Better Late Than Never...

Yeah yeah yeah, I missed recapping the 'shocking upset' on American Idol... I was busy! Suck it!

Yesterday was maddening. MADDENING. I'm going to try and describe this situation as diplomatically as per possible: currently, the company that I work for is working on a project with another company, and the bitch in charge of manning operations for this other company is driving me MENTAL. She calls me about EVERYTHING. Assuming that I a.) know the answer and b.) give a remote fuck in hell about what she's talking about - I DON'T. I guess it's sort of my fault... in the beginning, I was being very helpful and very available - which is such a mistake. Whenever you make yourself overly available in any sort of relationship, it's so hard to redefine that dynamic later on. Well, in most cases. My current strategy is just to completely withdraw myself and act like a total bitch, but it doesn't seem to be working. This is a actual conversation that took place yesterday:

Her: "Andrew! I didn't get a receipt for my cab!" (A cab that she literally took from King & Yonge to King & University... yeah... 4 fucking blocks... it wouldn't have been more than 5 bucks...)

Me: "Oh. Well, you know whose problem that is?"

Her: [stares at me as if I'm actually going to give her someone to contact about this...]

Me: "... NOT MINE!"

Sheesh. Whatevs... so yeah... yesterday was just caught up in a lot of bureaucratic hussmuss that made me want to wretch, and I'm so, so, so sorry about neglecting this here blog and that there American Idol finale. Sooo... better late than never...

Idol Finale. Thoughts:

First off... a little red carpet re-cap...

- Paula Abdul continues to tumble towards looking like present-day Chita Rivera...

- What a coincidence! Number 9 and number 5 on my list of all-time Plus-Sized Sistahs, Cammy Manheim and Marissy JW respectively, rockin' the red carpet...

- And, prepare yourself for this onset of dream-boat winners... Holy fuck... there's so much failure comin' at ya here, you'll be recoilled in the fetal position by the time it's done...

You can't stop the beat...

There's more...

Wowza. Those 9 should start some sort of cougar-specific all-male burlesque revue or production of The Pirates of Penzance or something... I can't believe all that washed-up boy beav was congregated together in one place at one time...

Anyway... pressing on to the actual show...

- 90-something million votes. Good grief. That's a lot of cell phone minutes, losers.

- Do you know who I love? Like, LOVE? Mikalah Gordon. Despite the fact that her voice sounds like a robot quiffing, I fucking loved her in Season 4... so happy to see her back, even if it is in remote-hometown-correspondent capacity.

- D'Cook sounded good on Chad Kroeger's "Hero" - I imagine this is the kind of fare we can expect from him in the immediate future. D'Archuleta, however, looked like a Make A Wish kid having a Make A Wish moment next to him during this.

- Guess what I won't be seeing: Mike Myers in "The Love Guru".

- My my my that YeYe Mercado seems to be confidant. She's certainly sporting this air of entitlement all evening as if to say "I made third place because of m'talent 'n ch'risma, y'all. How the hell else would I be singin' with Seal Klum?" No, honey. You made third place because of voter displacement and a timely peak in ability. So you just go ahead and wipe that damned smirk off yo face...

- You know what might not have been the proudest moment of my life if I were one of the gals in this year's Top 12? Being a glorified backup singer for Donna Summer as she debuted her new single, "Stamp Your Feet". Well, actually that'd be pretty awesome for me, as I'm a great big fat fag who loved me some Donna Summer since I was 8 years old, but I can't imagine it was very dignified moment for them.

- It occurs to me more and more with each passing second how much I'm going to miss Amanda Overmyer. Here's an idea for you, Fox Reality Channel: give Amanda her own show where she's put into situations that she doesn't want to be in... because she's just about the most amusing person to watch not be into doing something...

- It's official: Michael Johns and Carly Smithson were outrageously good. Also official: Brooke White was outrageously bad. What were people thinking?!

- A Bryan Adams cameo?! Holy crow, they really went all out for this...

- I spoke too soon... David Cook gets to duet with ZZ Top?!?! TALK ABOUT STAR POWER!!!

- Again, the Jonas Brothers. Apparently they're big with the kids. Is anyone else deeply, deeply unsettled by their appearance?! They dress like Mr. Howell from Gilligan's Island with this emo twist and I just get the most reverberating feeling that there's incest afoot... but maybe that's just me...

- An Idol finale wouldn't be an Idol finale without Idol alumnus pushing their next single down our throat - this time around, we're treated to two: perennial Idol darling Carrie Underwood and her sassy new hit, "Last Name" - a song about meeting a guy in a bar, making out with him and not even knowing his last name... what a shocker! Maybe she can do a remix of it for the gay clubs called "First Name" - about meeting a guy in a bar, sleeping with him and not knowing his first name, last name or race, because I'mma tell ya, that'd be a considerably more relatable scenario in my 'circle'... And of course, Jordin Sparks... who, still rockin' her linebacker build, decided to dawn a gold lame baby doll dress - a move that I can only assume was made to intentionally draw similarities between her and a drag queen... specifically: Toronto's own Sofonda Cox...

- I guess if there was one, the comedic highlight of the night came with that CGI-d retelling of Gladys Knight & The Pips performing "Midnight Train to Geo'gia" with Ben Stiller, Jack Black and Robert Downey, Jr. subbing in for the original Pips. Who decided that Robert Downey, Jr. was going to become relevant of a sudden? Like, when and why did this happen?

- The George Michael medley. Hmmm. Best part of this: during the boys' group warbling of "Father Figure", Stripper for a mostly male audience-cum-Idol finalist David Hernandez was given the following lyric: "For just one moment, to be bold and naked, at your side". And he cheekily whispered "naked". Yay. He's in on the joke.

- Speaking of George Michael, the cold that was ailing him must have been severe, because he sounded 0.0 percent like himself. Whatever - Paula was certainly reduced to tears. Presumably because she was silently reminiscing about the good old days of having coke fueled orgies after the 1989 MTV VMA's...

- Then of course, came the shocker: D'Cook takes the cake. Well, who fuckin' saw that one comin' - not me. I was actually shocked. Actually amazed that D'Archuleta didn't sufficiently pluck at people's heartstrings and voting fingers. That D'Cook has some mighty fervent fans... maybe they'll make good by him... Anyballs... That just about concludes that...

Oh yeah,

TUESDAY!!!!!!!!!!

AHHHHH!!!!! Can you not wait?!

I'm posting the mix tomorrow...

--- Aj

Umm, yeah.

D'afternoon to y' and y'rs...

To those of you in Toronto - hold onto your hats! Literally. It is downright gusty up in here! As one Anna Nicole Smith once said in an episode in which she's taken to the rodeo on a blind date - in words that ultimately proved to be more immortal than her - "... ... ... it's windy."

I guess that's not as funny if you didn't see it/know the context. Looking amazing in this size XXXL cowgirl outfit and in one of her trademark barbiturate stupors, she's sitting in these bleachers next to this incredibly homely yet quite earnest guy, the wind's whipping everywhere, he leans over to her and asks, "Are you havin' a good time?" to which she replies, "... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... s'windy." Maybe it's just funny/memorable to me. Whatevs...

I'm doing another Bitch Salad photo shoot today (yes... for the June edition... and the May one hasn't even happened yet... fucko...), so time's a little tight unfortunately... but it wouldn't be a Wednesday if I didn't blog about Idol... sooooo...

IDOL LAST NIGHT.

Final Showdown. GO!

General Note: Yawn. And also, the boxing match metaphor made me want to die.

Honestly, I couldn't care less... but whatever... a showdown happened, and some sort-of surprises occurred... the final 2 were blessed by music mogul Clive Davis (all 109 years of him or however the fuck old the bitch is) who chose 1 song for them, they got their pick of 10 requisite message songs written for the winner, and got to do an entirely new number/revive one of their greatest hits over the course of the series...

For weeks now, whenever anyone has asked me "which one of the two David's do you think will win?" - I've replied "whoever sings last". Honestly. It would be that easy. And, from my estimation after seeing last night's performances, I expect to be right.

D'Cook - already at a severe handicap having to sing first - withdrew himself from the competition last night (something made very clear with his caviet off the top that "at this point it's not who wins or loses but about having fun) which I think was a bone-headed move but one I can't say I don't empathize with. The situation is that David Archuleta - someone who lives and breathes on gobby, definitive, sentimental message songs and milks them to death - was having the last word tonight. It was kind of a losing battle... still, there are things he could have done to make a case for himself... The first song was fine, a serviceable, inoffensive version of the original... the second song was as unputrid as it could have possibly been (for an Idol single, that is), but sort of a case for why a 'rocker' doesn't work in the Idol machine: there's nothing really rebellious and angsty about achieving your dreams overnight... the third song might as well just been an enormous coffin door slamming shut followed by a fog horn... This was the time to re-trot out "Billie Jean" or "Always Be My Baby" or a mashup of them called "Always Be My Billie Jean" or SOMETHING to remind people why they liked you all season... he was just a supporting player tonight...

D'Archuleta, on the other hand, literally delivered a 1-2-3 punch. That's all there is to it. I don't think I need to elaborate. His theme all season has been "more of the same" and that was tonight. I will say that he did bring a certain intensity and yearning (as it were) to his performances tonight that wasn't there for say, Neil Diamond week, but yeah...

I will quite actually hop out m'seat tonight if D'Archuleta doesn't win.

That's all.

Oh, and -

Yes. This coming Tuesday. Come.

--- Aj

We'll Always Have Ajax...

Why hello...

Greetings and a happy Tuesday to you... specifically those of you whom I said "see you next Tuesday" last Tuesday... I wasn't making an acronym for "cunt" as you might have guessed - nono. I actually meant I'd see you next Tuesday. Which is today. Anyballs...

So Victoria Day weekend - widely known as "May 24 weekend". Officially: a holiday to celebrate the life & times of one of the greatest prudes in history, Queen Victoria. Unofficially: the first big cottage weekend for Canadians of all ages. If you were a cottage-goer this weekend, well it sucked pig balls to be you. It was downright miserably weather on Sunday and Monday. And I guffaw at your misfortune. I spent Sunday and Monday eating and sleeping, and would have even if the weather was more conducive to outdoor frollicking. SO. THERE.

But that was Sunday and Monday...

As I had mentioned, I spent the weekend entertaining those in and around the glorious suburb of Ajax, Ontario - something I was wary about, to say the least. Yeah. Apparently - Ajax rules. I had the best time ever, if not a bit strange.

Highlights:

- I was approached by an Ajaxian (that's what they're called... pronounced "A-jay-shee-an")-based gay couple for a three way next time I'm in the area.

- An older, well-coiffed woman came up to me after the Friday show and asked if she could "show me a picture of [her] babies"... she pulled out a photo of her 20-something son, his 20-something husband and their single-digit-something adopted son... it was laminated. LAMINATED. And it was an unusual size - not 5 1/2 x 7 and not 8 x 10 but one of those in-between custom sizes that you need to order and wait 6-8 weeks for... I don't quite know why she was showing me that... I assume she was trying to broker a three-way between them and myself, as that sort of stuff seems to be in the water in Ajax...

- A woman came up to me to have me sign a Yuk's monthly calendar for her kids, apparent Video On Trial fans... and with prancing like this, who wouldn't want an autograph?! (skip to 3:27):

Anyway... I didn't know what to write, so I gave her the classic: "We'll always have Ajax, Love & Light, Andrew Johnston".

So yeah - THIS WEEKEND ROCKED.

In other news:

I'm thoroughly conflicted as to how I feel about Stacey "Fergie" Ferguson...

On one hand, she's responsible for a song that I'm presently OBSESSED with - the theme to the Sex & The City movie, entitled "Labels Or Love"... Download/Listen to it HERE! Honestly... I'm obsessed with it... I've basically been listening to it non-stop for the past two weeks...

On the other hand, she continues to cover Heart's "Baracuda" and do back flips like she's some Japanese robo-puppy on the fritz... so yeah... I don't quite know how to feel about her...

One thing I certainly DO know how to feel about, however...

ONE WEEK AWAY TODAY!!!

AHHHH!!!!

That's right. It's going to be oh-so amazing. I'm posting the mix Thursday. It's going to make you so horny, you might die.

That's it for me today...

Smell ya later,

--- Aj

That "Plus-Sized Sistas" Blog

Well good Friday to you...

Not like, "Good Friday", the Easter holiday, but yeah, you get it...

Soooo...

Sorry for not blogging yesterday... I had to get my 'ducks in a row' as it were, as I'm at Yuk Yuk's in Ajax all weekend EmCeeing for the ever-delightful and always-hilarious Nikki Payne. Ajax. Yeah. Quite something. I stepped out of the car, looked around, and remarked out loud: "... ... ... people live here?" But it's just about as enjoyable as ever - really great, enthusiastic crowds and Miss Payne fucking destroys it. DESTROYS. We're there tonight and tomorrow night, so if you're a burb dweller east of Toronto, come the fuck down, y'all!!!

Moving on...

BIG NEWS!

Well, it took them 10 'cycles', but Tyra Banks & Co. have finally crowned a plus-sized girl America's Next Top Model!!!

Thaaaat's right - congratulations Whitney Thomson!!!

Whitney - and don't get me started on how awesome her name is in the first place - did what many thought the impossible, and outlasted traditional ANTM skinny bitch model fare (how many people thought Somalian beauty Fatima or positively translucent Anya was gonna take it?) to become the first full-figured winner of America's Next Top Model.

I was very happy. Whitney was my fave from almost-day 1. And, as per usual, I was expecting her ouster from about week 2 onward as they never, ever keep the big girl. Traditionally, 'cracks start to appear'... the girl looses her confidence... she's not servin' up the fierceness... so I was delighted that Whitney finally broke that trend.

And yes yes yes, there's a firestorm of rumours out there that she was asked to apply when she was modelling a size 2, being told that they'd have her on the show as the 'plus-sized girl' if she gained 20 pounds (rumours that are certainly supported by these pre-ANTM shots of her) and blah blah blah... so yeah, that all very much discredits her 'struggle', but whatevs... I choose to celebrate her appointment as America's Next Top Model on principal. So fuck it.

Anyway, to celebrate America's Next Top Model crowning its first-ever plus-sized winner, and because I haven't done a Top 10 list in a coon's age... I now present:

MY TOP 10 PLUS-SIZED SISTAS... EVER!!!

General Note: This list is for tried and true full-figured ladies. NOT for ladies who were formerly livin' large then lost it (I'm looking at you Ricki Lake, Carnie Wilson and Starlette Jones...) nor for bitches who started thin then gained (Kirstie Alley, Sally Struthers, surprisingly even Rita MacNeill...)

10. NELL CARTER


Star of stage (Ain't Misbehavin') and screen (Gimme A Break, much?), the squeaky-voiced Nell Carter worked it out with two breasts as big as planets for her entire time with us. Sadly, she passed away due to heart-disease and complications from diabetes (and some rumoured c'caine use somewhere up in there as well...) in 2003, but her legacy survives... mainly through this.

9.) CAMRYN MANHEIM

One of the most outspoken poster-girls for ladies of a certain girth, Cammy Manheim is most recognizable as Elenor Frutt on the long-running legal drama The Practice (and of course, as over-eager Yearbook editor Toby in Romy & Michele's High School Reunion, whom Jeneane Garofalo's character keeps telling to 'fuck off'). Her big break almost never happened: she was constantly told she'd never play anything except for nurses and prison wardens, she won her star-making role of Elenor Frutt by beating Practice creator David E. Kelly at a game of cribbage. Her book, "Wake Up, I'm Fat!", continues to serve as a bible for big girls everywhere...

8.) KATHY BATES

Oscar-winner for her turn as the demented Annie Wilkes in Misery, and Oscar-nominee for her turn in About Schmidt in which she let it all hang out... and out and out and out in a much-talked-about hot-tub scene. Kathy Bates basically rules. Basically. Just don't swear around her or she'll break your fucking legs.

7.) ROSEANNE

Ahhhh Roseanne Barr Arnold Thomas Barr - the O.G. full-figured force to be reckoned with. Star and producer of the greatest sitcom in the history of television, the self-titled "Roseanne", she defied convention and redefined what was formerly considered sexy and funny with each passing episode. Although her career has all but petered out lately, we'll always have Lanford...

6.) TOCCARA JONES

The apparent poster girl for full-figured women of colour, Toccara rocketed to fame as the sassy requisite plus-sized girl on the third season of America's Next Top Model. The constant stand-out, she won the "Cover Girl Of The Week" viewer poll nearly every week until she cast off at seventh place... (every season, they always cut the plus-sized girl RIGHT before they went abroad... I guess they thought they could cut air-fare costs by shipping a lighter load... who knows). Since then she's become a BET staple and regular on Celebrity Fit Club... and frequently appears in several black men's magazines displaying her best assets... apparent standout quote from the above article, "People been talkin' about my booty. That's a new experience for me". Me as well Toccy, me as well.

5.) MARISSA JARET WINOKUR

I'm not entirely certain, but I'm quite confidant that if you scrouned the earth you could not find a more effervescent person than MJW. First appearing on everyone's radar as Kevin Spacey's boss at the drive-thru in American Beauty, Marissa became a legend when she stepped into the Buster Brown's of Tracy Turnblad, originating the role in the Broadway production of Hairspray - eventually winning the Tony award for it and delivering an acceptance speech to rival Halle Berry's. She broke ground again very recently by cracking the semi-finals of Dancing With The Stars, only to be voted off this past week... whatever... she fucking rules...

4.) MAMA CASS

Light-years ahead of her time, Mama Cass was the ballsy, brassy star of 60's melodic quartet The Mama's & The Papa's. Sort of the prototype of Tracy Turnblad - spunky, portly chick with a voice as big as her confidence... she's even from Baltimore! - no one else came remotely close to what Mama Cass was sellin' in the mid-60's, and no one has since. This clip of her doing "Dream A Little Dream of Me" on The Smothers Brothers show = perfection.

3.) DEBRA DiGIOVANNI

Yaaaaay a homegrown entry! That's right - beyond being one of the quintessential female presences in comedy, Deb DG stands as the comedic voice for the big girls out there in Canada nd soon: THE WORLD.

2.) JANN ARDEN

Keep the CanCon comin' - who doesn't love this "Insensitive" Canadian singer/songwriter who once famously recalled being told that she "was 20 pounds away from being a superstar". As famous for her onstage banter as she is her solid melodies, who the balls doesn't love Jann Arden???? Not me, that's for certain... as per evidenced by this picture I had taken with her at Brockville's Riverfest celebrations back in 1998:

Yep. For those of you who didn't believe that I had the EXACT same haircut as Backstreet Boy Nick Carter in the late 90's, BELIEVE IT.

But

There

Can

Only

Be

1.) MICHAEL LAWRENCE DOYLE YERXA

Pictured in one of my proudest photoshop creations, my best co-fag beats all these bitches HANDS DOWN. Y'welcome baby - y'Numba 1!!!

And no... Beth Ditto's not on the list... she kinda scares me... deal with it...

In other news:

AHHHH!!! ALMOST A WEEK AWAY!!!!

Gotta go to Ajax,

People live here?

--- Aj

Iiiiiiiiddddddoooooolllllllllllllllll....

Hey jokers, smokers, midnight tokers...

Alright...

Down to bidness...

Idol last night -


General Note: Ahhhh the Top 3 show... historically, a night where two neatly carved-out front-runners further cement their status, and a third man/woman out - often times obliviously - marches towards the proverbial neuce at the end of the hallway... Just ask the likes of Nikki McKibbin, Kimberley Locke, Jasmine Trias, Vonzie Solomon, Elliott Yamin and Mindy Doolittle... well, Elliott and Mindy were a little less obvious, but still... anyballs... tonight was absolutely, positively no exception to this rule... and so we begineth:

TOP 3 NIGHT... GO!

David Archuleta is first... Arch has been at the centre of controversy this week thanks to that pain-in-the-taint father of his, Jeff, and his on-set 'antics' - apparently the bitch controlled every move of Arch's right down to his squint - but has since been, and I quote, "BANISHED"... so let's just see how little Arch rolls on his own... he opened with some Billy Joel song, and it was his signature brand of quaint... his second song - a cover of nouveau-Bobby Brown/Sisqo Chris Brown's "With You" - was embarrassing with a capital "ASS"... it opened with him chanting appropriated ebonics like "yo, boo" or something and was just all kinds of wrong... he couldn't get jiggy with it if his life depended on it... Honestly, he looked like a 70-year-old man... bitch should have just played it safe and done some REO Speedwagon or sumpin'... anyballs - his last song I couldn't remember for the life of me and I'm pretty sure I was stalking someone I've slept with before over facebook while he was singing it because that is how little I care... but yeah, it was more of the same balladeerism that we've grown to expect from him and I'm sure he'll have nothing to worry about come tonight...

Ohhhhhhhhhhh YeYe... YeYe, YeYe, YeYe... It was all I could do to hope that Miss YeYe got it... she just got the fact that she didn't have a prayer in heaven, hell or anywhere in between and just went out there and said 'fuck it'... that for her personal pick, she chose Khia's "My Neck, My Back" (continued lyrics of the song: "licky mah pussy and mah crack". Yes.) and when the judges gave her criticism, she fired back "yeah, well at least I can remember the lyrics to m'damn song! SHIT!" and just went wild... alas, YeYe was still 'in it to win it', revealing that her head is so far up her ass she can taste her brain... *sigh*... she started off with the judges' pick, Alicia Keys' "If I Ain't Got You" - which was pretty much like being challenged to reinvent the wheel... a losing battle, is what I'm sayin'. Her second song - which again, should have been Khia's "My Neck, My Back" or something provocative and audacious - was a neat little turn with the cheeky jazz staple "Fever"... it was not without it's charms, but no where near what it needed to be to make a case for YeYe's continuation in this competition - but a hell of a venue for an audition in the touring company of "The Colour Purple"... for her last song, the producer's choice, well fuck... the producer's might as well have just gone out there and kicked her in the box one-by-one... BECAUSE THEY GAVE HER A SONG FROM "HAPPY FEET"... a song that no one knew on top of that... I get what they were trying to do - make her do something Rihanna-esque to try and communicate what kind of artist she'd be and album she'd make, but unfortunately it did her 0.0 favours... it would have been wiser and more representative of the kind of 'artist' she is to give her something like "I'm Just A Girl Who Can't Say No" from Oklahoma! or "Busom Buddies" from Mame or some shit like that... oh well...

David Cook is sailing through to tomorrow night as easily as Easy-baked pie. His first song - a Matchbox 20-esque take on a Roberta Flack ballad - was arguably one of his better performances... save for the woman standing up throughout (and no... it was NOT clear that it was his mother DURING the performance... I thought she was just a random, desperate 60-something lady)... Unfortunately the evening kind of went downhill for him... his Switchfoot (whoever they are) song was forgettable and shrieky and "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing" failed to deliver the show-stopper he needed - made considerably worse by the pan to the unspeakably heinous visage of the authoress of the song, Diane Warren... t'was a night where D'Cook could have pulled miles ahead of D'Archuleta, but instead closed the gap - setting things up for a remotely interesting finale, at least.

GOING...

Well, this is a tough one-YEAH, NO. YeYe - you've cried your final baby cry and compared your Idol experience to the civil rights movement for the last time. See ya never.

In other news...

The zoology community is abuzz this week with reports that nearly 38 sting rays have died in a sting ray exhibit at a Calgary zoo. Toronto zoologans remain undeterred: the sting ray exhibit at the Toronto Zoo is set to go on regardless.

Here's my take on the matter... STING RAY EYES LOOK LIKE ASSHOLES!!! AHHHH!!!

In other, other news:

LESS THAN TWO WEEKS AWAY!!!

That's it for me...

Tonight on ANTM: Goooooo Whitney!

That's all,

--- Aj

That "Anna Wintour" Blog

Happy Tuesday to you...

Things are eerily calm in my office right now. Eerily calm. My boss is currently the star witness in this case against Garth Drabinsky or something in the hibbidy hoobady that I don't quite understand and think it's in my best interests not to. Apparently he's being cross-examined by the Greenspan brothers today, who are apparently the biggest shit deal in terms of lawyers in this country (excluding, of course, one Michael Johnston - easily the best darned real-estate, divorce and private adoption lawyer in the known world/my dad)... but yeah, these dudes repped Conrad Black. So my boss is being pistol-whipped by them today. Yikes.

Anyballs - everyone's been asking me if the phone's been ringing off the hook with press enquiries, which of course it isn't... I kind of wish it was though... so I could act really cold and elusive...

SPEAKING OF COLD AND ELUSIVE - what a segue! - I recently finished reading a book that's changed my life infinitely for the better... "Front Row: Anna Wintour: The Cool Life and Hot Times of Vogue's Editor in Chief" by Jerry Oppenheimer... it's basically a really trashy, pieced-together bio but it's written by a stuffy British guy who uses words like "grandiloquent" so at times it sounded like something I could picture myself reading whilst sitting in a drawing room sipping a snifter of Grand Marnier...

Anna Wintour, of course, is the legendary style maven and editrix-in-chief of Vogue Magazine renowned for her never-changing bob hairstyle and icy-if not-cruel demeanour. And I am currently OBSESSED with her.

Here's a precis of her life 'n times...

Her family, for the most part, are a bunch of dowdy do-gooders - except, of course, her father - Charles Wintour... the former editor of London's Evening Standard. He was known as "Chilly Charlie" to those in his employ because of his icy demeanour - one that Anna obviously inherited. It's speculated that this is due to the accidental death of his first-born song, Gerald. Anyballs... Anna was always her father's favourite, but he never saw too much in the stars for her... just a married socialite basically.

As a child Anna could be characterized as being A.) very shy and B.) very independent. In her mid-teens she moved into the basement apartment in her family's impossibly British townhouse and started dating - some men nearly twice her age. This never bothered her parents, apparently. It's also believed that she was sexually active with these men. It's around this age that she also adopted her signature bob and - save for a photo shoot she did with a photographer beau of hers later in her 20's - never altered it.

She was very active in the swinging 60's London scene, but very reserved and never drank. One thing that a lot of people don't know is that Anna - much like Amy Poehler's character Angie in the number-1 box office smash Baby Mama, "discontinued high school". That's right. The amount of formal education - or rather, lack thereof - that Anna has is staggering considering that she's the editor of one of the world's foremost publications. The only sort of post-secondary education she has was a sort of work-study program in fashion management that she also "discontinued".

Her start in fashion was modest: a summer job as a shopgirl at Biba. Y'all know Biba, right? A chain of affordable fashions popular in small town strip malls (there's one in Brockville, that's all I'm sayin'). Yeah, well back in the 60's the original Biba boutique was the shit, yo. Her father Charles got it for her, quite surprised that she wanted to work at all. Anyballs, because of a well-connected dude she was dating at the time (the prominent theme in the life of Anna Wintour), she got a job as an editorial assistant at a magazine named Harper's & Queen.

In the mid-70's, she met the man who many consider the love of her life: Jon Bradshaw - Anna's Mr. Big for all intents and purposes. Fed up with London - and always, always, always having her eyes on the prize that was American Vogue - she fled to New York with him determined to make a name for herself in the American magazine market. Using Bradshaw's connections, she got a job at Harper's Bazaar which lasted less than a year until she was given the heave-ho after disputes with the editor (did I just write "heave-ho"? Really? Wow.)

According to many sources and to Anna herself, following her disastrous stint as associate editor at Bazaar, she freelanced for a couple of years before getting back on the train - this is all phenomenal bullshit, apparently. For 2 very distinct years, she was a fashion editor at a magazine named Viva. VIVA! What was Viva, y'ask? Viva was the female companion magazine to Penthouse... yep... it was a Bob Guccione production run by his main ho, former stripper-turned-entrepeneuse Kathy Keeton. There's the first couple of classiness pictured to the right...

Anna always felt the job was beneath her - which is why she has never even remotely acknowledged it since - but was given complete creative control and an unlimited budget whilst there (all those bare, eager pussy shots that Penthouse spearheaded - although not exactly artful - amply paid 'da bills, apparently)... It's around this time that Anna also acquired her first personal assistant, who she promptly proceeded to put through hell... one particular assistant recounted that she'd catch Anna standing in her office "throwing out pennies" from her wallet into her garbage (I find that fucking hysterical for some reason) and that every day Anna would make her trek across town to get her this very specific soup that she'd throw an enormous gob of butter into, let it melt a bit, then eat the butter... "It struck me as just a way to eat the butter"... again... I find this hysterical...

By 1979, the party was over. Viva folded, and Anna was out of a job. According to Mr. Oppenheimer the next few years of Anna's life had her gadding about on Concords all over the world with this French disco producer named Esteban something. The details are scant.

Her return to publishing came in the early 80's courtesy of Jon Bradshaw, once again. He hooked her up with a job as fashion director of a magazine called Savvy - geared towards the professional working woman, a-la Melanie "Tess McGill" Griffith in Working Girl. Her work was turning heads, landing her the primo gig as fashion director at New York magazine.

Sometime within her stint at New York, she was granted an audience with then-editrix-in-chief of Vogue, Grace Mirabella - a woman who would go on to become one of Anna's most sworn enemies. Legend has it that in the 10-minute meeting betwixt the two fashionistas, when asked by Mirabella what job Anna would like at Vogue, Anna replied "Well, yours". SNAP! She was quickly hustled the hell out of there and back to her job at New York.

As it turns out, Grace Mirabella Schmrace Schmerabella, Anna had successfully wooed editorial director of Conde Nast, Alex Liberman who quickly found her a home within the Conde Nast family. She was brought in as 'creative director' of American Vogue which was basically code for 'pain in Grace Mirabella's vag' - she butted in on everything, changing things for no reason whatsoever and just generally being a shit-disturbing menace for the sake of being a shit-disturbing menace.

T'was also at this time that she met her first husband, renowned child psychiatrist (and renowned fug... holy balls the man is grotesque... them kids of theirs is lucky they got Anna's looks... let me tell ya) David Shaffer (pictured). He's been noted as being her constant support system and Svengali, single-handedly maneuvering all of Anna's brilliant career moves. In return, she bore him two children - Charlie (after her father) and Bee (birthname Katherine... apparently she always referred to herself as "bah-bee" when she was little, so the nickname Bee was born and stuck).

Anyballs... no sooner than she popped Charlie out of her cooch was she sent packing back to London where she assumed job as editrix-in-chief of British Vogue. It's here that she met another candidate for the arch-nemesis of her life: Liz Tilberis - a fashion editor who was vying for the job before Anna came and eventually inherited after she left. Under Anna's rule, British Vogue changed completely - Anna basically used it as a template for what she'd do with American Vogue. This didn't sit well with the old guard, whose lives she made a living hell.

Under the guise of 'needing to be with her family' and certainly NOT because she 'was being groomed by Conde Nast super-powers Alex Liberman and Si Newhouse - two men who were absolutely smitten with Anna and her knowingly put on school-girl-esque charms - to take over for Grace Mirabella at American Vogue because she just wasn't measuring up', Anna was relocated back to the US to take over as editor-in-chief of House & Garden magazine. Yeah, she absolutely destroyed it. Completely. Reinvented it as HG... made it celeb & garmet-centric as opposed to the interior digest it used to be... completely ran it into the ground...

Around this time, a little magazine called Elle was coming to prominence - featuring a younger, fresher, hipper take on fashion. Liberman and Newhouse told Grace Mirabella: BE MORE LIKE ELLE! Mirabella was all: LICK MY BALLS, BITCH! So, they canned her ass. Enter Anna Wintour into the top job at American Vogue. T'was her life's ambition and she's been there ever since. *pats hands together as if to say "case closed"*

Since then, of course, her marriage dissolved upon meeting hunky Texan telecommunications mogul J. Shelby Bryan... a torrid affair that played out in the tabloids and caused multiple cracks in her famously steely facade... at one particularly low point, she was seen at one of her Costume Institue Gala's with "mascara running down her face" after Bryan shunned her... the book notes that one of the guests in attendance this particular evening - the ever-irascible Whitney Houston - was noted as saying that Anna was "going to fuck that boyfriend of hers up!"

I just really had to throw that in there...

Also of note - as everyone knows, a tasty little roman a clef entitled "The Devil Wears Prada" was penned about an assistant's experience working under Anna at Vogue by an author named Lauren Weisberger. According to sources at Vogue who worked with Weisberger at the time, she was apparently quite content to be there. The 'memoir' came entirely out of left field...

Also of note - arguably her fiercest rival is Vanity Fair-turned-New Yorker editrix Tina Brown. The two go way back: Back in the day, Brown's father was a B-movie producer in England who's movies were constantly sneered at by Anna's father's paper - something that Tina Brown never forgot. Once the shit hit the fan re: Anna's affair with Shelby Bryan, Tina made it her business to smear it around as much as she could. Additionally - following the death of Princess Diana, Brown aired the details of a hyper-exclusive lunch date that Anna, Tina and Di had thereby scooping Anna and making her see fluorescent red.

Finally - Anna Wintour and PETA are not friends. Anna's a big wearer of fur. Apparently them crazy folks at PETA aren't so into that. They've dumped a dead raccoon on her plate when she was out dining (which, apparently, she just casually pushed to the side and continued with her meal). They've pied her with a tofu pie during Paris Fashion Week (pictured), she pronounces that "tofu is good for the skin". The use an image of her furled jaw looking like an angered opossum in one of their anti-fur adds. May the good times continue to roll. Upon visiting their website, they give Anna's contact info:

Anna Wintour, Editor
Vogue
Condé Nast
4 Times Square
New York, NY
10036

Tel.: 212-880-8800
Fax: 212-880-8169

I'm totally going to send a junk fax right now. Saying what, I'm unsure. Whatever.

In other news:

TWO WEEKS TODAY!!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Anyballs... phew... that's it for me today...

--- Aj

Haute Topics

One great big Monday howdy'do to y' and y'rs...

How was your weekend? Great? Good? Good but not great? The former would describe mine... Friday night I did absolutely 0.0 things in anticipation for a photo shoot for Now Magazine that I had to do Saturday morning... So I laid depth-defyingly low Friday night out of fear that I'd come to set with enormous circles under my eyes or worse, sleep in past it only to arrive three hours late, have them pissed at me and intentionally photograph me looking heinous a-la Carrie Bradshaw in that episode of S&TC when she's on the cover of the magazine that was originally supposed to be under the headline "Single & Fabulous!" but was instead changed to "Single & Fabulous?"... yeah... my greatest fear... can you tell I'm counting down the days until I can get Carried away?

Anyballs... Saturday was more of the same... following the shoot, Trevor Boris, Dana Alexander and m'self went for some brunch - Dana and I drank [obviously], Trevor didn't... then the gaggle of us went and hung some posters for the next Bitch Salad... WHICH, by the way, HAPPENS TWO WEEKS TOMORROW!!! AHHHHH!!!

Following that, I had the tastiest nap in the world to the sights and sounds of one "Corrina, Corrina" in the background - thank God for Peachtree TV is all I'm sayin'... and for that movie... I loves me a light-hearted story about interracial love in the 1950's starring a pre-The View Whoopi Goldberg and a pre-Napoleon Dynamite Tina Majorino - then went out a'trawlin' for boy beav, which - by the by - seems to be in severe shortage right now... much like rice in China and Bangladesh... methinks it might need to rationed as well in the near future... anyballs - none of this important. Shia LaBeouf hosted SNL again... it kind of sucked... except for this sketch spoofing that all-time greatest game show that NEEDS NEEDS NEEDS to make a comeback, "Match Game":

Oh land's sakes that's entertaining. I don't know if you watched Match Game - you probably didn't - but I used to watch re-runs of it on the Game Show Network as a kid and I fucking loved it... they'd always be smoking and drinking at the table without chagrin and the answer for EVERYTHING was either "Making Whoopee" OR something to do with the resident titmeat's "buzooms". AMAZING.

In other TV-related news...

Do you know what show I'm obsessed with? Like OBSESSED with? "Celebrity Rehab" with Dr. Drew... It's exactly what it sounds like it is... it's like a cross betwixt A&E's Intervention and The Surreal Life... the "celebrities" involved include but are not limited to: Daniel Baldwin (the least successful Baldwin), Porn star Mary Carey (who was on the receiving end of a lawsuit c/o Mariah Carey), former wrestler and celebreality show fixture Joanie "Chyna Doll" Lauer, Seth "Shifty Shellshock" or something from that band Crazy Town, American Idol also-ran/super-skank Jessica Sierra (who's probably the most likable/promising one of the show... and that's saying a lot), Jaimee Foxworth (Judy, the forgotten Winslowe from Family Matters who later turned to a life of porn starring in movies named shit like "Booty Patrol"), the continued love of my life Brigitte Nielsen and the hottest mess in the history of hot messes Jeff "Kenickie" Conaway (pictured)...

It's a VH1 series that's airing second-hand on MuchMoreMusic here in Canada and it is a trip and a half. They're currently in the process of detoxing and some people are taking to it better than others... last night Jeff Conaway was just sitting there shaking and screaming like a loon and barfing... and I guess the whole game plan is that they're all supposed to look after each other, so as soon as he starts barfing the nurse asks "Okay, who's not afraid of barfing?" and Mary Carey leaps to her feet to help him barf... it's nuts. It's actually out of control how fucked up all these people are and I can't stop watching it. I'm afraid it's ruined future celebreality for me... I'll never be able to find "The Surreal Life" amusing because the bar has been set so high by "Celebrity Rehab"... kinda like how "The Swan" ruined any makeover/transformation show for me...

In other, other news...

The trailer for the impending Anna Nicole Smith biopic is up and running... To the surprise of no one, it looks terrible...

I don't really know what anyone was expecting? Like, did you think this was going to be on par with Elizabeth: The Golden Age or something? Sheesh.

In other, other, other news...

Tonight. 8 PM. Season 2 of the newly reinvented American Gladiators bows. Mysteriously (and troublingly) absent from the promos? One Robin Coleman A-K-A HeLLga.

I should hope that this is a glaring, GLARING oversight on the promotional producers behalf. Because so help me God, if HeLLga's out - and I couldn't fathom why she would be - SO AM I, MOTHERFUCKERS.
Methinks that's going to be it for me today...

OH - trivia: did you know that I almost got botox on Thursday? Yeah... I was invited to this industry thing where they were giving out free treatments... sadly, I had a gig, otherwise, I'd be lookin' like Nicole Kidman up in here...

Anyballs,

--- Aj