Monday, December 31, 2007


Well, a new year is upon us.

Time to make a few resolutions and changes.

For starters, no more married men for me - nothing but trouble. Exciting, yes, but stable, no. I think this year I will stick to men who are single and openly gay.

Next, I'm going to try to make a new set of friends. The problem in Manhattan is that its population is very transient; and in 2007 I lost many friends to the West Coast and other worldly ports. Of course, "friends" are a dime a dozen on the island of lost souls, but I'm looking for a new "smart set" to hang out with.

I'm also going to attempt to date again. I mean, it's been five years since my partner died from bladder cancer, so I guess it's time, right? It's hard watching the love-of-your-life waste away in front of your eyes - and I don't think you ever get over it. Last week, while I was in recovery from a minor operation, I kept insisting to anyone who would listen that "Denny was coming to get me", so I guess it's something I live with even in my Ativaned subconscious.

Well, this year I'm going to try to let another man love me - and not just in the biblical sense.

Wish me luck.

Sunday, December 30, 2007


You know what I don't get?

Televised sports and the millions of dollars that are paid to the athletes.

Oh, I know what you're thinking: What do I know? I'm a big queen who would rather dance around my apartment to the soundtrack of "Dreamgirls" than watch sports.

Probably true.

However, I just don't understand what is so great about watching other men/women tossing a ball around. I mean, I could understand if you were actually playing the sport, but to sit and watch and cheer from a sofa?

I don't get it.

I should also point out that most professional athletes are dumb as rocks, seldom vote, and if they do vote, it's Republican. Furthermore, when questioned as a group, very few even knew about global warming. I mean, how could they know about global warming when the majority of them drive Hummers. And I won't even go into all the sex scandals, rapes and drugs these athletes get involved in. Oh, did I mention they make millions of dollars a year?

As I said, I just don't get it.

Saturday, December 22, 2007


I love this great quote from Andy Warhol superstar Brigid Berlin.

"My mother wanted me to be a slim, respectable socialite. Instead I became an overweight troublemaker."

Thursday, December 20, 2007


I found this little tidbit while I was cruising the men for men on Craigslist - I think it's hilarious.

i have an STD but wanna get blown anyway. (serious) - 27

Reply to:
Date: 2007-12-20, 3:33PM EST

i know this is irresponsible of me but i don't care.
I have had a burning when i piss, a little bit of discharge, etc. It seems like a textbook case of the clap.
my doctor is on vacation until after christmas so i can't do anything about it until then.

the obvious, adult thing to do would be quit screwing around.

but i am one horny beast right now. jacking aint cutting it.

so if you wanna get with a 27 year old, 6'1" 170lbs athlete with good abs, tight ass, and thick cock. . . get in touch.
Of course i'll wear a condom.
and its syph. . its curable.

pics for trade

serious only. . . and don't preach to me. i could just keep my trap shut about all this but i'm being up front. so don't preach to me.


It's high season for parties in Manhattan - and I'm not missing a single one.

Last night, I attended the one-year anniversary of the Rapture Cafe - a decadent and divine coffee shop on Avenue A. Of course, all the hipsters and dragsters were out, but it was the stage show that was truly amazing. Many clubbers got up to talk and sing, but the highlight was most definitely the stripping rabbi with the eight-inch shlong and prosthetic tits.

Yes, only in New York City, kids.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007


OK, we all know the health care system in America sucks, but I've never experienced it first hand - until now.

My mother - a senior citizen - had an operation this past week and was sent home within 2 hours of the procedure. I mean, she looked like death warmed over.

Once home, she moaned and groaned for three days.

My parents have excellent health insurance and this is the treatment they received.

God help the rest of us.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007


It's a colder than normal in Manhattan. I mean, it's mittens and scarf weather. I had just come from a painfully dull straight person party - all wrinkly faces and bad clothing choices. I couldn't wait to leave. Once home, with the cold winds blowing against my cheap rent stabilized windows, I began to feel lonely - and horny.

It was too cold to go out looking for love, so I turned to the Internet; and within minutes, I had found a trick.

The man that showed up at my door was beautiful, but when he opened his mouth, Fran "The Nanny" Dreiser came dancing out.

"I'm just a queen from Queens," he laughed in a nasal voice when I inquired his origins.

OK, I strategized as I looked at his muscles and cute dimples, let's get this over with as quick as possible and with little or no talking. With my mouth clamped over his, I led him into the bedroom. Once undressed, his Internet pictures did not lie - his body was rock hard with a bubbled ass and a dick that was both gargantuan and beautifully shaped.

Things were going as scheduled until he questioned the music in the background.

"Is that Dusty Springfield," he squeeled.

"Yes," I said running my hand over his lips trying to get him back into the moment.

"I have her greatest hits," he said. "But she isn't one of my big three - Cher, Elton and Whitney. Oh, I just love those three. I used to love Barbra Streisand, but she didn't answer the fan letter I wrote to her last year."

OK, the sex was over. I had now discovered the piece of the puzzle to this beautiful man's singlehood.

He then went on and on about his love of all things Bette, Celine and even Reba.

I couldn't get rid of him fast enough.

I mean, it's fine to be a big queen, but for the love of God, please butch it up a bit for an Internet hookup.

Thursday, December 06, 2007


The thing about living in Manhattan is you never lack for things to do.

Let me explain:

Last night I attended Dirty Thoughts - an event that invited writers to share their thoughts on sex.

A pre-op tranny spoke of her love for her fully functional tranny cock. At times, her penis prose became quite graphic, but since I was sitting in a slick downtown coffee shop that considered itself a vision of nowness, I couldn't wince. One of my best friends is a tranny, and although I think of her as a 100 percent female, we seldom talk sex. I mean, I'm a 100 percent man-loving gay boy, so the thought of a pecker in lace panties is non too appealing to me. In other words, some sex acts are better left behind closed doors.

A bearish looking man was up next. He told a moving tale of searching for love via unsafe sex in a world filled with HIV. He held the audience in the palm of his hands as he spoke of his journey to find the right man to give him the "gift". Once HIV positive, he found it wasn't all parties and pride marches as in the HIV medication advertisements. Not surprisingly, his story turned into a story of regret and sadness.

Finally, an older man of about 70 spoke about his sexual trysts with two brothers in catholic school. The timeline was the 1950s. He detailed hidden meetings and hidden signals that seemed so foreign and unbelievable to his young audience. In the end, both brothers became priests and were later involved with molesting alter boys and sharing them with the writer on the stage. He didn't seem to have any regret about molesting young boys. In fact, he had a sickly sweet smile on his face when he spoke of the alter boys.

As we left the coffee shop, my friend looked at me: "I don't know about you, but that was way too much information."

Sunday, December 02, 2007


The world is full of married men.

Let me explain:

A good friend - I'll call her Bess - told me over the weekend she is in love with a married man. Of course, she said, he is going to leave his wife.

As she told me of their steamy afternoon delights, I ordered another soy latte and bit my tongue.

Yes, I know better.

I've had experience - lots of experience - with married men. At first the passion is amazing and it all seems so refreshingly naughty - as if your dull life suddenly has a new sense of purpose. But then it gets messy. Feelings get involved, and eventually someone gets hurt. And yes, he never leaves his wife.

I didn't tell my friend any of this. Love is always on loan - never the nest egg we can depend on, so who was I to burst her heart shaped balloon.

I smiled and wished her well.

Thursday, November 29, 2007


As I watched the YouTube Republican debate last night, I was horrified by the hillbillies and rednecks that call this party home. I mean, these people - as well as the candidates - scared the shit out of me.

Why do these people champion the right to carry guns, but demonize abortion? The fact is the more guns a society has; the more those guns are used to kill people.

Why do these people, who claim to be God fearing Christian fundamentalists, back the death penalty 100%? I mean, last time I checked, Jesus did not preach about electric chairs and gas chambers. In fact, I think Jesus said to turn the other cheek.

Why do these people hate illegal aliens as much as Bin Laden? I mean, the Mexicans that are cleaning your houses and mowing your lawns are not the enemy. Granted, some enforcement in this area is needed, but to demonize these people in lynch rallies is wrong.

As for the candidates, John McCain looked one hundred years old – and can we talk about that turkey neck? He preached his love of the Iraq war, which made him appear terribly out of date. I’m sorry, but I don’t want some geriatric warmonger running the country.

Mitt Romney scares me the most. He refused to answer any of the questions in a straightforward way. I mean, with his slicked hair and greasy smile, he looked like a smarmy used cars salesman who would say anything to make the sale.

Only Rudy Giuliani came off as somewhat sane.

Monday, November 26, 2007


How stupid can the democrats be?

I mean, for the first time in years the democrats have the American people in the palm of their hands - and what do they do? The fools choose to back a candidate with no chance in hell to win.

Yes, I'm talking about Hillary Clinton.

Recent polls report that she will lose to anyone tagged to the republican ticket. I'm sorry, but too many people hate Mrs. Clinton.

What the democrats need to do is nominate a candidate who can win - or it will be eight more years of shit.

Sunday, November 25, 2007


It's getting colder in Manhattan - and I'm not complaining.


Because the freezing New York City winds not only keep my concealer matte, they keep me bone thin.

Let me explain:

I call it my shake and shiver diet - and here's how it works.

When the temperatures turn frigid, I never wear a winter coat or a scarf, so I run wherever I go and my poor body is always fighting to stay warm - thus, the shake and shiver diet.

It works great.

Saturday, November 24, 2007


What is wrong with America?

I was at the post office today and some idiot was holding up the line because he was paying for his various packages using several credit cards. I mean, this poor fool was putting $5 on this card and $10 on this card and so on and so on.

That idiot was a snapshot of modern America.

I mean, most Americans are thousands of dollars in credit card debt, their houses are being foreclosed upon, and the newspapers talk of nothing but of an upcoming recession, but what do they do....they go shopping. According to the news, the stores were jammed to the gills on black Friday.

I personally know two friends of meager wages that owe over $40,000 on credit cards - and this is on top of their mortgages.
When is this going to end? Who's going to pay these bills?

Monday, November 19, 2007


I needed a good night out.

Yes, I certainly did.

This weekend, I went out with a horribly pretentious bore that talked of nothing but money and work. In fact, this “friend” made me feel so bad about my career and finances, I cried all the way home. And for the record, my career and finances are just fine, but when you're boozing it up with someone who pushes their $300,000 a year paycheck in your face, well, it’s easy to feel like a loser. Thank God he bought the Vodka/Cokes, so at least I had a free drunk.

Yes, sometimes living in the richest city in the world can be depressing, but I digress.

I needed a good sleazy night out. Yes, Sperm night at the Cock bar was calling my name. Of course, I always go with the intention of meeting a new husband, but that never seems to happen.

Take last night, I was sitting at the bar watching the queens cha-cha when a foreign man sauntered by and smiled. He was a tad drunk, but cute enough for a Sunday night. He held my hand - how nice I thought. He brought my hand up to his mouth to kiss it - how romantic I thought. Then, without notice, he started sucking my fingers - very smooth and erotically. I mean, here I am sipping a Vodka/Coke with one hand and getting the other hand sucked. Yes, only at 3 am in NYC.

I must admit it felt rather good, but why do I always attract the freaks?

Sunday, November 18, 2007


OK, I love my plastic surgery, but sometimes you have to look in the mirror and realize you have created a monster.

Take Meg Ryan, does she really think she looks better? I mean, doesn't her agent or BFF tell her she looks ridiculous?

Meg, lay off the injections.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007


When work is slow, I tend to go out way too much and drink way too much. And sometimes, I get myself into situations that can only occur in Manhattan.

Let me explain:

Late the other night, after a few Black Bitches (vodka/coke), I went out cruising for a bruising. It was one of those Manhattan nights when the three deadly vices of singlehood rear their ugly heads. Yes, the terrible trio of horny, bored and lonely - a lethal combination on the ultimate island of lost souls.

At a dim bar on the Lower East Side, a sexy foreigner was giving me the eye. Greek? Italian? Arab? Israeli? Spanish? Didn’t matter, foreign men love me. Soon we were in a dark corner making out. When we came up for air to order yet another cocktail, he said to me…”You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No,” I said, my mind racing to place the face.

“It’s been about 10 years,” he said. “I look different, but you oddly look the same.”

I smiled at his charm and remembered to send a thank-you note to my injection specialist.

“Maybe this will remind you,” he said as he put my hand down his Diesel low-rise jeans.

Shamelessly, I groped the goods.

Suddenly, I knew who he was.. His name was Marcello and he was a one-balled actor from Barcelona with a never-ending sex drive, but oddly, with all that testosterone, he was remarkably bad in bed. I broke it off with him not only because of his poor sexual skills, but because his libido woke me up in the middle of the night so often I was beginning to look my real age.

“I remember you,” I smiled.

We adjusted ourselves and went back into the main club. Two girls ran up to him and asked for autographs.

“I have a show on the CW network and I’ve done a few movies,” he said.

Hmmm….this was looking better.

We went back to his very upscale condo on the West Side Highway in the West Village.

In the morning, after an all night love fest, I was exhausted. Yes, in the past decade his sexual skills had improved, but he still wanted it every 15 minutes. He looked at me sans concealer in the harsh light of day and commented that I looked tired.

I gave him my cell number, but I doubted I would answer his calls. I love the fame game, but I also like my sleep.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007


In Manhattan, there is a party every night. In fact, there's probably hundreds of parties every night.

I like the afterwork cocktail parties held in honor of openings/celebrations of new stores or products the best. Not only do you get free food and drink, you get a bag full of goodies that you can sell on ebay.

When I first moved to Manhattan and pennies were sparse, I would angle for invites from anyone to get the free food and drink. I mean, where else can you get food, drink and products for free?

Only in Manhattan.

Friday, November 09, 2007


This must be my Sarah Jessica Parker Week.

Monday night I sat two tables away from her at the oh-so trendy Box; and tonight I walked past her on Avenue A as she filmed a scene for the Sex and the City movie. In was raining and she looked kinda miserable. No sign of the other girls, but perhaps they were in their honeywagons, which were parked on Tompkin's Square.

Yes, In Manhattan you never know who you will bump into.

Thursday, November 08, 2007


The thing about living in Manhattan is that you never know how your day in going to evolve. In other words, the sky is the limit.
I mean, when I lived in the Midwest, my days were well scripted and about as spontaneous as a daily bowel movement.

Not so living in the city that never sleeps.

Yesterday I woke up to a ho-hum day, but an afternoon phone call changed all that. On the other end was a friend with free tickets to a dress rehearsal of the Rockette's Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall.

Cheesy? Hell yes, but fabulously campy, too. The show was filled with more special effects and 3D images than a Star Wars movie. Of course, the high point was the limber legged Rockette's kicking up their heels, but I also adored the dancing bears and dancing midgets, too.

And thank goodness I'm not Jewish, Muslim or Mormon, because the show is totally a Christian feast for the eyes. In fact, I'm surprised some do-gooder liberal hasn't shut the place down.

A chubby lady from Long Island who was sitting behind me said it best... "I thought I had died and gone to heaven at the Celine Dion show in Vegas, but this show takes the cake."

Afterwards, we went to the Box on the Lower East Side for drinks where Miss Sarah Jessica Parker sat two tables over sipping a white wine.

I love New York.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007


Well, it's about time.

President Bush presented Harper Lee with The Presidential Medal of Freedom - America's highest civilian honour - for her outstanding contribution to literature. Lee's only novel, To Kill a Mockingbird, is one of my favorite books. I mean, I fell in love with the book when I was a young sprite of nine and have reread it many times.

I didn't know it, but I must have sensed a kindred gay spirit in Lee's words. It was years later that I discovered that she was lifelong friends with gay-as-a-goose Truman Capote - both Catherine Keener and Sandra Bullock played Miss Lee in the Capote films and both were wonderful.

The book, which is basically a simple story about racial tolerance and doing the right thing, also won the Pulitzer Prize in 1961.

Lee never wrote another book. When Oprah Winfrey asked her why? She simply stated that she had said all she had to say.


Monday, November 05, 2007


I don't blame Miss Oprah for shedding a few tears.

Her school in Africa is her dream; and she bankrolled it with her own money. As much as I love to hate Oprah, I do think she is a good person. I mean, she might have an ego the size of Canada, but she has a staff of hundreds and no one has ever come forth with a tell-all book etc...and that says a lot.

The disturbing thing is that the abusing matron probably thought she could get away with her kinky fun Scott free.


Because in Africa young girls don't really matter. Sad, but true. That is, until Super Oprah took to the skies.

But I do have one question:

Oprah claims to have given each of the girls a personal cell phone to call her on...does anyone really believe this?

Friday, November 02, 2007


As Tom Cruise shows in this picture, the lower face never lies.

After years of looking a perpetual 29, Mr. Cruise is now looking all of his 40 plus years.

Bookmark this page, because I'm sure after he sees this picture, he will run to the surgeon.

Sunday, October 28, 2007


Does anyone else find it odd that the legendary Eagles are releasing their new CD exclusively at Walmart?

I mean, wasn't this the hippy dippy band from the 1970's that preached against corporate America in their song "Hotel California"?

I smell a sell-out here - big time.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007


I have tried, Lord knows I have tried, but I just don't like the new line-up of chatty chicks on The View.

Watered-down Whoopie is so boring, she puts me to sleep. I mean, didn't this woman used to be black? She's now so politically correct I think she's a white woman from Long Island.

Sherry Shepherd is so stupid and unaware of news worthy topics that she even makes moron Elizabitch seem smart. I mean, however stupid her opinions are, at least Elizabitch has an opinion.

I miss Rosier days when The View was worth watching. Hate her or love her, Miss Rosie always had an honest heart and mind and wasn't afraid to speak it.

Friday, October 19, 2007


Last night, I saw Annie Lennox live in concert. I was seated 5th row dead center - and she did not disappoint. Her soulful clear voice and artful dancing were a real treat.

This being Minneapolis, the crowd was filled with grey-haired old ladies, pudgy and partnered queens and a slew of office drones with Coach bags. I am always shocked how tacky my hometown has become. I mean, I remember the 80's when an event like this would have brought out the fashionistas in droves. Freshly toxed, I looked the youngest in attendance.

After the show, we went to the Saloon and it was "chicken" night and the place was packed with 18 year-old gay boys. Honey, I was not the youngest in attendance.

What a difference crossing the street makes.

And Annie, as much as I love you, you should really rethink sleeveless tops.

Thursday, October 18, 2007


You know, I don't think there is a more depressing place on the planet than the Midwest. Yes, I'm in my home state on a job and I'm depressed as hell.

I mean, what do creative people do here?

All I see are fat str8 people pushing baby carriages around. And what’s with all the high waisted jeans the soccer moms love? Or the totally sexless "bob" haircut with the pushed-up teased bang? And doesn't anyone wear makeup?

Honey, if I were a str8 man in Minneapolis I'd run screaming to the nearest gay bar.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007


As a child of the 80's, I love Annie Lennox. I mean, we both survived the 80's and lived to tell about it.

In Boy George's fasinating autobiography, he remembers that during the Newsweek photo shoot Annie instructed the makeup artist to "not make me look like Boy George." By looking at the finished product, I don't think the makeup artist listened.

Annie released a new CD last week and I was first in line to buy it. I was cautious about this new collection of songs, since her last outing "Bare" was less than stellar to me. Well, I am here to say "Songs of Mass Destruction" is amazing from start to finish.

Buy it now.

Sunday, October 07, 2007


I am in shock.

According to itunes, Britney Spear's new single "Gimme More" is the number one requested song in the world. Also, the song is number three on Billboard's Hot 100 chart.

I guess it does pay to shave your head, show your puss in public and lose your kids. I mean, I guess white trash rules.

Thursday, October 04, 2007


Every blue moon, I have that perfect Manhattan night – I call it a “Carrie Bradshaw” moment - that reminds me of what a magical city I live in.

Let me explain:

Last evening, I attended a memorial service for downtown legend Dean Johnson. For those not in the know, Dean was a six-foot-six bald headed part-time club promoter, part-time prostitute, part- time rock star and full-time nice guy who died mysteriously from a drug overdose while trafficking a group of prostitute twinks to a wealthy closet case Saudi in Washington DC.

Yes, truth is stranger than fiction.

Dean would have been happy with the turn out. Past and present downtown royalty held court in his honor. Seen mingling were Rupaul, Lady Bunny, Debbie Harry, David Bowie, the cast of Shortbus.. .and a slew of aging club kids from my Limelight and Tunnel past. Oh, and a chubby and very aged Lady Miss Kier from Deelite.

Amidst all of this downtown glamour, I noticed a pudgy-faced sweat suit clad soccer mom yelling my name.

Who was this woman?

It was an old makeup artist nemesis from Minneapolis who I had not seen in years. Turns out she was in town shooting a catalog for Kohl’s. The stylist (a former go-go boy I knew from my Club USA days) had taken her to this event.

While I tried to listen to the many mourners who shared twisted tales of Dean’s infamous lifestyle, she bored me with pictures of her cross-eyed kid and tales of small town life. After a few beers, she suddenly turned ugly and accused me of sabotaging her career. Apparently, 14 years earlier I had called her clients in Minneapolis and had her blacklisted. My friends were rather shocked at her accusations and were anxious to hear my response. Now I had no memory of doing this, and quite frankly, I hate being blamed for things that I wish I had done in the first place.

I looked her dead in the eye and said: "Yeah, I did it and I'd do it again."

I guess it will be another 14 years before I talk to her again.

After a few more air kisses and stabs in the back, we headed to Mary Ann’s – a dive Mexican restaurant –and drank margs and nibbled nachos and talked about the good old bad days of clubbing in the East Village.

When my buddies taxied home, I was far from tired - and feeling fat from my Mexican feast - I decided to hit the gym. And yes, it was my lucky night – the kick boxer in all his muscled sweaty glory was pounding the bag, and, of course, he ignored me.

Oh, the magic of Manhattan.

Friday, September 28, 2007


I heard something hysterical and oh-so true the other day: Why do women - and gay men - wear cropped capri pants? I mean, they just make your legs look shorter and your ass look wider and flatter - not a becoming look.


I've been watching the amazing PBS mini-series "The War" - and I think it's truely amazing. One thing I found interesting is that President Franklin Roosevelt sent his son to the front lines, which made me wonder why Dubya hasn't sent his daughters to Iraq if he believes so strongly in his war.

Yes, another Republican hypocrite.

Monday, September 24, 2007


Ok, there is one guy I hate more than any Republican and his name is Mahmoud Ahmadinejad - President of Iran.

Today at his speech at Columbia University he not only questioned the truth of the holocaust, which is one of the most documented and researched events in history, he also denied that homosexuals exist in Iran. Of course, the audience burst into laughter at such an idiotic which he said: "In Iran we do not have this phenomenon. I don't know who's told you that we have this."

Honey, there are plenty of queers in Iran, they're just married to women and sucking dick on the side. Hmmm...I think that still makes them homosexual.

He also questioned if Muslims were involved in 9/11, and he hemmed and hawed about his previous statements about wanting Israel wiped off the map.

Yes, we are dealing with a madman. I worry about a nuclear Iran and I fully support whatever methods it takes to disarm them.

Am I a war monger? In this case yes. I mean, you only have to watch the wonderful PBS series airing right now called "The War" to see what happens when madmen are left unchecked.


My Apple computer died, so my blog will be sketchy for a few weeks. I hate Apple computers - they only sell you insurance/support for three years and then you are on your own - in other words, after three years you're fucked.

Is it just me, but shouldn't a computer last longer than three years?

I say fuck Apple and all their god damn ipods, iphones and other bullshit.

Thursday, September 20, 2007


This Jena 6 thing is crazy.

In the first place, this was bound to happen. I mean, what school would allow white students to label the ground under a tree “whites” only? I mean, this is 2007. Then again, we are talking about the south.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007


Damn, I hate Republicans. I mean, are they all assholes?

Presidential contender Mitt Romney has launched a radio advertisement to voice his support of a constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage. I mean, who cares if thousands of our young men and women are dying in a Republican generated Iraq war or that the gap between the rich and poor is growing greater every day. No, what matters most is changing the constitution to include prejudice and hate.

Like I said, I hate Republicans.

Monday, September 17, 2007


I don't get this Amy Winehouse?

I mean, everyone is championing her talents as if she were the next Joni Mitchell.

I say, oh please.

All this girl is doing is mimiking 1960's Motown soul and mixing it up with a dash of Dusty Springfield. I mean, she even copies Dusty's trademark Cleopatra makeup and beehive hairstyle.

Can't the kids today come up with anything original?

Friday, September 14, 2007


I went to a premier of a new film the other night, and to put it mildly, I was blown away by what I saw on the screen. I mean, it was simply amazing.

"Across the Universe" is a collection of 33 Beatle's songs weaved together karaoke-style to form a brief history of the 1960's. I have never been a big fan of the Beatles - too hetro and mainstream for me - but this film is a must-see. I know some of the critics have knocked it, but I loved it.

Thursday, September 13, 2007


This is the last installment about my big gay cruise – and then it’s back to politics, sex and other politically incorrect shit.

I forgot to mention that while we were docked in a beautiful seaside resort town in Germany, the locals kept asking me if I “was part of the big gay cruise”. This being Germany, I didn’t know what to say…I know my lip line said it all darlings, but that’s not the point. I mean, just a few short decades ago, the Germans masquerading as Nazis gassed us fags to death, so I was reluctant to say yes or no.

“Oh, we have big surprise for you when you leave,” they smiled.

Great, the first gay cruise to Germany and the locals were planning to sink our ship. Well, to my surprise, when the boat left the port, hundreds of Germans had gathered on the pier and were waving and cheering us off. I guess gay dollars do speak after all.

I have to mention St. Petersburg, Russia, too. It was my favorite place on the big gay cruise. Tourists are not allowed on Russian soil unless you have a very expensive Russian Visa or you take part in a pricey tour excursion. For my daytime activities, I went on a riverboat cruise on the various canals and rivers that intertwine throughout the city. St. Petersburg is beautiful…from the blue Winter Palace to the gold room at the Hermitage Museum to the wide Parisian boulevards. The Russians don’t have much money, so most of the buildings are in a serious state of decay.

Only on a gay cruise would one of the pricey excursions be a midnight visit to a local gay club. Forget the museums and historic stuff, I wanted to see how the locals partied, danced and dressed.

We were told by our tour operators to bring sunglasses.


Since it was July, we were still experiencing “white nights” – a time of the year when the sun doesn’t completely set until midnight and then rises again at around 3:30 AM - so the sunglasses would come in handy at 5 am.

The club, Central Station, was amazing. I mean, if anyone has ever wondered where the mythical Babylon from Queer as Folk is, it’s in Russia. The five-story club was really several clubs in one complete with spontaneous drag performances, gyrating go-go boys and a serious dark room.

I loved the trendy wendy room that was packed with fashionista’s “shalaging” to cheesy euro-pop. What is shalaging? It's a form of dance that originated in Sweden that you sing and act out the lyrics of a song as if you were in a music video - I swear I'm not making this up.

The Chelsea-fied boat queens ran from the room, but I had found my tribe. I was at home with the flaming fags in 80s clothes, shag haircuts and thick eyeliner. As I looked down at my "try too hard to fit in on the boat" Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, I was suddenly embarrassed of my normal attire...but I didn't let that bother me. I jumped up on a platform and started shalaging and waving my freak flag.

As the 5 am hour approached, I paid a visit to the dark room. I mean, who doesn’t love a night of dancing, drinking and debauchery? When the fun was over, I looked down to discover a bear from Long Island I had met on the boat. I had to laugh – half way across the globe and I end up getting head from someone who lives a few miles from my apartment.

It was without a doubt, the best night of the cruise.

Monday, September 10, 2007


It was sad watching train wreck Britney Spears waddle around the stage at the MTV video awards last night. I mean, why her handlers let her perform in the first place is a mystery to me.

Not only did she appear stoned out of her mind, but her lip syncing and dancing made her look like a joke from the American Idol try outs.

And that bikini? Doesn't she own a full-length mirror? She should take a cue from Liza - "Show the best and cover the rest." Amen.

Sadly, her legitimate career is over - all hail the new Anna Nicole Smith.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007


Tuesday, September 04, 2007


I took a road trip to visit a friend in Milwaukee this past weekend - and the home of Laverne and Shirley has changed a lot since my last visit - and for the better. Sure there are still tons of blue collar guys with big bellies and scary ghetto folks, but the east side has cleaned itself up rather nicely and is lined with fun restaurants and coffee shops. In fact, I like Milwaulkee more than Minneapolis.

But let's not forget we are in the Midwest.

As the picture above proves, there is still a long way to go - these are some scary beeetches.

Friday, August 31, 2007


As much as I complain about Minnesota, I do the love the annual State Fair - the largest in the United States. I mean, it's the only place I know that serves every imaginable food on a stick. I love the clear blue August skies and the utter campiness of a State Fair in the year 2007.

I also like looking at the hundreds of hot small town baby misters. I think Andy Warhol said it best..."The older I get, the better looking the young become."

Wednesday, August 29, 2007


Don't you love it when hypocritical republicans like Larry Craig fuck up?

I do.

Every fag in Minneapolis is aware that the airport bathroom is ripe with closet cases looking for dick to suck - and also ripe with undercover police. I mean, who cares if terrorists are plotting to blow up the airport, let's spend our money on catching those disgusting fudge packers.

I laughed out loud when I heard Mr. Craig describe his "wide leg stance" when taking a dump or his remark that he was "just picking up toilet paper off the floor." I guess Senator Larry Craig won't be getting his usual 100 percent rating by the Family Values Association this year. No sirree.

He can now join the ranks of other closeted self-hating homos like Mark Foley and Ted Haggard.

I say good riddance.

Saturday, August 25, 2007


I am in Minneapolis for my annual summer vacation. I have plenty to write about...such as why does every woman in the state of Minnesota have a lesbianonic "bob" haircut? Gross. I mean, it's very unfuckable.

More to come of my unhappy stay in Minneapolis tomorrow.

Monday, August 13, 2007



There are a million places to dine on a cruise. I mean, you can have your choice of any worldly cuisine in the many restaurants and buffets. But the best dining experience bar none is the grand 5-star San Marco; where white-coated waiters serve lobster, filet mignon, veal and other delicacies – and yes, there is the army of silver wear to sort through.

Now on most cruises, you are assigned a table for the duration of your cruise, but that isn’t the case on a gay cruise. Each night you are seated with a new slew of queens to make small talk with. I mean, some evenings you can have the good fortune to be seated with a group of fun fags, but other nights you end up with a painful serving of compare and despair.

Let me explain:

On a bad night, my best friend Peter and I would have to sit and listen to wealthy and happy monogamous couples chat endlessly about their various 40-acre mansions, beachfront condos in St. Tropez and other assorted prizes of wealth.

Over the five-course meal, Peter and I (both single and middle class) would stare at each other and ponder at what point in the homo road of life did we take the wrong turn.

Some nights we choose to dine in the buffet because we couldn’t take another evening of being reminded that we were both romantically and financially inferior.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007


OK - everyone wants to know about sex on the big gay cruise. Well, there is some hooking up - but not as much as you think. I mean, the boat was full of happy - I hate them - couples, but if you wanted a quick poke, you could easily find it.

Of course, the steam room was a total suck and fuck fest; and the hot tubs were so packed with horny men that they resembled bowls of "bear soup." And let's not forget the "14th floor" - the tippy-top little deck for nude sunbathing that transformed into an al fresco orgy after midnight.

But the "let's get busy" award goes to Sam and Rob. This frisky couple plastered their cabin door with printed up postcards advertising their travel schedule and their sexual likes and dislikes.

No, I didn't knock on their door, but I saw plenty that did.

Sunday, August 05, 2007


Every gay cruise has a surprise “star” performance. On previous trips, the “star” – and I use that term extremely loosely – has been Debbie “Only in My Dreams” Gibson, Charo and Joan Rivers.

I know, has-beens one and all.

On the Baltic’s, we were joined by Go-Go Belinda Carlisle. She croaked out her various solo and Go-Go hits with a blasé smile plastered on her face. Clad in a drab "garden party" pantsuit sans shoes, it was obvious as she robotically sang along to a backing track that she was in disbelief that her career had been reduced to singing on a floating resort to a bunch of drunken queens.

During a flat performance of “Circle in the Sand”, one queen leaped from the front row and screamed:

“Belinda – your music saved my life.”

As I contained my laughter from such an idiotic statement, Belinda just smirked at the poor soul and moved to the other side of the stage.

So how is the old gal holding up? I wish I could say my lips were sealed, but that isn't me, is it?

For starters, her face had that odd taut and shiny appearance ala Nicole Kidman from too much Botox and filler; and her neck looked a little bunchy from an ill-fated neck lift, but for 51 she looked pretty good.

What really surprised me were the visible panty lines on her wide pancake flat ass. I mean, I know she lives in southern France, but hasn’t she heard of Spanx? I just wanted to yell outloud..."Bitch, you got pantylines!"

As one old queen sitting behind me said before storming out mid- show….

“For the love of God, she can’t even sing, and for all the money we paid for this trip, she could at least put on a nice dress and a pair of Jimmy Choos.”

Tuesday, July 31, 2007


What I've discovered on the boat is that gay men of all ages tend to dress like teenage boys....well, some can get away with it, and others cannot.

I mean, you can wear all the A & F gear you want; and stuff your face to the brim with botox and fillers, but what gives away your age more than anything is a saggy lower face.

You know, double chins, slack jawlines, droopy jowls. I mean, if you're gonna dress like a teenager, at least have the good sense to scrutinize your face and take appropriate action with your surgeon.

Saturday, July 28, 2007


I just adore Europe.

I love the delicious cappuccinos, the yummy yogurts and creamy gelatos - not to mention the nice and stylish people.

Here is a list of things I love about Europe.

1) No screaming brats. Never in my American life have I seen so many happy and quiet children. I mean, no ghetto mothers or white trailer trash mothers allowed - you know the kind, the ones who let their children run wild and cart them around in strollers at 1 am.

2) No fat people. OK, maybe 10 pounds overweight, but absolutely no hefty hideaway jumbos in sight.

3) The laid back lifestyle. I love that no one seems to be in a hurry - and the work weeks are shorter and the vacations longer. I mean, everyone seems so happy and content.

4) Fabulous music. The radio and MTV actually play a diverse selection of music - not just ghetto rap like in America.

5) I love that Sundays are total leisure time - no rush to get shopping done or extra work. The cities are dead and the seaside resorts are full of smiling people on the seventh day.

6) Tons of fresh fruit.

7) The nerve to name a store Topman.

8) No George Bush in charge - nuff' said.

Thursday, July 26, 2007


Today, after an exhausting layover in Amsterdam, we arrived in Copenhagen, Denmark – the start of the big gay cruise.

The temperature was a chilly 50 degrees, but that didn’t stop the locals from eating ice cream. I mean, wherever we walked the tall, blonde and painfully thin Danes were eating ice cream. I think the reason the Danes stay so thin is their love of bike riding – yes, like Amsterdam, everyone young or old uses a bicycle as their mode of transportation.

As a New Yorker, what I found odd was the lack of bicycle locks. I mean, loose bikes were just standing or leaning all over the place just waiting to be stolen. Apparently, crime is very low in Denmark. Also, Danes never jaywalk - even with zero traffic, huge crowds of Danes will wait patiently until the light turns green before entering the crosswalk.

As for style, the trendy Danes sport super low-slung jeans with Puma sneakers. Most of the men are oddly attractive with short foreheads, thick brow bones and wide high-bridged noses. Apparently, in some survey, Danes were reported to be the happiest in the world; and I have to say this appears to be true. I mean, couples of all ages were out and about at all hours holding hands and mingling with smiles on their faces.

The coolest thing about Copenhagen is Tivoli Gardens – a huge amusement park that Walt Disney used as a model for his Disneyland. At night, amidst the glittering rides, restaurants and colorful gardens, 70’s band Tower of Power played on the main stage.

On the boat that evening, our gay entertainment was the highly touted Bjorn Again singing Abba hits. My look this summer has been wearing bandanas around my head ala Axel Rose and leatherette wristbands. Ok, I admit on my femmy face and retro-feathered hair it comes off more Olivia Newton John Physical than Guns and Roses, but what the hell. At our lobster dinner that night, a queen from Kansas City looked at me and laughed in a loud cheery voice:

“Oh, how cool – you’re in costume for the Abba show tonight.”

No, I replied, this is how I dress all the time.

Yes, a freak amongst freaks, that’s me.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007


Let me begin with this: Gay cruises are nothing like straight cruises.

I mean, for starters, the boat’s fun factor runs 24 hours a day; and there is no formal attire required, no pre-arranged seating and no cheesy entertainment – in fact, all of the entertainment is gay oriented from drag queens to gay comedians, to gay hypnotists to gay cabaret singers to gay Djs to gay icons (Belinda Carlisle) to gay movies on your cabin television.

Honey, it’s just one big gay extravaganza.

As one tiny filipino waitress told me in broken English over throbbing disco music at 4 am…”The gay cruise is the best cruise…no old people and you people drink and dance all night.”

The boat we sailed on was the Celebrity Constellation – the #1 rated boat in the industry. Yes, only the best for us queens.

The majority of my trendy downtown gay friends were aghast that I would spend a few weeks with 2000 mainstream homos, but I found it refreshing. I mean, being around 2000 normal queers was enlightening insomuch as it busted my lifestyle bubble that is Manhattan. In NYC, most gays are trim, tan and tattooed and think a relationship is something they share with their gym trainers. On the boat it was interesting to meet gays of all shapes and ages that have been in committed relationships for years and years.

But one thing kept nagging at me with certain couples that claimed to be monogamous. I mean, what happens sexually when one partner stays young and sexy while the other partner grows fat and ugly? It’s kind of like a George and Barbara Bush thing – and we all know he ain’t fucking grandma.

The trip continues tomorrow.

Saturday, July 21, 2007


Check back next week, kids - MM has tons of gay stories from my big gay cruise to share.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007


Hello bloggers - MM is cruising the Baltic Sea for 10 days - I'm sure I will have plenty of pictures and tales of debauchery on the high seas in just a few weeks - stay tuned.

Friday, July 06, 2007


Only on the island of Manhattan do dogs eat as well as humans.

Let me explain:

My pal Terri has a splendid pitbull that is as cute as it is well behaved. Over dinner last night, she informed me that she feeds her pooch organic buffalo meat from Whole Foods.

Apparently, her dog has "food allergies" and a "finicky" tummy.

My dog lived for 17 years on a diet of Gaines Burgers and Liver Snaps.

Only in New York City, kids.

Monday, July 02, 2007


Controversial author Salman Rushdie and "Top Chef" host Padma Lakshmi are getting divorced.

I'm surprised she stayed married so long...I mean, can you imagine sleeping with that?

I guess now that she has her own money, she can kiss his old ass goodbye.


Manhattan is losing one of its landmarks. Worse, it’s moving to Las Vegas.

Famed punk palace CBGB’s is shuttering it’s doors. The club that launched the careers of Blondie, The Ramones and The B-52s has met up with the genocide known as gentrification. Located on the Bowery, the club is now sharing street space with fancy restaurants that are crowded with Connecticut cunts drinking million dollar soy lattes.

Personally, I knew the club’s days were numbered when I visited Minnesota and witnessed hordes of Minnesota yuppies sporting t-shirts emblazoned with the club’s logo. It also didn’t help when pretend punk Avril Lavigne – a former country performer!! – wore the t-shirt in her videos.

Now the club is being dismantled and taken to a Las Vegas museum.


Friday, June 29, 2007


Grey's Anatomy's Isaiah Washington is not only a homophobe, but a crybaby, too.

Here's what he had to say in this week's Newsweek magazine:

"My mistake was thinking black people get second chances. I was wrong on all fronts," he said.

"Well, it didn't help me on the set that I was a black man who wasn't a mush-mouth Negro walking around with his head in his hands all the time. I didn't speak like I'd just left the plantation and that can be a problem for people sometime," he said.

Honey, you were canned because you called your castmate a faggot, not because you are a "poor black man living in white America." I work everyday in the entertainment industry, and we don't put up with homophobes or racists.

I have a feeling this man believes his shit smells like roses, too.

Adios, Mr. Washington, I'll see you in summer stock, because your career is over.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007


Why does the media continue to give Ann "Cunt" Coulter a national platform to air her crazy and hateful views?

Quiet frankly, I don't know what I hate more, her tacky 80's black pumps and cocktail dresses (it's painfully obvious no fag will give her his queer eye) or her evil opinions.

Her recent attacks on John Edwards and his dying wife are just plain despicable.

She is definitely one person I'd love to slug in the face.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007


Hey bloggers - MM has been lazy with the blog. I have been busy planning my big gay cruise to the Baltic Sea - I leave in mid-July for 2 weeks of fun and debauchery.

I am sailing on the Celebrity Constellation - a 5 star boat - only the best for us homos. I will be visiting Denmark, Estonia, Helsinki, St. Petersburg, Berlin and Stockholm.

I have much to do before I leave - hair color, Botox injections, workouts at the gym takes plenty of work to be this superficial.

Check back for more trip info. Read more about gay cruises on

Thursday, June 21, 2007


OK, I broke down and bought a small Pinkberry's yogurt with NO toppings for $4.

Was it worth it?

Hell, no. The yogurt had a sour taste and made my stomach bloat.

But I did find some good eats down the block.

Waiting for me on the corner of 14th street and 8th avenue was a Mexican food truck. Honey, the $2 tacos were heaven on earth and very authentic - corn tortillas loaded with chicken and laced with lime juice, sliced radishes and pickled peppers.

As I gobbled up my taco, I was suddenly surrounded by a group of Mexican hip-hop skateboarders. The hipster kids ordered their tacos and started break dancing while they waited for their eats.

It was 1 AM and I was being entertained by a group of ghetto fabulous Mexican kids while enjoying the best $2 taco in town.

Only in New York, kids.

Monday, June 18, 2007


Frozen yogurt, that fast food relic from the 80s, has taken Manhattan by storm.

Let me explain:

Los Angeles export Pinkberry’s has opened its doors in the city. The lines are 90 minutes long. I mean, some folks even bring books to read while in queue.

Who’s waiting?

Not the queens, us gays are way too busy and smart for that. No, the line is full of str8 couples with nothing better to do.

I asked a man how long he waited for his small cup of yogurt with several fruit toppings – and what he paid.

The answer: 90 minutes and $8.45 for his frozen treat.

I’m sorry, but I have better things to do with 90 minutes and a $10 bill.

I walked a few blocks to McDonald’s for a chocolate frozen yogurt from the dollar menu.


Fucking delicious.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007


Last weekend, after an all night vodka fest in Queens, my married man and I took the N train back to Manhattan. As luck would have it, the train broke down on Central Park South and Fifth Avenue. Still half in the bag, we decided to walk down Fifth Avenue to my East Village apartment.

But first we need nourishment, so we ducked into a Starbucks and ordered soy lattes and bagels. As we noshed our caffeinated selves down Fifth Avenue, we suddenly discovered ourselves in front of Tiffany’s.

As we held our hot javas and bagels, it dawned on us we were having Breakfast at Tiffany’s ala Holly Golightly. Of course, we weren’t wearing Givenchy shifts or rhinestone tiaras, but we were recreating a moment that put thousands of girls and gay boys on the road to New York City.

I smiled.

It’s moments such as this that keep me in Manhattan.

Monday, June 11, 2007


The Sopranos ended it's 10-year run on HBO last night.

As terror and impending doom paced the final moments, the screen suddenly faded to black.

What? My cable went out?

Then the credits started to roll.

At first, I was disappointed, but on second thought....what a brilliant ending. Like life itself, you never know what's around the corner.

I don't think Tony and his family met a "Bonnie and Clyde" style ending. No, I think the Soprano's sat in their booth eating onion rings and listening to Journey.

Saturday, June 09, 2007


I was caught in the act today.

Let me explain:

I was at Trader Joe's meandering about searching for vodka for my black bitches - my trademark cocktail of choice consisting of vodka and diet coke. Out of the corner of my queer eye, I saw the hottest guy in the world - tall, dark and let's have some. Of course, I checked him out, but when I looked up, I was greeted by a sly smirk on his not-too-pretty girlfriend/wife's face.

What do you do at that moment? I mean, I was clocked. I grabbed my vodka and ran to the cashier. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and it was the girlfriend/wife smiling at me. She looked at my budget bottle of vodka and casually mentioned that her boyfriend/husband had some fabulous Russian vodka at his apartment that we could share. The boyfriend/husband was smiling, too. Suddenly, it dawned on me: These two were trolling for threesomes at Trader Joe's.

I'm sorry, I might do eggroll, but I don't do sushi. I mean, a boy has to draw the line somwhere.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007


Last week I worked on a project with Carolyn Kepcher - you know, the bitchy blonde from Donald Trump's The Apprentice. Well, she was fired by Donald for getting "caught up" in her own fame, so she decided to start a company to help women in the workplace.

Ok, sounds great.

Well, she showed up at the shoot in a thigh-high mini, a sleeveless hot-pink top and stiletto heels. Oh, and she's border line anorexic and bleached blonde. I'm sorry, but I don't think the image of a 14th street hooker is a good role model for working women, right? Last time I checked, dressing like a prostitue isn't welcome in the workplace.

Anyways, I kept looking at her shoes - kinda scuffed and cheap looking. Half-way through the day, obviously in pain, she slipped off her stilettos. I craned my neck and noticed the shoes were by Nine West!

Yes, Nine West - the cheapest shoes in the world.

Does anyone else fiind that odd?

Monday, June 04, 2007


In Manhattan, we could care less about the price of gas. I mean, very few of us own cars, and the ones that do are filthy rich, so the price of fuel really isn't an issue.

But what does bother me is the price of coffee.

Last week I was walking around Soho - the capital of euro-trash - when I popped into a funky little joint for an iced coffee to go. I pulled out a five dollar bill - surely that would cover it.

No, the cashier looked me dead in the eye: "That will be $6.25, please."

Now this was not a latte, foamy, extra shot, light, vente mocha bullshit coffee - just a plain iced coffee.

From now on, I'm sticking to my $1.84 plain Starbucks.

Thursday, May 31, 2007


I'm seeing a married man - and the sex is incredible. I mean, the man is hot to trot from the time he walks in the door to the time he leaves.

Did I mention the sex is hot?

I can't believe his wife doesn't know her husband is a tad light in the loafers. I mean, he's pumped up like a Chelsea queen, but he has one-thing most gay boys don’t: Body hair – and I love it.

I've had gal pals in the past tell me that wedding rings were an aphrodisiac, but I never believed them.

Well, honey, in this case it's true.

Judge me all you want, but every boy should play the other woman at least once.

Sunday, May 27, 2007


Love her or hate her, you have to admit she had balls - and those balls made good TV.

I mean, unlike everyone else on the boob tube, Rosie - because of her vast wealth - wasn't afraid of shit - and that includes ABC and Barbara Walters.

It's refreshing to hear someone speak his or her views without fear of being fired etc....However, I do think it was rather cowardly of her to quit three weeks early. I mean, it does kinda look like she backed down to Elizabitch.

I'll miss you Rosie.

Thursday, May 24, 2007


OK, here are my thoughts on last night's American Idol finale.

I adored it!

It was so tacky and over-the-top you would have to be an asshole not to like it. I loved the goofy and happy smiles on the Idol kids - it's not often you see so much joy in one place.

Joy or no joy, the show did have a few scary moments.

No more surgery for Smokey Robinson. I'm sorry, but he looked like an Asian puppet. I mean, men should never have their eyes done. Have we learned nothing from the mishaps of Kenny Rogers and Burt Reynolds? On the other side of the scalpel, Miss Gladys Knight took her midnight train last night and looked amazing. I don't know if she's had "work", but if so, the knife is her bestfriend.

I love Kelly Clarkson - what a voice! I mean, even though she's like your tacky cousin from the trailer park who talks with her mouth full, you gotta love her.

But honey, a piece of queer eye advice: get a full-length mirror. I mean, you are way too fat to be squeezed into a skinny mini with thigh-high boots. Honestly, I'm surprised Clive Davis didn't pull her off the stage. Same goes for the bellbottom beer belly-baring outfit she wore with Joe Perry - although she did sound amazing.

And poor Bette Midler - does she have the same stylist as Kelly? I mean, just because it's black, does not make it slimming. I'm sorry, but the Divine Miss M was out of tune and out of place.

I am a big fan of Paula Abdul. She's as loopy as Anna Nicole Smith, but that's her charm. And I don't blame her one iota if she's fucking all the male Idols - I wish I could, too. I love when she stands up and cheers, cries and dances with the performers. Say what you want, Miss Abdul is the only Idol judge to experience a #1 hit; and the only judge to ride the pop rollercoaster first hand.

I can't wait for next year.

PS - Yes, I did see the Rosie/Elizabitch fight. I admire feisty Elizabitch for holding her own, but Rosie was right - Elizabitch never did back up her "friend" when Fox accused Rosie of calling the American troops terrorists. I'm no fan of Muslims, but over 100,000 Iraqi civilians have been killed.... and who killed them?

I think we know the answer.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007


In a nationwide survery - one of the most exhaustive ever conducted of American Muslim attitudes - found that one out of four - that 26 %!!! - young U.S. Muslims believe suicide bombings against innocent civilians are OK to defend Islam.

The nationwide survey also found widespread doubt that Islamic terrorists carried out the 9/11 attacks.

I've said it before, and I've seen it with my own two eyes, but now I have proof - Muslims are bad news.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007


Life is different in the Midwest.

I have a few questions:

Why do all Midwestern women over the age of 25 have short lesbian-esque haircuts with bad highlights?

And why do all Midwestern women over 25 gain 40 pounds and wear high-waisted pleated “mom’ jeans, or worse yet, “mom” pleated khakis. I mean, I really do pity the str8 men in the Midwest.

I will never forget an Oprah episode about sexless marriages. Up on the stage were obese women complaining about a lack of intimacy in their marriages. Seated next to the fatties were their husbands who complained about the weight gain of their wives. The poor men sat there while Oprah and the other fatties berated the husbands for being unloving and superficial.

What bullshit.

Every woman knows that men like porn and pretty things, so I doubt these men would have dreamed they would be fucking a whale for the rest of their lives. I mean, get real – it’s not that hard to put down the fork, put some makeup on and go for a walk.

You know, it’s hard out there for a str8 man.

Sunday, May 20, 2007


I've said it before and I'm saying it again.

The democratic 2008 ticket is going to be Gore/Obama.

Remember: You read it here first.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007


Thank Goodness the old lady is gone.

I mean, there is a reason this 29 year-old is a back-up singer - she has no pizazz whatsoever. And after last year's senior citizen winner Taylor Hicks, Idol needs some fresh blood to keep the franchise going.

My vote is for Blake.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007


I ran into an artist friend today that I had not seen in years. She was decked out in head-to-toe Prada and accessorized with a pale green Marc Jacobs’s handbag and a mouth full of perfect veneers. Needless to say, I was a tad shocked. I mean, the last time I saw her she was running around the East Village in a 70’s thrift store lime green leisure suit with matching platform shoes.

Over coffee she lavished me with photos of her fabulous loft and stories of her trips to Paris. She told me she had married rich and was deliriously happy.

As I sat there sipping my soy latte from a chipped cup in my low-slung jeans, which I had found in my hallway, I couldn’t help but to think how different we now were.

As if reading my mind, she spoke:

“You know, I just got sick of pretending that Goodwill clothes were chic and thrift store knick knacks gave my apartment individuality,” she deadpanned. “I was sick of dressing and living in other people’s lives – I wanted my own life.”

It made sense to me, but as I walked back to my thrift store and garbage can decorated apartment, it got me to thinking….can money buy happiness? I think it can – at least in Manhattan.

Friday, May 11, 2007


It was announced that Academy Award winner Whoopi Goldberg will be replacing Rosie O on The View.

I think it's a good choice.

Whoopi is one of the rare performers - along with Barbra Streisand, Rita Moreno and Liza Minnelli - to win the grand slam - Oscar, Emmy, Grammy and Tony. To be the recipient of so many awards and to end up on The View is another blog entirely, but I swear I don't mean that in a bitchy way - OK, maybe I do.

I think Whoopi - no stranger to controversy - will keep The View's political pot - and ratings - boiling with her far left views; and poor preggers Elizabeth will no doubt have her hands full representing the Republican view.

However, Whoopi lacks the one thing that made Rosie so popular: compassion. Say what you will, but folks from both red and blue states loved Rosie. I mean, Rosie's strong opinions were always carefully balanced with her charity for children's causes and her tears for returning vets.

Somehow, I don't think Whoopi will generate the same kind of love from the audience.

Monday, May 07, 2007


Bush's approval rating has dropped to an all-time low - 28 percent. I mean, that's 3 out of 4 Americans that despise him - including myself.

The last president to have such low numbers was Carter during the Iran hostage crisis. Carter left office somewhat disgraced, but he went on to a compassionate and remarkable post-president career that resulted in a Nobel Peace prize.

Somehow, I don't think Bush will be as lucky.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007


Why do people wait in line at Trader Joe's with one carton of eggs for 30 minutes? I mean, do these people have a life? If I'm going to wait in line, it has to be for stuff that I can't get anywhere else - and I always buy in bulk, so I won't have to come back often.

Why do people who shop and work at health food stores always look so unhealthy and act so grumpy? Sometimes in life a good Big Mac is just what the doctor ordered.

Why do fat women always ride the elevator for one floor? I mean, there is a reason why your ass is so fat.

Why do people talk in movies? I think one should be allowed to carry and use a stun gun in theaters.

Why do people insist on wearing the new skinny jeans when they are far from skinny? Can anyone say full-length mirror? Please, buy one and use it.

Monday, April 30, 2007


With the Republican candidates slightly ahead in the polls, I think it's time to dissect these flip floppers.

Let's start with Giuliani (that's him in the photo above). He was a social Nazi when he ran NYC, and he helped destroy much of its bohemian charms, which paved the way for the Connecticut cunts and the Disney land feel of Times Square. And let's not forget how in a Hitler-esque way he tried to stop an art exhibit that featured a Virgin Mary constructed of cow dung.

Can anyone say free speech?

But he did have his good points: He marched in every gay pride parade; and when "Victor Victoria" was on Broadway, he dragged himself up in a wig and a dress for charity. And when his wife found out about Judi, he moved in with a gay couple. Oh, and he was pro-choice.

Now all of a sudden, he's telling the Christian right he would put conservative judges on the bench - meaning anti-abortion and anti-gay marriage.

Can anyone say flip-flop?

Ok, let's move on to flip flopper John McCain. In 2000, he called Jerry Falwell and others hate mongers "voices of intolerance".

Well, he's now giving speeches at Christian colleges.

Sure, he's a war hero, but is being a war hero something to be proud of? I'm not making judgments, just asking. Also, he's a hundred years old and all crippled up from his war injuries and can barely walk - I'm sorry, but in these times of terror, I want a president who can run as well as walk.

And finally, the one I depise the most is Mitt Romney. For starters, he's a Mormon. I'm sorry, but I've seen "Big Love" on HBO and these people are just plain crazy. I mean, this freak is against everything - abortion, stem cell research, gay marriage, civil unions and even domestic partner benefits!

This one scares me almost as much as George W. Bush.