The Killers

Ms. Erika and I had the pleasure of attending The Killers show at Hammerstein Ballroom and it was certainly...a situation. Let me start by saying that the band was amazing as usual. Mr. Brandon certainly has taken some Personality Classes and bounced around the stage like he forgot to turn his electronic dildo off. Oh hey prostate! They debuted new tracks from their upcoming album Day & Age and they were fantastic. A throwback to the first album, there are many fun electronic dance numbers to get your vulva's movin and groovin.

Now let me get down and dirty with the atrocious crowd and give you just a taste of what it was like. Imagine you're in a dorm room at some state college in Connecticut, frat boys abound, sorority sluts trading Valtrex prescriptions, and an influx of middle aged New Jersey gentlemen wearing ill fitting jeans with one nut out. That pretty much sums it up. It was simply horrifying times ten. North Face sporting frat goons were HIGH-FIVING each other after every song right in front of us. Somebody please explain this odd phenomenon to me. It often happens while watching sport events. People, you are not playing the game. You are not playing the songs. You have achieved nothing but downing another Bud Light to your ever expanding gut. Why, oh why, are you high-fiving each other? And then there were the hoards of sorority sisters doing their sexiest dances for the boys. They all had that glimmer in their eyes that said, "Oh boy, if you take me to a surf and turf dinner at Red Lobster, we can have anal later".

When The Killers do their full tour and come to your town, I highly recommend you get your tickets ASAP...but beware of the crowd. I suggest a full body condom for protection.

A big what-what to Ms. Erika for hookin my situation up!

Spotted

At 11PM on Saturday 05 October, we spotted Joshua Jackson and a very manorexic Diane Kruger having dinner next to us at Blue Ribbon Sushi. These two were ALL about the PDA and I wanted to turn around and yell "Ew sick!". He looked dashing in a suit and vest without the jacket and she looked like she embraced death with her last meal in 1982. I bet she spits in bed because she doesn't want the calories. Gross.

I can't believe I've seen Joshua and Katie all in one week. My tween self finally believes that dreams can come true!

Margaret Cho

Last night, Ms. Ethrina and I scurried ourselves to Radio City Music Hall to see the incomparable Margaret Cho. The crowd was a bit watered down from the usual audience of gays and even more gays, topped with more gays (Ha, topped!). But hark, what is this I see? Straight couples? Men in dinner jackets? Girls from New Jersey out for a night out on the town? Oh for the love of dildos, this is what happens when the Cho gets a mainstream TV show.

Before her set, YouTube sensation, Mr. Liam Sullivan, performed some odd routine with 2 videos and a live performance of Shoes. It was a little less than fierce and the majority of the audience busied themselves by checking their blackberries and giving each other prostate exams. Oh THERE it is. Beep beep beep!

However, as soon as Ms. Margaret took the stage, everyone around us was convulsing with laughter and small streams of urine trickled down the aisles. If you are a Republican (Ew! Really?), don't enjoy hearing Sarah Palin being referred to as a "dumb cunt", don't enjoy bathroom humor, don't enjoy explicit chatter of one's vagina and the wonders of female ejaculation, this Cho is probably not for you. For 90 minutes, Ms. Margaret enlightened her followers on all things gay and all things vaginal and it was heaven. As funny as the show was, we had the displeasure of sitting next to two Jersey whores that must have seen this show before, because they insisted on expelling the punchlines before Margaret delivered them. Ugh. Also, there was quite an odd (hetero) couple in front of us. Think conservative, Connecticut, only fucks missionary style types. I wrongly assumed that they were at this show because SHE dragged him along, but as the show progressed, it became strikingly clear that HE was the mega fan. The more he laughed at jokes about anal bleaching, the more uncomfortable she became and you could see the light go on in her head saying "OMG, my boyfriend is a total mo". This little side show was almost as entertaining as the situation on stage.

If any of you are fortunate enough to have Ms. Margaret come to your town on the Beautiful tour, I suggest you grab the closest whoremo and get thee to the show!

All My Sons

Last night, Ms. Mercedes and I had the pleasure of attending All My Sons and to be quite honest, it was amazing! Arthur Miller's formidable play has been transformed with 21st century technology and an all star cast that delivers like The Rabbit after a week in the desert. Oh hey flood!

Let's start with the big-crazy-alien-Scientologist-freak-in-the-room, Miss Katie Holmes. I wanted to be a hater. I wanted to rant on how her "performance" as Tom Cruise's beard is unbearable. I wanted to close my eyes tightly and relive scenes from Dawson's Creek when Joey Potter was not a total nutcase and I could stare with envy at James Van Der Beek's butt cut. Fuck, where is Paula Cole when you need her? Well, probably in a lesbian commune eating vaHEYHEY for dinner EVERY NIGHT. Wait, I got a bit off topic... Back to Katie, homegirl was shockingly very good! My friend pointed out that since she tends to overact in all the films she does, maybe that would actually translate well on stage...and it does! She wears a cute weave that gives her short hairdo some loveliness. She was actually quite pretty too, but much thinner than I remembered from my last encounter with her. Some old bitch in the bathroom line explained to her friend in a heavy Midwestern accent, "Now you see, thoseackkkkktresssses are always skinnier in person because they work in FILM". Thanks you dumpy ass cow.

The true stars of the show are Mr. John Lithgow and Ms. Dianne Wiest. I was a bit nervous because forever ingrained in my head of John is his portrayal of George Henderson in the 80's sitcom, Harry and the Hendersons. Oh hey Bigfoot! But homegirl was on motherfucking point last night in this dramatic turn. He reminds me of when Robin Williams plays a dramatic role and quite frankly, that shit was phenomenal. And Ms. Dianne Wiest was truly stunning. Her role as the tortured mother of this fucked up family was sensational and in fact, even better than her part in The Birdcage as Mrs. Keeley. Oh you sassy senator's wife!

And I know all you ladies and whoremo's are chomping at the bit about that beefcake, Patrick Wilson. Well, let me break it down for you. His acting was delicious blah blah blah....but you'll all be delighted to know that there is a completely gratuitous shirtless scene of him ho'ing out some fallen tree at the top of Act II. Bring your tissues to the show! You'll be leaking from both ends!

Overall, I definitely recommend you get your situations to this show immediately. Even though am I a bitter dirty smelly sticky sour cunt, I was genuinely impressed.

An Open Letter

Dear Ms. Gayken,

To be quite honest, I am shocked and dismayed at your recent coming out. You were my beacon of masculinity and strength. When I looked into your eyes, I saw hope for heterosexuals everywhere and now, all I see is sin. You are a role model for teens across this great country of ours, and now they will all be turning gay because of you. You should be ashamed of yourself. What will Sarah Palin say?

Oh wait, am I delusional? Did I swallow day old lube? Did I ass bang myself with a moldy hot dog? You were the biggest momo before you even came out! Congrats, girlfriend! Now, when you go to Rite-Aid, you can buy your KY like a proud lady and work that juice into a frenzy! Smoothies, anyone? You go and buy your Just for Men and say, "Oh heyy boo, I need to cover up my greys, y'all!".

Moving forward, I hope you'll take the big leap to sell nipple clamps and butt plugs with your face on it when you go on tour. That'd be so hot! The Claymates will love it! In fact, let's start calling them Gaymates! Move over, Ellen! There's a new lady in town!

Congratulations, homoslice. It was no surprise to anyone but I'm glad that as a baby daddy, you can be yourself.

Now go trim your fingernails!

Yours Truly,
A Drunken Socialite

Equus

Oh hey Harry! Oh hey Potter! Oh hey Whip It Out! Ok, so yes, the truth is, the majority of the audience was there to see one thing and one thing only...one little thing...: "The powerful and provocative story of a stable boy and a psychiatrist who seek to understand the sexual and religious mystery which leads to a climactic and unbelievable event"?!?!? No, motherfucker. Everyone wanted to see some cock. Ahh Times Square is back to it's former glory where hoards of desperate sluts are paying to see penis! Who says you can't go back?

We arrived at the theater last night to be greeted by hoards of unattractive Midwestern tourists, the usual Broadway gays, and some very frumpy theater dorks who decided to deck themselves in Equus t-shirts and ski caps (These dump trucks have a long life of Twinkies, microwavable meals, and slightly annoying gay friends to look forward to...). The first 15 minutes of the show was about as pleasant as being gang banged by a lawnmower and his friend the weed wacker. Ouch! After the initial hump (ahem...), the show picks up and by intermission, it was actually quite interesting. The second half is even better and we even all forgot that we were waiting to salute Daniel's foreskin until he whipped it out (Eh, it's really about the balls anyways, isn't it? Oh HEYYY!). Surprisingly, the nudity isn't gratuitous and falls in line with story. Aren't they clever?

I was quite impressed with Miss Potter's performance. Who knew he could do more than wave around some wand and have an ugly scar on his forehead? The Harry Potter situation never really did it for me. Ohh it's so magical! Ohh it's so mystical! Ohh I'd rather shove a handful of raw tuna in my ass, wait for it to marinate, then glob it all over my face and call myself magical! I mean, wouldn't the storyline be more interesting if the lighting bolt was scarred on his penis and he Superman'ed Hermione in the opening sequence? We could call it "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Bone"?

Lollapalooza

Well, hello there. My weave is back from a whirlwind trip to Chicago and it was quite a weekend! We endured the oppressive heat on Friday and strolled over to Grant Park, only to hide in an air conditioned BUS for hours. You know my weave looks like a crazy ass mess if it has to deal with the elements for too long. Ms. Becky and I fled the premises and had a cocktail at the Hard Rock Hotel to replenish our fluids. Oh hey fluids! That evening, the ladies and I had a lovely dinner at The Palm where we stuffed ourselves silly - Get your damn head out of the gutter, fool! We stuffed ourselves with FOOD. Ahem.

Saturday, Ms. Erika and Ms. LaToya (collectively, we're now known as the hot new trio, Chi-City) took a tour de force of Chicago after some very bland Cuban food at Cafe LaGuardia. I am simply loving Lincoln Park and would love to pick up a pied a terre to hang with my Midwestern peeps. Oh heyy! That evening, a gaggle of us had a massive dinner at Japonais and it was just divine. That Tuna Tuna Salmon situation is something to tell your vibrator about. We then headed back to the Hard Rock to see Mark and Samantha Ronson do their DJ thang while we did our "we need some alcohol to get through this situation" thang. La Lohan was running around with her faux lesbian love and you know we were watching what I like to refer to as "TMZ Live".