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Thursday, October 31

Here's a semi-mixed, overwrought mp3 of 'dull, souless' dance music I've been working on - I've written music all my life, but this is my first, ahem, attempt at electronica. It weighs in at little more than 5 mb's and resides on my server; Quicktime, per usual and for some reason, is the best way to access & listen. The song was sequenced/tracked with MadTracker 2, and mixed (sort of) with N Track Studio, two programs of which I have only a rudimentary working knowledge. Please keep this in mind when listening - especially at the song's end, where you'll notice everything just...suddenly.... terminates. Life was so much easier when everything came with an owner's manual.

Comment, if you must, with compassion, OK?


Wednesday, October 30


Because (some) inquiring minds want to know why I choose to remain bitterly single, I'm posting a dossier of my more recent ex's, complete with details of their multitudinous personality defects, unhealthy habits & skin problems. I'd post their e-mail addy's, except for the fact that none of them speak to me. Go figure.

Randy :: 24, cute, blue-eyed skin head. 4 mos. Reason For Dump - stole money from me. :: Fun when he was stoned, his redeeming characteristic was that he made another ex of mine (please see entry for Ian) terribly jealous. Rather sexy (although he is missing his left testicle) I could have gone out with his body alone. Unfortunately, Randy came with a head.

Ron :: 38, built, handsome, black man. 5 mos. Reason For Dump - Victor, his insane BF :: Ron used to be a stripper, a DJ, and is the model for some black character in some Marvel comic (he assumes violent poses, and they draw). Owned biggest porn collection I have ever seen. Knew his way around an ass (god). Finer moments with Ron included driving over the Lion's Gate Bridge in Vancouver the wrong way on K, and meeting & defending myself from his boyfriend when boyfriend came home from work and found me in his bed. Incidentally, Ron's beautiful apartment overlooking English Bay was actually owned by the very same boyfriend.

Ian :: 40, tall, blonde, nordic type. 2 years. Reason For Dump - None. He dumped me :: Ian never actually worked, he was too busy trying to revive his earlier porn/escort career, and or constantly redecorating the apartment. Ian, who once reigned over the Vancouver Gay Stud scene as Joe Average's (International Aids Day logo artist) BF, became, by the time I knew him, a fucked up meth head. Thus, he began forming relationships with imaginary FBI squads, and acted out accordingly. He was also a sex addict who insisted on an open relationship - as long as I remained absolutely closed. We used to spend Pride Day attending al fresco orgies in Stanley Park, so that he could supervise me and because he was frightened by big crowds. It also pissed him off that I was a) younger than him and b) could top him, not vice-versa.

Michael :: 25, hispanic, very muscular dancer type 1.5 years. Reason For Dump - to preserve my sanity :: Michael was a social activist, who didn't actually know what he was talking about - he just enjoyed loud screaming matches in public. He, in fact, enjoyed screaming everywhere, including at our poor brain damaged cat, Linda Evangelista nee` Dupree. Life with Michael, in fact, was so loud, that we were evicted from 3 apartments due to noise infractions. He was constantly getting into brawls at straight bars. Other irritating habits included refusing to tip waiters, telling me what to wear, and regularly dissing other gay men who, he felt, had 'sold out'. His dancing almost redeems him.

Jerrod :: 21, east indian, slim, pretty twink 6 mos. Reason For Dump - we should have been friends instead :: First off - I adore Jerrod, he is probalby the funniest person I have ever known. We met at a CeCe Penniston show, he was all PradaPerfect. He was/is a retail slave/university student who spent/spends most of his waking hours either shopping or clubbing, while trying avoid his tyrannical muslim parents, who, like, track him everywhere. Unfortunately, fashion & accessories are not the stuff that relationships are made of - so we parted ways one night, and ended up kiki-ing together the next night at the Victory.

Clemon :: 24, tall, gorgeous man from Dominica 7 years. Reason For Dump - he found happiness with a 65 yr.old troll, instead :: Basically, Clem was the guy I was Going to Buy the House with. Forever in school, I was, at the time, in love with the idea of going out with a graduate student. Especially, a big, gentle, black graduate student. He was obssessed with moisturizing. Little did I know that I'd end up not only writing his thesis for him, but moving half way across the country for his so-called studies (Public Health & Epidemiology), as well. Clem & I bear the dubious distinction of being one of the first couples in Canada whose "legitimate" relationship status allowed him to become a 'landed' immigrant, and, by now, a Canadian citizen. Unfortunately, it takes a whole lot more than hard-earned governmental bona fides to keep a relationship going. Fidelity helps.

Now, that makes more sense, doesn't it?

So please, don't ask me why anymore - I'm just not the caring & sharing type.

Tuesday, October 29

Toronto the Strange

If you insist on visiting this conflcted city, be forewarned - Toronto has undergone a protracted identity crisis for the last 2 decades. The symptoms are everywhere....

The Store Window Lie

Most storefronts in Toronto proudly proclaim their international status with the words "London, New York, Paris, Toronto" emblazoned at the bottom edge of their display windows. In Yorkville, "Munich" is often included (who gives a fuck about Munich, anyways?). This is, of course, simply wishful thinking on the owners' part. There are no Aldo Factory Shoe Outlets in any of those cities.

The Parking Lie

Those helpful, omnipresent signs to the contrary, there is absolutely no parking anywhere in the city, ever. Who knows who owns all those cars.

The Friendly Citizens of the City Lie

Don't be fooled - if someone grins at you, they're probably laughing at you. Sneers are for the exclusive use of friends & coworkers.

The "Fashion File & Fashion Television are produced here, so we must be Fabulous" Lie

Yeah, and my name is Ivana Knockoff.

The Gorgeous Man Lie

Well, the beautious of the city are, for the most part, illegal immigrants who generally have to strip & hustle when they're not fighting extradition or deportation hearings. Indigenous City boys tend to be pasty & insipid. I'm all for a more open immigration policy.

The Most Liveable City in the World Lie

Perhaps, if you happen to be a Rothschild. Since when is $1,500 per month for a shoebox replete with roaches, sagging balconey and communal hot tub teeming with toxic protozoa considered "liveable"?

The People City Lie

Somewhere along the way, dogs in T.O. replaced people at the top of the food chain. They have - by far - the most rights, the nicest bakeries & the best leashes. God help the poor soul who snaps at his mini-poo in public.

The Top Theatre Spot In the Continent Lie

This is only a lie if you feel, like many of us, that Disney Inc. has no business anywhere near a stage. Otherwise, you're probably a singer/dancer/jazz-hands type who's living in denial.

The Putz who's currently Mayor for the city insists the grass is definitely greener in Toronto.
But that's only because he has it spray painted.

Thursday, October 24


Do you read horoscopes? :: I do, compulsively, until I'm able find the Libran trusim which conforms to my particular mood swing of that particular day. Most of the time, This Guy fits the bill (when he's coherent).

What do the signs mean? :: Here are salient characteristics of the signs, as I have experienced them;

Aquarius - Hot & loyal but stubborn. Will argue anything, anywhere. Like abortion rights on a crowded subway. Right, Michael?

Capricorn - I like Capricorns...but nobody else I know does. These rams can be "2-faced", "fake", "dishonest", "sneaky", according to their foes; I just think a) nobody understands them and b) it's your own fault if you leave your Todd Oldham jeans lying around and someone swipes 'em.

Sagittarius - Men? Don't know any. Women? Charming & funny. They make great socialites.

Scorpio - This is the sign everyone loves to hate..But why? Because they are smarter than the rest of us? Because they always have a plan? Because their plans invariably work? There's nothing wrong with being better.

Libra - The cardinal air sign. My sign. It would take forever to fully explain & explore our various in's & outs. Hey, let's go shopping instead!!

Virgo - 'Libido' would have been a more apt designation. They buy most of the Viagara produced in this country.

Leo - Best sign, ever. Possess "Hi, I'm Tim, how do ya like me sofar?" personalities. They make amazing, loud, embarassing friends.

Cancer - Now, on the other hand, we have Cancer. Martyrs with a vengeance, they suffer so much....and make damn sure everyone around them knows it. Do not, under any circumstances, feel sorry for them.

Gemini - Pleasant (yawn)...did I say 'pleasant'?

Taurus - Sexy, salt of the earth types. Easily moved. Gifted with all things related to money & the like. Sounds like a dream husband, eh?

Aries - Well, mother is an Aries so, well...oh nevermind, it's not worth it.

Pisces - God, would it kill them to make a fucking decision already - and stick to it? Use their obvious creative gifts as an excuse for their infantile behaviour.

What if I don't like my sign? :: Lie, and avoid psychic hotlines.

Tuesday, October 22

The following is an old, cranky rant of mine which I'm reposting due to the release of this movie a little over a week ago. So much for having a past.


An old classmate of mine,

from Bennington is having another of his boring books about the rich, young & dumb turned into a movie. Normally, Brett's repeated forays into Hollywood evince nothing more than mild irritation & envy from those who knew him at school because: a) he was annoying and b) anybody can write about drugs & sex & vacant beauty, but did it really have to be him?

This time it's a little different...

Rules of Attraction, the movie, is based on the book of the same name, which Brett wrote while at college. At the time, Bret enthusiastically promoted a rumour that he was writing a scathing account of our collegiate debauchery, with particular emphasis on (and invective towards) those who ignored, shunned, slammed, or otherwise did not embrace his staggeringly dull personality. We pretty much thought it was a stupid rumour made up by a guy with with literary pretentions & no friends.

But then it was published - and therein, much to our horror/delight, were several of our names, posing as characters. Except, in a feat of literary daring, he switched the names with the personalities (i.e. Sean is actually Paul, etc. etc,), probably so that he could claim the book was a work of fiction, if he were ever, let's say, confronted in a loud nightclub in NY, which - of course - would never happen. Ever.

Well, actually, it's a total work of fiction, because Bennington wasn't anything like the soporific hell he describes (nobody did heroin there - please!! - and not everybody was clinically depressed and lots of people there were cool, creative & happy). Besides, I only knew like 2 genuine sociopaths on campus, and, more importantly, it's where I first fell in love. Although I can't recall attending any classes, I thoroughly enjoyed it, despite being rather rudely kicked out of the place (at the same time, ironically, as Brett's best friend, Amy H.) It was a rather good time.

So Brett, if you ever read this, why now? Do you really want everyone to know how old you are?

I mean - can't we all just..get..along?

Monday, October 21


Dude with a gun is actually onto something; he's just shooting the wrong people. My humble thoughts re: better victims and targetting in general.

1. Gas Bars? Honey, what about all them Malls!
2. Ponderosa...hmmm...I think you'd get more splat-effect at IHOP.
3. Leeza Gibbons.
4. Celine Scream-on.
5. Enrique Iglesias.
6. David Hasselhoff.
7. "The Bachelor" production team, excluding crew, but with special, malicious emphasis on the "concept" people. Mother is hooked.
8. Bobby fill-de-bowl Brown, for what he did to Whitney.
9. Jerry Falwell. Pull off that one, and you'd be guaranteed top float in Pride Parades across the continent.
10. Michael Kors.
11. Charleton Heston. Somebody, anybody just please kill this NRA knock-kneed asshole.
12. Tommy Lee.
13. That stupid cross-eyed super-model from Estonia who's always hogging the camera on Fashion File. And she can't even walk.
14. Whoever invented "Fashion Cares". Fashion doesn't care, OK?
15. The yahoo who screamed "Die You Fuckin' Fag" at me yesterday. Wait - not 'til I fist him first.
16. Ann Coulter. Unless she accidently starves herself to death.
17. That "Crossing Over" guy.
18. Brett Easton Ellis (it's personal).
19. That lady who smacked her kid around on video.
20. The smiley, stinky vegan co-worker who stands behind me all the time, without saying anything. I really dislike him.
21. The morons in this country who want to dismantle national health care. Die, die, die.
22. My last therapist. I so was not drug-seeking.
23. The person who's prosecuting Winona Ryder. Leave her alone - she shouldn't have had to pay in the first place.
24. The enemies of Shirley Q. Leave her alone - she got 19 chittlin to feed.
25. The "Will & Grace" writing team - wtf happened there?
26. Pat Buchanan. Watch out - he's still around trying to run for Top Nazi.
27. Andrea Dworkin. Here, have some Twinkies - and keep your fat hands off my porn.
28. Any corrupt, rape-a-citizen-with-a-broomstick cop who falls into view.
29. Maury Povich & Connie Chung. At the same time. Why waste the ammo?
30. Usher. Ugh.
31. Dr.Phill.
32. John Walsh.
33. Joan Rivers. Can we talk?....No Joan, not anymore, I'm afraid.
34. Kid Rock.
35. Adam Sandler.
36. His Grace, Octavian Xavier Ghislaine Maximillian von Brandenburg, Grandduke of Saxe-Cobourg for crashing Jacquline de Ribes' "Le Sacre du Printemps" Costume Ball in Paris last month, without so much as an outfit. Une scandale profonde.
37. Barbara Bush. Look, they all came from her womb ok, so she's about as far as one could get from the benign cake-baking, quilt-patching image the PR mavens have concocted for her. In fact, she's more like Angela Lansbury's character in The Manchurian Candidate.

Mr Sniper?

Please remember - if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem.

Friday, October 18

I am posting a picture of an acquaintence with a problem. My considered opinion is that he is struggling with an identity issue relating to that pop-rodent, Christina Aguilera. Judge for yourself.

..and a bag of chips (well, actually, make it crate, if you could please, darlin'..)

He graciously receives all worshipful correspondence here.

Please be gentle - he's only 37.

Thursday, October 17

Sorry, but the catfight previously scheduled for today has been cancelled...

To Somebody - it's all good.

Wednesday, October 16

I'm currently on my 8th (9th?) jar of coffee this morning, and have been speedsurfing with reckless abandon. Just look at what I've found::

Midget Chaos!

Unlike sports fans in places like Bangkok, Istanbul, and Pensacola, the average American rarely gets a chance to witness a stripper wrestling a midget. However, one such opportunity arose in Oxford, Mississippi in mid-April of the year of our Lord two thousand. Be warned: while the pages that follow do not contain any nudity or bloodshed, the viewer will undoubtedly be haunted by vague but persistent feelings of horror and confusion. Some may even experience dizziness or loss of appetite. Persons unaccustomed to midgets, strippers, or the depraved behavior thereof should not proceed. Think carefully, read my disclaimer, and .....

[ Sam sent me this a while ago...I've just checked it out this morning. Witness Madonna hawking Scotch.]

Panderers in Japan
Japander:n.,& v.t. 1. a western star who uses his or her fame to make large sums of money in a short time by advertising products in Japan that they would probably never use. ~er (see synecure, prostitute) 2. to make an ass of oneself in Japanese media.

[I have no idea who or what runs this - but what a stellar idea..].

~Beauty Tips for the GODDESS~

Naming Your Slaves

Being a Goddess to millions of men is not always as easy as it seems.
Sometimes you just can't remember their names. That’s why nicknames are always
A great alternative. They'll never know you forgot and a happy slave is a
Useful slave.

Category 1: The Useless slaves....
It really doesn’t matter what you call the useless slaves.
The poor unfortunate saps will keep coming back anyway. Just remember to
Not use swear words. A potty mouth is not a pretty mouth.

Category 2: The Servant Slaves...
Servant slaves can be referred to as dear, buddy, anything in a friendly manner.
Remember to never use category 3 names though.
It just gets there poor little hopes up. Then when the letdown hits
They’re not as effective.

Category 3: The Love Slaves...
Sweetie, honey, darling, anything of an affectionate nature
Works with a Category 3. Cute little nicknames are fun and
Will keep them in their place, which is to please you.

Category 4: The Keeper Slave...
You never forget the name of a keeper. Just be sure not
To yell out his name when you’re with lower level slaves.

Category 5: The Royalty Slave... Only respectful names are to be used for these slaves. They have earned it. For they are almost as good as you are..almost.

What would we do without the wierd?

Tuesday, October 15

Weekend Brief

:: Sang this song as a mantra to self while at local bathouse. Deemed necessary after deep, moving, and completely unsettling encounter with hunky zero-fat sweetheart wall-of-a-man (who was obviously vectored into my path by the ever-mischevious Sister Fate). Jewellery of a pimp, soul of an artist, body by Michelangelo. No way I'm seeing him again (sorry, Chris).

:: Spent latter part of Thanksgiving with a gaggle of imperious Scottish women who insisted at virtual knifepoint that I sample each & every one of their 14 homebaked deserts. Out of respect for her and all that she stands for, I relented. It was a very Prime of Miss Jean Brody moment. Later on, I saved someone else's burnt turkey. How, exactly, does one completely burn a turkey?

:: Am loving the new Chinese e, which is actually really only acid that has been domesticated for use by humans. You simply shimmer.

:: To whoever the hell the DJ was at TIT downstairs on Sunday night, your sparklng banter was just as much fun as that back-to-back Basement Jaxx/Osunlade set you slammed on us - that was good 'n tight, the way we likes it, uh-huh.

:: My new facial hair look attracts an entirely different new demographic; men who grope but do not speak, and straight women. Combined with contrasting sissy top (pink, size 1 vintage Izod), pants (waist 28 Mavi flares), and my sister's diamond tennis braclet (the rocks were real), the trimmed beard added a delightful touch of gender fuck to Sunday evening's ensemble (click - next). But it's itchy as all hell, and can apparently cause injury to some people during rimming (sorry, Chris).

:: Was totally attacked by berzerk client at work in public. Maintained therapeutic rapport. Ensured safety for both client and community. Upheld the airtight professionalism on which my sterling reputation for calm-under-fire rests. Switched their meds later on that night for revenge. Joking.

:: Want to get a chichuahua so badly now...Colin got one, her name is Stella, she's all adorable, quivery and worried-looking. Everyone is Alpha Male to her, she's completely indiscriminate. I guess that comes from being tiny and almost being squished all the time by most of the other living things around you.

:: My friend Ilona proved herself to be the best thing from Hungary since the Gabor sisters & Goulash. She keeps cases of bottled water & boxes of yummy chocolate granola bars in the trunk of her car just in case. Girls are simply smarter that way.

:: Discovered something new about Barbie. Click here, go to "Giggles", look for "Vestibule presents Barbie". While you're there, you might as well check out the short action-flick, "Tranny Force" . I knew Jovinka when I lived in Vancouver, and accidently pushed her off stage once (well, that's the offical version of what happened).

:: Started drinking coffee again. Which reminds me - I need a refill - bye!

Saturday, October 12

Divas.... to the dance floor.

A friend.

Part-ay, OK?

Thursday, October 10

My mother

My mother is a gay man. We had this conversation last night, where she moaned about the current state of her of closet(s), spoke of the joys to be had with good hair, and weighed in on Madonna:

::"I am so not organized for this season - I can't find any of my knits, and all my shoes are simply wrong. I just don't have time for all this, this - what do you guys call it? - clothing drama. And, god, I was sooo late for work this morning, but at least I had managed to look good, there is definitely a point to having too many clothes"... ::

I swear, on all that is good & holy, that she uttered the phrase 'clothing drama'.

Later on in the conversation, she changed tack, apropos nothing in particular:

::"Do you know what makes me really happy? Good Hair, that's what. I mean, when you don't have to worry about the cut, and it looks good from all angles, and they don't get yucky dye all over your neck. It just makes everything so much easier. You think I'm shallow, don't you? So what - deep is dull"::

Again, word-for-word accurate, as far as I can recall. From the above, you can detect a bit of mother's healthy distrust of all things pretentious ( I remember that when I was kicked out of the famous college I (sort of) attended, she was much relieved: "Well, actually, I'm sort of glad, Sean..you were getting so tedious.")

Finally, we wrapped up the conversation with shared musings re: Madonna's most recent persona makeover:

::"Look, Madonna may be the Diva of Diva's but that doesn't mean she isn't a good mother, Sean. I just know that she takes good care of her kids. I mean, she keeps her men totally in line, and that little girl of hers always looks fabulous."::

Whenever my siblings and I tease Mum about her height (we're tall; she's short), she curtly reminds us that she's the same height as Mrs. Ritchie. Whoa.

Next thing you know, she'll have a blog.

Wednesday, October 9

So I saw my first Clint Eastwood movie ("High Plains Drifter") at work this evening. And I wanna know why no-one ever bothered to mention or otherwise indicate to me that, at his peak, this sociopathic mute of a man was so astonishingly, fuckingly, attractive. Like, one money shot shy of perfection. Like, everso handy with the phallic/S &M props (guns, cigars, whips, chaps, ropes, boots). Like, agree with me before I get run outta town by the local Gay Gestapo.

This is what I mean...

Sorry Clint, but I seemed to have parked my car way at the other end of the parking lot, silly me.

And he's usually filthy, which is totally sexy if you grew up in a Jewish antiseptic biosphere as I did...

Can't believe it - I'm all out of towels!!

This pic is supposed to show his 'sensitive' side -

- but I think it was more a situation of him wanting to eat that particular child. Whatever.

How many of your bondage buddies have looked this good, fully clothed?

I find it disconcerting to stumble on & discover do-able hunks from Old Hollywood (alot of us think like Modern Corporate Stud history began with Marky Mark).

(*sigh*) ....I always thought the future was better.

Tuesday, October 8

One of the few ways in which Canada differs from the US, is that we have an official, certified Monarch ("Queen") who serves not only as our Head of State but as our richest, apparently living citizen. While both The Queen's and The American President's roles have been shaped largely by the dynasties - the Windsor's & the Bush's, respectively - from which they were borne, Her Majesty's complete sovereignty renders her position unique: she is answerable to no-one, and is able to reign unimpeded by the vagaries of political opinion or bureaucratic expediency.

Which means she gets to play simply smashing games of hide'n go seek & tickle mummy with her 16 dear little corgis in a dreadfully large castle, send stupid, stupid, stupid Phillip to the tower for fun (goody!), and drink lots of rather yummy gin and try on oodles of jewels & tiaras & pendants and such all day long whenever she wants.

My friend, the Queen;

Scott - I mean, Liz, at home, talking to no-one in particular.

Her Story {a few years old, but still alotta fun};

Who knew?

Woulda been a better Queen {a few years old, but still alotta fun};

Beyond ovah.

Fashion Tips for our queen.
Fashion Tips for 'straight' queens on Halloween (uh, right - only because it's halloween, uh-huh).
Fashion Tips for queens with back.
Fash - no, wait, it's just this incredibly stupid website. I think I once saw Rodina on Jerry.
Fashion Tips for the fiercest queens ever, from the fiercest queen ever.
Fashion Tips for heel queens. Sort of.
And something about queens who are so much more (really!!)...

Saturday, October 5

Do you read Popbitch? The name alone is worth the price of admission. This guy named Sam, of London & Virginia, forwarded these samples my way. Silly, toxic gossip is increasingly rare these days; it seems we have to settle for pap that is either corporate-studio (Vanity Fair), or seizure-inducing (Mary Hart), or so Upper-East-Side/Seizieme Arrondissement (W) it makes your teeth hurt. And the usual rags (World News, The Enquirer) have become caricatures of themselves.

Anyways, courtesy of the Bitch, via Sam;

>> Big Questions <<
Blind items leading the blind

Years ago, gay actors in Hollywood used to go
out to the mountains just outside LA to scream
as loud as they could - thus roughening their
vocal cords and making their voices lower and
more butch. (hence the term "screamer".)
So... which modern day king of pop has been
following this ancient practice?

Robbie Williams has turned to songwriter Glen
Ballard (Alanis Morrisette's guru) to help crack
America, and get his big payoff from EMI.

>> Hotplate in Herre <<
Whitney's lifestyle accessory

PB writes:
"I was working on a charity event and Whitney
was one of the featured guests. Just before she
went on stage, one of her rather jumpy minions
asked for a hotplate.

"Assuming it was for her tea set up, I asked for
a tea kettle and hotplate to be brought up to
her room. Her assistant said 'never mind with
the tea kettle, just get the hotplate'..."

>> Celebrity Parasites <<
Doing odd jobs. For big cash.

Some of the best jobs in the world are to
be found among the odd roles that surround
dim celebrities.

Who wouldn't love to be Bash Dibra, Mariah
Carey's dog trainer? Or Bobby Trendy, Anna
Nicole Smith's interior designer?

And can you imagine how much money you'd make
if you were Shelby Marlow, the pet
psychiatrist who helped Madonna's chihuahua
Chiquita overcome sibling displacement
syndrome when Lourdes was born?

Well, there is a new contender to the crown
of Celebrity Parasite Of The Year:
Calista Flockhart has hired a "baby-linguist",
whose job is to interpret what her adopted
baby Liam is saying to her when he cries.
At $350 per hour.

Snoop Dogg may be jumping on the Nelly/Christina
misspelling bandwagon. His new album seems to be
called From Da Chuuuch To Da Palace'

>> Living large, Lloyd Webber style <<
It's all about the lunchtime wine

Andrew Lloyd Webber rarely schedules meetings
after 2pm because the great man likes to get
stuck into the vintage wines at lunchtime.

One person who attended a rare afternoon
meeting reported that at one point one of
Lloyd Webber's assistants got up, opened a
cupboard, vomited in it and then sat back down
and carried on the discussion. No-one batted
an eyelid.

>> A brief conversation with Tabitha <<
She has been Star Trekkin to Uranus

J writes:
"I recently went to a launch party in LA for
a Cable Porn channel and met the porn star
Tabitha Stevens. I asked her about her
sizeable engagement ring.

"'It's two carats," she replied. "I got fucked
in the ass by Captain Kirk last week."

"William Shatner?"

"Yeah. Amazing, huh?"

If you put "Aguilera" into Microsoft spellcheck, it
tells you that the correct spelling is "Uglier".

Donatella Versace was recently refused entry to
Splash disco, NYC. The doormen refused to believe
she wasn't a Donatella drag-queen impersonator.

The history of Hedda, Louella, Walter, Cindy & Liz is fascinating, mostly by virtue of the unmitigated terror they inspired in others. And each of them, is/was, like, an antisocial freak.

Hopefully, Sam (sweet + indiscreet + cute + available) will create a site of his own very soon. I, for one, am planning to stay on his good-side.

Friday, October 4

Oh lord, here we go again.....

YB? You're fabulous, you're honest, you speak from your truth..

It is, however, not everyone's truth, Junior Vasquez notwithstanding.

A virus causes HIV. If Crystal use can 'cause' HIV, then, by extension, we should also ban other 'causes' - like, say, Gay Bars, Bathhouses, Circuit Parties (that, actually, has it's merits - but let's discuss another day, OK?). We should, as well, definitely ban gay male alcohol consumption, which has been shown to be a higher "risk factor' in HIV transmission and morbidity rates than all the other substances you breathlessly mention, combined. In fact, while we're sliding down this slippery slope, why not simply prohibit any congregation of gay men ever, so as to eliminate, completely, any risk whatsoever of HIV or Syphillis or Hep A,B, or C?

Do you see where I'm going with this? Or, more to the point, do you see where you're going with this?

All drugs can be involved in the destruction of lives. So can a myriad of other things, like sky-diving or owning a gun or voting republican. That is not the point. It's the moralizing that's the point. Maybe all those drug-crazed zombies like descending into k-holes. Maybe all those coke-heads like being assholes. Maybe I like dancing on crystal because it feels amazing...

It's not for you to judge. And you were judging.

Wednesday, October 2


Why, it's Nancy Reagan! She's back, and she's got something to say to all you drug addicts!!! .....

Ok, that wasn't very nice. I like YB. Sorry....

But honestly! I've endured that same rant with regard to pot, acid, pcp, coke, e, crack and multi-coloured pills of many sorts for, like, decades. I've also done a lot drugs, including sizable quantities of Chrissy, for, like, decades. I am an intact, employed, non-sociopathic, healthy human being, who spends a lot of time both in AND out of clubs. My neuroses pre-date my drug use by many years. People, like me, are gonna get high, no matter whatcha do. Drug use is part of a 'darker' nature, if you will, which exists in all of us. You can accept it, or you can fight it.

Fight it, and it, in turn, will fight you with guilt, compulsion and eventually, addiction. Accept it - and you put yourself in a position where, should you chose, you are able to take real responsibility for your behaviour, the choices you make and what kind of person you are. What you do becomes irrelevant; it's how you do it that counts.

[Sometimes, when we're young, we trek towards OZ, tripping on the hype, only to find that it is not the place we needed to visit or inhabit. It can be a sad & lonely discovery. And the rub is, no-one gives a shit. So, to feel better, we learn how to judge.]

If a certain scene sucks & bites (even in NY or SF), well, I'm sorry, but that's because the people in it suck & bite (even in NY or SF).

It's never the drugs, dear.

Tuesday, October 1


:: I need a break. There's been a surfeit of misery & loss around here the last coupla days, with grieving and boredom in equal measure. My skin looks horrible and work sucks the Intergalactic Wang. And tommorrow is my Bday - my dreaded annual Rememberance of (unpleasant) Things Past. My vaunted Libran equanimity, it seems, has all but evaporated ::

Thus, I turn to the World of Fashion & Accessories to soothe my troubled soul. Feel blue? Out of Weed? Read this...

Naomi Campbell - Her Secret Disability Revealed

Naomi Campbell, that supermodel-in-perpetuity & sworn enemy of Personal Assistants everywhere, has a terrible secret: a disfiguring disabiltiy which, were it to be generally known, could deal a serious blow to her important work as a catwalk glamazon. Check out these pictures;

Fuck you, I'm fabulous.


This is me without any coke....and you CAN'T even tell!! Told you I was fabulous.

It's so shockingly obvious, I can't believe it hasn't been noticed before - Naomi is, like, warped! I mean, she has this big S-curve thing going on, like a sort of sideways Scoliosis. Maybe it's from kicking all those underlings over the years - with the same foot!!

Prognosis? She needs to get herself to a Sports Doctor/Freaky Guru and have her vertebrae, or chakras or whatever readjusted. And someone should teach her how to kick in heels.

Karl Lagerfeld & Andre Leon Tally - their secret passion...

Karl L, the CoCo (CaCa?) of our age, and Andre LT, editor-at-large (to say the least) at Vogue, have finally gone public re: their relationship which has gone unnoticed over the past decade. Here's a shot of the happy couple;

Andre!! Fur zee lahst time, vill you pleeze reeemove ya finger from mein ass!!!!

As this pic was taken Andre was quoted as saying "No-one has ever made me feel as pretty as Karl does. And I'm thin again, thank god. I owe it all to Karl. Right, Karl? KARL!!"

Kate Moss - Baby at last!!

You've probably already heard the news that Kate Moss gave (and survived) birth to a healthy, crack-free baby! This is a shot of her leaving the hospital;

Quick, hurry up, it's the press!! - no silly, I stuck the drooling thing in my clutch - now come on, move it!!

No word yet on a name - no word, in fact, on the sex either. Kate referred all such enquiries to her publicist, whom, she said, "knows about these things. I haven't a clue."

Big Brother Star Makes Catwalk Debut

Alex, from Big Brother fame, made his catwalk debut recently in Milan. Here he is;

I hope i don't look gay or anything....

Fashionista's applauded Alex's courage in deciding to debut at a Children's Wear show. Spokespeople for Bambini D&G could not be reached for comment re: Alex's future with the new line, because they were, uh, giggling too hard.

Vivienne Westwood Makes Ugly Shoes

Don't worry - they'll go with your lurex spacesuit.


To Fashion.