Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Bitches Loved, Hated, Song/Week

What the fuck is up?

How the fuck was your family day weekend? Was it absolutely, intoxicatingly ambrosial as was mine?

Kicked things off Friday. After hastily finishing this blog, I high-tailed it up to MTV studios to meet Jessi Cruickshank for an interview that'll be part of some segment called "The Dirt". It's on gay celebrities and coming out in Hollywood etc etc etc...

As I had mentioned, I was freshly waxed and my chest was irritated as all get-out, so upon arriving there the first thing out of my mouth: "Is there a possibility I could visit makeup?"... to which I'm replied, "oh, you have flawless skin"... which, of course, is consummately true, but that's not the point... do you know who said this? None other than recently outed star of Degrassi, The Next Generation Adamo Ruggeiro. He was also lending his two-cents to this piece.

Anyballs... we chatted cattily for the better part of the half-hour on the topic of coming out in the entertainment industy - a topic that I have more than a few opinions about. One thing that drives me nuts - although people do it harmlessly when broaching this topic - is when someone brings up people like Rupert Everett, Ian McKellan and Elton John as out-gay celebrities... yeah, they're all A.) old as hell and ranging from barely to not-at-all relevant, and B.) BRITISH. The point that I ALWAYS make in this debate that always seems to blow people's minds is that the British thing cancels the gay thing out... I guess a gay dude is easier to stomach if he's got an accent or something that clearly marks him as foreign... I had said, name one out gay make celebrity on the North American mainstream entertainment landscape who's not A.) British, B.) A style guru, C.) Been outed against their will/'Came out' after they were established.

Yeah. Doesn't exist. Trust me. So I basically rode it out being as self-richeous as the constraints of time and matter would allow. It was a fabulous afternoon. = )

Following that, I busted tail down to the village to put up posters advertising the forthcoming installment of BITCH SALAD -


TWO WEEKS TODAY!!! TWO WEEKS TODAY!!! - And home to freshen up (read: re-powder my exposed irritated chest flesh) and jet off to some theatre at U of T to see my dear, dear friend Meredith Shaw in a production of "Cabaret".

She was playing the role of Freulin Schneider - who's the out-and-out matron of the show... the landlady who houses a motley crew of whores, cabaret performers, artists etc in her hostel or whatever... long story short, she falls in love with a Jewish dude named Herr Shultz, it's the rise of the Nazi's, their love becomes verboten, blah blah blah, everybody is killed/cleansed. Meredith handled her first hand at playing a matron with sheer grace and determination. It was awesome - but yeah. I forgot how much of a downer Cabaret is. It's really a story whose backdrop is the rise of the third reich. Not a feelgood piece.

Anyballs, following that, we hightailed it to the Drake where there was a Valentine's edition of Big Primpin'. FUN. Just two tonnes of fun, really. Lots of people there and better-than-usual music than I've come to expect with Primpin'. The real fun was yet to come - following lights on, Max Valliquette (Youthography dude, frequently seen as contributor on those "Listed" shows 'n stuff) pitched some after-festivites, and, since we couldn't find a cab that would take five of us (Me, Yerxa, Anth, Heidi, Marianne) and God forbid we split up into two to travel 10 or so blocks, we fucking walked. From Queen & Dufferin to Dundas & Bathurst. In the freezing mothafuckin' cold.

Along the way, I suppose it was our coping mechanism of sorts to invent our own language a-la the Smurfs.

We were subbing in the word "Bort" for random words - inspired by the nickname of our partner-in-shinanigans, Marianne "Bort" Bortolin. A sample snippet of conversation might have gone:

Yerxa: Guys! Just three more borts and then we'll get to Max's!
Anth: That's still a long way to bort!
Me: Heidi! You just stepped in bort!
Heidi: Oh BORT!

And so on. Anyway. We got there at like 3:30 or some shit, stayed there and got drunker until 5, I hopped in a cab, went home, did laundry, forced myself to stay awake long enough to put it in the dryer, went to bed sometime after 6 AM, got up at 11, stumbled to the train station in a drunken haze and somehow got my effin' train back to Brockville.

Whilst in Brockville I did absolutely nothing. It was the most glorious session of prolonged nothin'-doin' I've had in a coon's age. The one break in nothin'-doin' I took was to accompany my parents to my aunt and uncle's new house on the majestic St. Lawrence river for dinner. Whilst there, in and among the rando family chit-chat, somehow the topic of frosh week concerts came up, and who played at who's. Apparently, in the bad old days, the bookers of these frosh week concerts had A.) taste and B.) foresight...

You will never fucking believe this: At my mom's frosh week concert? THE TURTLES. As in "So Happy Together" fame. At my uncle's frosh week concert? IKE & TINA TURNER (and the Ikettes) At my father's frosh week concert? SIMON & MOTHAFUCKIN' GARFUNKEL. Yeah. And furthermore, I just asked my boss who was at hers... LED ZEPPELIN. Yeah.

RIDICULOUS. Of course, this was all sliiiightly before they all broke hugecore, but still.

That's bullshit. I don't remember who was at mine - I didn't go anyway. It was either Our Lady Peace or I Mother Earth or some other three-worded CanCon modern rock outfit. I remember at the time there were a bunch of rumours swirling around as to who it might be, so as to keep actual fans of whatever band it was from infiltrating the concert meant for Frosh. I remember I Mother Earth, Our Lady Peace and someone else - perhaps Moist - were rumoured to be playing it. For absolute kicks, I threw Gloria Estefan's name into the rumour mill and made DAMNED sure it was spread thick and thoroughly. To this day, if you ask anyone who graduated from Queen's, '04, the bands that were rumoured to be playing our Frosh Week concert, they'll tell you "It was either I Mother Earth, Our Lady Peace or Gloria Estefan". Fun.

Also fun?



Who: Legendary comedienne, standout cast-member and first ever female head-writer of Saturday Night Live-turned-Emmy, Golden Globe and SAG-award-winning sitcom star for her work as Liz Lemon on 30 Rock.
Why I Love Her This Week: Ummm, for basically every word or thought she's ever said, written or gestured in the history of her saying, writing and/or thinking things. What is not to love about her? She was the greatest anchor who e'er sat upon the Weekend Update throne and I don't care what you say. Her opus, Mean Girls, stands as one of the defining, iconic films of the present millienium. And she's absolutely beyond brilliant on 30 Rock... observe:

Yes. Soooo many reasons to love and worship Tina Fey. But I must admit that this particular love I'm giving her is a little pre-emptive... y'see... this coming Saturday - oh my God I can't even handle it - SHE'S HOSTING SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE!!! AHHHH!!! I can't even wait. It's going to be their first show back after the strike - so you already know that it's going to be good on account of all their pent-up creativity. Add to that already delicious gumbo, the fact that Tina Fey is fucking hosting and oh my God I just came in m'pants.

Another reason why she's sublime, listen to what she had to tell Howard Stern re: Paris Hilton's turn hosting SNL back in '02...

Oh my God. Brilliant. "Write a sketch about Jessica Simpson, she's fat". And my absolute favourite bit of info: they actually had a bet going that she wouldn't ask any of them a personal question a-la "How are you?" that they lost when she asked Seth Myers if Maya Rudolph was Italian. GENIUS.


[Puffy, Jealous, Present-Day] ARETHA FRANKLIN

Who: Enduring, legendary "Queen of Soul" who demanded "Respect" on the "Freeway of Love" no doubt breaking through a "Chain of Fools"... it goes on...
Why I Hate Her This Week: JEALOUS, MUCH? Backstory: Last week, at the Grammys, Beyonce and Tina Turner performed together, a medley of Tina's hits. It was all-too exciting. Tina Turner is just irrepressible. Before introducing Tina, Beyonce did this spoken-word-yet-lipsynched tribute to all the fine ladies of song who stood upon the Grammy stage before her, which culminating her introducing Tina Turner as "the queen".

Well, this got Aretha's size XXXXXL panties up in a bunch, let me tell ya. She released this statement to People.com:

"I am not sure of whose toes I may have stepped on or whose ego I may have
bruised between the Grammy writers and Beyoncé, however I dismissed it as a
cheap shot for controversy. In addition to that, I thank the Grammys and the
voting academy for my 20th Grammy and love to Beyoncé anyway."

Okay. It's one thing if you silently stew and someone catches wind of it. But to release a fucking statement without even being PROMPTED proclaiming you're a jealous bitch? Oh come on, ReRe. Bah... she was just jealous that Tina's the same age and light-years away from looking as busted as Aretha does.

That's it.

See you tomorrow,

When the phrase "Happy bit my vagina" will have new meaning,

--- Aj