Comings, Goings, Doings

Hey muggles...

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, huh? Conversely, it's beginning to look a lot like the climate of the earth isn't changing and we're on the receiving end of a good-old-fashioned assachey winter. BAHUMBUG!

Last winter was basically the greatest thing I've ever experienced. Basically. It was the seasonal equivalent of a piece of bocconcini cheese - it was that mild. I think I wore a fucking windbreaker until February or some shit. I can specifically remember New Years Eve - it was downright balmy... I fully could have gone without coat, FULLY. And I can remember thinking... "This is global warming... I'm sorry, but kinda bring it on... shoot..." Anyway. Turns out it was just an abnormally warm winter, and the threat of global warming is still very real... but the fact that it interferes with my enjoyment remains the same.

NEVERTHELESS...

This weekend was fun. FUN. It started on Thursday night when I did a benefit for the Sick Kids Hospital. Now it's pretty common knowledge that I hate kids - ESPECIALLY sick ones - so this was a bit of a stretch. But now whenever I see commercials for sick kids hospital asking 'what I've done this Christmas', I can say "SOMETHING". I'm so into capitals today. I don't know why. I'm sorry.

Anyway - I anticipated a bunch of medical types in attendance and do you know how many there were? 0.00 - yeah, no one. I had this bit that I really wanted to try about Prader-Willi Syndrome... which is right behind Compulsive Hoarding in terms of hilarious diseases and dysfunctions...

Prader-Willi Syndrome is that disease that afflicts children where they're missing that part of the brain that tells them when they're full and to stop eating - which is why you see really obscenely obese toddlers, like the one pictured to the left, to the left (No, it's not Carnie Wilson pre-bypass having breakfast on 'casual Friday'.)

Anyway, I remarked that it's so terrible because these kids have no peer pressure at that age and haven't picked up the harsh body image standards imposed on us by Hollywood etc... which I guess is sort of the cure for Prader-Willi syndrome. Becoming attuned to those and hating your body. So if y'alls kids are born with PW, get them an issue of Seventeen magazine as soon as they can blink. Yeah. That's me trying to work clean. My boss thought it was funny when I tried it out in conversation. But the audience of non-medical types didn't so much. So I shifted gears and talked about Facebook and made dick jokes. A good time was had by all.

Friday night I attended the birthday bash of my dear, dear friend Meredith "Muffy" Shaw - whose pumpkin pie parties have become something of legend. She hosted an elegant sitdown dinner at the Granite Club - which is like the country club in Toronto... it's next door to the Bridal Path (Toronto's version of Bel Air... in which, I'm sure, Toronto's version of the Fresh Prince resides) and where the major athletes train and shit like that. ANYBALLS - the entire thing was lovely from head to toe.

The company was mixed. Well, not exactly. It was a gaggle of girls that Muff knew in high school (Branksome Hall, for those of you in the know), a gay couple that Muff had known for a while, myself and Larissa. The food was spectacular, as it very well should have been. I basically ate like it was last meal - and I had a canker on my tongue to boot, so fuck. Uncomfortable, much? Larissa ate so much she thought she was going to puke. She made a bee line for the bathroom and just as she did, one of Meredith's Branksome-ite childhood friends scampered along beside her... because for girls, going to the bathroom together is a mandatory social activity or something, apparently. I'll never wrap my head around that.

GREATEST STORY I'VE EVER HEARD: Muff and her Branksome co-horts recounted driving around their Rosedale neighborhoods when they were 16 and entering a phase of general teenage angst and unruliness, and deciding that they should buy a house to party in... as their cavernous Rosedale mansions didn't offer enough privacy to stow away and shotgun their parents Dubonnet. I jest, I jest. Anyway - Meredith was like "I can actually remember thinking that. Actually remember thinking, 'yeah. We should just buy a house. Like that one - it looks shitty - let's just buy that one.'" Of course they were talking about another Rosedale home that was no doubt worth well-over a million, but to them - t'was a homely shanty fit for their partying. LOVE IT. I find that so funny... I've been laughing about it for days...

Lariss and I pour out of there around 1 AM and make the last subway. Standing on the Bloor platform, I experienced a first. This unspeakably fugly Mediterranean chick who was CLEARLY stoned out of her mind and being held up by some sketchy dude who CLEARLY facilitated it and was trying to make her look and act as non-conspicuous as possible (read: this was a good-old-fashioned date rape) comes up to me... she eyes me, trying to keep focus and asks me point blank: "Hey... are you gay"? I ironically flutter m'eye lashes and cheerfully reply, "Nope!". She then teeters and says "Oh... .... well you look gay!" and then bursts into laughter.

Larissa and I burst into laughter in turn. Wow. That's the first time anything like that has ever happened - but it's the sort of thing that people in small towns think is common place in Toronto! I swear! Before moving here, like when I was in high school, that's what I thought happened "in the big city". Wow. Hilarious.

Anyway - I could hardly be mad at the bitch... On top of the obvious cruelty imposed by nature on her face, she was about to raped while unconscious and left for dead... - then sure enough, after I get off the subway I get a call from Larissa, who happened to be on the same car of the train that chick got on and gave me the follow up... Apparently out of nowhere, this chick starts screaming and kicking the guy she was with. It was quite a scene, apparently. Ahhhh the less fortunate. What will they get up to next?

Speaking of less-fortunate, I can certainly relate with them after Saturday night.

Saturday night saw me accompany the divine Kitty Ryan and a gaggle of her best gal pals from high school out to The Guverment. Yeah. I'm not a frequenter of The Guverment. But I went because we get special treatment via a promoter named JP that Kitty new from her days as a dancer on Electric Circus (YES!) - like we get to be behind a velvet rope. It's terribly pretentious.

Anyway... if the Guverment ever goes out of business, I'm going to buy it and rename it "Douchebag Olympics". Because that's what it is.

For serious. Every dude up in there looks like the guy pictured to the right. Well not every guy - but they fucking might as well have.

Balls. Anyway, the evening was sweetened slightly by the arrival of television personality Traci Melchor, who joined us in our velvet roped section or whatever. I finally got to re-introduce myself to her - I met her when I was in Rocky Horror in Toronto back in 2002 and she was the host of W Network's "Style VIP". She was doing some segment about how films have affected fashion and I needed to come and hip check her out of the frame as Frank and say "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" or something. It was a ball and she was a doll. She gave me her necklace that day and I still have it. Not because I wanted to preserve this item that was graced by Traci Melchor, per se, but because it was a really cool necklace.

Anyballs - she totally remembered and was spoke for a while. She's got twins now, yo. Dayum.

So yeah... That's it... Here's a picture of me, Yerx and Anth as 90's Adult-Contemporary Supergroup/Rock 'N Royalty Wilson Phillips... it's currently my reason to live... I LOVE IT!!!

Hold on... for one more day... things will go your way...

--- Aj

Haute Topics: Busted Skanks Edition

Hey muggles...

I trust your week is going as swimmingly as mine. Last night I pushed myself to the absolute limit and stayed up until 12:30 watching the American Cinematheque's tribute to Julia Roberts - who I like as much if not less than everybody else. I thought it would be like the tribute to Meryl Streep - which was fucking epic. All these enormous stars coming out and basically bending over in front of Meryl, proclaiming that her talent could fuck them in the ass any day of the week... and Meryl gave tasty, tasty commentary about her roles blah blah blah. I was sort of expecting that from this, too.

Then I realized that this isn't Meryl Streep we're talking about - it's Julia Roberts. And she's pretty much a glorified Meg Ryan insofar as talent. So yeah. Not really the meatiest buffet in terms of a body of work goes. I think clips from "Erin Brockovitch" were shown every three seconds. Certainly nothing from "Mary Reilly", I can tell ya that. The one line that jumps out at me was delivered by Bruce Willis when describing the many parallels in their careers: "Julia turned down the Sharon Stone role in Basic Instinct... and I've turned down Sharon Stone many, many times." It's funny because Sharon Stone's a whore.

Anyway... BORING. The whole hour was BORING. Also boring? Julia Roberts. Motherhood has watered the bitch dowwwn. She used to be the biggest movie star of our time - this generation's Garbo (minus the mystery), and now she's superseded that title to who? Reese Witherspoon? THAT'S supposed to be the biggest shit deal in Hollywood now? Blahrb. No good.

Onto zestier topics, as it were...

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention/enlighten you to three busted skanks du jour and their recent headline-making misadventures:

1.) AMY WINEHOUSE IN GENERAL

Grammy noms are announced in a matter of hours and a lot of people are anticipating Winehouse to appear across the board. Best New Artist, Record of the Year, Album of the Year... I have to imagine that the firestorm of negative press that she's gotten (and seemingly welcomed with open arms) is going to have some effect... but we'll see...

The negative press I'm referring to: i.) After a string of 'concerts' which saw her drunk out of her skull, forgetting lyrics, cussing out fans and walking offstage mid-way, she cancels her tour siting her distress over the incarceration of her husband as the reason... ii.) This amazing performance at the MTV Euro Awards... iii.) Entering and exiting rehab what seems like multiple times a day... iv.) This amazing performance at the MTV Euro Awards... v.) Befriending the positive influence to end all positive influences, Courtney Love... vi.) This amazing performance at the MTV Euro Awards... and vii.) Pictured, to the left, to the left, roaming the streets of sub-zero London last week and 4:30 AM in but a bra and her signature jorts.

Article vii is easily the kicker for me. Basically because I get really pissed off when I see people either under dressed or overdressed for the weather... I just wanna scream at them "WEAR A FUCKING COAT!!! IT'S TOO FUCKING COLD!!!"... alternately, I saw a woman on one of the hottest days of summer this year bundled up with a winter coat on with the hood up... I lost it... For some reason, it just really makes me angry... Anyway... Amy Winehouse needs to really fuck off... criminally insane hobos have more grace, tact and dignity than her at this point... whoa...

2.) JESSICA SIERRA

Unless you're a reasonably avid viewer of American Idol, you mightn't remember Jessica Sierra. She was the 10th place finisher on the 4th season - the season that pop-country juggernaut Carrie Underwood took the crown.

Well, bitch was arrested - AGAIN - for drunken, disorderly conduct in a bar earlier this week down in Tampa (GLAMOROUS!!!), Florida. Yes, again. This is the second arrest for disorderly conduct she's been busted on, and accordingly, the second mugshot out there which makes Sierra part of the elusive multiple-celebrity-mugshot club. She can now go to the meetings with Mickey Rourke and Lindsay Lohan and rub shoulders with them until they're raw.

Apparently she cut some dude with a glass. Then, when arrested, told the cop that she'd suck his dick if he didn't make her go to jail. Upon reluctant (I'd HAVE to imagine) refusal from the cop, she started calling the cop N-Bombs, F-Bombs and threatening to 'fuck [him] up'.

I remember when this bitch was on American Idol. The judges loved her for some reason. Simon predicted that the top 4 would be Carrie, Bo Bice, Constantine Maroulis and her. I found this flabbergasting. In part, because I thought that Vonzell "Vonzie" Solomon was outrageously underrated that season, but Constantine was the textbook definition of "douchebag" and Jessica Sierra was like any other cheap whore you'd find at a karaoke joint. And, I'm so resoundingly right about both estimations. So yay. Anyway - I HOPE THE BITCH FRIES! Throw her in the clink! The hooskow! Up the river! Etc... etc... etc... etc...

3.) JOAN VAN ARK

Firstly: AHHHHHHHH!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! AHHHH!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Secondly: Oh how the might have fallen. This is former "Knots Landing" stunner Joan Van Ark at some Hollywood function this past week.

Joan VAN Ark? More like Joan OF Arc mid-way being burned at the stake. Zowza.

Why the fuck would you leave your house like that? WHY? You know that bitch was totally like "well... maybe if I put a little concealer on... and put an eyebrow here... and an eye-lash there... no one will even notice!"... Yeah... EVERYONE NOTICES. HOLY FUCK!!!

It reminds me of this one night this past summer when I was sitting outside of Buddies with two friends of mine, Jess and April, and this dude walked in wearing a lavender polo that had been so severely bleached, half of it was clearly uneven white, and half of it was clearly mangled lavender. And he walked in with a look on his face like "maybe no one notices..." Yeah. EVERYONE NOTICED. Saying to yourself, "oh, no one will even notice!" is like saying "no offence" to someone before delivering an insult... THE OPPOSITE RESULT IS ALWAYS TRUE!

Too bad for Joan Van Ark that I'm not in her life to tell her that. On the plus side, I'm not in Joan Van Ark's life, so that's good for me.

In other news:

I don't who, if anyone, is following this current season of America's Next Top Model, but it's obviously that fucking Saleisha is going to win. Gah. Bitch is, at best, as pretty as one of the Cosby kids but she's got that urban spunk that Tyra Banks absolutely whacks off over. Every episode sets up this 'amazing progression' of hers from commercial girl to edgy, high-fashion model. BULLSHIT! She's a Cosby-kid with Rhianna's haircut! And to illustrate this, a picto-quation...

That's all,

--- Aj

On attending the tale of Sweeney Todd/Some "Enchanted" Evening...

Heya muggles...

So I'm back in action now, and will be blogging furiously this week, and every week from this point on.

We're just gonna get right into it...

Today's blog is going to be about three reasonably zeitgeist-y productions I've taken in recently, and exactly what I thought about them:

1st.) ENCHANTED

Currently the tops at the box office, "Enchanted" is about a classic Disney princess, Giselle (played to perfection by Hollywood's newest and most interesting IT-girl, Amy Adams) who's ripped from her whimsical cartoon kingdom of heritage and thrust into modern-day New York City by the resident evil queen (Susan Sarandon... in a part that should have been played by Glenn "the jaw" Close... every evil female character ever should be played by Glenn Close... but that's neither here nor there...)

She's banished because she falls in love with the Evil Queen's stepson, Prince Edward (played by superfox James Marsden) who fears that Giselle will become queen and steal her throne. Determined to find his true love, Prince Edward transports himself into present day NYC and embarks on a wild goose chase to find her. This is all complicated by the fact that she's shacked up with a kindly divorce lawyer named Robert (played by Patrick Dempsey from Grey's), despite his better judgement.

Anyway - the whole thing is touted as a spoofy, farce-y, parody-y amalgam of every classic Disney fairytale involving a helpless, annoyingly wholesome damsel-type a-la Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, the list goes on and on and on... and it certainly is, for the first half of the film. It's very entertaining in that respect and for that time - seeing exactly how a cartoon princess would fare in present day New York all the while sending up fairy-tale conventions that we're all familiar with... yes.

The second half - and I can tell you EXACTLY where this begins... that fucking musical number in the middle of Central Park - is a different story. It turns into an actual kid's film. Which I was not prepared for at all. It completely lost its edge and turned into a paint-by-the-numbers fairy tale. For the last half-hour of the film, I don't think 30 seconds would go by without me turning to Yerxa next to me and whispering "Ug, well that's retarded..."

Being a kid's film, it was rife with logistical errors, which just drives me fucking nuts... as I'm somewhat of badge-carrying member of the logistic's police... among them:

- The first thing that had me scratching m'head: Where the balls did Prince Edward get money to buy that corned beef on rye sandwich? And various souvenirs? And pay for that hotel room (Furthermore - how did he know what a hotel was)? If Giselle didn't have any money, where the balls did he get it? Yes, since he's a prince, I can imagine he might have been carrying some gold coins, and I'll even go so far as to believe that his royal garments would be emerald and ruby-encrusted... still, one quick scene with him at a currency exchange/ruby appraisal kiosk would have made things that much more believable and that much less irksome for me.

- In the enormous musical number set in Central Park, entitled something like "How Will She Know" - which I just have enough problems with as it is, what with the fact that thousands of park-goers join in her choreographed number in the first place and think nothing of it, but I'll subscribe to that particular fantasy and stick to one gripe - in that song, she seems to speak-sing of a lot of dating/relationship nuances that wouldn't be factors in her native kingdom... "wearing a colour that will match her eyes" (cartoon's only have 1 outfit! That's a well-established fact!)... "dedicate a song to her" (on what radio station in your cartoon kingdom, asshole?)... and others... again... irksome...

- Idina Menzel was playing a winsome, romantic lead. WHAT THE BALLS WAS THAT ALL ABOUT? Giselle's wicked stepsister? I could certainly believe that. Bitchy salesgirl at Donna Karan who refuses to sell anything to Giselle a-la "Pretty Woman"? Totally could have played that. Kind-hearted garbage lady who points Giselle in the right direction of 37th street? Abbbsolutely. But not as the rival love-interest! I find her face so unusual... she has this really unappealing 'resting face' that she makes... what I mean by 'resting face', is the mug that she makes when she's not speaking or substantially reacting to other dialogue/action... it's this sneer or snarl or something... allow me to demonstrate:

Anyway... I enjoyed it enough, I guess. Amy Adams was frickin' amazing. Honestly... I can attest right here, right now that there have been two times this year that my pants have been charmed clear off me... once back in May, c/o this Norse fellow I met, and this particular night watching Amy Adams as Princess Giselle. She played everything heartbreakingly earnest and will no doubt be a lock for Best Actress, Comedy or Musical, come Golden Globes-time.

I don't know as if I'd watch it again, however. If I do, it'll ONLY to check out the deleted scenes to see if one of them shows Prince Edward visiting a currency exchange.

2.) SWEENEY TODD, live, at the Princess of Whales Theatre

Regarded as the holy grail of haute concept musical theatre, Sondheim's Sweeney Todd has a following amongst musical theatre nerds that borders on fetishistic. I can remember it was introduced to me via my first year drama teacher, Tim Fort, and that's precisely how I'd describe his fascination with it.

At any rate - it tells the tale of a famously talented barber Sweeney Todd, the demon barber of Fleet Street in turn-of-the-century Londontowne, who's back from a wrongfully-served stint in jail and vows revenge on the general population of London via slitting their throats when they're in his barber's chair. He's aided and abetted in this by his landlady Mrs. Lovett who turns their bodies into meat pies that are being gobbled up like hot cakes. That analogy would have been so much smoother if she had in fact baked them into hot cakes and not meat pies. OR if the expression was "they're selling like meat pies". Either/Or.

It was good. Not reeeally my thing - when I go to the musical theatre, I tend to be money-shot oriented... a-la flashy dance numbers and big black diva belting big notes like their life depended on it. This had neither. But it did have hot bitch Judy Kaye - pictured to the right. She played Mrs. Lovett, fresh off the heels of playing her on Broadway.

Do you know who Judy Kaye is? She's the original Carlotta from "Phantom of the Opera" - she won the Tony for that. So I automatically loved her for that fact alone. But she was pretty fierce and really funny. At the curtain call, everyone else in the cast was taking their bows very solemnly with a piercing stare and stiff upper-lip, and she comes flouncing out and does this grand curtsy, mouths "thank you" several times and waves to the balcony... I was like "LOVE HER!"...

What I didn't love was the fact that the entire cast was on stage for the ENTIRE show. And what's worse? They were supplying the instrumentation for the show... yes... the band was the cast, and the cast, the band... holy fuck. It was amazing, don't get me wrong. I just felt annoyed for the actors. I can remember when I was in my last year of high school, I was in a Sears Festival play (those of you who did drama in high school in Ontario know exactly what I'm talking about) called "10 Lost Years". Holy fuck. Wow.

It was a play about the depression in Canada. And it was called "10 Lost Years". Don't you just wanna fucking see it right now?! Ug. It was a play comprised of a bunch of random monologues and vignettes about depression life and featured an enormous (like, 25+) company of 15-18 year-old Brockvillian (read: uniformly white) youth, dressed like fucking hobos. And when we were not involved in a vignette or monologue, WE HAD TO STRIKE A TABLEAU IN THE BACKGROUND. Which means that for upwards to and including 20 minutes at a time, you could be frozen in a position pretending to read the newspaper or scrub something on a washing board. Have an itchy ball sack? Well it's gonna be a long evening for you my friend. It was excruciating.

Side note: In one of the performances of "10 Lost Years", a chair I was sitting on explosively collapsed and I was sent barrelling across the stage. It was hilarious. And I know that video footage of it exists somewhere - I recall Paul Roy captured it with his digital camera (what I have to assume was the first digital camera ever made, seeing as it was 2000)... I'd really like to see that shit...

Anyballs - THIS is why I felt so uncomfortable for the company of Sweeney Todd. I was like "AHHHH!!! THEY MUST BE SO BORED!!! I'd shoot myself in the head if I had to do that!". But I guess some people who are really committed to 'the craft' will do anything. I certainly wouldn't. This is why I'm not an actor. I couldn't care less about contributing to the effect of a tableau... alls I care about the applause and the star-fuckers. It's a good life.

So yeah... I think Sweeney's out of here soon... so go check it out before it flies the coop... or just go see the Tim Burton/Johnny Depp movie when it comes out... whatevs...

Thirdly: 2 GIRLS, 1 CUP

I AM NOT LINKING TO THIS I AM NOT LINKING TO THIS I AM NOT LINKING TO THIS.

Make no mistake about it.

For the few, privelaged members of the human race who have not seen this, DON'T.

2 Girls, 1 Cup is the newest viral-video sensation sweeping the cyber-nation. It involves one girl full-tilt shitting into a cup, then sexily dining on it with her best girlfriend. Yeah.

I'm not sure how this became the sensation that it has. People involving their own fecal matter in sexual lisasons is nothing new - Scat porn has been around for quite some time. I'm not so sure why this one has taken off the way that it has. I'm going to have to assume it's because of how regular that chick is... that shiz came out of there like chocolate soft-serve... shoooot...

Anyway - just thought I'd mention it. I'll probably talk about it tonight, as I'm at the Rivoli and it's all-new material night, and I have no idea what I'm going to talk about.

Anyballs... smell ya later,

--- Aj

dalaS hctiB

Oy, muggles... I'm such an asshole... it's been WELL over a week...

And WHAT a week. Sorry I've been so MIA... in that I've been Missing In Action, not MIA as-in I'm an Indian female rap star (which I kind of am, so...)

As you may have gleamed, this past Tuesday saw the third installment of Bitch Salad bow. And what a bow! Does that even make sense? I'm just saying "WHAT a ____" emphatically for the sake of it. God, I'm such an asshole!... And what an asshole! ... I'll stop.

So I fully intended to make some sort of blog advertising that I had nude pictures of some actor or something as I normally do the day-of a Salad, but I didn't even have enough time to do THAT. It was intense.

Anyway - brief breakdown of the Bitches, a picture of them and I and what I said about them...

Firstly, Yerxa - who runs Front of House and introduces me before I go on (because if Bitch Salad is one thing, it's a family affair) - introduced me this evening as "Miss Golden Globes 2008"... which is funny, but a lot of people didn't get beyond it just sounding weird... the singular reason why it's funny is because that Miss Golden Globes 2008 has just been announced as being the unspeakably hideous Bruce Willis/Demi Moore collaboration, their eldest daughter Rumer Willis. Anyway...

Up first of the evening was Michelle Shaughnessy - whom I've known for like ever... well, not forever, but it kind of seems that way at this point... Anyway, it's kind of a habit (not a bad habit, per se, but not a good one either) of mine to talk about how long I've known friends of mine 'in the business' like I'm this 80-year-old former showgirl when in fact I've been 'in the business' for less than 2 years.

But I must subconsciously get off on doing that shit. It's actually nuts. So I pushed it full throttle and pretended to suck back a Viscount Mild (an old-lady cigarette, is my understanding) and was like "me and this gal go back to when we was both hoofers in the chorus back in the depression... turns out we share an ex-husband... OR 5... but alls well that ends well - one day we was sittin' next to each other at the slot machines and we just picked up where we left off..." - I was only sort-of kidding. I actually can't wait until I can say things like that for real. And I know that that's exactly what WILL happen to Michelle and I, specifically. See ya at the slots, Mich!

After Michelle's killer (albeit lengthy) set, I relayed an anecdote that Michelle had told me recently... a 'road story' of sorts that really illustrates the double-standard that women face in comedy... Michelle - whose act is very well-written and deals frankly with a whole whack of sexual topics - was on a gig recently with a headliner who's humour is renowned for ranging from demented to downright distasteful, and after the show, they're told "yeah... the girl was too dirty". A common gripe that female comics hear, when in fact they've been considerably tamer than their male counterparts. That actually gets me angry... and also fascinates me... You could say it angrinates me... much like the Fred Phelps' Army of Christians, but that's another blog for another time (hint: Next week! Yay!)...

Up next was Second City main stage mainstay, most recently seen on CTV's "Comedy Inc.", Aurora Browne.

Love, love, love, LOVE, love this girl. Met her pretty much exactly one year ago when she co-hosted the 'Cream of Comedy' gala and hit it off immediately. So comfortable were we, that - despite specific instructions by the producer's not to go into either her or other host Gavin Crawford's dressing rooms - I full-tilt used her bathroom. BUT SHE DIDN'T CARE BECAUSE WE'ZE JUST THAT FUCKING TIGHT, Y'ALL.

Yeah, she totally didn't know... but anyway - when I booked Aurora, who's a prolific sketch comedian and brilliant improviser, I asked her to do whatever solo piece she wanted to... somehow assuming that every improviser/sketch comedian had such a piece to execute on whim. I was wrong. DEAD WRONG. Well, not dead wrong... turns out this particular night would mark Aurora's standup debut. Which is just crazy. CRAZY! Anyway - it went famously. With guitar in hand, she literally riffed on a story involving feces (bum rain, anyone?) and abortion that would have made Sarah Silverman blush, Joan Rivers faint and well, let's not even talk about what it would do to Phyllis Diller. Whoa.

Anyway - at one point during the show I had made some joke about how I always circulate a memo amongst the comics to exclude any 'menses material' (which totally isn't true... well, that is to say it 'wasn't' true... it's totally getting put in place after this particular evening...), however, despite this rule, or perhaps in spite of this rule, Aurora went there. THERE. And following an impromptu protest by me in the back, she said something to the effect that I was spewed out of my mother's vagina in some bloody cyclone myself or something... to which my mother, conveniently present at this show, bolted up and hollered at me "That's not true! You can tell her you were born by C-Section!"...

And I did. And the jokes on who? Aurora Browne, that's who.

Up third was poster girl for MILF's everywhere, the divine, hilarious Shelley Marshall. I always describe Shelley as "Roseanne" from Roseanne meets "Karen Walker" from Will & Grace... and it's so true.

I entered Shelley to Li'l Mama's "Lip Gloss" - y'know, thinking she was really sassy and peppy and fierce and that song was also really sassy and peppy and fierce and ohhhh it was just a perfect combination. The first thing out of Shelley's mouth as soon as she gets on stage: "What the FUCK is this music? I don't know that fucking song!" Anyway... that showed me...

Shelley powered through an unbelievably tight set, as per usual and earned the invisible trophy of being my momz' favourite act of the night, as a matter of fact. Which speaks well on both of them... I think.

The next act of the night is one of my favourite comics-nay-PEOPLE in the universe... Miss Sara Hennessey...

Sara is the only "Sara" I know who doesn't spell her name with an "H" at the end, I think. They're very hard to come by. Like flying squirrels, or white tigers, or certainly white flying squirrels with stripes reminiscent of a tiger.

I remember Sara first came to my attention - and I can't even believe I remember/saw this, but I do/did - when she was profiled alongside two other 'up & coming' comedians as part of CTV's documentary/news magazine show called W5.

The story was on Humber Comedy School and a young, plucktacular Sara Hennessey was in her first semester, first year.

The show followed these three around - witnessing their pitfalls and getting a lot of definitive, serious quotes like "I know I'm gonna make it... this is my destiny" and shit.

I can't remember too much about her besides that I thought she was very interesting... and they also showed her at the Rivoli one night bombing and seeking counsel backstage from Jason Rouse. And then he pooped on her head or something like that crazy, foxy fellow Rouse would do.

Anyballs, Sara has reeeeally blossomed in the past couple of years. I just adore her style. Anyone who's seen her can tell you - it's conversational, and absurd, yet not crazy. She's very in control but not at all theatrical. It's really hard to describe but I absolutely love her style and her humour and can't think of anyone else I've ever seen like her. ANYBALLS - she killed it! KILLED it! Fucking fantastic and just a delight for me to see ---

Next up we had our running character piece c/o Kirsten Gallagher. This time around: Twiggy. Yes. Coming to dish on the finals of America's Next Top Model, Cycle 9, currently down to it's final 4 (but final 6 at this time last week). And MY OH MY wasn't that fucking timely, what with Twiggy announcing her departure from the show and all... to be replaced by Paulina Poriskova-a.k.a.-WHOTHEFUCK? Yeah. Anyway...

Final act of the night was one of my most favourite human beings in the history of molecules - LAURIE ELLIOTT!!!

God DAMN I love this woman. You'd be very hard-pressed to find someone in comedy that doesn't. She's one of the foremost comedians in Canada - she's won virtually every award given to comics in this country, a mainstay on every television show that features comics in this country and just an incredible, adorable, innovative live act that everyone should see.

Beyond that - she's also one of the nicest people you'll ever meet in your life... I oft - YES, OFT - relay this anecdote about her: Ages ago, back in the bad ol' days when I used to bus up from Kingston (when I was at Queens) to Toronto to do the odd open-mic gig, I did this room called "The Pirate Video Cabaret", which was at Clintons. I think this might have been like my third time on stage in Toronto or something... anyway, Laurie was hosting this particular night, so it was my first time meeting her, natch. I'm sure I talked her ear off and was my typical overeager-nay-insufferable self with zeal shooting out of every known hole in/on my body, but she was just effortlessly patient and nice to me. I was on first - I had never been on first before - and after she did her requisite MC preamble, she introduced me... I'll never forget it: "Our first guest of the evening, I've never seen him before, but I get a really good vibe off of him... please welcome Andrew Johnston!"... I came on, bursting with energy (that was my thing), doing the same 7 minutes that I'd done to reasonably warm reception at every previous open-mic I'd done... and bombed. BOMBED. Wow. My Lai stylez. It was nuts. It was 7 minutes of silence. To get a feel for what that's like, I implore you - tomorrow, corral 3 or so people around you, instruct them to remain entirely silent, set your watch, and go "Blah blah blah" for 7 minutes. Yeah. Anyway...

I slinked out of there feeling EXACTLY like Bridget Jones did from that Tarts 'N Vicor's party in the first cinematic installment of her adventures. [Editor's Note: I was also going to draw comparison to Elle Woods' similar scenario in "Legally Blonde", but she got to deliver a clever burn to Selma Blair's character before she left, thereby redeeming herself. There was no redemption in my case.] Anyway, as I was slinking away, Laurie grabbed me, told me 'good set' (LIES!!!!) and said it was good to meet me. She totally didn't need to do that - God knows I avert my gaze whenever I pass by someone who hasn't done well - but she did. And my little amateur comic self appreciated that immeasurably.

Anyway - that's partly why I love Laurie. Even though she did menses material... She reminisces about jumping up and down on her bed singing along to Donna Summer's "She Works Hard For The Money" (why I didn't enter her to this, I don't know) and then suddenly realizes she got her period for the first time... I let it slide...

Following the show, we went out for karaoke at Crews.

This was made especially special due to the company that accompanied us. [Editor's Note: Could I actually not think of adjectives and verbs that didn't contain fragments of themselves within themselves? My God. I'm going insane. I blame the exorbitant amount of sheep embryos I've been breakfasting on lately, but that's neither here nor there...]

Most especial of all? ASHLEIGH JEFFREY! To the small handful of you who know who she is that read this: YES! ASHLEIGH JEFFREY IS ALIVE! She's married, teaching high school drama in Barrie AND has a fucking KID! NUTS! Ashleigh played the Narrator in the production of "Rocky Horror" that I was in back when I was in first year at Queen's... so nigh on SEVEN years ago this spring. Fuck.

I had been trying to track her down for years, but 0.0 people had her contact info. It was actually terrifying. I thought I would have to hire a private detective whose services had been used by the likes of Montell Williams or something... but, thanks to the wonder and glory of Facebook, we reconnected. So good to see her. SO good. She's fucking brilliant - one of the funniest and most talented people I've ever met... and apparently could have used the night out - she was the life of the party at Crews! Let me tell ya...

Although the official life of the party award had a few people vying for it...

Among them, Dini D - who did me both the pleasure and the honour of singing a revisionist take on Barry Manilow's "Mandy" to me, entitled simply, "Andy"... it was one of the highlights of my year and I'm not even kidding...

Here's Dini D, Me and Kitty stealing the signature armpit pose right from under that filthy bastard Beyonce's nose... and arm pits... whatever...

Other karaoke selection highlights of the evening, if memory serves, came in the form of Heidi flavouring us with "Jimmy Ray" (who wants to know? Remember that song? It was awesome!), me recounting the parable of "McArthur Park" and of course, Ashleigh's rousing rendition of "Groove Is In The Heart".

I would be remiss, however, if I did not make mention of Michael Yerxa's tribute to the men and women of IATSE - the official union of Broadway stagehands - when he took to the stage and delivered a heart wrenching version of "Under The Sea" from The Little Mermaid to them and their cause.

It was magical.

Anyway...

That's about it.

I'm sorry I've dropped the ball about blogging of late.

I promise to not only pick up the ball, but squeeze it firmly and jostle it tenderly-yet-sensationally in my mouth for the yuletide season.

I'm working on some sort of "12 Blogs of Christmas" type-thing... it should be festive... and more importantly, exclusive to those of you who celebrate Christmas. SNAP!

No.

Tomorrow: I saw "Enchanted" and "Sweeney Todd" (the live musical, currently on at the Princess of Whales... not the movie... which I certainly won't be seeing after seeing the live show... but that's precisely what I'll be talking about tomorrow...)

Only 4 Models Remain,

--- Aj

Nobody Puts Aj In The Corner...

Really? REALLY? Is that the best that I could come up with? Really... hmmm...

Heya muggles... long time no see... this is the blog that I've been trying/intending to write since last fucking Thursday but for one reason or another 12, haven't been able to...

Recapping:

Wednesday night saw a small but effective sendoff for none other than everyone's dear friend, Aaron Kyte. Kyte rolls in the hustle and bustle world of regional musical theatre, and shipped his ass off to the Maritimes where he's in yet another production of "Anne of Green Gables" or SOMETHING maritime-y like that...

Good times --- We all sat around and tallied our lists of sexual partners so far in the '07 and each and every one of us (except for this lone engaged dude in the group) turned out to be far over our initial estimations. Highlight of this was when one April Wozniak needed to call her roommate to crunch some numbers she wasn't sure of... apparently, Wozniak has a sexual accountant. We should all be so lucky.

It's funny because in heterosexual scenarios of compiling a list of sexual partners that's surprisingly high, straight men would make their list, embellish it to high Haiti and dispense high fives and back-patting amongst each other, whereas straight women would shed a single tear, cross their legs, shotgun another glass of Baby Duck and repeat to themselves in their head, "WHO'S GOING TO LOVE ME WHEN I'M OLD?!?!?!"

Gay dudes (and their gay male friends trapped in a woman's body) are somewhere in the middle of that. I can't say there's not high fives and back-patting, but I can't say there's this overwhelming sense of accomplishment either... weird...

Anyballs, I think at some point someone said "story of my life" - that's the only way I can reason this coming up - and the whole "let's title the story of our lives as if they were made-for-TV-movies on the Lifetime: Television for Women network!" conversation came up.

Long time followers of this blog might recall a post I made over a year ago when, inspired by seeing advertisements for "Life Is Not A Fairytale: The Fantasia Barrino Story", I casted my own Lifetime biopic, entitled "The Weight of Whimsy: The Andrew Johnston Story", and stocked the film with Lifetime regulars playing key people in my life. I don't recall any of my friends being terribly happy about their casting decisions... they'd all be like "Joaquin Phoenix should play me! Scarlett Johanssen should play me!" and I'm like "Number A.) Yeah, you reeeally overestimate how attractive you are and B.) I don't have Joaquin Phoenix or Scarlett Johanssen money! The reason that I cast you as Gabrielle Carteris is because that's all I can afford!".

Anyway, I think I turned this into a bit at some point (and promptly dropped it because it just wasn't working) whose 'punchline' revolved around naming Jeffrey Dahmer's hypothetical Lifetime biopic "The Heart Wants What It Wants: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story"... and then when I'd get groans for the audience, I'd scold them and say "Hey! You don't know what was going on inside his head... ... or his heart..." and I'd find it entirely entertaining because I'm thoroughly demented but others didn't and obla di obla da...

So yes. We revisited this idea on Wednesday night, and sniffed that Lifetime regular Meredith Baxter-Birney would be cast as Jeffrey Dahmer because bitch is in EVERYTHING Lifetime produces. Then I said I'd photoshop what that would look like - WHICH I TOTALLY DID TO THE LEFT, TO THE LEFT - and voila... I found a new, more effective way to photoshop people's faces onto things... and I just can't fucking get enough of it, let me tell ya... I honestly can't go half an hour without putting one of my friends' faces on someone else's body... it's disgusting and I might need help... but that's neither here nor there...

Following this biopic conversation, an interesting question was posed to the group: Would you have gone home with Jeffrey Dahmer? Because he wasn't unattractive - many serial killers aren't. Don't quote me, but I recall that Ted Bundy was a pussy magnet-nay-pussy electro-magnet.

Anyway, we all concluded that we totally would have gone home with Jeffrey Dahmer. And we got into specifics, too, as to how it would all play out. I was like, in dead earnestness, "Well, I wouldn't have gone up to him, he would have had to come up to me, because I'm kinda a shy. And like, I wouldn't really be that responsive to him at first because I'm sure I'd have other options to entertain - he'd be like my Plan C for the night. But then if he was like 'hey, are you on Video On Trial? You're really funny.' BAM!" There y'have it. I would have gone home with Jeffrey Dahmer and all that would be left of one Andrew Johnston would be my pickled genitals encased in a jar of preservational acid in the D-Bomb's pantry. It's just that simple.

So that was gruesome, and that was Wednesday.

Thursday I attended the North American premiere of "Dirty Dancing" - the classic movie adapted for the stage, presented by Mirvish Productions, whom I work for. Did I like it? Did I not like it? It really doesn't matter what the fuck I think because as long as I am under the employ of David Mirvish, every bead of sweat that comes off the man's brow is genius as far as I'm concerned.

Anyballs... I had never seen the movie before - I know, I know... it just never appealed to me. I knew of the iconic scenes, though... the lift, the armpit tickle, the crawling thing, the line "nobody puts baby in the corner", of course I knew of the Bill Medley/Jennifer Warnes classic "I Had The Time Of My Life"... but what I DIDN'T know was that the catalyst for this entire movie was this one bitch needing time off to go git' an abo'. And no one else could cover for her. So really, Frances "Baby" Houseman owes her entire self-actualization to Penny's aborted fetus. Butterfly effect? YOU decide!

The after-party was another deal all together. Holy fuck. Held at Circa, it was the open-est bar in the history of open bars. Holy fuck. I'm really looking forward to the day that I can go to an open bar and merely wet my whistle as opposed to drowning my horn, as it were... because y'all, I'm still rockin' the restraint of my 18-year-old self at these things. Wow. Anyway, it was fun. From what I remember. Unfortunately, I really can't remember much beyond talking to this woman from The Russian/Jewish Times (picture Golde from "Fiddler on the Roof"... yeah) and it is just beyond me how I got home that night. Whoosh.

Friday was a black hole of a day. You know when you get so obscenely hammered and should have puked but didn't so instead it feels like you've been on raft in the middle of an angry sea for decades? That was me. I don't know how I did it, but I went into work, ailing like I can't remember. And then slept soundly from 5 PM that day to 11 AM the next.

Saturday was quite uneventful as well - we went to some party at my friends' new bf's place. Then left it. Then made last call at Buddies. It was quite a motley crew there, unsurprisingly.

Last night was a first for me. In a few respects.

I was at Yuk's last night to play for some dude's PENSION party. Yes. His name was Bob, he had turned 65 and was receiving his pension. And I was on the bill to entertain him. Ha-Cha-Cha. So the entire set that I wanted to do was thrown clear out da winda, and I had to improvise.

Thank GOD I checked DListed that day and remembered one of the Birthday sluts who had also turned 65 that very day. I have a bit where I ask if it's anyone's birthday, then tell them who they share a birthday with and say I was it on Entertainment Tonight Canada and then do a bit on that - whatever... the important thing is that I had ONE morsel of common interest dialogue with this pension celebration. I was like "Bob, do you know who you share the EXACT same birthday with? None other than star of "Dynasty", Linda Evans. She too, turns 65 years young today."

And this got a fucking applause break. For real - it was BIG NEWS for these people. And I was like "I think I can safely say that this was the one and only time that dropping Linda Evans' name will have ever resulted in applause at Yuk Yuk's..." Anyway. It was hilarious to me.

But what's gonna be hilarious to YOU?!

That's right!!! TOMORROW NIGHT!!! TOMORROW NIGHT!!! TOMORROW NIGHT!!!

Tickets are $7 and available at the door. I'd show up early. Like AT 8. I have a lingering suspicion that seating is going to be an issue tomorrow. Hmmm...

Anyway - see you tomorrow night! Yay!


--- Aj

You Told Harpo To Beat Me?!

Sorry...

I watched "The Colour Purple" for the first time this weekend, and I've kind of become obsessed - er, pardon me - I'ZE kind of become obsessed, mista.

"The Colour Purple" is an epic tale from the pen of Alice Walker - the quintessential be-dreadlock'd, cowell neck sweater-wearing, over sized gold jewellery-sporting African American poetess/noveless - and starred both Whoopi Goldberg and Oprah Winfrey in both their Oscar-nominated feature film debuts. The story centres around Celie - a poor, shy, unattractive black girl living in Georgia at the turn of the century who's raped and impregnated by her 'Pa not a'once but a'two time, then finally sold off to a man named 'Mister' (Danny Glover) to be his mammy.

I always thought a mammy was just an olde-tymey black maid a-la Mammy in "Gone With The Wind" or mayhaps Aunt Jemima, but apparently it's just like a being a wife against your will. So there's no pretense that they weren't strictly there to cook, clean, look after the chil'lins, and have sex whenever and wherever they massa done pleased so. Quaint.

Anyballs... the story follows Celie's journey to build her self-esteem in spite of Mister always trying to knock her down. She's flanked by a colourful cast of characters - none more colourful than "Shug"... a juke-joint chanteuse who doubles as Mister's mistress and apparently as Celie's lesbian lover, although that storyline isn't explored in the film.

At first I was all, "this is Brutal Rapefest 2007", but then I grew to love it; particularly whenever Oprah's character 'Sofia' punched someone in the face. That was pretty awesome...

*Sigh*. Add 'Sofia' in "The Colour Purple" onto the pile of roles that I should play but improbably (but not impossibly) won't.

I'm so obsessed with "The Colour Purple" that Monday night when I was at a show, this girl walked by wearing some unusual pants and I was heard to remark, "Look! That girl's wearing Miss Celie's Folkpants!"... I'm not exactly sure what "Folkpants" are, but they NEED to make a come back. Are you listenin', Old Navy? Good.

I might actually read the book now, my interest is that piqued. Or, at the very least, pen my own seminal coming-of-age novel about black women growing up in the south at the turn of the century. Only this time: it's THEM doing the raping. *HIGH FIVE*!

Anyballs... sorry I haven't blogged in the past two days... Monday I needed to tape a host audition for yet another Slice Network show... I can't wait until I find out how the cards fall with that one so I can tell you the premise of the show... it's a real hum dinger, let me tell ya...

Monday was Remembrance/Veteran's (well, the successful Veterans) day, and I meant to do a blog on that... so meh... full steam ahead.

I didn't wear a poppy this year. I don't know as if I ever wore a poppy. I'm sure I must have because I sort of flinch whenever I see someone put one on, which leads me to believe that I pricked myself with its unguarded pin-point at some point. Yes, I'm sure that's why, so yeah, I totally did.

Veteran's Day in the states is supposed to be about celebrating all the Veterans, but it's so not. It's only about celebrating the successful ones from World War's I and II, and the Korean War. Fuck Vietnam and super-fuck the misadventures in the Middle East. On that note, not much fan fare is made about the troops in Afghanistan here in Canada where we have Remembrance Day. But certainly fan fare and a solemn trumpet solo is well deserved to commemorate the lives lost fighting Nazis and the like.

Apparently I have an uncle, still alive, who was a war hero. Apparently he escaped from a Nazi camp. I know I've met him before - he seems pretty cheerful and quiet. Not the type that screams "I ESCAPED FROM A NAZI CAMP MOTHERFUCKER!!! I CAN KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!!!"... I don't actually know the specifics... every time my father - a bona fide war-history buff and card-carrying Civil War re creationist - tries to tell me, he falls into some never ending tangent about something loosely connected to the war, but ultimately related to the Civil War... then I say I have to go to the bathroom BUT TOTALLY DON'T... I just fucking leave and go watch TV or something. I'm such an asshole.

What makes me more of an asshole? On the 11th minute of the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of this year, I was not having a moment of silence. No No. I was watching Whoopi Goldberg confront Laura Ingraham about free speech on "The View". Well, I was being silent. So I guess that counts.

And I'm sure I listened to the song "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" at some point during the day, and I certainly know all the words to it, so there's that. OH! And just last week a bunch of us watched "A League Of Their Own" for the zillionth time... which is a wartime movie, so that counts as commemoration, too!

We decided several things while watching this: A.) We're going to adapt "A League Of Their Own" for the Broadway stage, B.) We're going to approach Kylie Minogue about writing the score/using her existing songbook and re-writing the lyrics and C.) Cast it using our friends...

Here's how the cards fell:

As team Chaperone Miss Cuthbert, Gail...
As 2nd basewoman Vivian Ernst, Kirsten...
As outfielder 'Mumbles' Brockman, Sheanna...
As pug-faced powerhouse hitter Marla Hooch, Kyte...
As heartbroken widow Betty "Spaghetti" Horn, Anth...
As 'Queen of Diamonds' Dottie Hinson and spotlight-stealing kid sister Kit Kellar, real-life sisters Meaghan and Heidi Brander!...
As beauty-queen turned shorstop Ellen-Sue Gotlander, Nicole Arbour...
As 1st basewoman/coffee-maker extraordinaire Helen Hayley, Muff...
As hardened team captain and has-been baseball legend Jimmy Dugan, Lariss...
As outfielder Connie Calhoun, Dini Dimakos...
As former dime-a-dancer "All The Way" Mae Mordabito, ME...
As surly 3rd basewoman Doris Murphy, Yerxa...
As Saskatchewanese centrefielder Alice "Skeeter" Gaspers, Deano...
As outfielder Neezer Dalton, Marianne...
As rightfielder and Stillwell's mother Evelyn Gardner, April Wozniak...
As shortstop Marbleann "Beans" Babbit, Andrea Caswell...
AND
As recovering illiterate Shirley Baker, Katherine "Kitty" Ryan...

Phew. That took a lot out of me.

Also... LESS THAN 1 WEEK AWAY!!!!!!!

It's gonna be huge. Look for an interview I did with Paul Bellini in tomorrow's Fab magazine!!!

--- Aj

Hocus Poke-us Retrospecticus

Is it Friday already?

I meant that facetiously... this has been the longest week EVER... and it's ooonly getting longer...

Well no, it's not really. It's effectively over today after I'm done postering the village and the gym. I might stay in tonight. I haven't decided. I probably won't, but I might.

This is boring. I'm sorry.

Now...... an unfashionably late recount of our annual Hallowe'en fete two weeks ago, "Hocus Poke-us"... with you penis!

Every year, it seems, the costumes get more and more brilliant and more fun is had... this year was in fine keeping with that rule...

Here's Kyte and Gail as Pete Doherty and Wonder Woman, respectively.

Gail opted for a classic, straight-forward approach, channelling Lynda Carter, and let's be honest... who the fuck can't appreciate that?

Kyte, on the other hand, kept it current as male trainwreck-du jour Pete Doherty, dousing himself in artificial vomit whose recipe I can't remember, but it was very well thought-out.

Something tells me it had maple syrup in it, but don't quote me...

Here's the lovely April Wozniak paying homage to the lovlier Divine... John Waters' muse and "Edna" in the original film version of "Hairspray".

They broke the mold when they made April Wozniak, let me tell ya.

While every desperate bitch and her mother was dressing up like a sexy cat this Hallowe'en, April Wozny up and does THIS - BRILLIANT!

And a rather obscure reference, too.

Meh. If someone didn't know who Divine was, we just told them she was Anna Nicole Smith and they were very rarely any the wiser...

Here's Anth and Cliffy Richie as Prince and Pugsley from "The Addams Family", respectively.

Well, I think Anth might be a cross betwixt Prince and a stunned marmasat... he's got a very wide-eyed, rainforrest creature look about him in every photo that I schnapped of him... Hmmm.

Cliffy Richie's not the only homo I saw donned in Pugsley-gear this year... Not that it was this super-popular costume or anything, but I guess I'm just surprised that it was go-to for more than one... Again, hmmm...

Dinilightful DiniLicious Dimakos hit the nail on the head as Britney Spears, present day.

From the cheetos to the Venti Frappucino, there was absolutely no mistaking her.

Methinks the only thing that would have made it more obvious that she was Britney Spears would have been for her to walk around naked from the waist down holding a chandelier catalogue.

Because if there's one thing that Britney Spears loves, it's chandeliers, apparently...

Here's Muff and I as just a regular-old Policewoman and Yacht captain (I FINALLY GOT A CAPTAIN'S HAT!!! SCORE!!!), respectively.

We weren't anyone specific, but if pressed, I guess you could say that I was "Sexy Gavin McLeod from The Love Boat" and she was "Sexy Cagney AND/OR Sexy Lacey"...

Whatever lets ya sleep at night...

The award for costume of the night, however, could have gone two very different, distinct ways...

A.) Heidi Brander as Zanessa - Zac Efron and Vanessa Anne Hudgens...

Yeah. It's pretty fucking brilliant. Agreed.

One side: Basketball champ Troy Bolton - Zac Efron's character from the "High School Musical" franchise...

The other: Plentifully-beaved superskank Vanessa Anne Hudgens... Zac Efron's current beard and co-star from HSM...

The one problem I have with this is that she had to include a bikini and didn't rock a googly-eye nipple and makeshift pubis.

So for that, Brander, you don't get costume of the night...

Sorry... but never underestimate the power of correct pubic hair configuration replication when putting together a costume...

I used to draw boardwalk chariacatures - you know those drawings you get done of yourself where your head is exponentially bigger than your body and you're doing something like go-karting or skateboarding? Yeah... I used to do those... - and I always realized that replicating the persons hair was the thing that really brought it all together...

I guess same rule applies to pubic hair configuration and Hallowe'en costumes...

Anyballs, the out-and-out star of the night also happened to be the host of the fete - Yerxa as Amy Winehouse...

Yes.

Yes...

... Yes.

Which one is which is what I wanna know - who's with me?

Yerx actually looked good as Amy Winehouse, which was terrifying...

Like, it was a very becoming look on him...

And because of that, here's one more...

Behold: Amy Winehomes.

You don't see his ballet slippers in it, but you get the point.

Best story that may embarrass Yerx but is just to funny not to tell:

The moment I saw this bitch I was like, "You're totally going to pick up as Amy Winehouse. It's totally going to happen".

And it totally did. Kicker: Leaving the dude's house in the morning, which was November 1st, he discovers his Metropass has expired - fucking Metropasses... -

So he gotta WALK HOME AS AMY WINEHOUSE in the unforgiving autumn morning sun...

Kicker on top of the previous kicker: one of his ballet slippers broke the night previous, so he had to walk home Cinderella stylez...

Anyway... that's it... have a good weekend everybody... and remember - 10 DAYS AWAY FROM THE NEXT BITCH SALAD!!!

--- Aj