I admit it - I love the New York Post.
Even though the daily tabloid is full of extreme right-wing bullshit, the gossip pages are the best in the city. I mean, what New Yorker doesn't read Page Six or Cindy Adams or Liz Smith.
Now word is out that due to cost cutting, the Post has fired 86-year-old LIz Smith! I'm shocked, Miss Liz has been a staple in New York print for over 40 years.
Damn, I hate this economy.
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MY LIFE ON THE LAM IN NYC'S EAST VILLAGE
9 comments:
MM she writes just like you! are you sure you don't do two blogs?
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2009
SGALGG: Oscar Edition
Oh, kittens. The amassed awesome at last night's Oscars was a thing of beauty. Think about it. Last night, all together in one room were, among others: Tina Fey, Kate Winslet, Tilda Swinton, Penelope Cruz, Angelina Jolie, Freida Pinto, Natalie Portman, Diane Lane, Anne Hathaway, Sophia Loren and Meryl fucking Streep. Now, I say Meryl fucking Streep for a reason, because amid last night's orgy of gorgeousness I noticed an interesting trend. Everyone who was anyone wanted to rub up against Meryl Streep. Shit, do you blame them? So in honor of the touchy-feely goodness, I give you a very special Oscar edition of SGALGG. Straight(ish, no comment) Gals Acting Like Gay Gals Who Want to Fuck Meryl. Or, you know, SGALGGWWFM. Put that on a bumper sticker, I dare you. [Click any for big Meryl love.]
I love this blog.
I just love that dike, Dorothy Surrenders!
Her blog has me at home, tits floppin, eating strawberries and readin! MM she is your soulsister....and mine too.....But I don't eat pussy
She makes me wish I would!
Foster files
Hey, you know who we haven't talked about in a while? And by a “while,” I mean since last May. Well it's My Very First Weekend Crush, Ms. Jodie Foster. Before Tina Fey, before Rachel Maddow, there was Jodie. There will always be Jodie. Those alpine cheekbones. Those arctic blue eyes. That dykey voice. Heaven.
Jodie has kept her normally low profile since she finished promoting “Nim's Island” last year. The notoriously private star nonchalantly caused a seismic shift in her public persona when in Dec. 2007 she openly spoke the love that she had previously been decidedly mum about concerning longtime partner Cydney Bernard. But by next May all the gossip world was abuzz about her possible breakup with Cydney and hookup with screenwriter Cynthia Mort. I have no idea whether Jodie and Cynthia are still together. I have no idea whether Jodie and Cydney got back together. Nor do I particularly think that it's any of my business.
What I do know is that Jodie was at Sundance last month to support Uma Thurman and Minnie Driver's indie film “Motherhood.” Jodie has a small cameo in the comedy/drama about a mother (Uma) who prepares for her daughter's sixth birthday party. At Sundance, Spike Lee also revealed that plans for “Inside Man 2,” are still moving forward with Jodie and the rest of the original cast. Pending script approval, the sequel could being filming in late summer, early fall.
So, yeah, now you see why I haven't written about Jodie in a while. I ain't got much. But just because I don't have much on present Jodie doesn't mean I can't relive past Jodie. And with that, I give you: “Future Gay: A Video Essay”
The Early Years
Already she is the smartest little lesbian in the room.
The Tomboy Years
From the look on her face, grandma totally knows.
The Singing It Loud and Proud Years
A swing. A white tux. A French song. You're welcome.
The Advanced Gay Years
Trust me when I tell you that posting this clip 27-second of Jodie's only first* on screen same-sex kiss (from “The Hotel New Hampshire” with Nastassja Kinski, no less) will save you 108 minutes and 33 seconds of starring at your screen and going, “What the hell is happening here? Is that a bear suit? Fuck, am I drunk?”
p.s. Apropos of nothing other than that I know that white tuxedo fabulousness got your attention, only three more days to vote for yours truly in The Lezzys. See the mid-point vote tallys here. And thank you, thank you to all who have already and continue voting.
*EDIT: I forgot about that "Siesta" kiss. Hat tip, dairyqueen!
You have a face like Rachel Zoe
I loved Rosie on Tyra, My tits flopped!
I loved her, too!!
http://dorothysurrenders.blogspot.com/
A GAY GAL'S GUIDE TO POP CULTURE. WHY LET THE BOYS HAVE ALL THE FUN?
MONDAY, MARCH 02, 2009
Lather, rinse, repeat
One of the many things I love about Hillary Clinton (and please realize that the list is long and impressive and substantial before we even get to this one thing) is her hair. Yes, her hair. It's not that she has don't-hate-me-because-I'm-beautiful hair, per se. It's because she has real hair. You never know exactly what you're going to get. Girlfriend is like us. Some days her hair is all, "Get it, girl!" and other days her hair is all, "Girl, no." It's just so endearing it makes me want to hug her and talk about health care reform.
Now I realize the inherent pitfalls in talking about such an accomplished woman's hair. No one talks about President Obama's hair (it's lovely and the salt and pepper only make it more so) or John McCain's lack of hair (it's less lovely, considerably so). This discussion of hair is in no way a requisite when discussing women. I loathe how women's bodies and dress are more critiqued than men's, as much as I loathe myself for sometimes falling into the same sorry gender traps. This discussion isn't meant as a substitute for something substantive. And my lack of discussion of men's appearance on these pages can largely be attributed to my lack of discussion of men on these pages, period. I talk about the ladies, that's what I do.
So, now that all that's been said, seriously – the hair. Some days it's sleek and fabulous. Some days it's poofy and helmety. Other days it's flat and exhausted. It's hair, like our hair. Good hair days, bad hair days. It's not perfect, it's real. I love that. I also love that for the most part, except for idiots like me who insist on pointing it out, folks don't care. That's how it should be. That women and men are equal should be unquestioned. That women and men are different is also simply a fact. We can celebrate our differences while not belittling our unequivocal isonomy.
And with that, how about a look at our most distinguished Madame Secretary's hair. Why? Because I love her and her hair and the fucking fantastic brain that sits underneath it all. Also, honey, what's happening in that fourth picture? Girl, no.
Go ahead, underestimate me, sucker.
My tits are perky and hard.....am I becoming a Lesbo.
Kittens, there is only one more. One. More. Uno, totally not dos. Yep, just one more ride on the crazy lesbo train that is “The L Word.” While it's hard to think of a world without the possibility of another smoking Tibette sex scene or another adorkable Alice moment or another charming Helana Britishism or another very Shane today ensemble or another “Baby girl!” Kit-clamation, it also feels like it's time. Or more like, it's been time for quite a while now. This season with all its inherent frustrations and illogical conclusions has shown us that good characters with talented actresses can only take you so far. A show lives and dies by its writing. And at this point the writing is floating belly up with Jenny in the pool.
But, fear not. There will be life after The L. In fact, that's a whole other L word. This doesn't have to mean we've seen the last of Jennifer, Laurel, Leisha, Kate, Mia, Pam and Rachel. Just ask all the escapees alumni who have gone on to full and vibrant lives away from the madness that Mama Chaiken wrought. Freedom looks good on them, no?
My tits are perky and hard.....am I becoming a Lesbo.
Kittens, there is only one more. One. More. Uno, totally not dos. Yep, just one more ride on the crazy lesbo train that is “The L Word.” While it's hard to think of a world without the possibility of another smoking Tibette sex scene or another adorkable Alice moment or another charming Helana Britishism or another very Shane today ensemble or another “Baby girl!” Kit-clamation, it also feels like it's time. Or more like, it's been time for quite a while now. This season with all its inherent frustrations and illogical conclusions has shown us that good characters with talented actresses can only take you so far. A show lives and dies by its writing. And at this point the writing is floating belly up with Jenny in the pool.
But, fear not. There will be life after The L. In fact, that's a whole other L word. This doesn't have to mean we've seen the last of Jennifer, Laurel, Leisha, Kate, Mia, Pam and Rachel. Just ask all the escapees alumni who have gone on to full and vibrant lives away from the madness that Mama Chaiken wrought. Freedom looks good on them, no?
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