misters are rare in the gay universe – these naturally manly men enjoy sports, Wrangler jeans and drinking beer. Generally, these men are tops; and are basically oblivious to the shallowness of gay culture. As I said, these men are rare, and thus, are highly coveted in the gay world. When in doubt about your mister’s authenticity, check his medicine chest for any sisterly signs such as a jar of Lancôme eye cream.

Sisters form the bulk of the gay community – loud queens who love to dance, prance and romance every designer by name. Trust me, sisters are not hard to miss – white belts, cropped pants and flip-flops are dead giveaways.

The dreaded twister is really a sister trying to pass himself off as a mister. Many a queen who has thought to have bagged a true mister is only to be disappointed to find floral chintz shower curtains and a jar of Crème le Mar lurking the in the bathroom. Worse yet, after a few beers, your mister opens his mouth to speak and a purse falls out.

A twister is not a bad man, but things can get nasty when a twister takes himself too seriously. We all know who these twisters are - they strut around the gym with tattoos, muscles and buzz cuts pretending to be misterly while casting disapproving eyes at the sisters.

But watch closely: It might be a hand gesture, a pursed lip or a slightly swishy walk, but inside that twister is a sister just busting to come out and try on a pair of Jimmy Choos.

So my dear queens, keep these notes in mind the next time you are cruising 8th avenue. And if you are lucky, you just might bag the rare mister – because every now and then, every gay man deserves a mister moment.

Thursday, June 08, 2006


Is it just me, or does anyone else think that republican mouthpiece Ann Coulter should be shoved in front of a moving bus?


You know what is really fucked up? Airport security. I travel several times a month and it never ceases to amaze me what a mess it is.

How many more times am I going to be searched because I purchased a one-way ticket? I fly the same airline routinely, so I have asked the powers-that-be numerous times:

“Don’t you think if I was a terrorist, I would have figured out the one-way thing by now.”

“It’s the rules, sir.”

Well, that’s the problem with airport security in America – rules! I can’t began to tell you how many times I have witnessed either a 90 year old woman being wanded and made to stand at attention or a 75-year old handicapped man being interrogated – all the while Arabs in turbans and other shady characters breeze right by.

I’m sorry, but things need to change.

I flew to Israel a few years back and was amazed and impressed with their security. Why? Because Israel has the common sense to profile terrorist looking people – and I want to point out that Israel has NEVER had a terrorist attack on their airlines, so obvious this system works.

America needs to get with the program.

Monday, June 05, 2006


My friend from Montreal called me in a giddy rush. He told me - between bouts of happy hysteria - that he was paying $450 (face value) for a seat to see Madonna in concert. He was overjoyed.

I think he is nuts.

Another friend bought 4th row seats for her Madison Square Garden performance from a scalper for $1200. He, too, was overjoyed.

Is it just me, or are these people insane?

Saturday, June 03, 2006


As a gay man, I’m supposed to love Madonna, but I don’t. I mean, she was cool in the 80s when she was a rebel, but her current act has grown stale and embarrassing.

Her new video for the dance ditty “Sorry” is her latest in career jokes. In the clip, 48-year-old Madge tries to pass herself off as a teenage roller disco queen. Does she really think she is fooling anyone? In 7 years, she will be a card-carrying member of the AARP!

Now I’m not saying she should cash in her cred and sing standards ala Rod Stewart, but there is a fine line between playing a fool and being a fool.

I mean, just because you can afford multiple injections of botox and a good lighting crew, it doesn’t make you 17 again.

You know what would be really groundbreaking? If Madonna would strip herself of the hair color, botox, fillers and corsets and let the world embrace a real 48 year old woman – now that would be a great second act.

Thursday, June 01, 2006


The thing about living in Manhattan is you never know who or what is waiting for you around the corner. The other day I was riding my bicycle in the West Village - that's Greenwich Village for out-of-towners - when I came upon a movie shoot with mobs of paparazzi and screaming fans.

Of course, I stopped to look...and there - all five feet of her - was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Yes, Sarah Michelle Geller in the flesh - all done up like a tarty secretary in mile high Jimmy Choos and a vinyl Prada jacket.

I don't know about you, but I always get Scooby Do Geller confused with Horse Whisperer Jennifer Love Hewitt - who I once saw at a party and was so thin she made my idol Nicole Richie look chubby.

That's the thing about living in NYC; you never know what B or C list star you will run into. Personally, I'm waiting for my moment with D lister Kathy Griffin.