Rumors: 01.2004

27.1.04

So it's Oscar Time again in Hollywood, meaning that for the next 7 weeks, you will be BOMBARDED with Oscar news, Oscar parties, Oscar outfits, Oscar catering, Oscar jewlery, Oscar shoes, and Oscar Meyer. Just about the only thing you WON'T hear about during Oscar time is how glad I am that Joan Rivers isn't in my face 24/7 for the next 7 weeks. No, you heard that right. I am going to miss the days when Joan was the ONLY one in my face about Oscar Sunday.

It used to be that Joan was the only one parading her drunk ass on the red carpet slewing shit at every celebrity as they walked by, and I was sort of fine with that. It meant that for 1 day out of the year, Joan, with her belly full of pills and vodka, got to have the spotlight and afterwards she'd crawl back into the abyss from whence she came.

Now it seems that every psuedo celebrity - Paris Hilton, Melissa Rivers, Carson Daly, Rick Dees, Johnny Knoxville and EVERY SINGLE PERSON FROM EVERY REALITY TV SHOW EVER CONCEIVED is in my face about the Oscars.

And to make matters worse, RYAN SEACREST has now elbowed his fake-tan-bleached-teeth-metrosexual-highlighted-prada-wearing ass into the spotlight and will be doing his own Oscar special. Oh god please make it stop...oh god..... For those of you NOT in Los Angeles, let me tell you a little something about America's number 1 Palyboy (note that's NOT Playboy) - he is the antichrist and he must be stopped. This guy has his own radio show down here called "Ryan for the Ride Home" on Star 98.7, an L.A. based pop radio station spewing the best in plastic music. It used to be easy for me to ignore him on my commute home from work, because I could just easily NOT tune into 98.7. Life was simple back then.

When American Idol (oh god) first aired, I got to see what he looked like for the first time - and it's true: Satan DOES wear Prada. The genious network executives responsible for putting Paula Abdul back in our homes, which at first rang to me like the genious behind the Anna Nicole show, also decided it would be a good idea to parade this assclown in pinstripes and tshirts (another Hollywood fashion disaster) around on our televisions.

Does it stop there? DOES IT STOP THERE??? NO!!! Like a virus, he's growing, multiplying - him AND his highlights. Speading into every home on every continent on the planet.

When "On the Air with Ryan Seacrest" first began its promotions, I thought for sure the incidents of traffic accidents across the nation would skyrocket. It's like passing a car wreck EVERY time I see one of his billboards: I squint, I stare and I wonder aloud the nature of the cosmos, so strange and foreign as to why WHY WHY must the universe provoke us in such maniacal ways? What sort of cruel deity puts a guy like Ryan Seacrest in everyone's living room? WHY must life be this way? For some reason, every time I see the "On the air with..." billboard, a WHAM song gets stuck in my head....can anyone tell me why this happens? hmmm....

19.1.04

The "L" Word is for LABORIOUS

So I've been eagerly anticipating Showtime's new series, "The L Word", hoping it does for lesbians what Queer as Folk did for gay men. No such luck. Last night I sat in horror and watched this abortion of a television series appear on the screen before me and unfold like a series of botched plastic surgeries. The L word is, in a word, horrible.

I tried to get past the bad editing, the horrible writing and the amatuerish photography and get into the characters. However, the characters left so much to be desired that by the end of the night I thought that a show explaining how to tell when your plant has become to big for your pot would garner more artistic ability than this show.

We've invented a new drinking game - everytime someone on The L Word cries, take a drink. You'll be wasted by the first half hour.

How disappointing - the grrl community will just have to wait for the next coming of Christ to be saved. I'm not holding my breath.

14.1.04

I've been emailed about a million times telling me just how immature I am. Oh whatever. It's like the great Antz always says, "you know you're doing things right when people start to hate you."



On related notes (?) I am debuting two new singles at ALL THREE PARTIES I'll be at in the next few weeks - both collaborations between myself and all-time great producer in Hollywood, ZEV. The singles are titled "Hey Tomorrow" and "Angel" and we will try to get some singles pressed for your purchasing pleasure the nights of the events. More to come on THAT. Autographed copies are extra, but if you buy a single, I'll throw in a Porter Tinsley tank top - 5 bucks gets you clothes and music - hey! that rocks!

I'm out.

13.1.04

The thing I love most about Los Angeles is how everyone is so honest here. No, really - that guy bringing you your food is really a waiter, not an actor. And how we say, "Oooh, yeah, oh, wait, yeah about that second date - I really forgot to mention that I uh, have a girlfriend. See, I didn't know she was my girlfriend at the time, but now that you want to go out again, I uh, DEFINITELY have a girlfriend," when they are not as into you as you originally thought, OR, were led to believe. (Funny how you usually end up thinking EXACTLY what girls want you to think when they want you to think it.)

I had this great date on Saturday night, and I was stoked for date number 2. But then the girl, who was apparently working through some mild form of dimentia or a lapse of memory, realized just today that she does, in fact, have a girlfriend.

I was hearing this news while parking my car in West Hollywood (of course on my cell phone) trying not to run over this rich woman with a designer dog in her matching handbag (it's the queen!) while staring at another woman who was wearing trendy camoflauge capri pants with stilettos and a foam trucker hat (oh god make it stop...), bending over and showing her ass crack to the world (see Hollywood, Please Stop Showing me Your Ass Crack below). All the while the parking attendent ON HIS BIKE was making sure I jumped out of my car right away to put my money in the meter (a whole quarter buys you 10 minutes and if you're 30 seconds late you have a forty dollar fine.)

It's these things about Los Angeles that makes me understand terrorists wanting to blow up the city. However, in her defense, I broke my precious rule number 1 this weekend of no dating actresses. Dating actresses is like the equivelent to cutting off your own penis (if you are a man) and for women I guess it's something like constantly knowing that the girl you're with could at any second be giving a blowjob in a toilet stall for that "next big role." Ahhhh Hollywood.

8.1.04

Hello kiddie-winkies,
So we've landed on Mars. Again. We're taking pictures of red rocks. Again. That was billions of dollars well spent.

Oh, don't mind me, I'm just a bitter little ragdoll still pissy about cancelling my last show. However, there are two more parties coming up that are going to rock the face of the planet so hard. See my events page for details.

But first, if you're Christmas/Hanukkah presents sucked, at least it's not this little girl: http://www.whatacrappypresent.com/ Holy crap that's some funny shit.

Not as funny as what's up at JP Morgan this week...rumor has it at least 20 Indians (ya know... from India) just arrived at JP Morgan Change to "shadow" current employees, in order to eventually replace them. Employees told not to contact the media (so of course they all emailed www.fuckedcompany.com) "Additionally, we've been told to reveal our knowledge to the indians in a 'knowledge transfer', or forgo severance," said a soon to be former employee.

That's hilarious in a boring nighttime tele kind of way.

And on other notes - Britney Spears, like, totally got married this past weekend, on a, like, dare that went "just, like, way too far!"

Seriously. I'm sure it has nothing at all to do with the fact that her album sales are not as expected and this wasn't any sort of attempt to drum up additional press at all. I'd rather hear that she "was really high on ecstacy. But as for the fleeting moment of "oh we're in Vegas, let's get married ha ha ha" well, it happens. ...yeah, I don't know ANYONE that has um, done that, um, ahem William, ahem.

Poor Britney, I actually do think she's a cool chick that's going a little too far on the Pam Anderson tip, but Hollywood gets to you that way I suppose.