Last night, I watched HBO's live telecast of Will Ferrell's next to last performance of his Broadway show, You're Welcome America: A Final Night with George W. Bush.
I was never a huge fan of Will Ferrell's comedy, but a couple of years ago, my father decided to follow-up our traditional, late night Christmas viewing of Christmas Vacation ("Shitter was full!") with Ferrell's Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby. I wasn't thrilled about watching it, but by the time we got to the scene with Ferrell saying grace, praying to "tiny, infant baby Jesus," I was hooked. He's a brilliantly funny man.
And his Broadway show is hilarious. I called my father to see if he was watching it, since my dad is a fan of both Will Ferrell and George W. Bush.
But my dad wasn't watching Will Ferrell. He was watching Graham Norton. So, as I told him the day I was stuck in a Chicago blizzard and he called to tell me he was at a Cher concert...
"Ummm, Dad. Exactly which one of us is the homosexual here?"
He laughed his ass off, but if I find out my father is buying Judy Garland cd's or if he starts describing things as "fabulous," the two of us are going to have a talk.
I don't mean to be a bitch, but regardless of who comes out of the closet, I'm "King of the Gay People" in my family. I claimed it a long time ago. After my brother came out, I visited him in Atlanta and he introduced me to a few of his friends. After talking to them for quite awhile, one of them asked me, "Oh, are you gay too?" I said, "No, I was gay first!"