"I'll Always Be Alice Toklas, If You'll Be Gertrude Stein"

I first saw him when he walked on stage in the first ever production of Stephen Sondheim's Saturday Night and turned the song "Exhibit A" into the show's 11 o'clock number. At 8: 45. 

I was envious.

When I finally met him doing a play in which we both had to wear g-strings, I wasn't just envious, I was full-on jealous. Jealous of his boyish good looks, his winning smile and most of all, his killer waistline. 

And I'll admit it, he was nice to look at on stage in his g-string. Seeing him like that, I had no idea he could cut a bitch.

I found out, though, during our first performance together. I had been doing the show for awhile, he was taking over one of the other roles, and his first words to me on stage were...

"Listen, Sister Mary Propecia..."

No, that wasn't a line from the script; he made that one up himself. And it was funny, too (damn it). And even though the cast had been encouraged to come up with new "cut downs" for each other during this section the show, no one had ever made fun of my (then) badly thinning hair.

Allegedly, after the show was over, I cornered him backstage and told him A) "That was a funny line!" and B) "Don't EVER say that again!"

And he didn't. 

The next night, in fact, he didn't say anything at all. He just waited until I was downstage center, giving one of my big, "milked to the tits" comedic monologues, and while I droned on and on, he laid down on the stage behind me and went to sleep. 

Which is funny to an audience. They were laughing their asses off. At HIM! During MY MONOLOGUE! I thought I was really knockin' 'em dead, and then I turn around to see him asleep UPSTAGE OF ME! And the second I discovered what he had been doing, he raised his head, looked at me and asked...

"Oh, are we back?"

I told the skinny bitch to eat a cookie. Right there on stage. I did. And he did. The next night. At the very same place in the play. I turned around and he wasn't sleeping behind me this time. That would have been too easy. No, instead of sleeping behind me, he took my advice. He had stashed a gigantic cookie on the set and he ate it. While I gave my monologue. And when I turned around, he kept eating it. In front of me.

All I could blurt out was, "He's eating a goddamn cookie." Which wasn't funny to anyone except me and him. That's when I surrendered. That's when I became friends with Philip.

And even though my friendship isn't what landed Philip a spot in TimeOut Chicago's "Date Our Friends" this year, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't pass on the news that Philip is single and available. And it's in print!

Check out his glossy spread on the magazine's site. Who wouldn't want to date someone with this profile...

“I like kung fu, opera and coffee. The beard is an experiment but keeps me warm on my bike. My mantra in life is say yes to everything, and I’m hoping you feel the same way. I have just three requirements for any man I’m hoping to put a ring on it with: You must love Chicago, you must love at least one relative, and you must love yourself—preferably in that order.”

Love it, Philip. Love you!

TMI Tuesday

A late night TMI Tuesday...

1. What do you think is the un-sexiest part of the body?

Depends on the person, really. I mean, I'm not sure why, but I tend to find a guy's feet sexy, and yet, when my ex had his nasty-assed clonkers parked on each side of my head while I "drilled, baby, drilled," I thought they were the ugliest things on the planet.

For me, any part of the body can be sexy on the right man. But if a man is not nice or kind or funny or giving, it's hard to find ANY part of him sexy. 

2. Toilet paper: over, under, or what the hell are you talking about?

Over. And I only know this and have an opinion about this because this was a question on The Newlywed Game YEARS ago and I thought to myself...

"I need to figure out where I stand on this issue tout de suite! In case I'm ever on The Newlywed Game."

Cause that's gonna happen soon. Yeah right...

3. Have you ever called in sick to stay in bed with a sexual partner?

Hell to the yeah! I've called in sick to stay in bed with SEVERAL sexual partners. 

Not at separate times, I mean several sexual partners in one bed on that one day.

If you're going to use a sick day, make it worth your while, you know?

4. Did your parents have a "birds & bees" talk with you? If so, at what age?

My Dad did, but I can't remember how old I was. I just remember telling him that I didn't think that I would ever put my penis in a vagina, and he chuckled and told me that I would change my mind about that.

Wrong again, Batman.

5. What is one thing a someone could do to you to rock your world?

Lick my ass.

No, I don't mean, "How DARE you ask me that question! You, Sir, can lick my ass!" I mean, "You want to rock my world? You, Sir, can lick my ass!"

Bonus (as in optional):What does sex mean to you?

Sex means ever having to say you're sorry.

No. Damn it. That's "love."

Sex, to me, means anything from mutual masturbation to handballing and everything in between.

I know some people who don't think it's really sex unless a vagina or an ass is being pounded. To those people, I always ask...

"So, is a mouth no longer a hole?"

"Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree..."

I can report that the Christmas tree that I wrote about on January 26th...

...the one that I mentioned on November 9th that was already up and lit on November 6th...

...IS STILL IN THE FUCKING WINDOW ON CORNELIA, FULLY DECORATED AND LIT UP LIKE A...

Well, lit up like a FUCKING CHRISTMAS TREE!!!

Seriously folks, this has to end. I can understand keeping Christmas lights up OUTSIDE of your house because it's too cold to take them down (as long as you don't turn them on), but this is just plain strange. 

Do you think someone is dead inside that apartment and the tree lights are on a timer or something? Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK?!?

"I Want to Be Beautiful Like Faye Dunaway!"

With our nation's economy sinking deeper and deeper into The Great Depression 2: Electric Boogaloo...

...and with Congress fiddling about Obama's stimulus package while the money in our wallets burns away...

...we all need an escape. We need some fun.

We need rock and roll. We need the glamour of "Old Hollywood." We need The Joans!

Tomorrow night. The Bottom Lounge - - no, it was NOT named after me... I'm just their mascot - - with doors opening at 8pm. $10 in advance, $13 at the door.

Maybe, if we're lucky, one of The Joans will give us their take on the hub-bub happening between Faye Dunaway and Hilary Duff these days. Inquiring minds want to know.

And speaking of Faye Dunaway, Joans - - Hit it!

"My Only Can of Crisco... Is Where It's Supposed to Be."

Uh oh.

Looks like someone else had the same problem I had with the Hero Factory.

I'm sure this boy was hoping to be a kickass superhero like Wolverine.

And not the "two three kick turn, turn turn KICK turn" Wolverine we get from Hugh Jackman. I mean, the "Cut now, ask questions later" kind of Wolverine.

He wanted that and what did he get? A big "G" on his chest.

He'll never hear the end of the gay jokes from the other superheroes. 

He might as well just call himself "The Hershey Highwayman" and be done with it.

"Let's Put a Smile on That Face!"

I just saw this "Dark Knight Joker Combination Ski Mask and Winter Beanie" at i09 and although it is an item that is EXTREMELY odd in a severely fucked up way, I'm not overly disturbed or offended by it.

Actually, I think that if you wear one of these, you can be sure that no one will sit beside you on the bus or train. That, in and of itself, is reason enough to purchase it.

No, I'm disturbed because, when I added this item to my Wish List on Amazon.com, the item below popped up as a "Customers Who Bought This Ski Mask Also Bought" suggestion...




The Leatherman 830850 Skeletool CX Multitool.

And yes, that IS some sort of blade sticking out between the handle for the pliers.

Which, I guess, means that Amazon.com would like to encourage crazies (like me) who purchase insane, clown-faced ski masks to also use Amazon when purchasing the tools they will use on their burglary and/or killing sprees.

Amazon.com: The One-Stop Online Shop for Psychopaths Worldwide!

"My Name is Blossom, I Was Raised in a Lion's Den"

In the mid-90's, I dated a cokehead named Steve.  

That's probably a bit harsh, but he did do a lot of coke. And his friends did a lot of coke. 

He and his friends were those extremely colorful people you see in bars at around 1:00 a.m., just when the night is hitting its peak, dressed somewhere in the netherverse between "colorful," "fashionable" and "trashy." And as you watch this semi-glamorous, overly twitchy group from across the room, you think to yourself...

"God, I may be drunk,

 but at least I'm not THAT!"

This boyfriend, Steve, and his entourage introduced me to two things. The first, of course, was cocaine. After constantly bating me to do a line - - "All the cool kids are doing it..." - - I finally said yes late one night and was presented with my first line on the top of an Olivia Newton-John cd case.  (I know. Sacrilege.)

My boyfriend's friend set up the line and just before I snorted it, he actually said, "Welcome to Hell." I should have told him that Hell was being the only sober man in a group full of incessantly talking, teeth-grinding cokeheads, but instead I just did the line. And then, Steve and his friend did a line. And after a few minutes of them droning on and on about God only knows what, I looked at them and said...

"When does this become fun? 

Because, right now, this just really sucks."

And that was the end of my cocaine use and the beginning of the end of Stephen and Steve.

But before we broke up, Steve and his friends introduced me to one more thing - - cabaret.

Being the "champagne taste and beer bottle pocket" people that they were, they frequented the now-defunct cabaret room, Toulouse on the Park - - a very small cabaret room with walls that seemed to liquify the music being created there. Everything sounded so amazing. And it was in that room with Steve and his friends that I first saw and heard Julie Wilson, Liliane Montevecchi and the first cabaret performer I ever saw in person, Blossom Dearie. 

Going into her show, I didn't know the name, but the second she started singing, I knew her voice. Any child of the 70's knows her voice. It's embedded in our brain in multiples of 8 from her Schoolhouse Rock! song "Figure Eight." I'll bet you hear her voice anytime you "Unpack Your Adjectives."

Hearing her that night was a thill for me. Her unique voice, her gentle command of the room, the incredible jazz takes on standards. I really fell in love with her. 

After her show, Steve, his friends and I went to another piano bar and it just happened to be open mic night. And they badgered me to sing. And I did. And a couple of months later, I was doing a mini-cabaret show of my own. At Toulouse. 

So, no matter how cheesy it sounds, seeing Blossom Dearie really changed my life. And I am deeply saddened with her passing this past weekend. She was 82 years old.

Here she is on the Jack Parr Show singing, "Surrey with the Fringe on Top." Yes, THAT "Surrey with the Fringe on Top." How do you sing a song about a carriage and not sound like Elly Mae Clampett? Watch and listen to Blossom swing it...

"But If, Baby, I'm the Bottom, You're the Top!"

Larry Summers, director of the National Economic Council, recently had this to say regarding President Obama and his stimulus package (the one currently being Congressionally cock-blocked by the most withered cock on Capitol Hill, Sen. John McCain)...

"The president's top man

 on the economy is the president.''

I'm sure that Mr. Summers means that Obama is himself a skilled economist, and not... well...

When I say that I am my own "top man," what I really mean is that, this Valentine's Day, I will be singing "My Life Would Suck Without You" to my own, personal latex piece of Jeff Stryker. 

See how the meaning is slightly different?

Thankfully, Aunt Barbara is back to show us all how to get our nation's finances back on track!

Maybe Obama should offer Aunt Barbara a place in his cabinet.

No, that won't work. She's paid her taxes.

P.S. My co-worker told me this past week that, when he hears the phrase "stimulus package," it doesn't make him think about the economy.

And believe it or not, I hadn't thought of it before but...

I could really get behind a stimulus package like this one on the left. 

No, he won't be able to fix the economy in any way, shape or form, but he definitely could make living through a recession a Hell of a lot more fun!

 

"Superman and Green Lantern Ain't Got Nothin' on Me!"

The Hero Factory web site is all the rage on the blagosphere these days, and since I have a deep love for both comic books and men dressed in skintight fetish gear, making my very own superhero was a thrill... except for... Well, let me explain it this way...

When I sit in the audience on the opening night of a play that I have directed, I always feel like I'm...

A) In hard labor, in the stirrups, sweating through the painful birth of my child, only I can't move, I can't have an epidural and I can't scream at the baby/actor, "For Christ's sake, you're on! You're on! Make your entrance! Your fucking killing me!!!"... 

...and, I feel like I'm...

B) Watching that very same child walk out of my life and into college, with a smirk on his face that says, "Screw you, Dad! From now on, I do what I want to do!," turning his back to me and shaking his head in that "God, you are SUCH a friggin' DUMBASS!," way that all teenagers seem do at least 37 times a hour.

Seriously, when it's opening night and you're sitting in the audience watching as the actors add lines, forget entrances and walk offstage with a prop needed in the next scene ("You leave the sardines!"), it feels like natural childbirth colliding with the empty nest syndrome. All in front of a live studio audience!

And while the my issues with the Hero Factory didn't cause me "umbrella up your ass" labor pains or deep sadness, I was a little pissed that I didn't get to choose my hero's name. The site generates a name for your hero after you've chosen all of the hero's physical attributes, which is why the "P" on his chest has nothing whatsoever to do with his superhero name. 

The name "Four Eyed Knight" doesn't contain the letter "P," but it does contain a great deal of "suck."

Truth be told, I hadn't quite decided on his name when I finished Four Eyed's physical attributes, but I was, obviously, thinking of something uber-gay...

..."Does this pink Lycra jumpsuit make me look gay? Yeah? Well, what if I get up off my knees and take your penis out of my mouth. Now, do I still look gay? Oh look, hair gel..."...

...So, I was thought about calling him "The Pink (???)." I wasn't quite sure what the second word would be. Maybe "The Pink Flame," or "The Pink Avenger." Or maybe, camp it up and name him "Pinky Lee." Or even gayer - - "Pinky Tuscadero!" (God, I loved her...)

But no, my gay keeper of the satin tights will have to somehow fight crime AND his suck-ass, site-generated hero name, "Four Eyed Knight."

And since there's no "P" in his superhero name but there IS a big "P" on his chest, those rumors will start again. You remember. THOSE rumors. Four Eyed Knight... Aqualad... watersports... Well, it wasn't like that at all!

It might have LOOKED a little sordid, but everyone knows that Aqualad needs water once an hour, right? And Four Eyed Knight was stung by a jelly fish and the best thing to do for a jelly fish sting is to have a friend... 

Well, it's just unfortunate that that Olsen kid was nearby with a zoom lens, photographing it all for the tabloids. The "P" on Four Eyed Knight's chest will remind people of those pictures. People will start believing those rumors. Soon, Four Eyed Knight will be bombarded by men, hundreds of men, each one saying three little words to him, over and over...

"Pee on me."

Well, maybe this name isn't so bad after all...

"We Have to Look Great for Pepsi-Cola!"

I have been a Coca-Cola drinker for years. 

In East Tennessee, we refer to everything as a "Coke." When you ask someone what they would like to drink, they'll say, "A coke" and then you ask them, "What kind?" and they'll say, "Sprite" or "7-Up" or if they want a Coca-Cola, they'll say, "Regular."

As a kid, I drank "Regular." Mama probably mixed my baby formula with "Regular." And I drank "Regular," breakfast, lunch and dinner, until I hit my 30's. That was when my DNA reminded me that, unless I fight it, my body type wants to be "Dom DeLouise." So, I switched to Diet Coke, not "for the taste of it," but for my hope to never play Burt Reynolds' fat, funny friend in the movies... 

(Not that I don't love me some Burt and Dom movies...) 

I never drank Pepsi. Ever. Recently, I was buying groceries and found that my supermarket was out of 2 liters of Diet Coke, so I had to buy Pepsi. Going through the check out, I sounded like a character in a David Mamet play...

"You call this a supermarket, you son of a bitch? I've been coming here 15 years... What's my name? 'FUCK YOU!' That's my name! You know why, mister? Cause you drove a Hyundai to get here tonight, I rode in a quarter of a million dollar bus!  THAT'S MY NAME!"

But after the American Family Association called for a boycott on all Pepsi products since Pepsi has been airing gay-friendly commercials in the UK, I thought about possibly changing sides in the Cola War. 

Pepsi has refused to cave in to the AFA's boycott.

Not only that, Pepsi just made a $500,000 donation to Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays to show their continued support of the gay community.

So, I guess I'll be switching to Auntie Joan's favorite soft drink. Well, it was Mommie Dearest's favorite after she married Pepsi's CEO, anyway.

I guess Joan knew best all along. 

Maybe after I've shown my allegiance to Pepsi, Joan will teach me how to knit that afghan she's holding up on the cover of "Lady's Circle." And how she manages to give the camera a half-smile while her eyes remain dead. 

That's talent. True, Trog-starring talent.

"Don't Touch the Watch"

As Ron White says...

“I believe if life gives you lemons make lemonade…then find someone that life gave vodka to and have a party.”

So, when life handed uber-hot Christian Bale a lemon that walked into his field of vision while he was filming a scene for the next Terminator movie, he made lemonade by verbally ripping that thoughtless lemon a new asshole...

...and I'm with Whoopi on this one: We don't know how long he'd been working or what had happened on the set prior to his conniption fit...

...Besides, it could have been worse. Remember Lily Tomlin and her director on the set of I (Heart) Huckabees...

...But just like adding vodka to lemonade, great things come from Bale's rant when combined with...

A dance mix (Thanks to Chris at Slap & Tickle for introducing me to this mix)...





Or combined with Bill O'Reilly's rant...





But really great things come when Stephen Colbert doesn't play Bale losing it, he simply does his own parody of it. This, I think, is my favorite one of all...

The Colbert ReportMon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

Stephen Verbally Thrashes Steve Martin

Colbert Report Full Episodes
Paul McCartney Appearance

Funny Political Videos
More Funny Videos

So, everybody give Bale a break. I spew more rage and shout "Fuck!" more than Bale while I stand waiting for the bus in the freezing cold.

I should record it sometime. When my testicles freeze themselves to my inner thigh, my anger is HILARIOUS! Good times...

Fratboy Friday

BOYS IN CAPS

Yes, he's cute, but see the mark just above his left nipple? Here's a close-up.

Looks like some sort of crocodile-shaped tattoo, right?

Is that a LaCoste tattoo?!?

(And if so, why?!? So he can appear rich and label-conscious when shirtless?)

Or is he just a big fan of the Burt Reynolds movie, Gator?

(And if so, fuck him for stealing my idea! I love that damn movie!)

****

SAGGERS

So, his sag doesn't show off any underwear. Big deal.

Who wants to think about underwear when going commando looks this good!

(Can anybody turn this into a 3-D picture for me? Anyone?...)

****

MOONERS

"Were you lookin' at my bum?

Bum-looker... Cheeky-monkey..."

****

DAMN, I WAS DRUNK LAST NIGHT

At first glance, these boys seem to be

young, dumb and straight-as-they-come. But y'all...

Two guys, one apartment, chartreuse on EVERY wall...

It doesn't really scream "We love pussy!," now does it?

"I Fought Worse Monsters Than You For Years in Hollywood..."

For the last few days, I've been busier than a publicist working for Blagojevich. I'm exhausted, but I can't let another night go by without passing on a wonderful piece of celebrity snark. You may have already heard about this, but if not...

It seems that the powers that be have decided to remake the classic 60's film, Bonnie and Clyde...

...Because even though the remakes of Psycho, Fun with Dick and Jane, Alfie, The Manchurian Candidate, Invasion (of the Body Snatchers), (The) Poseidon (Adventure), Thunderball (renamed Never Say Never Again 18 years later with Sean Connery starring in BOTH the original and the remake!!!), The Stepford Wives and The Women failed at the box office, producers keep beating the "remake" idea like a dead horse...

...a dead horse that they think they can somehow turn into a cash-filled piñata...

...(Note to Self: Pitch "Dead horse turns into piñata full 'o cash" movie to any producer you meet. Tell them, it's "Rocky" meets "Brewster's Millions")...

...I'm ok with the choice of Kevin Zegers to take Warren Beatty's place as the new Clyde Barrow, but I think one of the Gossip Girl guys would be a better Clyde since Bonnie is - - Hilary Duff.

That's right. Hilary Duff, sporting a gun and a beret (I'm not sure which is scarier), will take Faye Dunaway's place as the new Bonnie Parker.

In other words, Hilary Duff is the new Faye Dunaway.

Because, when you think of Faye Dunaway, you automatically think of Hilary Duff, right?

I guess when Faye thinks of Hilary Duff, she thinks of Pia Zadora because Faye had this so say about Ms. Duff being cast as Bonnie Parker...

"Couldn't they at least cast a real actress?"

Gay Men Please Note: "Couldn't they at least cast a real actress?," is the new "Where is Princess Fire and Music?"

But where Eve Harrington spoke indirectly to Margo Channing though Addison DeWitt's newspaper column, Hilary strikes back at Ms. Dunaway loud and clear in an interview on E! Entertainment Television saying...

"I think that my fans that are going to go see the movie don't even know who she is.

"I think it was a little unnecessary, but I might be mad if I looked like that now, too."

Good one, Hilary, good one. But sweetie, have you SEEN Mommie Dearest? Do you know the damage Faye Dunaway can do with a just one can of Bab-O?

Watch just one scene from Supergirl and you'll know that Faye is playing hockey with a warped puck.

Hilary, my therapist once told me (after I told my ex during a fight that I thought he was manic-depressive) that "You can't tell crazy people that they're crazy; it just pisses them off." You just told a crazy ACTRESS of a "certain age" that she's UGLY. On camera!!!

We've seen the damage Faye can do to her own career and she LIKES her career. Imagine what she's got in store for you.

Hilary, take my advice and let Faye make fun of your acting. Seriously, let it go and think of it this way: When the woman acting in the scene below tells the world that you can't act, the way I see it, that's a compliment just shy of an Oscar.

"Bye Bye, Miss American Pie..."

Believe it or not, fifty years ago today, is the day the music died...

I have my father's album of Don McLean's America Pie. If I can't listen to the scratch of the needle on a record as McLean  sings this song and the turntable spins, I don't want to listen to this song on a cd or mp3. It just doesn't feel right.

TMI Tuesday

It's a late-in-the-day TMI Tuesday...

1. When you sleep with someone, how much or how little contact do you like to have?

I hate to sound even remotely like Sarah Palin, but "Spoon, baby! Spoon!"

Sure, we both might move around in our sleep, but it sure is nice to fall asleep holding someone or being held.  

Sleeping with someone isn't a boxing match. It's not "Fuck, then go to your corners!"

2. What do you think there is a appropriate amount of time for a divorced parent to date before introducing the kids to the "new" "special" person in their life?

Well, from personal experience (meaning my father's introduction of my soon-to-be step-mother to me), I'd say one should wait more than two weeks.

And the child really shouldn't meet his future step-mother in a bar at 1:00 a.m. when his father's drunk and the new woman in his life passed "three sheets to the wind" three hours ago.

And most importantly, the new woman should try to talk softly, so that the child doesn't hear her say to his father, "Why don't you drop the kid off at home and come back to my place."

Because that really starts things off on the wrong foot, wouldn't you say?

3. Which ONE do you wish you had more of in bed... romance, experimentation or foreplay? 

D. All of the above.

It was either that or "E. All the guys from the 2009 Dieux du Stade calendar," but we all want that in our bed, don't we?

4. What do you thinks makes a kiss great?

The moment.

Seriously, sometimes you want soft and gentle and sometimes you want to be fucked like the whore you are. The best kissers know which moment is which.

5. Describe your sex life in two words.

Non-existent.

If you count that as just one word, then my answer is: "Non-existent, bitch."

Bonus (as in optional): Do you remember a time when you were having sex that you smile or even laugh about now? Do tell....

I remember kissing one of my college boyfriends, Tony, while we were in bed listening to the radio. The song changed to James Taylors' "Fire and Rain," and for some reason, I started singing right at the top of the song - - "Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone" - - and Tony laughed right in my face. What a douche I must have looked like.

In general, though, I laugh and smile when I'm having sex. I quote Rob Lowe from St. Elmo's Fire...

"You're allowed to have fun 

when you're fuckin'!"

"What Are You Doing in Such a Filthy Uniform?"

Speaking of rebellious youth and pornography...

To quote Reba McEntire, Patrick Stewart can "lower my defense shields and beam me up anytime!"

"You Don't Tug on Superman's Cape and You Don't Mess Around with..."

I don't know who you are...

...other than "Peter S." and "Ashley"...

...but just who the fuck do you THINK you are?!?

Defacing a Chicago landmark.

Scratching your pathetic names into Cloud Gate, or as we Chicagoans nicknamed it, "The Bean."

There's probably no way to find out who you are, but if, through some miracle of modern police work, they find you, I would like 5 minutes alone with you in a room.

So that I can kick your fat ass to the ground and then carve MY name into it!

"Watch It Wiggle, See It Jiggle..."

A little update on the 10 seconds of porn that interrupted last night's Super Bowl for Comcast customers in Tucson...

Well, actually... there's nothing "little" about it...

The 10 seconds was from a scene in the motion picture, "18 'n' Up Wet Poons." 

I'm honestly am not 100% sure what a "poon" is, but I'm hoping that there is a Katharine Hepburn impersonator in the film, watching a couple having sex and shouting, "The poons! The poons!"

The Super Bowl scene, however, shows a woman trying to get a man's cock out of his pants, and when she can't, he stands up, takes his cock out and waves it back and forth in front of her face.

And the 9.5 or 10 inches of cock being waved to and fro belong to this man, Evan Stone.

In the photo above, I believe Mr. Stone is promoting the adult feature film, Pirates.

Why does Mr. Stone look so silly? Well, to quote one fan, "Evan Stone is like the Patrick Warburton of porn."

And apparently, that's a good thing.

My hardcore love of Jeff Stryker doesn't seem so ridiculous now, does it?

P.S. You can watch a video of the porn interruption here. 

I trust that, since it's porn you're clicking on, you don't need me to type "NSFW," right? Cause this is SO NSFW!

"I Wish I Were in Love Again"

I just saw this picture in the Chicago Tribune's "most viewed photos" section. The caption...

"Gay couples tie knot
by dozens"

"Rich Walker (center) kisses Brad Chilcoat after the couple was married by city official D.J. Dull (left) at San Francisco's City Hall."

And all I have to say is: I want to fall in love. Right now. I've waited so long. I don't want to be alone anymore.

"Coming From Tucson with Everyone Sleeping..."

Not only would it be CONSIDERABLY warmer, but also, if I lived in Tucson, I probably would watch football games after hearing about this...

Station says porn clip

interrupted Super Bowl

"A Tucson television station's broadcast of the Super Bowl on Sunday was interrupted for some viewers by about 10 seconds of pornographic material, the station said.

"KVOA TV in Tucson released a statement saying that the only viewers who were able to see the material were those who receive the channel through Comcast cable.

"...the interruption came just after the Arizona Cardinals' Larry Fitzgerald scored on a long touchdown reception during the final minutes of the game."

I never thought I would say this, but - - thank God I have Comcast cable!!!

And seriously, if every touchdown was followed by some really good porn - - gay or straight - - you can bet your sweet ass I'd be a Monday Night Football fanatic.

I already love that you can see their jockstraps through their white football pants. So, the whole "porn after a touchdown" thing would really seal the deal for me.

("whole 'porn'"... I just typed "whole 'porn'"... I think it's time for a sexy party.)

"I'm as Moist as a Snack Cake Down There..."

I love The Soup. I especially love it's dirty, sexy, funny host, Joel McHale.

I love the bad tv clips, the idiotic celebrity tabloid shows and everything else that the folks at The Soup love.

Which means, I guess, that I love vaginas. Who knew?

It started a couple of years ago with "Oprah's Va-Jay-Jay..."

It popped up again a few months ago when The Soup found Scream Queens...

But this past Friday, The Soup took those vagina-loving clips from the past and added them to this new clip from The Doctors...

And all was (vaginally) right with the world.

"Soothe Me With Your Caress, Sweet Marahuana"

Oh, Michael...

Michael, Michael, Michael...

(Mr. Phelps, if you're nasty)

Some random asshole with a camera phone captures this picture of you sucking on a bong and now you're in the thick of it.

All those fans, all those sponsorships. I guess we'll soon see what is more powerful - - their disdain for drugs and drug users or their love of you and your "Get Him a Band-Aid, Cause He's CUT!" abs.

But really, you don't need that bong, sweetie.

I mean, if you need something else in your mouth to help you practise your breath control, I'm here for you.

And I'm much thicker than that bong. Just sayin'...

"Marshall, Will, and Holly, on a Routine Expedition..."

Tonight, I'm doing what all decent, respectable gay men should be doing during the Super Bowl...

Laundry.

Cleaning the unmentionables that cover up my "What's Gone Sour."

So, I was standing in the laundry mat around the corner, waiting for "Rinse" to turn into "Spin," and that is the only reason that I caught this commercial/trailer for Will Ferrell's upcoming movie version of the 70's kids show...

The Land of the Lost!

I loved The Land of the Lost when I was a kid. I can still sing the entire theme song to this day, and my fear of Sleestaks will not allow me to walk into an unlit room to this day.

And I'm SO glad that the movie brings the characters to the Land of the Lost via a raft ride on the rapids. The updated, 1991 Land of the Lost tv series had their characters reach the Land of the Lost in a friggin' Jeep Cherokee. And I'm sorry, but that is simply NOT POSSIBLE!

Also, don't give me any flak about not being glued to the tv for the Super Bowl. If I'm going to watch a group of guys wearing skin-tight lyrca and jockstraps, I don't want 'em playing football, okay?