SINEAD SPEARS

This has to be the final nail in Britney's career coffin.

MEAN QUEEN

You know, I think it's true what people say about me - I am mean.

Since it's been so cold and snowy in Manhattan, I've been forced to ride the subway. And you know what makes me smile?
Watching the subway doors close as people run frantically down the stairs to catch the train. I laugh outloud as the train pulls out and they are left on the platform.

Yes, I'm mean.

A HEART SHAPED WORLD

Is it just me, or am I the only one who despises Valentine’s Day?

February 14th is without a doubt the co-dependant holiday of the year. I mean, if you don’t have a Valentine’s Day date, you are made to feel like a big loser. Even when I had a valentine, there was so much stress to have a “romantic evening” it always turned out to be a bust.

This year I’m buying myself a big box of Whitman Samplers and taking my single self to the movies - and holding my head high amongst the heart shaped couples.

LAST SUPPER

The New York Post ran a picture of the contents of Anna Nicole Smith's hotel refrigerator. I mean, you have to love a woman who survived on SlimFast shakes and Methadone.

IN THE LAND OF DIXIE

I thought it was fabulous that the Dixie Chicks swept every major award at the Grammy's last night.

It was sweet vindication after the chicks' lives were threatened and sales plummeted when Maines criticized President Bush on the eve of the Iraq war in 2003. Almost overnight, one of the most successful groups of any genre was boycotted by Nashville and disappeared from country radio.

I particularly loved it when the Chicks took Country Artist of the year. I mean, watching Reba's redneck expression when they won was priceless.

AN EARLY FROST

As cynical and bitter as I am, my heart goes out to Anna Nicole Smith. I mean, she was an easy target with all her crazy shenanigans, but I’m aiming my arrows elsewhere. In our land of politically correctness, I admire someone who wore her bleached blonde ambition on her sleeve for the entire world to see.

I also can’t imagine the horror of giving birth to one child and then losing another all within days. She didn’t have an easy ride, but at least she will forever be remembered as young and blonde.

DIRTY BUSINESS

I'm in love with Courtney Cox’s new FX series Dirt. I mean, this has to be the filthiest show on television.

The plot so far involves a football player who takes it up the ass via a strap-on adorned girl, a rapper who keeps the head of a murdered rival in a jar, and Miss Cox herself searching for an orgasm each week with her trusty vibrator. Oh, and Melrose Place's Grant Show plays an A-list (now that's humorous in itself) closeted action hero who calls his various male sex partners bitches. And finally, rumor has it that Friend’s alumni Jennifer Aniston will appear in the season finale as a lesbian rival editor who gives Miss Cox some tongue.

I swear, I’m not making this up.

I keep asking myself why zillionaire Miss Cox would do this. I mean, it’s not like it’s a Martin Scorsese film. Whatever the reason, it’s my new guilty pleasure.

THE SKINNY

It’s fashion week in NYC, and amongst the glamour and glitz, the fashionistas are up in arms about the negative press surrounding super skinny models. Of course, no one will come right out and endorse anorexia, but prada dressed and obsessed editors know full well that fashion would not be fashion without bone thin teenaged girls tottering down the runway.

Fashion has always been an artful illusion made possible with lights and circus mirrors, so what’s wrong with a little skin and bones? I mean, I like to think of the models as starving artists.

Of course, in a grand gesture, the fashion police have placed tables of healthy food backstage, but who’s kidding whom? If your job is to be a size 0, you’re not going to touch the nosh no matter how good it is. The New York Post has reported that while some models are eating, the janitors are smelling mucho vomit in the bathrooms. I say, bravo girls.

As I sat in my chair applauding the designers, who by the way are showing oodles of short skirts, I also put my hands together for the starving artists who bring the clothes to life.

BRITNEY?

I ran across this picture of Miss Britney....is it just me, or does she look like a hagged-out 40 year-old woman?

REALITY CHECK

You know what really bugs me? Snobby people who claim they never watch reality television. I mean, I want to scream when I hear these elitist assholes brag with bravado....Oh, I read books or spend time with my family or watch historical documentaries on PBS and blah, blah, blah.

I just want to shout...fuck you!

Give me some VH1 Celebreality any night of week. I mean, who could live without "I Love New York" or "Fit Club" or even "The Surreal Life" ?

Oh, and have you noticed that these television avoiding snobs always look they should be on Extreme Makeover?

A QUESTION

Today on CNN was a moving report about the new Intrepid Center in Texas. The ground breaking facility was built for Iraqi veterans who were mangled in the war.

The cost: $50 million.

Who paid for it: Private donations.

I ask you: Why is it OK for Bush and his cronies - all war deserters - to send young men and women off to battle and then refuse to pay for their mental or physical injuries?

BABYCAKES

OK, I admit it... I'm a borderline anorexic. I kneel daily at the alter/scale of my patron saint Karen Carpenter, and yes, I truely believe Miss Rainy Days and Mondays died a martyr for her cause. Can I get an amen?

That said, I've never met a baked good I didn't like. My latest discovery is Babycakes - a tiny vegan bakery located on the cusp of Chinatown and the Lower East Side. I was a tad skeptical at first: I mean, how can you churn out edible confections sans sugar, butter or flour? Well, I'm here to tell you the cupcakes, cookies and brownies are just plain delicious - and no sickly sugar overkill.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not turning my back on my favorites such as Veniero's, Billy's Bakery or the Cupcake Cafe, but when I'm in the mood for a sweet treat that doesn't curse me to 90 minutes on the treadmill or double my dose of Lipitor, Babycakes is my choice.

COLD?

In Manhattan yesterday, talking heads warned viewers about the artic 25 degree weather. I mean, they even did a report on frost bite and how to prevent it.

Oh, please.

I grew up in Minnesota where 25 degrees would bring out the tank tops and shorts.

A+

I have to give Dubya an A+ for effort last night. I mean, he spoke so eloquently about patriotism, bravery and heroism that it made me teary eyed. His noble introduction of Nancy Pelosi was admirable. His ideas on health care, alternative fuels and other domestic issues were well thought out and quite interesting. Granted, the rest of his speech was grandstanding and gesturing, and his take on Iraq was ludicrous, but all and all, it made me proud to be an American. And yes, I still hate Dubya.

CLOSET CASE

There is one closet I would cheerfully never leave.

Let me explain.

Saturday night I had dinner at my buddy’s fancy smancy Park Avenue apartment. There is a gigantic plasma television, walls covered with the best modern art, and windows draped in $10,000 of Italian silk. I mean, this apartment is a queen’s dream, but what really floats my boat is a small closet off the lavender dining room.

I always open the mahogany door as if it were Christmas morning; and I never fail to swoon when I gaze upon its contents. Yes, sitting inside are the two things a gay boy desires most -– booze and toiletries.

I mean, I’ve never seen such a beautiful closet.

THE NOSE KNOWS

On the L train tonight, I noticed a sleek young woman with a $2000 Marc Jacobs bag, a $700 pair of leopard Jimmy Choos and a head of $1500 butter blonde extensions by Brad John. Obviously, this woman was a slave to vanity, so I was stunned to look up and discover she was cursed with a huge potato nose. I mean, this was a nose only a blind mother could love.

As I exited the train and headed for home, one thought ran through my mind... with all that money, why not fix the nose?

SISTER SISTER

Oh my, do these two look like freaks. I've said it before, but now it's official - poor ugly Ashlee has now transformed herself into her sister - albeit with a bigger and trannier chin. And is it just me, or do these two look like a couple of chicks with dicks.

TRUE LOVE

After a recent conversation with a group of friends, I was shocked and saddened to learn how few of them have ever been in love. You know, a person who makes you feel like you’re tripping over the rainbow; a person who gives you goose bumps when you know he or she is coming over. I'm talking real love, baby.

I think I’ve been in love three times.

The first man that made my heart jump was named Chris. We met at his father’s pizza joint where we both worked as waiters. He had blonde curly hair; a gymnast’s body and a sly smirk that made me forgive him anything. He sang in a punk band and I was his number one front row groupie at every dive he played. He drove a beat-up MG and sang me songs late into the night. He left me for a girl with huge boobs and platinum hair. I cried for three weeks. Years later, I ran into him and we didn’t even recognize each other.

Years went by before my next love. His name was Pete and he had a missing tooth and drove a taxi. We met on a phone sex line and his deep voice had me at hello. I used to sneak him into my parent’s basement after they had gone to sleep. He wasn’t exactly handsome, but it was the best sex I ever had. He left me for an underage Eskimo. He still lives in the same apartment and I have no idea what he is doing.

The third I will write about later.

FLO KNOWS

It was great seeing Jennifer Hudson win a Golden Globe for her stunning performance in "Dreamgirls". I mean, the movie wouldn’t be a hit without her. I also loved that she thanked Flo Ballard whom her character Effie White is based.

Unfortunately, life doesn’t always imitate art. Unlike Effie White, who had a triumphant return at the end of the movie, Flo Ballard died penniless in the Detroit projects at age 32. Like Effie, Flo started the Supremes; but she was replaced as lead singer by Diana Ross and later kicked out of the group entirely because of her sass and large ass. Berry Gordy and Miss Ross did everything in their power to ruin Flo’s solo career. And in the end, Miss Ross became a huge star and Flo lost her house, her fortune, her health, and finally, her life.

Check out Mary Wilson’s fabulous book, “Dreamgirl – My life as a Supreme” for the real story of the Supremes,

PROBLEMS

I was dating a beautiful boy from India. I really liked him, and he had the most kissable lips, but something wasn’t quite right. Now I know I sound superficial, but he had a…well, a funny penis. Try as I might, I just couldn’t get used to it.

What was wrong with it?

It was too small, too dark and too uncut. Is that simple enough? Now some uncut knobs can be quite cute, but this one was barely the size of my thumb and had a wrinkly tip like a corkscrew. I mean, this thing was so wrinkly I could store my ipod in it.

What was I to do?

My friend from Milwaukee was dating a man with a not too pretty penis; and she tried and tried to like it, but the relationship ended up a bonafide disaster.

That’s right; never underestimate the power of the penis. So no matter what, if you don’t like the penis, the relationship is never going to work.