Kill Kill Kill... Ma Ma Ma...

I was driving through the canyon on my way to an audition [because that's what we do in LA], the sky a beautiful blue and RuPaul's Glamazon pumpin' through the speakers. It couldn't be more perfect. The stars were aligned and Fortuna's Wheel was finally spinning in my direction! I had scored an audition to be in the pilot episode of the new Wonder Woman, I was totally excited because this show is going to be huge come the fall season... HUGE I tell you!

Then I noticed a black SUV careening all over the road and headed straight for me. I jerked the wheel to the right in order to avoid a collision and plowed into a ditch only to have the oncoming SUV veer further towards my direction. That’s when Fortuna's Wheel took a hard left as the SUV clipped my car.

I got out just in time to see the SUV roll three times. The back popped open just before it came to a stop, spilling Asian beauty queens all over the road. I ran over the SUV just as Connie Chung and Maury Povich were pulling themselves from the wreckage.

"Way to enforce the stereotype, Connie!" I said.

"What? Because I'm a woman, I can't drive?" she sneered.

"No, because--"

"--what? Because I'm Asian, I can't drive?" she interrupted.

"No--"

"--what? Because I'm old, I can't drive?" she interrupted again.

"Yeah, that’s the one."

Maury tried to say something but for some reason had a ball gag in his mouth.

"Maury wants you to guess which one of the ladies is really a man." Connie interpreted from Maury's grunts. Maury shook his head, as if trying to say something else. Connie narrowed her eyes at him, and he then seemed to concede to what she had said.

I paused for a moment, reflecting on the pageant queens as they smiled and batted their eyelashes. I was about to make my decision when I heard the wail of sirens off in the distance.

"Shit, it’s the fuzz! Let’s go Maury!" Connie demanded. He stood his ground and shook his head. Connie then pulled a small revolver out of her purse and pointed it at Maury's head. "MAU! MAU! DIDI MAU!"



Maury began to weep as he ushered the Asian pageant queens into the surrounding woods followed closely by Connie. They had disappeared into the shadows just as the police pulled up.

"Ma'am, we're looking for a couple who are wanted for human trafficking. They were travelling with a group of Asian men. Have you seen anything strange?" the officer asked. I was shocked with disbelief as I silently pointed in the direction that Connie and Maury had fled. My world had officially been turned upside down, and not in the fun Diana Ross kinda way. Boy you turn me, I just couldn't believe that all of those beauty queens were men!

"They're on their way to the old Crystal Lake camp grounds," the officer said into his radio, then he turned to me and asked, "Are you okay ma'am?" After a beat, I was able to regain a little composure.

"I thought 'Chung' was a Chinese name..."

A Grave Situation

I went to Target the other day, since Lady Gaga has made it okay for me to shop there now--and that is the last I will hear of it--the LAST, got it! You don't know how much I love and miss my Target, and from here on out I will be taking the "ignorance is bliss" approach to it. One might say I'm actively "Sarah Palin-ing"--granted "ignorance" would be too generous of a word to use in the context of that idiot savant [sans the savant].

But I digress. So I spied [with my little eye] some chip clips designed by Michael Graves on the discount end cap [what a score, right?]. So, naturally I snatch them up like a Lohan in a jewelry store [well except that I actually paid for them]! When I get home, I notice that there is actually a picture of Mr. Graves on the back of the packaging.

Now in my mind, I have always pictured him as looking like a ruggedly handsome man's man. After all, its a fact that all designers look a bit like Ben Cohen. They frolic gracefully in sunbeams of divine inspiration... and then he takes my hand, kisses it gently, and guides me gently to his--




Er, sorry, where was I... ? Oh yeah, Michael Graves. So yeah, this picture they've used on this famous designers packaging is quite possible the worst picture they could have picked!



What the hell is up with that eye!?! Is he channeling Forest Whitaker? I don't know where he is looking! Seriously, couldn't they have just gone with a simple profile shot? Hell, photoshop that eye in place for fucksake, you are a designer after all! An architect, sure, but whatever, you could handle it! But then again, maybe that's why he's so successful, he's can see the bigger picture--you know--literally, since his field of view is so much larger... just a thought... hmmm... I wonder if there are any rugby games on...

Silence is Golden

I had heard everyone going on about this “Black Swan” movie, so I figured I’d go check it out with the gift card I had gotten for Christmas. Generally speaking, I hate gift cards, just give me cash, you know? Then I don’t have to go to some lame store that you happened to have been at when you thought you’d pick me up a present. I mean really, when the hell am I going to go to effing Walmart. Have you seen those people?!? Well, at least I could use a movie gift card.

Anywho, so I’m watchin’ the movie, and Princess Amidala is like freaking out and touching herself where her bathing suit covers when this lady behind me starts talking at full volume to the person next to her. I turn and give her “the look,” you know, the look that says “shut up, you inconsiderate whore.” But she keeps right on talking. So of course I fully turn around in my seat in order to properly turn up the glare. She glances at me but doesn’t stop talking.

“Are you kidding me with this?” I ask.

“Aye, guera, whats your problem?” she said with a sneer.

“I understand that this may be a new experience for you, you know, actually going out to watch a movie in an actual theatre, rather than a DVD in the backseat of your “sancho’s” Escalade, but we, the audience, neither need nor want, to hear your conversation. In fact, it’s what we, polite society, refer to as a common courtesy. Now kindly, shut the fuck up.”

“Do we need to take this outside?”

“No, you need to take it outside.” I said as I threw my large soda in her face. She screamed as her painted on eyebrows began to run down the sides of her face. As she ran out of the theatre with her friend, the audience applauded me. The cost of a twenty dollar soda is a small price to pay to be a social vigilante, but worth it.

Unfortunately, by the time I resettled in my seat and turned my attention back to the movie, Princess Amidala was totally scissoring it up with Jackie [from that one show about the 70’s…I forget the name of it]. “Well this makes no sense,” I muttered to myself quietly, if I wanted to see a movie about dancers lezing out, I would have stayed at home at watched “Showgirls.” And as I got up to leave, I noticed the audience was filled with guys. Every last one of them with large buckets of popcorn placed firmly in their laps.

Christmas Wrapping

So last night I was at the mall finishing up my holiday shopping. I was at a loss as to what I should get my friend Pygar, I mean really, what do you get a blind angel? I was wandering aimlessly at the Nordstrom when I spied, on the other side of the store, a lone Hello Kitty toaster on an empty endcap. You know, the one that toasts an image of Hello Kitty on your bread. Adorable… and on sale… so it was perfect.

I bolted across the packed store. In dramatic slowmotion, I lunged over Jermaine Jackson, who had just bent down to look at some luggage. I nearly lost my footing on the landing, and pushed passed Taylor Swift, ironically shoving her into a discount bin while simultaneously blowing Jake Gyllenhaal a kiss. “Call me,” I mouthed, and just as I was able to lay my hands on the little toaster, I was stopped in my tracks my Elizabeth Taylor.


“I’ll take that!” she sneered as she grabbed the toaster

“No way! I saw it first,” I protested, also grabbing the toaster.

“Just try and take it from me,” she growled, pulling the toaster toward her.

“You think you can take me on, sister? I’ve beat the best of’em. I beat down Imelda Marcos at a Payless for a pair of Mary Jane’s, and it wasn’t even a BOGO!” I said as I pulled the toaster in my direction.

“Well, looks like what we have here is a Mexican Standoff,” she said as we glared at each other.

“Indeed,” I added. We stood there, frozen in time, for what felt like an eternity. Wham!’s “Last Christmas” played roughly 15 times in the background.

“You know what, in the spirit of the season, you can have it,” Liz conceded, releasing the toaster.

“Well, you know, that’s really ni—“

“WHITE DIAMONDS!” she screamed and threw dust in my eyes. My hands instinctively went to my eyes, dropping the toaster. I could hear her grabbing the toaster and scuttle off, as I rubbed the dust from my eyes. “Sucka!” I could hear her cackle as she ran off. Sometimes I really hate Christmas.

My Two Cents: Toy Story 3

So now that I’m on this stupid watch list, I’m only allowed to see movies that are G rated. So I figured I would watch Toy Story 3 on the Netflix and see what all the hubbub is about. Well let me tell you, there is some dark ass shit in there. I mean really, the whole scene where the toys are trapped in the incinerator… there is something extremely dark about watching Kübler-Ross’ “Five Stages of Grief” theories enacted by innocent toys as they slowly approach death… oh poor Bullseye, hes stuck in denial stage… unlike Buzz Lightyear, he shot straight to acceptance! I could have sworn I was watching a lost scene from Ingmar Bergman’s “Winter Light,” except “Winter Light” was less depressing!

But then, the alien toys work the magic claw and save the other toys from the evil volcano and their near fate of being the reincarnated Thetans trapped in Tom Cruise. Thank goodness, I say, at least we don’t have to hear Woody’s Thetan spirit explaining what a “reach around” is to poor Jessie’s Thetan.

And I don’t even want to mention when Buzz gets jail raped by the nursery school toys. I’m pretty shocked that this didn’t get a hard “R” rating. I guess those cats a Pixar can get away with pretty much anything… oh yeah, there are spoilers in my review...

I Shoulda listened to Rebbie Jackson...

I was relaxing on the sofa reading George “Dubya” Bush’s book… who knew he was such a great satirist? This stuff is comedy gold! The lowest point in his presidency was when Kanye West called him a racist! BWAHAHAHA… Hilarious! Sure he could have played it straight and said something like the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, or hell, 9/11, but he went the funny route. And the bit about carrying around Barbie’s miscarried fetus in a jar… seriously, I couldn’t stop laughing… but I digress…

So yeah, I’m all cozy when I hear somebody pounding on the door. I quickly put on my silk bathrobe, the one with the feather trim, not the pink one, but the green one… its after 9:00 and you never know, it could be Ryan Reynolds responding to a certain tweet you sent saying how you’d love to see that Green Lantern costume in person… so I open the door and there are three men in black suits standing stoically on the porch.

“Ma'am, we have a warrant to search the premises and confiscate any computers you may have in your possession,” the Head Goon said

“What? Why?” I protested as two of the goons shoved past me and started searching my house.

“You have been flagged as viewing material on the interweb that is has been categorized as illegal. You are now going to have to register yourself on our watch list.”

“No way, man, the website clearly said that they were all over eighteen!”

“No ma'am, this is not in reference to your visiting Fresh Twinkies dot com, you have been flagged as having viewed ‘The Human Centipede’ in its entirety.”

“But… but… I was just curious to see what all the hub-bub was about-- you can’t be serious!” I said, just as the youngest goon walked up, a look of repulsion on his face. He carried, between his thumb and index finger, a copy of “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”

“Indeed,” the Head Goon mumbled.

“What? I’ve had that book since I was a kid! It’s a first edition! This is crazy, the movie was on Netflix for fucksake!”

“Yes Ma'am, that’s what we refer to as a sting operation,” one of the more handsome goons said as he put my laptop into a plastic bag marked “evidence.”

“Surely we can work something out,” I said, turning toward him, allowing my robe to slip off one of my shoulders.

The Handsome Goon looked at my smooth toned shoulder, then looked me in the eyes, “It’s a movie about a man sewing people together, ass to mouth,” he said as he shoved past me. Then he turned and added, “You disgust me.”

“Seriously, it’s just a movie! Granted one that was hilariously bad while simultaneously being thoroughly disturbing!”

“You can tell it to the judge,” the Head Goon said

“What’s he doing?” I asked, looking past the Head Good at the younger one who was hammering a sign into the grass at the end of my driveway.

“You are required to prominently display that in your front lawn until further notice,” he added, then walked out. After they had left, I walked down the end of my drive way to get a better look at the sign. It was in the shape of a centipede and read “Pervert” in large bright letters. Just then Ryan Reynolds rolled up on his skateboard. He glanced at the sign, then back at me.

“Well then,” he said with a hunger in his voice, “I hope there is a bit of truth in advertising!”

“And I hope your abs aren’t totally CGI,” I said coyly.

“Only one way to find out. Shall we take this inside?” he asked as he pulled a bottle of Strawberry Hill out of a paper bag.

“Lets!” I said, pulling him toward the house. When life hands you lemons, you hook it up with some Boone’s Farm.

Start Wearing Purple

I was on my way to have lunch with my fashion protégé, Tim Gunn [correction, brunch, you know how the gays love their bunches… just cause you roll out of bed late and fancy it up with Mimosas it’s still effing pancakes and waffles… but whatev’]. As I’m rolling up to the valet, I notice everyone is wearing purple.

“Excuse me, young lad, what day is it today?” I say, flagging down a young man who was sashaying gaily by, and by gaily I mean merrily and not “gay-ly,” though he was clearly a queen. “What’s with all the purple? Did Prince explode or something?”

“No, silly goose, its Spirit Day!” he said. Then after reading my blank expression, he continued, “You are supposed to wear purple today to support for the kids that were bullied because they were gay.”

“Shazbot!” I exclaimed, glancing at the clock. “I still have time to make it right!” I then tossed him a shilling and told him to go out and get the finest prize turkey he could find before I sped off.

Unfortunately, luck was not in my favor, as it appeared all of the clothing stores in the neighborhood were not going to open for another two hours. But I was never being one to back down off a challenge [and I don’t mean a fit nubile pool boy named Challenge… though that’s something I wouldn’t back off of either… with his firm pecks and strong arms… wait, now where was I…]. Once I was able to regain focus, I quickly came up with a brilliant idea and I pulled into a liquor store to purchase a large bottle of Crown Royal.

I pulled the bottle out of its purple cloth bag and set it aside, then dumped the contents of my purse into the purple bag, and voila, instant clutch and more importantly, avid cause supporter! Now, what to do with the bottle of whiskey? I very well couldn’t drive around the city with an open bottle in the car! So I popped the bottle open and downed it, its five o’clock somewhere, right?

By the time I arrived back at the restaurant, I was fashionably late, so really, I was on time. Granted I almost took out the valet when I crashed into the podium, but everyone LOVED my fancy new purse, and I was honoring those victims of anti-gay bullying by bringing attention to the matter… and that’s what’s important… [and that I looked fabulous doing it]!