Tuesday, June 24, 2008

EXCLUSIVE: Papparazzo'd Nude Shots of Orlando Bloom!!!


I know what you're thinking. Day of Bitch Salad. I'm making another post advertizing something salacious then faking you out and being like "made ya look" and you're like "ugh. You are so desperate". BUT NOT TODAY!!! I'm not crying wolf... or rather, cock...

He's not really my cup of tea... well, actually, seeing as I frequently tout my love of English Dandies, he kind of is. So I guess I should shut my effin' mouth.

NEVERTHELESS - I actually do have pictures that were snapped of one Mr. Will Turner himself whilst him and his girlfriend were abroad, frolicking sexily in the surf (is there any other way to frolick in the surf/is there any other place to frolick sexily/is there any other thing to do sexily in the surf? Methink not.)

Anyway... uncensored pic after the jump...

And I think I can show it in its full, uncensored entirety...

I believe bums are allowed...


Here it is...

Kinda flat, huh?

Something that won't be flat? But, in fact, quite bulbous and flavorful?



Oh, it's intoxicating. Hope to see you there!!!

Also - quick note - SUUUUPER congratulations to my dear, dear friend Katherine "Kitty" Ryan for winning the Nivea "Funniest New Female Standup In Britain" award - SO amazing. Watch your back, Jennifer Saunders.



--- Aj

Monday, June 23, 2008

Pre-Pride Preporatory Poop

Heyyyy everybody...

A fair Monday to you.

How was y'alls weekend? Mine was cool. Reasonably low-key. I'm currently saving/hoarding my juices for the coming weekend - as it's pride. One eventful thing that happened to me since last I blog'd, that I'd be remiss if I didn't mention, is that on Thursday night I attended the first-ever full-length solo show by brizilliant character comedienne Kathleen Phillips. Holy balls. It was the stuff that dreams were made of... particularly, this video:

Yes. I'm am so thoroughly obsessed with that at present.


The weather here in Toronto continues to be retarded to the third degree. Scattered thunderstorms seem to have become a staple. I think I can kind of remember a time when thunderstorms were relatively rare - angels bowling, y'know - but I swear to crap that they've happened at least twice a day, EVERY day for the past two weeks. This just won't do.

I can't remember a Pride week when it hasn't been a shade below pristine, so it better fuck off by tomorrow... uhhhhbecause:



With very special guests Sue Johansson and resident news corres-PUN-dant, Heidi Brander, pictured, to the left, to the left...

That is, of course, the profile picture from the myspace I set up for her this past Christmastime.

Backstory re: that. For a Christmas present, Heidi went to an authentic Japanese karaoke joint and recorded a full-length album of her singing Christmas songs and distributed to the discs to us. It was basically amazing. Basically.

Anyballs... Beyond that, you may recognize Heidi from a recurring segment at the Salad in which she reads news stories via puns... it's kind of the most amazing thing in the world.
Beyond her typical brand of pun slinging, she's also quite renowned in her work circle for weekly e-newsletters she sends out. The shit is pure gold. This past Friday, she sent out one suggesting do's and don't's that every hag must abide by this Pride... I'm simply going to re-publish it.

I’m here, I’m not queer, get used to it!

Every week is pride week when your name is Heidi Brander! A Saturday night for me typically consists of coordinating my outfit with my network of gays in hopes that I overhear someone point out, “Hey, that guy’s shoes match his hag”. But a gal can get bored when there’s nothing to do (in the most painfully literal sense.) Lucky for you I’m here to fill you in on what NOT to do.

I’ve been kicked out of more gay bars than there are colours of the rainbow, and I’m not even a troublemaker – I’m more Amy Adams than Amy Winehouse! Take heed, ladies: Here is a list of things that WILL get you booted from a gay bar:

-If it’s a rainy night and you have an umbrella in your purse DO NOT open it up on the dance floor during Rhianna’s “Umbrella”.

-When “S Club Party” by S Club 7 comes on, DO NOT attempt to do the worm on the dance floor. Yes, Paul’s getting down on the floor, but you’re getting tossed on the street.

-DO NOT hijack someone else’s song at gay karaoke by grabbing the other microphone and turning the song into a duet. Even if you DID ask for Karma Chameleon before he did.

-And, if caught by a bouncer, DO NOT fake right and break left, scurrying through the crowd Dolores Van Cartier-styles like minute 0:28 of this trailer for “Sister Act”: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CP72415jNQ. You are one of three girls in the establishment. They WILL find you.
Ohhhh Brander.

Also in Pre-Pride Prep Poop news, I thought I'd post my annual Pride Mix/This month's Bitch Salad mix. It's a delightful mish-mash or knick-and-knack-and-brick-and-brack-and-things of Pride anthems... some of them old, some of them new, ALL of the positively FAGTASTIC!

Here's the track listing:

Corona - Rhythm Of The Night [Planet Funk Breakbeat Mix]
Donna Summer - Stamp Your Feet [Escape & Colucio Mix]
Seamus Haji - Last Night A DJ Saved My Life [Original]
Crystal Waters - Dancefloor [Speakerbox Mix]
Duffy - Mercy [Gareth Wyn Mix]
The B-52's - Funplex [CSS Mix]
Metro Station - Shake It [Lenny B X-Mix]
Eyes Cream - Fly Away (Bye Bye) [Original]
Sylvester - You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real) [Original]
The Waitresses - I Know What Boys Like [TNT Mix]
Robyn - Handle Me [Soul Seekerz Mix]
Kylie Minogue - All I See [Mark!s Deep House Mix
"High School Musical" Cast - What Time Is It? [Jason Nevins Mix]
Shapeshifters - Incredible [Original Extended]
Justin Timberlake - Lovestoned [Justice Mix]
Cheryl Lynn - Got To Be Real [Original]
Tweet - Boogie Tonite [DB Boulevard Mix]
Lady Gaga feat. Colby O'Donis - Just Dance [Trevor Simpson Mix]
Pussycat Dolls - When I Grow Up [Ralphi Rosario Mix]
C&C Music Factory - Work That Body 2008 [Alex Gaudino Mix]
Funkstar De Luxe vs. Grace Jones - Pull Up To The Bumper [Original]
Beyonce - Get Me Bodied [Hex Hector Mix]

Download/Listen to it HERE!!!

Yes... I know... a remix of a song from "High School Musical"... it was mainly at the prompting of celebrated co-fag, Tranthony Suppa. He's also the one who really prompts me to post these. Despite the fact that I know he'll only fast forward and rewind it to said "High School Musical" remix. And I'm always like "why don't I just send you that song" and he's like "NO! Post the whole thing"...

It's all very reminiscent of that story I reported about Anna Wintour years back... about how she'd ask her assistant to go to Brooklyn to get her this specific bowl of soup... then, she'd just through a gob of butter in it and eat the butter and, as her assistant noted, "it just seemed like a way to eat the butter". THE "HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL" REMIX IS THE BUTTER IN YOUR SOUP, ANTH!!!

Gah... I'm getting crazy... Methinks it's time to Peace Out...


Peace out!

--- Aj

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Haute Topics

Time is tight today, so let's dive right the fuck in...


Where does the time go? It seemed like only yesterday (or at least last month) that the world was balls deep in news about the 'misadventures' of one Britney Spears only to see it all come to a thunderous crescendo when it was announced that her 17-year-old sister was pregnant. Those were the days.

Well bitch finally popped today - a bouncing baby girl named, *ahem*, Maddie Briann Spears Aldridge. Really. Really? Maddie Briann. They might as well have named it Trayla Trash. Or, if it were a boy, Taylor Trash.

I can't get over the sort of Southern baby-name aestethic - I don't even know if you'd call it that. But you know what I'm talking about - that pool of names that Southern people pick from that they think are pretty for some reason? How they name their kids shit like Cassie and Terri Ann and Shawnie and stuff? Ugh. If I were Jamie Lynn Spears I would have gone out of my way to name my daughter something like Guinevere Millicent [Spears Aldridge] or Brunhilda Prudence [Spears Aldridge] or some shit... Good grief...


Reports are swirling that Sex & The City co-stars Cynthia "Miranda" Nixon and Kristen "Charlotte" Davis recently underwent cosmetic surgery to get they tee-ta's lifted and varicose veings plucked on out they legs, respectively.

I.) Who the fuck cares? Why is it news anymore when celebrities get plastic surgery? II.) This means one thing and one thing only: A SEQUEL IS UNDERWAY!!! AHHHHH!!!

That's what it totally means!!! It totally means that they saw the movie, were both like "yuccckkk... ", the producers were like "this was a monumental success... we're starting production on a sequel yesterday", and they were like "I needs to get that shiz fixed, y'all." Totttally...

I'm so excited about this unofficial sequel and I'll tell you what it should be - a prologue. Yep. To what they were doing pre-the first episode... like how they met. I've always hypothesized that Carrie & Miranda were friends from childhood (because how else would a corporate lawyer and a sex columnist be friends? Really.) and Carrie met Charlotte via repeatedly crossing paths at her gallery, but was always unsure about how Carrie and Samantha met... Well...

Last night I was revisitng S&TC, as I'm prone to doing before I go to bed. The episode in question was "Coulda Woulda Shoulda" - where Miranda finds out she's pregnant and initially decides to go for a good-old-fashioned abo. Samantha then says, "Well, we've all been there. I've had two-" then asks Carrie "How many have you had" and Carrie says, assertively "Umm... One!"...

Later, Samantha and Carrie are walking down the street discussing the unpleasantness of it all and how Carrie is going with Miranda to soften the blow. Then Carrie starts reminiscing about the guy who knocked her up all those years ago - he's a loser who still works at a TGI McFridays... - and remarks, "I could have a 13-year-old child by now"... THEN says to Samantha "But then I would have never known you".


It all makes stunning, stunning sense. When Samantha asked Carrie how many she had at the breakfast nook, Carrie said "Ummm... One!" as in "Uhhh, you were there! That's how we met, asshole!" --- Anyway... yeah... make the sequel about shit like that.


Lift a glass and make a toast to the ultimate tastemaking blogger - and my inevitable future husband - Michael K. of dlisted.com - thank you for the countless hours of entertainment.

D.) THE HAUTEST TOPIC OF ALL...............



AND, I'm very pleased to announce, we'll be having a very special guest: Septugenarian sexpert SUE JOHANSON!!!

It's going to be OUT. OF. CONTROL.

I've used far too many caps this time around...

OH - and this was my 300th post. Who knew?

--- Aj

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

What the balls is a Flibbertigibbet???

Well, according to wikipedia, it's a term used to describe a flighty, whimsical, gossipy, overly talkative person and has its roots in Anglo-Saxon mythology and Shakespearean lore.

It's also used by one of those bitchy cunt nuns to describe Maria in the song "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?" in The Sound of Music.

The song, "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?" is the title of a reality show currently on CBC which sets out to find the lead in the upcoming Mirvish production of The Sound of Music.


Seeing as I work at Mirvish, the lot of us went over to the CBC atrium yesterday for the official unveilling and press conference of the Top 10 Marias hosted by ever-delightful and super-sweetheart Gavin Crawford.

I happenstancially taped it on Sunday night and it's some good times, y'all. Hundreds upon hundreds of obnoxious, outgoing female musical theatre types auditioned in front of a panel of judges that included:

A dude named Simon Leeds, who is A.) Andrew Lloyd Webber's right hand music dude and B.) Busted with a capital B... if the damning effects of the tanning bed weren't made clear to me yesterday upon laying eyes on this man, I don't know what will...

Another dude named John Barrowman, who's apparently a leading man in London's West End and one of the stars of Doctor Who. He's A.) Smarmier than a tiger-skin rug soaked in perfume and B.) Debatably British. He doesn't speak with an accent. Maybe it's some sort of gesture to being on Canadian soil. It's weird.


The hottest bitch alive, Elaine Overholt (pictured). Here are the deets about Lainey O - she's a vocal coach and arranger who's worked on Chicago, Hairspray and a slew of other big shit deal musical endeavours. Buuut - before all this fame and acclaim came to her, she worked on a little show called "Popstars: The One" which a friend of mine (who I won't name, but it's not hard to figure out) was on. Elaine and my friend hit it off... after the dust of Popstars: The One settled, my friend went and worked as Elaine's personal assistant. During her tenure, one of the greatest stories was relayed to me that I've ever heard: Elaine frequently holds vocal workshops. They'd be held in some sort of conference room. Chairs would be set up facing the front, recital-stylez. As guests would filter in, Elaine would greet them - "Hello. Oh, hello!". Then, some point after, Elaine would tap my friend on the shoulder, say "It's time", and disappear behind a rice-paper folding screen set up at the front. My friend would then go to the front, ask people to get settled, welcome to the workshop, saying something to the extent of "Are you ready to raise your voice in song today? Please welcome your friend and mine, Elaine Overholt!"

At which point Elaine would emerge from behind the rice-paper folding screen. Yeah. She's already mingled with people. Then disappears. Then reappears. If there's one person who knows the effect of and the desire to make an entrance, it's me. Work it out, Elaine Overholt. FIERCE.

Anyway - they're the judges. And along with Andrew Lloyd Webber, they selected the Top 10 girls who could each be Maria. They're a mixed bag... let me tell ya...

Yesterday at this press conference it expressed by 'leading man' John Barrowman that all of these girls could be Maria - they're all talented and right for the part (I WHOLE HEARTEDLY DISAGREE) - this is merely a matter of letting the public decide who they very specifically want for the part. Yep - Canada votes. It's like Maria Idol. I don't know about that... upon expressing how iffy I was about that, I was told that "it was a hit in England" - where seemingly everything television-wise happens first. I said that maybe true, but Canadians are a.) working on a much smaller scale and b.) oh-so-fucking apethetic about this sort of shit. They're not going to furiously vote for a girl who stole their heart then climb out from under whater rock they live under to flock to Toronto to kiss her feet. Anyone who does watch this and somehow feels motivated to vote is just going to vote who reminds them of Julie Andrews the most...

That said - my favourite is EASILY Janna. EASILY. LOOK AT HER!!! She's perfect. In that she reminds me of Julie Andrews the most. And I lovvvves me some Julie Andrews.

Plus - from what I've seen - she can actually sing and actually act and - most importantly of all - twirl like there's no tomorrow. Twirling is paramount.

And she stands out from the pack - upon seeing them yesterday, it was just a bunch of slightly out-of-shape sopranos who nattered like birds. For real - they all sound the same... when they laugh, it's in melody. It was all very reminiscent of Amy Adams as "Princess Giselle" in Enchanted. Picture that TIMES 10.

So yeah, I don't know what shape it's going to take - the competition, that is. At first I thought it was like each week they all took the stage and performed the same song from the show, and the audience voted on whose rendition they liked the best... like "WEEK ONE - THE LONELY GOATHERD!" But apparently it really is Idol-stylez... different songs, different genres. And really - this is a better prize than the one they receive on Idol. On Idol, they're groomed to be disposable domestic products... they get to make an album and have some time in the sun for one year and one year only - it's all very akin to Miss America at this point. But this show, they actually get something useful - a job. I'd have to imagine whomever wins this will probably have equal if not greater notoriety than the winner of the current season of Canadian Idol, so hey, good on ya...

Anyway - that's what I'm obsessed with... Jesus in heaven, there really is nothing on television this summer...

I've heard it re-airs tonight at 8, so why don't you tune into CBC tonight and see your tax dollars at work...

Something that will NOT be re-airing, so you best not miss it ---



That'll be it today. Did you know that tomorrow will mark my 300th post?

Fuck. What have I done with my life?


--- Aj

Monday, June 16, 2008

The gayest night of television... ever

Hey friends,

I am sooo underslept and o'ertired today...

For reasons still unclear to me, I decided to venture out at 11 PM (YES. 11 PM. ON A SUNDAY NIGHT... generally, by that point on any given Sunday [literally any given Sunday... not suggesting some weird intersection betwixt the Jamie Foxx movie and my life] I've been asleep for 5 hours...) to Revival for Perez Hilton's post MMVMA party that I randomly got an invite to.

I decided in lieu of y'know, actually getting an invite to the ceremonies (... yeah.), I guess I'd snatch a teency piece of that pie and go to this party. It was certainly a dressier affair than I thought it'd be... no 'celebrity sightings' per se... unless you count Mario 'Perez Hilton' Lavandeira himself... and it's entirely possible that there were cast members from The Hills there, but it's also entirely possible that they were just other synthetic, desperate hangers-on from Canadian soil - it's kind of impossible to tell from my estimation.

Anyballs... hung out there for a bit... downed a few Heinekens... shot the shit with Tranthony, Dini D and Sabrina, then went home...

But before that... a thoroughly gay evening of television...

First up: T-T-TONYS!!!

Yeppers... the 109th annual Tony Award telecast happened last night... a poorly-rated good time was had by all...

I never used to watch this shit, but now I can't tear myself away. I hesitate to say that it's mandatory for a gay dude to watch the Tonys, because it totally isn't... just because you're gay doesn't mean you HAVE to watch the Tonys... but it's kind of like when a Jew eats brisket - it just feels right. Like you're doing something very traditional and indigenous to your people. Am I little out on a limb here? Yes? Okay... well, pressing on...

Whoopi Goldberg hosted, and just about bored everyone to tears. Holy shit. It was like she was about 5 beats behind every time... as a matter of fact, the only time I was actually entertained by the Whoopster all evening was when flew out dressed like Mary Poppins... I felt that was how Miss Celie in The Colour Purple would look like present-day...

Sidebar: the tranny behind Whoopi's getup all night? Project Runway winner/proprietor of all things fierce, Christian Siriano. It was no small feat that he got her out of her signature extra-large untucked denim shirt and stirrup look that she so often rocks and into his signature hot tranny mess look...

Someone who was NOT looking like a hot tranny mess for once, or at least a lot less of one, was Liza Minnelli. Holy balls!

She was looking shockingly un-busted last night - so congrats, Liza! Fortunately, she was still all kind of crazy - she said something to the extent of "For an actor... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... the theatre is home... ... ... ... ... [delivered with total, complete commitment, thinking that this is the punchline to end all punchlines]... BIG, ISN'T IT?!"

Just something that struck me funny.

Another thing that struck me... How Glenn Close looks more and more like Ed Harris with each passing day. Observe:

Jeez Louise. Still in need of some more feminine facial features. She actually makes Ed Harris look downright dainty by comparison...

Anyway - enough talking about who looks busted and who looks busted-er, as fun as it is - other highlights included, but were not limited to: the original cast of Rent reuniting on stage for "Seasons of Love", performances from rock musicals du jour "In The Heights" and "Passing Strange", the formerly-anonymous journeymen actors of the Steppenwolf company completely cleaning up for "August: Osage County", the cut-off jorts that Xanadu's Cheyenne Jackson wore and of course... the human equivalent of a lightning bolt coursing through your body - Patti Motherfucking Lupone...

Holy FUCK. Work it out, Patti LuPone. Does anyone else remember the show "Life Goes On"? It was the show that had the guy with Down's Syndrome on it - Corky, I believe. I watched it because it was on Sunday nights right before "America's Funniest Home Videos" - and Patti LuPone played the mother, 'Libby'. That's how I knew her. I was totally unaware that she was so crazily ferocious. Good on ya.

Highlights DID NOT include: that bitch from The Little Mermaid, those bitches from Grease, that bitch from South Pacific winning instead of that bitch from In The Heights, and speaking about In The Heights - when that dude won and went up and basically rapped his acceptance speech? I felt very uncomfortable. Like, very uncomfortable. I know I reference this scenario a lot, but I felt watching that the way I do when a retarded person accosts you on the subway alerting you that your shoe is untied and insisting you tie it.

Anyballs... that was that was that.

In other news: JUST OVER A WEEK AWAY!!! AHHHH!!!


That's all.

--- Aj

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

Hmmm... I don't quite know what that title's about, but whatever.

Well, I do, but yeah... more on that shortly...

Sorry I've been such an asshole about posting this week. I've just been all of sorts/whack. Last night it was between blogging and cleaning my apartment, and in the rarest of rare turns - CLEANING actually won out.

I've been in this ass-nasty habit of just shoving my clothes into my closet like I'm disposing of a corpse before company comes over, so I decided to embark on the Mount Everest-ial challenge of cleanin' out m'closet - and no, I did not do it to Eminem's "Cleaning Out My Closet" on loop.

I filled a garbage bag to the brim with shit that I'm just amazed I hung onto - cargo pants purchased sometime between 1998 and 2000... synthetic Le Chateau man-blouse after synthetic Le Chateau man-blouse... and more slogan-T's with tart, naughty sayings on them than any one person needs... GONE! I'm feeling so minimalist now, and I love it.

Anyballs... in other news:


His name is Chris. Chris Jarosz. He's a contestant on the current season of the most belligerently-titled series of all time, So You Think You Can Dance?

One of my facebook friends - a gal known only as 'Shawna F.' - made a post on m'wall alerting me to the fact that I have a supposed doppelganger on So You Think You Can Dance? yesterday, and although I was very adverse to this at first, I'm learning to live with it now...

It wasn't until I actually saw the bitch in action, that I started to understand where she was coming from... Here's him on the first performance show of the season dancing with EASILY the hottest bitch alive, a candid hip-hop hoofer named Comfort... yes... Click HERE to watch it... (I'm having maddening problems with embedding it... sorry...)

First off - that Comfort bitch rules m'world. LOVE IT. Secondly - yeah, that looks like me. Fuck.

Well, hopefully he does really well on the show and perhaps at some point I can hook up with a crooked party promoter who'll advertize parties hosted by him - only it's totally not him, it's me, wearing shades, skulking in the corner, not talking to anyone... a-la that chick who was claiming to be Kim Kardashian and doing the exact same shit...

For real - this red hot tranny mess pictured to the right was hosting parties claiming to be Kim Kardashian, looking like that, and people bought it. Not only did they buy the act, but they bought tickets to parties hosted by fake-Kim.

I can't tell you the severe, uncompromising judgement I have for anyone who would buy tickets to go to a party that was hosted by Kim Kardashian - real or otherwise - in the first place, but holy crap, that's hilarious. And also brilliant. You can bet that I will totally be doing that if he does well.

I'd much rather be mistaken for that Comfort chick, as I feel much more akin to her temperment and fervor, but I'll take what I can get.

In other 'reality television stars are fucking with my life' news, I've been trying to avoid addressing this for a coon's age, but feel now that I must...

Once upon a time, if you googled me, a short list of notable Andrew Johnston's would come up. One was a movie critic for Time Out New York... one was a 40-something character actor who claim bit parts on "MacGuyver", "The X-Files" and "Agent Cody Banks" to his name... one was a former American president who would come up despite the fact that his last name is "Johnson" and not "JohnsTon"... and one was me.

Well that's all shot to shit now - a few months ago this meek, pudgy little choirboy with the voice of a castrated angel marched on stage on a little talent competition across the pond called "Britain's Got Talent". He proceeded to capture the hearts of England (and Whoopi Goldberg, who raved about him on The View) and sailed through the finals, landing at third place and has recently signed a 1 million dollar record deal with Simon Cowell's record label.

ANNND... his name is Andrew Johnston. FUCK!!!

Now when you google/youtube/whatever me, this fucking eunuch is going to pop up. Forever. And his voice is totally going to change any day, so say goodbye to any redeeming qualities he has... he's just going to be this shy, fat guy who used to be able to sing pretty. Glug.

I can't imagine me going to England any time soon. I can't imagine going on stage, being introduced as "Andrew Johnston" and not having that be obvious and humiliating. It'd be like some British comic coming here named Ryan Malcolm or something... well whatever...

Okay... I PRRROMISE more interesting blog fare next week... PRRROMISE...

I also PRRROMISE that this will be awesome:


SOOO close. So, so, so very, very, very close.

Have a terrific Friday/night,

--- Aj

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Belated Birthday Roundup

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah...

Sorry I've been MIA for almost a week. Things came up. Namely: a lot of phlegm. I've been sick. Sorry. I don't know how I managed to squeeze out that blog last Thursday, as it was the height of my sickness. It might explain why it was just a bunch of disdainful sentences weaved together, though...

ANYBALLS - despite the fact that I was sick as fuck and probably should have stayed in all weekend... I TOTALLY DIDN'T... snap... that's right - Friday night marked the Twenty-Something'th Semi-Annual Andrew Johnston Birthday Cotillion and OOH-WEE it was a doozy...

The theme: every guest needed to come as something I've photoshopped them as... Here are the sometimes hilarious and often sexy results...

TALK about mixed company: Heidi Montag and Kathy "Annie Wilkes" Bates...


Of MacDonald's lore, The Hamburglar...


Yours truly as a very pregnant Angelina Jolie and the YELLOW! Rosie O'Donnell...


Nip-Slip queen Tara Reid...


Tranthony Suppa as Katie Holmes, in all hir glory...


In costume change #2, Rita MacNeill and Angelina...


New mom Nancy Grace...


Newer mom Michelle Duggar with Katie...


The Captain & Tennille/Tennille & The Captain...


And, of course, no party would be complete without Christine "Rojo Caliente" Marinoni...


T'was a fun night.

What's that? I looked expontentially more like Dog The Bounty Hunter than Angelina Jolie and I'll have to live with that for the rest of my days? Agreed.

That's all...





I went postering on Friday. Not because I felt well, but because I had to. And holy mother of God it was hot - like Louisiana swamp hot. I sweat clear on through what I was wearing. It was a very enjoyable experience. I don't know why I'm telling you this.

I'm back tomorrow with more topical goodness than you can shake a stick at - and oh, you'll want to shake a stick at it. Trust me.

--- Aj

Thursday, June 05, 2008

Is 60 Sexy?

Well, that's a question that I'll have an answer to in a matter of years, rest assured. Because yesterday saw me turn another year older... huzzzzah...

Yep. I'm now officially late-mid-twenties/mid-late-twenties as opposed to regular old mid-twenties. Whatever the fuck it is, the glass is half-empty, not half-full. *Sigh*. Oh well...

Sorry I haven't posted since Monday's blogstravaganza de Sex & The City, but I figured, seeing as that was 4,000 words long, I figured I had a few off days. So yesterday was spent enjoyably enough. But can I TELL you about the fucking day I had on Tuesday? HOLY CRAP...

SO - Monday night, I get a call from my former agent saying that I had been requested specifically to come into a casting house in Toronto to audition for a Futureshop commercial. This is odd. I'm currently unrepresented and my former agent is no longer in business, so yes, I'd imagine that if someone in the casting world wanted to see me, they'd certainly have to do some searching around to find out how... (or you could just facebook me... really, either/or).

So I find this all too curious. Me? Requested specifically? For a Futureshop Commercial? Whyever for? I went down and relayed this circumstance to one Kathleen Phillips - Toronto's premiere alternative character comedienne who'll be appearing in her first full-length one-gal show entitled "Kathleen Phillips Is... Beside Herself" later this month... can't wait! - and she speculated that 'maybe they want some gay tech guy'... a theory that would have made perfect sense...

To say that I had trepidations about going would be the understatement of the year... I hate hate HAAAAATE auditioning for commercials... it's not my bag... I can't imagine an existence worse than being some theatre-school grad whose day/life is filled by auditioning for commercials... I could care less. And the money really isn't that terrific. Unless you're the Snapple Lady or some shit like that, it's only a couple grand here and there, it takes months to see the money and you get known as a commercial actor and blah blah blah... none of this applies to me. I'm a live act, a pop-cultural pundit and a 'personality'... soon to be mogul when I launch my line of signature knee pads. I could not care less about auditioning for commercials is the bottom line.

Beyond that, the last time I was at this particular casting house it was SO preposterous I can't even tell you. It was for a callback for - ironically, Futureshop - which ran TWO HOURS late. By the time I get in there this assfuck casting director sees me do it once then says... "hmmm... well, I feel like I should give you some sort of direction" implying that I was a lost cause or something and I'm all OHHHH NO YOU DIDN'T MOTHERFUCKER! For realz - he was one of these bitches who probably started out wanting to be Spielberg but had to settle for being a commercial casting director and hates life because of this... which is such a shame... such a shame that I've already made more of a contribution to culture than he would doing what he does dozens of lifetimes over, but I digress...

Anyballs - I sit around, waiting for this assfuck casting director to send me the sides he said he'd send the night before, I e-mail twice, call twice, nothing. All signs are point to DO NOT GO. But I couldn't help but wonder: what sort of part in a Futureshop commercial is SO right for me that I'm requested specifically?! Ooooooooooooh! You know how they say that curiosity killed the cat? Well flattery killed the fag...

So I go. Curious as all get-out. When you get into these things, there's a sign-up sheet that will be like: "Name, Agent, Agent's #, ACTRA #, Time arrived, Time allotted"... I don't have an agent nor an ACTRA # (ACTRA's the actor's union... I'm non unionized) so right away that's three "N/A"'s in a row... awesome... I go up to the bitch behind the desk and say that I never received sides and have no idea who I'm here for (here comes the surprise!!! ooooh!!!)... it's just some random dude who fixes shit in the background - the same one that fucking 30 some-odd other dudes are auditioning for... I saw RED...

So I'm sitting there. Listening to these 5 actors who were ahead of me in line (and had been waiting for like, an hour) who know each other talk about this so excitedly, ACTUALLY running their two lines with each other, and holy mother fuck it just made me want to put a gun to my head... I sat there for about 5 minutes, then put on m'jacket, grabbed my gym bag, pulled out my Diet Coke, flounced my fierce ass up the counter and, as faggily as I possibly could have delivered it: "Hi. I have a very narrow window of time today [illustrated by me miming closing a window], so if I can't do this in the next 5 minutes, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave." MmmmmHmmmmmm... I was like "See ya in Hell" thinking that would be over and done with it...

Well, the bitch called my bluff and ACTUALLY put me ahead. WHAT?! Well... I certainly wish I would have known to do that back in the days that I was actually auditioning for shit and waiting for hours on end... so there ya go...

Anyway - the thing went fine. I tried my damnedest to look like I didn't completely NOT want to be there. I ran the fuck out of there, called Yerxa and proudly proclaimed "that is my LAST commercial audition ever".

So, to whomever at Futureshop did want to see me specifically, and thought to themselves, "you know who we should get for this behind-the-scenes tech guy in our latest commercial for home gaming? Andrew Johnston!" - while I can't express how flattered I am that you thought of me, for future reference: LOSE M'NUMBER, BITCH!

And that's that.

Speaking of bitches...

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH SNAP!!! Yeppy. It's that time of the month again.


I feel as if I should leave you with something funny...

A dear, dear friend of mine, Kerri Carrisse, posted this on my wall yesterday. It's one of the greatest things I've seen in my life...

Yep. Amazing.


--- Aj