UPSTATE THIS WEEKEND?

Then do check out my one-"woman" revue at the deliciously intimate Hudson River Theater, Saturday and Sunday at 9:00 in Hudson, NY.

http://www.hudsonrivertheater.com/calendar.html

EVER WONDERED WHAT JOEY ARIAS LOOKED LIKE YOUNG?

Well, keep wondering, cuz they hadn't invented cameras yet and his "family" couldn't exactly afford oil paintings.

Actually, while rumors are flying about Joey's refusal to participate in the recent Klaus Nomi documentary--he and Joey were thick as thieves and once famously backed up David Bowie on SNL--here is a rare video to Man Parrish's electro classic HIP-HOP BEE BOP. As Dany Johnson (of the ill lesbo humor site www.dyxploitation.com) aptly pointed out, it is not terribly hip-hop. In fact, it's the faggiest thing I've ever seen--outside of my mirror. Joey hadn't yet settled into his current Billie Holiday meets Betty Page persona, and he is giving you New Wave sissy DOWN, gurl! (This may have been the time she was a performance artist with Ann Magnuson by night and a high fashion shop-girl at Fiorucci by day.) Catch it!

http://www.manparrish.com/video/Hip_Hop_Video_1984.mov

THE LITTLEST PROM

I recently gave in to one of those free trial subscriptions from the New York Observer. Some really geat writing in it, and since I haven't been doing too much writing of my own, I guess I'll just turn you on to what I've been reading. I know that my blog runs the gamut from sick and retarded jokes to fire and brimstone political rants, but this might be my first "cute" entry.

Also in this issue of the Observer, Simon Doonan describes his book tour--best moment: at one stop a shopkeeper can't recognize the author because his publicity shot is so youthfully doctored--and a report on the surge in popularity of male butt cleavage on ddisplay in Manhattan. For more go to www.observer.com.

THE LITTLEST PROM

When you’re 5, going to a school dance can actually be a lot of fun.

Such good spirits abounded on a recent Friday afternoon at the Young Minds Day Care Center, in Fort Greene, as Ms. Merilien Mann Moore’s students gathered in the rec room to attend their kindergarten prom. According to Leticia Johnson, the center’s director, the tradition began when a teacher reasoned that if high-school students enjoyed the opportunity to dress up, dance and mingle, then why wouldn’t preschoolers? Since 1978, the school has staged a prom each June.

Certain concessions have been made, of course, to the changing musical tastes of toddlers and their increasing power in exerting those tastes over their teachers. "Now the music is hip-hop, because the kids like hip-hop," Ms. Johnson said. "Back in the 70’s, we used to have Soul Train lines."

But always, pictures. Posing beneath a bulletin board with the word "Congratulations" and a blue rickrack border, the students were a handsome bunch. The girls wore tights and Mary Janes, and their hair—in braids, French twists, sausage curls, spiral curls, Coke-can curls—was freshly washed and flawlessly set. They’d had their nails done, too.

The boys had also made an effort. "He look pretty!" one boy exclaimed, upon seeing his classmate arrive in a miniature five-button Nehru jacket worn over a shirt with a gold fleur-de-lis design on the placket and an onyx stud at the neck. The look was decidedly more Little Richard than Little Lord Fauntleroy.

Once the portraits were taken, the students settled in for a three-course banquet. Four best friends, Jeremy, Amaaru, Brian M. and Brian W., were happy to find that they had been seated at what amounted to a kindergartener’s stag table.

"We want boys at this table," Brian M. said.

"This is the boys’ club," Brian W. added.

"Party, party, party, party!" Amaaru called out, cupping his hands like a megaphone. He was wearing navy leather boat shoes, pleated gabardine slacks, a royal blue button-down shirt and a tie with a triple-stranded chain around the knot ("It’s solid gold").

"I have parties a lot of times," he said. "I want to have a surprise party. I want to throw it for somebody and for somebody to throw it for me."

Ms. Moore delivered four beef franks on small paper plates.

"Party, party, party-break for this!" Amaaru yelled. "We have party bags and we take toys home. We eat hot dogs." He took a hearty bite. "When you go to a party, you get to drink juices. You get sodas and juices, like green juices and red juices. And what about Dr. Pepsi—I mean, Dr. Pepper? You raise your hand for juice. If you don’t raise your hand, you don’t get one."

He looked across the room at the co-ed section; a girl wiggled her fingers in his direction.

"That’s Diamond," Amaaru said. "She’s my date. She won’t listen to anyone."

Brian M. burped.

Another classmate, Nakido, approached the table and, introducing himself, carefully instructed a reporter on how to spell his name.

"Put B-U-T-T," Amaaru suggested.

Ms. Moore announced that there would be a dance contest.

"Go over there; make a large circle," she said. "Freeze! I’m getting a headache. You guys were running. You have on your suits, your gorgeous dresses. You don’t want to be on the floor." She called to a boy in a gray-and-pink plaid three-piece suit. "Sha-mel! If you’re warm, you don’t have to keep it on. When I call your name, go to the middle."

"Nakido!"

"Sha-mel!"

"Justin!"

"Ciara—I know you know how to dance, girl!"

"Brian and Brian!"

"Drop It Like It’s Hot" by Snoop Dogg came on the stereo, and the kids rushed the dance floor, turning the contest into more of a pile-on than a dance-off.

"Everybody dance!" Ms. Moore said, needlessly. The students’ stylings tended to be gymnastic and highly individualistic.

Sha-mel, the class’s standout dancer—he’s also the valedictorian—stripped down to his shirtsleeves. After showing off his moon-walk prowess, he went over to the guys’ table for a breather.

"I want to be a SWAT officer," he said. He leaned back in his chair and placed a pretzel stick in his mouth deliberately, as if enjoying a cigar. "I like to have girlfriends when I grow up. I have one now. She’s big and she’s white. I saw her at a cookout. I think she is like 15 or 16 or 17 or 18. I don’t care how old she is, ’cause she’s pretty and she’s nice."

Ms. Moore came over with dessert: a swirl cake topped with vanilla ice cream.

Amaaru, breathless, ran over from the dance floor. One side of his tie chain was hanging down and his tie displayed evidence of course No. 2, Buffalo chicken. He picked up a plastic spoon and yelled into it. "I got a wedgie from doing flips!"

—Lauren Collins


This column ran on page 2 in the 6/27/2005 edition of The New York Observer.

PARADE FATIGUE

Mike Albo weighs in on gay pride in this Village Voice article. (PS: I'm thrilled that Mike will be making his Wigstock solo debut this year!!!!)

TO MARCH OR NOT TO MARCH: THAT IS THE GAY PRIDE QUESTION.

The parade? No, I won't be there. I'll be:
a. remulching my garden in Saugerties.

b. hanging out with my cool hetero friend Anika, her husband, and her baby.

c. just sitting at home, listening to music, journaling.

In the month before Gay Pride, I will hear some variation of this at least 15 times. Admittedly, I will say it myself. Last Pride, I sat in Prospect Park and made drawings of flowers in colored pencil like some octogenarian in Sussex. Over the past five years, among my crowd of thirtyish gay guys and lesbians, it's not just uncool to go to the parade, it's spiritually unsatisfying. Instead, we turn away, think we must grasp for meaning elsewhere, and end up sounding like homespun, herbal sidebar articles in Oprah: "I decided to stay at home and take charge of my life." "I organized my CD collection alphabetically." "I made a scrapbook for my five-year-old niece."

What happened to us? What happened to me? When did we become so fatigue-gay? I was such a fanatic paradegoer in my past. I went to my first Gay Pride in 1990, marching with Queer Nation and screaming, "Get out of the closet!" while pulling a huge dented metal wardrobe down the street. (There was a bit of a scare when it almost fell on top of that famous quadriplegic lesbian, but otherwise it was a lot of fun.) I'd be up by 8:30 a.m. and on my way to Fifth Avenue, and I would drink in every last lavender drop of the day. One year with squirt guns, one year with my wacked-out dance troupe, the Dazzle Dancers, one year with a boyfriend who got a boner in his retro soccer shorts when we watched the fireworks at the pier. I held up my fist furiously at the minute of silence; I yelped for the Dykes on Bikes; I slipped into the parade when it turned down the trashed asphalt of Christopher Street, feeling the ringing, gladiator-like glory of hundreds. Then, dumped out onto Hudson, I would slowly shuffle through a crowd of people in rainbow hats and half-witty T-shirts, the smell of cheap meat from sausage and hot-dog kiosks wafting into the air. I loved it all and would happily spend all day having my body squashed behind a police barricade and aurally pummeled by a passing disco diva's ululations.

I am 36 now and can't think of anything I want to do less, unless someone asks me to his or her really swank apartment with a view. It could be the inevitable curmudgeoning that happens with age. It creeps up on you like vines. The other weekend I went out to an East Village bar and seriously said, "The music is so loud in here I can't hear myself think!" I feel like I almost used the word criminy!

I have this '70s porn film in which all these men have sex in one another's West Village apartments during Gay Pride. It begins with shots of the parade: fags in striped tank tops and beautifully split-ended hair, lezzies in huge sunglasses holding happy hand-painted signs. How different the parade is now.


The last really memorable one for me was 1994, the 25th anniversary of Stonewall. Of course, this was the last time I enjoyed myself on Ecstasy, before I would get in a scribbly mood and just sit on the steps of someone's pricey West Village brownstone. But that year there was an orgasmic swell of Clintonian inclusion in the air. Safe-sex education among gay men was working. Lesbian chic was a new trend. Anne Heche hadn't broken Ellen's heart. Our increasing visibility seemed to be making a difference.

Then, in my memory, the parades blur. Clean banners with trademark-tagged graphics. Those hideous blue-and-yellow equal signs. I would see pectoral men dancing on floats and notice they weren't just celebrating, they were promoting. Yay the Splash Bacardi float! Wahoo the Absolut Vodka drag queens! Yippee the Entire DVD Collection of Queer as Folk marchers!

Perhaps the shift in my feelings about the Gay Pride parade is a state of shock, a reaction to how quickly gayness has evolved as an identity. To think—just 12 years ago I was stamping pink triangles onto our dollar bills. "Use your Queer Money to buy things! We should be recognized by the mainstream as an economic force!"

Wow, that was easy. Now there are gay realty agencies and TV networks. We're unable to marry, but Republicans love us when we gentrify.

Our young identity achieved such a compromised acceptance into society with such swiftness that we have barely had time to reflect at what we have become. The fuel of anger behind the event has gradually turned into a marketing technique that dulls us, not unlike liquor stores in low-income neighborhoods. I know that sounds so politically correct, but it's a metaphor that works.

The parade is at risk of becoming a howling American rite like New Year's Eve or spring break. In a few short years, we may see college kids in rainbow face paint, puking purple daiquiris.

I know it sounds superficial, especially in this day and age, when we are ruled by moralizing misers who guard their riches like reptile eggs, but we have to try and keep our celebrations fresh. If I may generalize just a little more, I would say one thing we have always been able to hold above our rectally tight opponents is that we have way, way more fun than they do. It is important for us to keep that aspect thriving.

But acts of celebration must continue to be fostered as political statements as well. So all you contingents out there: On Sunday, I want to see more original signage, a curb on the promotional gack, way more drag queens, and a unifying sense of fury. There is a queer kid squashed up against the GNC at Christopher and Seventh who needs you to inspire him.

Mike Albo's The Underminer: The Best Friend Who Casually Destroys Your Life was published in February by Bloomsbury.

MILITANT ISLAMICS INTERRUPT INDONESIAN DRAG PAGEANT

Check out the article at http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/4626167.stm

FROM AN UNNAMED SOURCE

Here is some completely baseless gossip from a supposed "industry insider"--but hey, good gossip is good gossip! PS: I guess Fudge=Tom Snooze.

Dateline, yesterday: I got a nice shank of good gossip at
> my lunch with a TV executive at the Beverly Hills Hotel,
> plus one star sighting.
>
> a) saw lindsay lohan up close, emaciated and blonde,
> getting into an escalade with a lookalike and two security
> type dudes. have been told she has a brand new mean cocaine
> habit and that's why she's skinny.
>
> three FUDGE-SORES stories to follow!!!!!!!!!!
>
> b) Katie's longtime manager tried to arrange a lunch with
> her last week, just to check in and see what the heck is up.
> Katie said fine, but she spends 12 hours a day at the
> Scientology HQ, The Celebrity Center-- so he would have to
> meet her there. He made up a story about having to be in
> Santa Monica before and after so she agreed to meet him
> there. When he got there the rez had been changed from 2 to
> 4 peeps. He waited and Katie strolled in with two handlers.
> Katie said something to the effect of: I love what's
> happening to my life right now. I am happier than I have
> ever been in my life. Her mgr said, as your business
> advisor it is my responsibility to tell you that you need
> to take another movie. Now is the time to capitalize on all
> of this heat. Katie said: I don't want to work for at least
> a year. For the next year I will be immersing myself in all
> there is know about Scientology. Mgr said: I don't really
> know how I can help you then. Katie: That's what I mean to
> say, meaning-- you're fired.
>
> c) the offical list has grown longer of women fudge
> interviewed for this position. As I have heard it, in order:
> Jennifer Garner, Scarlett Johansson, Lindsay Lohan, Naomi
> Watts, Jessica Alba, Katie Holmes.
>
> d) when Fudge went to "meet" Garner he flew in a private
> jet with a giant entourage and two white baby bengal tigers.
> Just so she could play with the tiger kittens during the
> meeting.
>
> e) not FudgeSores-related: Paula Abdul shoots her own self
> up with needle-fulls of morphine all day, every day.
>
>

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

BEWARE! RAPIST ON THE LOOSE!

OPRAH VS HERMES

Another hilarous article from Bachem Macuno, who also wrote the hysterical I FUCKED ANN COULTER IN THE ASS, HARD. As you probably know, Oprah was recently refused entry into an Hermes store in Paris and is interpreting it as racially motivated, even though the store was closed. Now I love Oprah, and I know that celebs often arrange special shopping sprees where stores are shut down/kept open for them so they can spend a fortune unimpeded by autograph hounds and the like, but if a store is closed and you haven't made those special arrangements, too bad. I don't know all of the details, but one Hermes employee explained the incident by saying that there had been trouble with North African shoppers. Oprah certainly doesn't look North African, so who knows what this is about. Hermes quickly refuted this employee's potentially racist claim, but Oprah has vowed to let Hermes have it on her new fall season.

Oprah Battles High-End French Boutique Racism
And the Tyranny of Regular Store Hours: One Woman's Story of a Haute Couture Quasi-Lynching

Friday, June 24, 2005

The furor surrounding the refusal to admit Oprah Winfrey and her longtime companion to Hermes in Paris after store hours has escalated to the next level. "Oh, it’s on," her spokesperson was quoted as saying. "What is ‘Hermes’ French for? ‘Ku Klux Klan’?"

Hermes, which is actually French for ‘Really, Really Rich People Only,’ turned the Winfrey party away when she tried to gain entry after the close of its business day. "There should be regular people store hours, and they should enforce those as strictly as they like, but there should be anytime hours for people like Oprah and her friends. All we want is fairness."

"It’s like a metaphor for race relations in the world today. There are the people inside the impossibly high-end luxury stores, and the massively powerful Black media moguls locked outside. Oprah is striking a blow here for all the other billionaire Black women without a voice in today’s society," said Gayle King, Oprah’s best pal, travelling companion, and most intimate confidante.

To read on visit: http://oprahscrusade.blogspot.com/ and don't miss Bachem's ridiculous post entitled Dr Tom Cruise, M.D. Also a hoot!

SEE YOU IN JAIL?

Well, as Vaginal Davis once said, at least jail offers free room and board and all the dick you can handle! (And free medical.) Check out this disturbing new development my friend Kerry turned me on to:

extensions to US law 18u.s.c. 2257 came into force on the 23rd of june - this law makes it a felony worth 5-10 years of prison for a webmaster to publish content featuring 'explicit sexual conduct' unless he has copies of government-issued ID proving that all subjects are over the age of 18.

From my friend Phil,in London, has written this notice to his users who runs Dudesnude.com who uses servers hosted in USA, hes now looking to move them to Canada!:

KT

From http://www.dudesnude.com/2257.php


legal changes regarding adult content
just to update you guys, there is stuff going on you should be aware of.

extensions to US law 18u.s.c. 2257 came into force on the 23rd of june - this law makes it a felony worth 5-10 years of prison for a webmaster to publish content featuring 'explicit sexual conduct' unless he has copies of government-issued ID proving that all subjects are over the age of 18.

whilst the stated intent of the law is to prevent exploitation of minors by the porn industry, the general consensus is that it's simply an attempt by the bush administration to make life impossibly hard for absolutely everyone who has any part in facilitating adult content on the internet - even adult profile sites like dudesnude are, with the current wording of the law, not regarded as exempt. if i am to continue to host 'explicit sexual conduct', the DoJ seriously expects me to somehow get each and every one of you to deliver (personally) to me a copy of US government approved ID to prove that you are all over 18, which i need to then keep on file for 7 years with your real name and address, together with 1 complete copy of your profile page for every time you change one of your pictures, and furthermore the DoJ has the temerity to claim that this is a reasonable request which will not hamper the operation of a legitimate business engaged in facilitating constitutionally-protected expression.

basically, as of now, all explicit adult content becomes child porn unless the webmaster has the documents to prove otherwise - guilty until proved innocent. every adult profile and porn site on the internet without exception is currently in a very difficult situation, and i know i'm not the only webmaster that has been having many sleepless nights lately

what is being done about it

the free speech coalition (FSC) have mounted a lawsuit to challenge the new law which is felt to be unconstitutional in many areas, and yesterday they reached agreement with the DoJ that FSC members will not be prosecuted before september, by which time the FSC hopes to have a court injunction in place blocking any further prosecutions whilst they persue their lawsuit. hopefully dudesnude is protected by this, as i faxed my membership application form to them just a few days ago! and since the law breaches the US constitution on so many counts, the chances are quite good that the entire law will eventually be thrown out by the courts.

if the FSC are not successful in limiting this law, all profile sites will have 2 choices: either bring the site into compliance as some have already done by deleting all 'sexually explicit' content (basic nudity is ok but nothing else) or to operate in defiance of it from outside of the US (although this will still break US law if US citizens actually use the site).

in case you still haven't got it...

we are under attack! the threats to freedom posed by the bush administration are not hypothetical "don't affect me" threats. each and every one of you need to decide what is important to you and you need to be prepared to stand up and claim your right to enjoy it. because if you don't, you are going to have it taken away from you.

did any of you vote for bush? did any of your friends vote for bush? why did you let them get away with it? please don't tell me you were too busy with circuit parties to take an interest in politics.

uncomfortable facts

adult content is protected under the 1st amendment but there's a problem. president bush only finds free speech acceptable if the message is a happyclappy christian family values message! in substance, 2257 is an attempt by the attorney general alberto gonzales to wipe his butt with the 1st amendment

the attorney general, alberto gonzales dislikes porn but approves of torture, does not feel bound by the geneva convention and feels that the US is above international law. american dudes, why are you letting this guy get away with it? you are the only people on the planet who can stop the guy - please stop the guy.

18u.s.c. 2257 is the second recent major attack on the adult industry by the bush administration, the swipe we had to dodge last year was the similarly un-constitutional Child Online Protection Act - again thinly-veiled attempts to censor all adult content under the guise of protecting minors, which, had it not been thrown out by the courts, would have had a similar chilling effect as 2257.

if you are the president of the most powerful country in the world, it is surprisingly easy to force people on the other side of the planet that you don't like out of business. another swipe we had to dodge last year were draconian new VISA/Mastercard processing regulations for the adult industry, generally felt to be as a result of pressure from "the top". sure porn is protected by the constitution but how much is likely to disappear if you can't accept payment for it?

VILLAGE VOICE REVIEWS BEWITCHED, BITTERLY

Guess Hollywood has butchered another classic. Rather than ruin great shows like Bewitched, why not just create totally new, bad scripts? I guess they wouldn't have the name recognition. But Bewitched made it's name by quality camp and a fantastic leading and supporting cast. I've not seen the remake, but this doesn't make it look too promising. I was actually working with a theatrical agent who was trying to recommend me for the Endora role. I thought I could play the hell out of that eccentric, imperious glamour-hag. But when I heard that Shirley McClaine had nabbed the role I had to agree that she's more perfect for it. Please tell that at least SHE has a few dramatic moments--she ain't even in the trailer! (I did hear a few of the "spell" sound effects and you can download them--it sounds like they used the fantastic original effects--from http://mobile.sonypictures.com/movies/bewitched/ringtones.aspx including a free "nose wiggle".) And I hate to say it, but Nicole will never be as pretty as Elizabeth Montgomery. Perhaps more elegant than Elizabeth but never so appealing.

By Michael Atkinson for the Village Voice

OH, THE NORA, THE NORA: EVERY LITTLE THING SHE DOES IS TRAGIC

I have no idea why Hollywood makes movies derived from TV series that the all-important 15- to 25-year-old ticket-buying demographic has absolutely no firsthand knowledge of, or why those same designated audiences do in fact pay to see them with formidable reliability. But I can tell you this about the new Bewitched: It is an affliction. As if the work of an angry god, the movie collects the perspectives of Nora Ephron (director, co-writer), Delia Ephron (co-writer), and Penny Marshall (producer), coalescing into a showbiz self-suck unrivaled in modern times for smugness, vapidity, and condescension. To spend even 10 minutes in the movie's universe is to experience the Sartrean nausea of an utterly hollow head and heart.
The original show, lovable and aggressively innocent though it was (I preferred I Dream of Jeannie, if only for Larry Hagman's manic anxiety), is far too hokey to be considered "high concept," and at any rate had trouble attracting a daytime rerun viewership by 1976. Our new heroine is a chipmunk-falsettoed, apricot-cheeked Nicole Kidman, who's so sheeny with digital airbrushing she's got the unearthly vibrance of a newborn. This new Samantha (Isabel, actually) longs to give up witchery and live like a normal person in Beverly Hills (!), but before long she meets up with descending megastar Will Ferrell, who's making a new

Bewitched TV series! So she falls for him and gets cast as Samantha, even though she's actually a witch! Isn't that a fucking riot?! As always a fool for wealth porn, Ephron also jams her scenes with swatches and memorabilia from the old show—postmod!—and virtually every sequence change is an occasion for a song interlude. "Witchy Woman," "Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead," Sinatra on "Witchcraft," the Police's "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic." I'm dying!

It's symptomatic of the recycling-regurgitating Hollywood dynamic that the TV show within the movie doesn't resemble anything a real network would make today—for all of their navel-gazing insider-ness, Ephron, Ephron, and Marshall are as clueless as farm turkeys. Kidman cutes it up, and Ferrell is so fearless in the face of the tasks put before him that he should get a Nobel, but it's nothing they couldn't do while brushing their teeth, or more to the point, paying their bills. The film is airy and weightless, not like, say, chiffon, but like the black smoke of burning truck tires. In an ideal world, Marshall and the Ephrons should have to sharecrop, for all the good they've done for the culture.

EVER FANTASIZE ABOUT SQUIRTING A LOAD ON TOM CRUISE'S FACE?

You're not the only one!

Well, it was bound to happen sometime. Yesterday, Tom Cruise got squirted in the face. It all happened at the London premiere of War of the Worlds where an intrepid prankster dressed like a reporter soused Tom with a water-spewing microphone. At first Tom kept his waxen smile on full display, but as the realization hit him that he had just been humiliated on tape, his demeanor quickly shifted to the patented Robo-Intensity he most recently employed on poor Billy Bush. "You're a jerk!" he scoffed with rage barely contained. I guess this was one stop that wasn't on the Tom Cruise Publicity Stunt Tour 2005.

Go here to watch the video! http://www.tvgasm.com/archives/miscellaneous_tv/000880.php

I have to say it's a riot! I didn't see too much coverage of this. Was there any mainstream coverage? Nowadays many of the major stars are handled by a few pr companies and if you run something negative about one--or even ask a question outside the agreed upon perameters, you may not get an interview with another celeb in their stable.

And is it my imagination, or does the squirting liquid look a little thicker than water?

ONLINE ORGASMS

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GO HERE!

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FOOTNOTES FROM LA

I rarely get a chance to hang out in LA after work, but this time I did, for 3 luxurious days. LA Pride put us up at the somewhat grand Sofitel, and I got to see eccentric sweetheart Jeanie Tracy (Sylvester's former back-up singer who has had a few dance hits in her own right like last year's CHA CHA HEELS) getting in her limo in a chic understated black ensemble, for the airport. Don't get me wrong--there was still a ponytail fall, cleavage for days and cat-eye sunglasses! I meant understated for he. Her looks are totally inspiring and can be checked out on her site jeanietracy.com, where you can also check out her music.

Then lunch with Vaginal Davis, the legendary LA punk/performance artist--not your average drag queen. She's been conducting performance art workshops while in residency at various European universities including Manchester and SLOVENIA! I eagerly pumped her details. I've seen wearing many hats, from the dunce cap she wore that day to fronting punk rock bands like Black fag to channelling a demented evangelist to hosting clubs like her Roaring 20's-themed soiree Bricktops to shrimping whipped cream-covered toes to the tune of Prince's CHERRIES IN THE SNOW at Wigstock a few years back. But I just couldn't imagine this gigantress conducting a seminar. In one of her exercises, she divulged, she work-shoped a performance piece which ended in a live show. The cast entered the stage to applause and had to stand there, beaming, taking in the applause long after the audience had stopped clapping. Some of her students said it was the hardest thing they've ever done on stage. (They should've asked RuPaul for tips--she does this at most of her shows!) I think it's kind of revolutionary and I am glad to know that hip-hop and Lindsay Lohan aren't the US's only cultural exports.

Once my accommodations were on my own dime, I left Sofitel and checked into the significantly cheaper Hollywood Downtowner Hotel at 5601 Hollywood Boulevard. Clean, cheap rooms ($59) rooms, free internet, good coffee and 10 blocks from the divine Frederick's of Hollywood, a haven for sasquatch glamourpusses around the world. The hotel is run by a delightful East Indian couple. Indians must be the most decent people on earth, an adorable mix of sweet and proper, and my hostess clucked and chortled happily at any request. The neighborhood's a little dicey, but if you don't mind "colorful" exchanges with local characters like the young black guy in coke-bottle eyeglasses who cycled past me advertising "10 inch black mandingo dick, $100 an hour." (Isn't there a little redundancy in 10 inch, black dick and mandingo? And why isn't mandingo approved be spell-check? It's a conspiracy!) But as I had just dropped a C-note on two pairs of stunning holographic glitter pumps at Frederick's--a drag is like a crow: she sees something that glitters and has to have it--I passed. Since everyone drives in LA, the only people on the streets are either poor, hustlers, drug addicts or from New York--or, like me, all of the above!

LA has really grown on me. Though I love that NYC grit and edginess, a little mindless relaxation in La-La land is so soothing. Nothing wrong with gorgeous weather and exquisite flora and fauna. I visited with Ebony Jett (aka Eboneezer) and she had an orange, lemon and avocado tree in her yard. Hell, I don't even have a yard! There's always that space issue in NYC, but when it comes down to it, I'm happy with a tiny apartment in the world's most exciting city and I wouldn't trade it for a house in LA. Some former New York friends had a fairly large 3 story house where I stayed during a previous visit, and their free-standing garage out back was larger than my whole apartment. But we tried to go out three nights in a row and there was nothing to do. Except for the Spotlight bar, of course. That deranged tranny/hustler/freak emporium where I once saw a wheelchair-bound drag in a Tina Turner 80's wig begging with a sauce-pan in her lap AND met Sulka, the feline tranny porn star of yesteryear. (Sulka must be one of Amanda LePore's early influences.)

A few interesting things in LA:

Amidst more cosmetic surgery ads of any publication I've ever seen, LA Weekly also has an article on The Crystal Mess epidemic which you can find here: http://laweekly.com/ink/05/29/features-valenzuela.php It gives a fresh take from the perspective of someone who explains it's appeal, as opposed to just demonizing it's users.

Black protesters greeted the opening of King Tut's exhibit with protest chants of "Tutankhamen back and he still black.". Angered by the Tut's recent facial reconstruction which depicts him as white/olive-skinned, the protesters claim that Egypt was a black nation at that time and that Tut was described in historical accounts as dark-skinned. I had never thought of it, but his lips are full and it wouldn't be the first time history was re-written to favor one race over another. An arab-looking Egyptian expert angrily denied their claims. One things for sure, maybe it was the eye make-up and Cher-like headdress, but that king looks like a queen to me, honey!

Never too up on popular culture, I just now got a chance to hear the sublimely ridiculous EVERYBODY HAS AIDS from last year's South Park movie for the first time. I also caught a disgusting glimpse of CHAOTIC. Britney, Kevin's video love-letter was the dumbest, most repetitive thing I've ever seen. I hope he has a big dick cuz he is soooooooooooooooooooo ignorant! Maybe Britney needs somebody like around like that to make her look less brain-dead. And yet she still make McDonna (as Vaginal calls her) look like an creative genius by comparison.

Also recently caught KEPT, Jerry Hall's new show. What would make this type of show appealing to Jerry? She's obviously too old to model, and she's starred in a stage version or two of The Graduate, but Mrs. Jagger certainly can't need the coins. I guess it's that she craves the limelight she once had and reality TV is the name of the game right now. But the show is awful. And it's such a double-standard that a country seemingly driven by the religious right has no problem tuning in to a show where respectable young men compete to be prostitutes. And they aren't even that cute!

I met with Ebony and she's a fountain of info and trivia. I was not aware that all of the furor over missing children and runaway brides, missing girls in Aruba, etc., are an attempt to push for ID chip's insertion, at least into children at first. The end goal would be mandatory chip insertion into everyone, the chips functioning as tracking devices, IDs, and credit cards. I was not aware of the push for these chips or the fear tactics of the constant Amber Alerts. I guess you would never lose your ID if it were inside your arm, but it is kind of scary and Big Brother-ish.

Ebony also pointed out that the specter of Osama the boogieman is straight out of Orwell's 1984. He is the supposed reason we're fighting in Iraq, though clearly there's no tie between the two. And occasionally taped messages or other news of Osama are leaked to keep suspicion and fear levels high, which make us inclined to trust in whichever government is in power for our safety's sake. That way we're less likely to question doublespeak programs whose names mean the opposite of what they say, like Leave No Child Behind=Leave Every Child Behind and Operation Iraqi Freedom=Occupy Iraq Indefinitely.

And of course the Michael Jackson verdict was announced. I didn't follow the case that closely, so I don't know how weak or strong the evidence was. I do find it very odd that the jury said they went into deliberation leaning toward guilty, but the mother's character issues and finger-snapping ultimately changed their verdict to not guilty. It almost seemed that the mom's finger-snapping made the jury feel insignificant and they bristled. I hope their hurt pride at a little finger-snapping isn't loosing a child molester. I mean what's more important?

Several of the jurors said that they felt that Michael had molested some children along the way, but perhaps in this case there was not enough evidence to convict. But what angers me is this emphasis on the mom. Whoopi Goldberg seemed to blame the mom on The View, saying that you simply did not leave your kids in a position of danger. That's true, Whoopi. But the mom is not on trial! And even if it is foolish to leave your kids alone with a guy who has been accused of multiple molestations, it's not illegal to be foolish. It's unwise to provide the set-up for the molestation by leaving in a limo for a bikini wax payed for by Jackson while he's alone with the kids, but if he molested them in her absence, he's to blame, not her. I realize that she seems like a shady grifter, but Michael also has a pattern of attracting boys from damaged homes with gold-digging parents, possibly so he can more easily work a smear tactic if accused. At any rate, I'm glad it's over and I hope we have a reasonable break before the civil case cranks up.

In the meantime, I hear Michael's going on tour....with the Vienna Boy's Choir!

I met with the former East Village scenesters the Poptarts, aka Randy Barbato and Fenton Bailey of World of Wonder production house. They managed RuPaul and Kristine W before moving on to producing documentaries like THE EYES OF TAMMY FAYE and the movie PARTY MONSTER. They've optioned the book written by the detective in the first Michael Jackson molestation case for a film, and it should be outrageous. The book was only published in Chile and a friend passed along the shocking, by-then-dog-eared book around to me after it was snatched off the market. The book contains drawing by Jordy, the boy who Michael settled with for millions, of Michael's penis, as well as accounts of Michael being rushed to the doctor when he experienced severe burning sensations on his nasty nelly nuts when he tried to bleach the skin down there. Hee hee! This sounds like it's gonna be a hoot.

TALK ABOUT A BONER!

http://girlsandcorpses.com/pics_01.html

PRIDE IS A SIN!

Leave it to the Bunster to ferret out LA's one puerto rican stud! It was Gay Pride in LA and Puerto Rican Pride in NYC, so in honor of the two prideful events, the young buck entered my dressing room after assisting me on stage and he literally "swelled" with "pride". Overcome by a fit of "pride", I sank to my knees and happily soiled the knees of my support hose as I "proudly" devoured every inch of his raging pinga until we exploded in a burst of pride, cheese, saliva, and Red Bull vomit. Are you hard yet?

Thanks to Odyssey Magazine for the pic!

ARUBA BULLSHIT

There's a girl missing in Aruba. And there's a brain missing in our media.

Look, I'm sorry that the american girl vacationing in Aruba went missing. Maybe she'll turn up, maybe she won't. There has been no indication of grisly foul play as in the Laci Peterson case, but the press seems eager to turn this into it's next "missing girl du jour" over-broadcast scandal, before it even becomes a scandal! As the "runaway bride" prepares for her first prime time interview (yesterday's "missing girl du jour") I'm shocked to see CNN airing 5 minute segments on this girl in Aruba. One segment even went in depth with an international legal expert who familiarized us with the Aruban legal system and explained why the suspects in the case could be detained with no evidence. Who the fuck cares?

Maybe she's dead. Maybe she ran away. Who knows? And with no disrespect for the girl's friends and family, who besides them should care? But we do know that 53 people died in 2 bombings in Iraq today. Why isn't that given equal time to this one comparatively insignificant girl who may not even be hurt? Isn't this clear proof that our news is slanting coverage away from the bloody horror that is Iraq? And the fact that our president created and perpetuates this horror? No americans were killed in today's blasts, but we don't even care when it IS our soldiers dying in these almost daily bombings, as long as there is some missing girl to focus on. I don't want to live my life looking over my shoulder afraid of conspiracy theories. (Ignorance is bliss.) But unfortunately, this administration and the mainstream media are partnering in a large-scale conspiracy to divert our attention from their dirty dealings, and a lot of people don't know how to read between the lines or check sites like thehuffingtonpost.com for real news. But this Aruba girl provides clear proof of our news' bias: one missing girl gets more coverage than 53 dead in an endless war your tax dollars are paying for.

WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE??? How can we continue to accept propaganda as news? Call them on their crap! The TV news can't function without an audience, so we really hold at least THAT key. Sometimes I feel like the only thing americans express outrage over is when their gas prices go up so that they can't drive to their next door neighbor's house as cheaply.

INTERVIEW WITH JACKIE BEAT

One of the funniest people I've ever met, Jackie interviewed me for In Weekly magazine in conjunction with my appearance at Pride. I am so glad they printed the really retarded stuff! Having lunch with Jackie and East Village legend Ebony Jett tomorrow!

Mothers, lock up your sons! The towering, gorgeous Southern peach with an oral fixation known as The Lady Bunny is once again blowing into town! Best known for her many TV credits (America's Most Wanted, Cops, What Not To Wear), Bunny is coming to the city of angels to help us celebrate Pride de la Gay. I'm not sure why CSW has to fly in drag talent since I live right down the street, but I'm not bitter. I spoke to Bun-Bun through a little speaker box and a thick piece of PlexiGlas as she once again waited for her business manager to post bail.

JACKIE BEAT: First off, welcome back to beautiful Los Angeles! Tell us what you specifically enjoy about the West Coast.

LADY BUNNY: Well, I just love hanging out with all my L.A. sister-girlfriend drag queens! They're such ego boosters! Chi Chi LaRue aka He-She Magoo makes me feel so slim, Vagi-Mule Davis makes me feel petite, Mister Roma makes my makeup seem understated, Candy Ass and Jazzmine make me appear so sober, Alexis Arquette makes me look real, Holly Woodlawn makes me look like a schoolgirl, and you, Jackie, make me seem so fresh-smelling!

Tell us what Gay Pride means to you. And what was it like being at the original Stonewall Riots? (note to readers: Lady Bunny was celebrating her 40th birthday on that historical night in 1969!)

Well of course I could never forget my 40th birthday which coincided with the historic Stonewall riots! Aside from the landmark events of that evening, a touching personal story unfolded. Celebrating in a sex club after all the madness of Stonewall, I noticed an 80-year-old obviously homeless sexpig who was chained into a bathtub imploring the clubgoers to urinate and defecate in his scabby mouth. Not attractive in any way and morbidly obese, the poor fellow was attracting little attention so he began insulting the clubs patrons with such an insane barrage of gibberish that I approached him and helped him out of the tub. (I wanted to get in it.) I took him aside and asked, "Why are you talking so much shit?" He quipped "I eat shit so I talk shit." Laughing, I told him to stop debasing himself in this manner and to take advantage of his gift of gab and develop his natural comedic skills as a career. And whadaya know -- that hideous, ancient, obese sexpig went on to become Jackie Beat. (Though he never took my advice about developing his comic skills.) But seriously, Gay Pride day is a great moment when we all band together and get laid and wasted, er, I mean reaffirm our gay agenda. But I think we need to push our agenda more than once a year. The fantastic spirit of pride that day should swell our hearts as well as our sexual organs and livers. We need to harness that spirit and keep it going year round until we can get married and anything else we deserve.

You're a singer, dancer, actress, writer, DJ, and prostitute. Is there anything you can't do -- other than a halfway decent makeup job, obviously?

Yes. I can't comprehend your act or "look," Jackie.

The blog on your Web site (www.ladybunny.net) is hysterical. What inspires you to "go off" on a particular subject?

Nuts forward me retarded e-mails and links all the time. So I just post them if they make me laugh. But often, the dire political situation this country is in ticks me off and I start to spew. We all know that the news is just Bush propaganda so to get the real story (or at least a more liberal view) the Internet has become a valuable source of real news and opinions. I think it's my duty to express mine. Even though I'm primarily known as a cum-edienne, I've gotten a great response from my political postings and Web sites like gay.com, gaywebmonkey.com, queerday.com, papermag.com and a few European sites have begun to syndicate me, as well as a new monthly print column in Genre.

We share a common attitude regarding comedy that is, "Nothing's sacred!" What do you have to say to all those easily-offended,oh-so-touchy PC types out there?

Well, it's a tough line to draw. Many people enjoy child abuse, racial, tsunami-related, or gay-bashing humor in private. Look at the slew of gruesome dead baby jokes we've all heard and probably told. But onstage, you're not dealing with just your friends. And so unless you actually have AIDS, are a member of the minority you're poking fun at, or died in a tsunami, it's best for you to tread lightly near these issues in public. What's a punchline to you and your friends in private might be something someone in your audience suffers with daily. I wish this were different, because humor is a great defuser of hot button issues. So sometimes off-color humor releases tension surrounding a taboo subject. In the same way that a fat comedian will open with a set of fat jokes, it sends the message, "I know I'm overweight and it's OK to laugh at me" -- before the audience yells, "You aren't funny, you fat pig!" at the person. But I don't have to tell you about that, do I, Snackie? Look at how Ted Danson and Whoopi Goldberg were criticized for their racial humor towards each other when they were dating. There are very disapproving people in this country. I mean, Ted introducing Whoopi to his party guests as the maid? Pretty hilarious! These two were obviously comfortable enough with their relationship to "go there." They are comedians and after all, a good joke is a good joke.


Yeah, but what would you know about a good joke, dear? Speaking of jokes, you're infamous for your outrageous fashions and hairstyles. Who are your stylists and/or designers and who, if anyone, inspires you?

Hair by Weed Eater, makeup by Sherwyn Williams, costumes by Stevie Wonder, and choreography by the late Christopher Reeve. Actually, you've taught me so much, Jackie. On what not to do!

Hardy har shut up. You are the co-creator and hostess of the world-famous annual drag fest Wigstock. Every year you tearfully tell us queens and the gullible public at large, "This is the final one!" and then next thing you know you're begging me to fly to NYC again on my dime to essentially save the show -- for free! Honestly, you're worse than Cher or The Rolling Stones (and almost as old!). What's the current status of Wigstock?

Wigstock is happening this year on Saturday, August 27th. We are just taking it year by year. And you bitch, I did think it was the last one in 2001 and that was the only time it was billed as such! But a group named FEVA (Federation of East Village Artists) offered to put us back in business in our original home, Tompkins Square Park, but only as an abbreviated two hour show. Check www.wigstock.nu or www.ladybunny.net for more info. It rained last year, but we still had a capacity crowd with performers like RuPaul, Boy George, Holly Woodlawn, and Graham Norton. And Jackie, we really need you again this year. Your act is like magic! Except that it's the crowd that disappears! So you're essential for crowd control!

Just in case there are any eligible young men out there reading this right now -- OK, looking at the funny clown pictures -- tell us if you are single and what kind of gentleman turns you on.

Horse-hung Hispanic drug dealers! Except for [Hot Dog and Big Fat Dick promoter] Mario Diaz.

You've met so many fabulous celebrities over the many, many, many years. Tell us who, other than me, was your favorite and why.

Definitely Patti LaBelle. I introduced her at a fund-raiser and I tried not to gush, but she is the greatest entertainer that I've ever seen. When she came offstage I said "Patti, I saw you on a TV interview where you got a little teary-eyed because of your lack of mainstream success. And I just wanted you to know that regardless of what the numbers add up to, the people that you have touched you've touched so deeply that you will always be a part of their lives." She looked back at the still cheering audience she'd just left and said, "You know, it's true." This woman has given me so much inspiration that I was floored to think that I may have touched her in some way too. A year later, we performed at a MAC event in Toronto. I walked into the room and she said, "Bunny?" To think that I would register in that goddess' consciousness because of some word of encouragement I'd given her blows my mind. Deeply touched, I even returned the pocketbook I'd stolen from her at that prior event.

How touching. Thank God I'm wearing waterproof mascara. And the least favorite? And give us some dirt, bitch. You ain't on Oprah!

When I first moved to NYC, I waited on Tina Louise and another even older sour prune-face who I assumed to be her mom. They were both snotty as hell and didn't tip! Tina, the dunce, hates to embrace her incredible performance as Ginger on Gilligan's Island. But what else did she have? You don't ignore your one hit.

What's next for you? Other than a much-needed facelift and some lipo, that is.

Well, I'm performing and DJing at L.A., Chicago, NYC, and Montreal Pride festivals. You can catch me on VH1's Big Gay 40 in June and while in L.A. for Pride. I'll be taping a comedy skit with Andy Dick's production company for a Pamela Anderson Comedy Central Roast which I think airs in July. I'm also editing a comedy DVD to be sold on my site and at gigs. Proceeds to benefit the MNPSF -- the Much Needed Plastic Surgery Fund.

Finally, I will ask you what I asked the drop-dead gorgeous Debbie Harry. What is your number one beauty tip for any aspiring "ladies" out there?

PhotoShop!

Lady Bunny will perform on the Main Stage at Christopher Street West on Sunday, June 12 at 3:40 p.m. For more information, visit www.lapride.org. For more information on Lady Bunny, visit www.ladybunny.net.

NOTE FROM BUNNY: Just got word from VH1 that Big Gay 40 was cancelled! Boo! Maybe they'll run it on their new gay channel LOGO, otherwise it was a complete waste of time! My fave line was when they asked me to comment on Alexis Arquette's plans to have a sex change and I said "Just what the Arquette family needs! Another aging, out-of-work actress."

HERE'S TO YOU. MRS. ROBINSON

Fantastic read from LA WEEKLY on Anne Bancroft's passing. I always felt she was extraordinary but couldn't quite put my finger on why. This article sums it all up beautifully, while managing to get a few good digs at Lindsay Lohan and Meg Ryan snd such.

Deadline Hollywood
Here’s to You, Mrs. Robinson
Remembering Anne Bancroft
by NIKKI FINKE


When I first met Anne Bancroft, she was nursing a sprained ankle, but stylishly so. Draped dramatically along the length of a sofa in her Brentwood home, she had gingerly placed her leg atop two embroidered Oriental pillows. While an assistant laid an ice pack on the swelling, Bancroft was busy smoothing the cashmere and silk skirt of her Armani outfit. The effect was that, even in pain, the Oscar-winning actress seemed regal. And so it was with her acting. She veered between two big-screen personas, queens like Annie Sullivan or Mrs. Robinson, or commoners who took their inspiration from her real life as Anna Maria Louise Italiano, native of the Bronx. With Bancroft’s death from cancer at age 73 on Monday, the acting profession lost one of its finest. But Hollywood has lost something even more precious: a role model.

Today, when so many young actresses seem to give their finest performances to the paparazzi and Page Six and US magazine rather than to the big screen (Lindsay Lohan, are you listening?), Bancroft made it a point of pride to live so that all the public focus could be on her roles and not herself. That’s why Bancroft granted so few interviews throughout her career, and I considered myself lucky to have scored that one a decade ago. Really lucky, in fact, because Hollywood etiquette even now dictates that an actress is justified in canceling if she has broken a nail, let alone maimed a limb. No questions asked. No apology needed. But though Bancroft was press-shy even on the best of days, she wouldn’t contemplate ditching the appointment.

Once she had described to me how the sprain took place — she had slipped in a Los Angeles department store while shopping for her husband, actor-writer-producer-director Mel Brooks — Bancroft was eager to put the accident behind her. She even waved away a concerned phone call from the funnyman himself. “Tell Mr. Brooks I’ll call him later and tell him all about it,” she instructed her assistant. Instead, Bancroft got down to the business at hand.

She was for years known as an edgy, temperamental actress, going after physically and emotionally demanding roles with the aggressiveness of Mrs. Robinson pursuing Benjamin in The Graduate. She was, in her day, the equivalent of Angelina Jolie. But Bancroft in later life had mellowed considerably. In her golden years, her warmth and melodic laugh belied her youthful obstinacy about granting glimpses into her private world, unlike Jolie, who plays out her personal life for all the world to see.

These days, most aging actresses would rather undergo a face-lift than play an aging actress on television or in film. (Meg Ryan, are you listening?) At the time of the interview, Bancroft was working on a British TV series that called on her to summon her own deep-rooted fears about getting older and bring them to the surface to make her character more sympathetic. “I think it’s tough to grow older no matter what business you’re in,” she said. “It’s hard to no longer gaze in the mirror and see that you look wonderful. And when you’re an actress, all of this is compounded because the way you can look, feel and move are your tools.”

The problem, she said, was not just the wrinkles she saw in her face, and the pain she felt in her knees every morning. It was “not having the power I did 20 years ago in terms of my career. And I think that makes me even more conscious of it.” She talked about the parts that no longer came her way in the same matter-of-fact tone she used to request a cappuccino and a plate of cheese and crackers. Here was Bancroft, described then as “the only great actress in America” with five Best Actress Oscar nominations and one Oscar to prove it, demonstrating that, yes, even she had setbacks despite the obvious success of her career.

“The Graduate didn’t come to me first. The Turning Point didn’t come to me first, either. They went to a whole lot of other women before I even saw the scripts. I never was terribly popular,” she told me, pronouncing the word with undisguised disdain. “I’ve never been the one that could bring the most amount of people into the theater. So the best scripts always go to the most popular actress. And if she says no, then they go to the next most popular. So when you’re third or fourth in line, as I’ve always been, you’re so grateful that the most popular turn it down. Because then I have a shot at it, or at least a chance to read it.”



Bancroft learned early in her career what some major stars still don’t understand today (Nicole Kidman, are you listening?): the importance of saying no. After graduation from New York’s American Academy of Dramatic Arts, she said no to 20th Century Fox, which kept casting her in a succession of lousy movies (like Demetrius and the Gladiators) when she was just another starlet stuck in the 1950s studio system.

She also said no to Hollywood, when she fled to Broadway and won her first Tony in 1958 for Two for the Seesaw. Another followed for her stage performance as Annie Sullivan in The Miracle Worker. By the time she returned to Hollywood to star in the film version, which won her a Best Actress Oscar in 1962, she was able to come back on her terms, as an actress, not just as a starlet. “When I grew up and realized that the relations you have with other people are the most vital part of your life, that was what I wanted to do in my work, to do movies about interactive relationships. Not hold a gun and say, ‘Put ’em up!’ ”

Bancroft said no again immediately after the birth of her son in 1972. Though at the peak of her profession, she had lost interest in acting. “You can’t have it all,” she told me (Jennifer Aniston, are you listening?), “though I can’t say that I was intelligent enough to have thought that consciously.” She was 40 years old when she became pregnant. Doctors ordered her to bed, saying she would lose the baby otherwise. “And then the baby came and I was just,” she paused, looking for the right words, “swept away.”

The strength of those emotions came as much as a surprise to her as it did to the entertainment community, who were in shock when she put the brakes on her career. However, mention the word sacrifice, and Bancroft rejected even the suggestion of it. “I made a choice, a conscious choice, that the rewards of having a family were as important, if not more important, than whatever love you get from an audience.”

Even in later years, she turned down roles if it meant being away from her husband for weeks at a time. In 40 years of marriage, they were rarely apart. It was she who suggested that Brooks make a stage musical of his movie The Producers. When he confided that he was afraid to write a full-blown musical, she sent him to an analyst. Good move — the musical has made gazillions. Yet Bancroft was one of those actresses whose career earned more movie honors than movie dollars. But it never seemed to matter. She had what she’d always wanted: a very private public life.

LA PRIDE BLOW-OUT!

So after DJ'ing until 1:00 AM I had a 6:00 pick-up for a 7:00 flight to LA to perform at their Pride that day at 3:30! Of course, they lost my bag with my costume in it and since I didn't want to cut a hole in the middle of one of Sofitel's bedspreads and wear it as a poncho with a hotel towel turban, I waited at the airport for 2 more flights and it finally arrived. In my bitter exhaustion I was cheered to learn that the same driver would be picking up nuyorican latin-soul goddess La India and Brad Pitt later that day! Rushed to the hotel and flew into drag praising the energizing powers of Red Bull. The overcast, humid day blossomed into LA sunshine right before I went on so my Larry LeGaspi disco ball titty ensemble sparkled aplenty and the crowd went nuts. Then I hit the crowd hawking my new comedy dvd and sold quite a stack, thanks to Whorey Corey and my friend/puerto rican cutie Angel. Everyone was wanting to pose with me for a picture so finally, as it was distracting me from my sales, I started holding up the dvd--which has my photo on it--saying "THE PICTURE'S RIGHT HERE! $20!"

It was nice to finally meet LA queen Momma--she works for Bob Mackie and had some FLAWLESS gowns--and see Allana from the group Superstar. Oh, and the hilariously evil columnist Billy Masters who always gets the best dirt. Also on the bill were Maxine Nightingale, who is still a fox and does a cute medley of disco era hits including her own RIGHT BACK WHERE WE STARTED FROM and LEAD ME ON. I did not stay for Tiffany, but then again, I never liked her back in the 80's. Or was it Deborah Gibson? What's the difference--they're both crap. And speaking of crap, why does anyone care about fucking Lindsay Lohan's weight loss? Are we really that mindless in this country that we'd consider this newsworthy? I wish Lindsay, Paris, Britney and all the other bimbo-as-star hype machines would develop anorexia and wither away into nothingness. Can we focus on someone with talent? Paris was the grand marshall of the LA Pride Parade. YUCCH!

I should be fair. Deborah Gibson has some talent. She can sing. But she has an identity crisis. Is she a pop tart, a Broadway star or a pin-up? When I caught her act in Atlanta last Xmas she performed a mixed set of her pop trash with Broadway hits in a J-Lo-ish fedora and jeans. I'm sorry, pet, but LET ME ENTERTAIN YOU is NEVER to be performed in jeans. She recently posed for Playboy and came out with a cros-promotional song called NAKED. But she's singing the pop song with a Broadway-style vibrato which makes no sense whatsoever. Did pulling her tit out sell records for Janet Jackson? No, and I doubt if Debbie splaying her cunt out in Playboy will help sell NAKED.

BUNNY DOES DALLAS!

I DJ'ed for a benefit for the Dallas Theater Center on Saturday. The theme was "funky chic" so I didn't wash my dress for a month to ensure that it was sufficiently "funky". The crowd was largely Texas socialites (including a friend of W!) and I must say, I do not agree with their politics, but they shore are a nice buncha folks! And I'm glad that they support the arts locally, cuz Bush is slashing arts budgets nationwide. Maybe he thinks they'll a reduction in the arts will lead to a reduction in thinking, open-minded people who might question his brain-dead, inefficient policies. And who knows, maybe some of the republicans present who were cheering me on will think, after their hangover fades the next day, "Hey, that dj was so fun--maybe gays DO deserve a few rights!" I know, a little optimistic... But since I tend to carry on and boogie with the crow a bit, if I got to dancin' too hard the cd would skip. After it happens a few times, I would just put up my arms in mock triumph and take a bow as they applauded.

Anyhoo, I enjoyed hob-nobbing with the elite ($500 tix and sold out!) and since some of my set accompanied cocktails and dinner I got to step outside my dance genre and pull out classics like KING OF THE ROAD and HARPER VALLEY PTA, as well as some covers of hits from musicals like Patti Labelle's insane Irish/soul/waltz-tempo showstopper from Finnian's Rainbow LOOK TO THE RAINBOW ("What a sumptuous gift/to give to a child") and Rachelle Farrelles bizarre scat rendition of BYE BYE BLACKBIRD.

The Dallas Voice wrote up my appearance there:

Spin control

Always ready with a dirty punch line, drag empress and D.J.-for-hire Lady Bunny emerges as an opinionated, controversial commentator for GLBT community

By Daniel A. Kusner
Life+Style Editor

Lady Bunny is the epitome of a well-rounded (BUNNY NOTE: quit joking about my gut!) drag entertainer. Flawless in wigs and makeup, she’s a comedy treasure who’s quick with off-color quips. And as the founder of Wigstock, she’s a living legend and networking organizer for the GLBT community.

In the past year, Bunny has been stretching her glitzy wings, issuing op-ed pieces to publications across the country. In October 2004, Dallas Voice ran her commentary on “Marygate,” which dissected the controversy that erupted during the 2004 presidential debates when John Kerry made a reference about Mary Cheney’s lesbianism.
Bunny as a political commentator? You bet! The loveable and funny drag queen often runs with crowds outside the gay bubble. For the past few years, she’s pumped up the boogie as a hired D.J. at the Two By Two Art for AIDS benefit, which mainly attracts Dallas socialites. And on Saturday, she’s spinning at the Centerstage 2005 Gala, a ritzy fund-raiser for the Dallas Theater Center.

Responding to an e-mail questionnaire, Bunny bashes Bush, Britney and barebacking. She also throws in some hi-dang-larious wisecracks.

June is Gay Pride Month, and we’re all just as proud as punch. Looking back at our history since Stonewall, what changes in gay community are you most proud of?

Lady Bunny: That we’ve finally had the sense to quit squawking about gays being able to join the military — now that there’s a war on, that is! On one level, I suppose that gays should have the right to do everything straights do, including fighting in a war. But why would we want to? This president has clearly shown that he’d risk soldiers’ lives in an un-winnable war with dishonest motives. Why on earth would we want to be able to sign up to die for something like that?
What’s the biggest challenge that lies ahead for the GLBT community? Read Larry Kramer’s “The Tragedy of Today’s Gays.” It basically says that this administration is thrilled about crystal addiction and barebacking. Why? Because they really hate us. They’re thinking, “The fags are killing themselves so we won’t have to.”
As a group, we’ve got to band together and fan the flames of outrage over the fact that this administration wants to strip our rights away. We need that fighting spirit that gave birth to Stonewall because Bush wants to undo every advance we’ve made.
Individually, I think we need to be kinder to ourselves. It’s really tough to have it drummed into our heads, as children, that being gay is unnatural or against God. Even if we are successfully functioning individuals, those wounds run deep. I think this lack of self-worth often emerges in destructive behaviors like barebacking and alcohol and drug abuse. I know it has with me. We need to unlearn those false lessons and truly accept ourselves. But it’s not easy when “ministers” like Pat Robertson are blaming 9/11 on gays. We need to realize that they are the freaks, not us!

You’re coming to Dallas to spin at another chi-chi fund-raiser. At these affairs, have you ever flatly refused a song request? D.J. requests, no. BJ requests, well, uh, no. My motto is, “I can play what I want at home for free.” If you are hiring me, I need to have your kind of music on hand. I’m just the jukebox. I’m definitely not the greatest mixer, but I am good at figuring out what type of tunes each crowd wants, and I let ’em have it — with pleasure! The Dallas Theater benefit is sold out, and I can’t wait to rock them fancy folk!
What part of your allure makes these rich Dallas folks book you as a D.J.?

That I’m unbelievably elegant? No, I didn’t think you’d buy that one. How about — they get a D.J. and a clown for one price!
At these shindigs, has a drunken magnate ever made a pass at you? I’ll take a Magnum TM over a magnate any day. Besides, I’m usually eyeing the kitchen help.

Have you ever loaned a rich woman a tampon?

No, but every year in New York, I D.J. at a benefit held in the Puck Building, which is a fancy hall that used to be a school. I went to the powder room and found that the stalls had really low doors, since they were originally built for kids. I was a tad uncomfortable about the uptown girls clocking me while standing to pee with the back of my large wig poking up over the stall. So I broke the ice by asking them if they might have a spare sanitary napkin. It worked.

Name three things you always keep in your purse:

Condoms, lube and gerbil food.

What song plays through your head when you’re taking a shower?

“Finally” by CC Penniston — if I’m stanky.

Name two good albums for the post-coital boudoir?

“The Sunburst Band” by Joey Negro or Jill Scott’s underrated new album, “Beautifully Human: Words and Sounds, Vol. 2.”

If Mary Cheney asked you to choose the first song at her same-sex wedding, what would you pump over the sound system?

I’d have to write one just for her. Maybe something like “I’m a Poisonous Backstabbing Snake Who Kills Itself?” Actually, I can’t imagine taking the gig. I can’t comprehend a gay Republican. It’s like a vegetarian butcher or a black KKK member: By definition, it just doesn’t make sense. How could you support a political party that hates you?

Last year, “Queer Eye” came to North Texas to redo some straight slobs. What do you think every Texas man should have on his bedside nightstand?

A picture of me — as a diet aid!
When I’m in Dallas, I like to:

Eat! Or visit with friends like Tangella Deville or The Dragon Lady. I’d love to check out a show at the Rose Room this weekend, but I leave on Sunday morning to perform at an event for Los Angeles gay pride.

What do you make of Britney’s new reality show? Britney is a marketing machine — the direct opposite of an artist. Her songs are picked for her, her clothes are picked for her, her moves are choreographed for her. She isn’t even entertaining while lip-synching onstage with a zillion dollars worth of lights. So how could her life behind the scenes be interesting? I hear her reality show is awful, but how could it not be? At least Jessica Simpson knows she’s a bimbo and pokes fun at herself.
Besides, real reality TV is the footage of dead and wounded American soldiers, which news channels aren’t allowing us to see — not someone shoving bugs down their throats. These guys and gals are dying for us, but Bush doesn’t want us to know what a bloody flop this war is. Get real, people! I have a column in the July issue of Genre, which addresses reality TV in more depth. On the whole, it’s crap.

Heard any good jokes?

The pope called Michael Jackson and said, “If you keep molesting this many boys, I’ll have to make you a priest!”

BUNNY’S DISCO BALL

For most people, two decades of fame and notoriety might be considered a full career. For Lady Bunny, it’s merely a start.
As the founder of Wigstock, Bunny has watched countless musical artists, like RuPaul, go from virtual unknowns to stars. For the latest stage of her ever-evolving career, Bunny is hopping into the fray herself — writing and performing her own disco-fabulous tracks and setting them free for the masses.
Only one of Lady Bunny’s new songs, the house-heavy “I Get High,” has been commercially released. It came out on the D.J.-centric Catch 22 label earlier this year. More singles are promised, but in the meantime, fans can tune into Bunny central — also known as LadyBunny.net — for a selection of 12 tracks, including “I Get High.”
Particularly recommended are the Dee Lite-sounding grooves of “Knock! Knock!” and the runway-worthy “Get Jumpin’.” And don’t miss the seriously twisted “Fuck With You,” which takes Michael Jackson’s “Rock With You” and gives it a raunchy and hilarious working over.
— Gilbert Garcia

BUMPER STICKERS FROM AROUND THE WORLD

01. Constipated People Don't Give a Shit

02. Practice Safe Sex, Go Screw Yourself

03. If You Drink Don't Park, Accidents Cause People

04. Who Lit the Fuse On YOUR Tampon?

05. If you Don't Believe In Oral Sex, Keep Your Mouth
Shut

06. Please Tell Your Pants It's Not Polite to Point

07. If That Phone Was Up Your Butt, Maybe You Could
Drive A Little
Better!

08. My Kid Got Your Honor Roll Student Pregnant

09. Thank You For Pot Smoking

10. To All You Virgins: Thanks For Nothing

11. If At First You Don't Succeed... Blame Someone
Else And Seek
Counseling

12. Impotence: Nature's Way Of Saying "No Hard
Feelings"

13. If You Can Read This, I've Lost My Trailer

14. Horn Broken...Watch For Finger

15. It's Not How You Pick Your Nose, But Where You Put
The Boogie

16. If You're Not A Hemorrhoid, Get Off My Ass

17. You're Just Jealous Because The Voices Are Talking
To Me

18. The Earth Is Full - Go Home

19. I Have The Body Of A God... Buddha

20. This Would Be Really Funny If It Weren't Happening
To Me

21. So Many Pedestrians - So Little Time

22. Cleverly Disguised As A Responsible Adult

23. If We Quit Voting Will They All Go Away?

24. The Face Is Familiar But I Can't Quite Remember My
Name

25. Eat Right, Exercise, Die Anyway

26. Illiterate? Write For Help

27. Honk If Anything Falls Off

28. Cover Me, I'm Changing Lanes

29. He Who Hesitates Is Not Only Lost But Miles From
The Next Exit

30. I Refuse To Have a Battle Of Wits With An Unarmed
Person

31. You! Out Of The Gene Pool!

32. I Do Whatever My Rice Krispies Tell Me To

33. Where Are We Going And Why Am I In This Hand
basket?

34. If Sex Is A Pain In The Ass, Then You're Doing It
Wrong

35. Fight Crime: Shoot Back!

36. If You Can Read This, Please Flip Me Back Over
(Seen Upside Down,On A Jeep)

37. Remember Folks: Stop Lights Timed For 35mph Are
Also Timed For
70mph

38. If Walking Is So Good For You, Then Why Does My
Mailman Look Like
Jabba
The Hut?

39. Necrophilia: That Uncontrollable Urge To Crack
Open A Cold One

40. Ax Me About Ebonics

41. Body By Nautilus; Brain By Mattel

42. Boldly Going Nowhere

43. Cat: The Other Other White Meat

44. Caution: Driver Legally Blonde!!!

45. Don't Be A Sexist - Broads Hate That

46. Heart Attacks... God's Revenge For Eating His
Animal Friends

47. Honk If You've Never Seen An Uzi Fired From A Car
Window

48. How Many Roads Must A Man Travel Down Before He
Admits He Is Lost?

49. If You Can't Dazzle Them With Brilliance, Riddle
Them With Bullets

50. Money Isn't Everything, But It Sure Keeps The Kids
In Touch

51. Saw It... Wanted It... Had A Fit... Got It!

52. My Hockey Mom Can Beat Up Your Soccer Mom

53. Grow Your Own Dope --- Plant A Man

54. All Men Are Animals, Some Just Make Better Pets

55. Some People Are Only Alive Because It Is Illegal
To Shoot Them

56. I Used To Have A Handle On Life, But It Broke

57. WANTED: Meaningful Overnight Relationship

58. BEER: It's Not Just For Breakfast Anymore

59. So You're A Feminist... Isn't That Precious

60. I Need Someone Really Bad... Are You Really Bad?

61. Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beer Holder.

THE BUNNY HOP!

Hey! I don't have my schedule page up yet, but if you are in one of these areas, come check me out!

6/11 Edge/ Air America is interviewing me sometime between 3:00 and 5:00 LA time--I think that's LA's Air America affiliate.

6/11 DJing at Dallas Theater Center Benefit--SOLD OUT!

6/12 Performing at LA Pride at 3:00, main stage.

6/13 Sucking cock in the Greyhound Bus Terminal, stall #3. Just stick it through the hole. Remove scabs first.

6/17 Performing at Guava Lamp in Houston with Bubba!

6/18 Partying at Guava Lamp in Houston with Bubba!

6/19 Performing at Stonewall in Allentown, PA

6/21 Performing at San Francisco's infamous Trannyshack with co-whore Heklina. An annual gig which is always a hoot!

6/23 DJing at a private NYC function which you can't come to!

6/25 DJing in front of Circuit in Chicago at a pre-Pride fest all day. RuPaul is performing.
6/25 Flying home and performing at La Escuelita with all the cast and the cutest crowd in town!

6/26 Performing at StageFest in NYC after the Parade, selling my hot-off-the-press comedy dvd at one of them booths at the Pier. Then La Escuelita later that night.

6/27 COLLAPSE!

7/1 and 7/2 One "woman" show at the Hudson River Theater in Hudson, NY.

7/6 Performing at Stonewall in NYC with the hottest boys in town!

7/9 DJing in the Hamptons for Empire State Pride Agenda's annual outdoor benefit.

7/23 Performing at some outdoor festival in London and then later at Queer Nation for a Salsoul Records release party for a Luke Howard mixed cd of Salsoul gems.

7/26 DJing somewhere in London--come find me!

7/29 performing my single I GET HIGH at Red-Lite in Montreal with DJ Disciple

7/30 Performing at Montreal Pride

Mama is working, okay? Don't try to rob my house while I'm gone cuz a big, mean ugly dog is staying here--her name is Linda Simpson! --B

HEALTH SCAM ALERT!

NO FISH/PUSSY JOKES!

Woman charged with
smuggling fish in skirt
Customs officials hear 'flipping'
noises, find 51 tropical species
Australian Customs Service officials took this photograph of the woman's skirt.
The Associated Press
Updated: 3:43 p.m. ET June 6, 2005
SYDNEY, Australia - There must have been something fishy about the way she walked. Customs officials said Monday they stopped a woman as she arrived Friday in the southern city of Melbourne on a flight from Singapore and found 51 live tropical fish allegedly hidden in a specially designed apron under her skirt.

"During the search customs officers became suspicious after hearing 'flipping' noises coming from the vicinity of her waist," the Australian Customs Service said in a press release. "An examination revealed 15 plastic water-filled bags holding fish allegedly concealed inside a purpose-built apron."

The species of fish was not immediately known, but customs officials warned they could carry diseases that could decimate Australian fish if they escaped into local rivers.

Customs officers will charge the woman once they establish what species the fish are. If convicted of smuggling wildlife, she faces a fine of up to U.S. $83,617 and could also get a prison sentence of up to 10 years.

WHAT HALLMARK CARDS DON'T SAY

WHAT HALLMARK CARDS DON'T SAY

My tire was thumping.

I thought it was flat

When I looked at the tire...

I noticed your cat.

Sorry!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heard your wife left you,

How upset you must be.

But don't fret about it...

She moved in with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looking back over the years

that we've been together,

I can't help but wonder...

"What the hell was I thinking?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Congratulations on your wedding day!

Too bad no one likes your husband.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How could two people as beautiful as you

Have such an ugly baby?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've always wanted to have

someone to hold,

someone to love.

After having met you ..

I've changed my mind.

--------------------------------------

I must admit, you brought religion into my life.

I never believed in Hell until I met you.


//////////////////////////////////////////////////

As the days go by, I think of how lucky I am...

That you're not here to ruin it for me.

#####################################
Congratulations on your promotion.

Before you go...

Would you like to take this knife out of my back?

You'll probably need it again.


*************************************
Happy Birthday, Uncle Dad!

(Available only in Tennessee, Kentucky & West Virginia)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Happy birthday! You look great for your age.

Almost lifelike!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When we were together,

you always said you'd die for me.

Now that we've broken up,

I think it's time you kept your promise.


///////////////////////////////////////////////

We have been friends for a very long time ...

let's say we stop?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I'm so miserable without you

it's almost like you're here.

=================================
Congratulations on your new bundle of joy.

Did you ever find out who the father was?

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Your friends and I wanted to do

something special for your birthday.

So we're having you put to sleep.


)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

So your daughter's a hooker,

and it spoiled your day.

Look at the bright side,

it's really good pay.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE A REDNECK IF...

RAP GETS UGLIER

I certainly hope this is not true. I've googled it but it appears nowhere else. Could these guys actually think that beating this fan was an entertaining addition to their act? I mean I know you get kinda bitter towards the end of a tour, but honey! This is ugly. Maybe it's time to realize that these "thugs" doing "gangsta rap" for labels like Murder, Inc really are criminal lowlifes and their ugly ways are seeping through their music into a whole generation. Snoop is such a cultural icon that he seems almost cuddly compared to some rappers. But I when ordinary people request Snoop's DROP IT LIKE IT'S HOT with"Can you play that song that goes" and they pop their mouth in that hook-y rhythm? But that song is not just about cute popping noise s with a few undeniably cute shizzle-type rhymes. In the 3rd verse he raps:

If you play me close, you're on a red beam
Oh you got a gun so you wanna pop back?
AK47 now nigga, stop that!
Cement shoes, now I'm on the move
You're family's crying, now you on the news
They can't find you, and now they miss you
Must I remind you I'm only here to twist you
Pistol whip you, dip you then flip you

It's about killing someone, in a song with 2 proud Crips gang references. So should the following (admittedly unsubstantiated) claims surprise us?


Loyal fan claims he was beaten onstage at Snoop Dogg concert

By ATHIMA CHANSANCHAI AND ROBERT L. JAMIESON Jr.
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTERS

A Seattle-area hip-hop fan claims he was pummeled onstage this weekend at a concert with Snoop Dogg, The Game, Oowee and other artists.

Richard Monroe, 24, said he jumped onstage to dance at the encouragement of the rap artists when about a dozen people, including Snoop Dogg, hit and kicked him repeatedly. He alleges they ripped out his diamond earrings, poured alcohol on him, stole his watch and cell phone and took his wallet containing cash and identification.

Monroe said he was beaten and his belongings were stolen when he went onstage at Snoop Dogg's concert at the White River Amphitheatre.
Fans who watched the chaotic scene on stage Saturday had varying accounts. Some said they saw a man rush toward the artists from the backstage area before the fight broke out.

"The Game was throwing everything he had into it, and you could see Oowee moving back and forward and kicking the guy. I was kind of shocked," said 17-year-old Thatcher Marshall, who sat in the front section.

Marshall said the violence erupted during Snoop Dogg's song "Gin and Juice."

Administrators of White River Amphitheatre in Auburn, where the concert took place, acknowledged late yesterday that a fan had approached the artist on stage "unexpectedly" and had to be removed.

"The safety and security of our artists and our patrons is very important to us," the amphitheater's executive director, Lance Miller, said in the statement.

"We fully support the local authorities in their investigation of this incident."

Monroe spoke to a deputy from the King County Sheriff's Office Sunday evening, and the deputy took his statement.

The Kent man's eyes were swollen almost shut during an interview with the Seattle Post-Intelligencer Sunday evening. He was taken by ambulance to Auburn Regional Medical Center, suffering bruised ribs, a broken nose and a busted lip, according to his family. He said if he weren't so big -- he stands 6-foot-3 and weighs 250 pounds -- his injuries might have been worse.

Monroe, an aspiring model who calls himself "a loyal fan" of Snoop Dogg's, said that within seconds of getting onstage, the rap stars' bodyguards pounced on him and dragged him to the back of the stage.

"White River security guards didn't do anything. They didn't help," he said. "What are they there for?"

The scuffle was a chat topic on Snoop Dogg's Web site over the weekend. "We were right up front and watched that fool get the (expletive) kicked outta him ... there was blood and (expletive) everywhere, man," wrote one.

The concert was the season opener for the White River Amphitheatre, on the Muckleshoot reservation. Many fans, who paid from $25 to $46 for tickets, were disappointed when the show abruptly ended after the incident.

"I kept hoping it would just end, and they would finish up the concert," said Marshall.

Representatives of Snoop Dogg could not be reached yesterday, but one talent manager said last night that anyone who jumps onstage should know they will be removed.

Anthony Johnson, Monroe's cousin, and Monroe's girlfriend, Sonya Waters, attended the concert with him. Neither jumped onstage. "All they had to do is say you ain't supposed to be on the stage," said Johnson. "He was there for a minute with Snoop kickin' it."

Monroe's friends and family allege that Snoop Dogg also hit him in the head with a microphone during the melee.

Snoop Dogg, a fixture on MTV shows who has branched out into movies such as "Soul Plane," was at the venue on the tail end of his How The West Was One Tour, in which he headlines with California rapper The Game.

Snoop Dogg is on tour promoting his latest record, R&G (Rhythm & Gangsta): The Masterpiece.

Some fans yesterday questioned whether the onstage brawl might have been part of the rap stars' act.

Monroe said it was no act.

"They beat me like a slave," he said, holding an ice bag to his face. "It's horrible. They just went too far."

BANANAS SPLIT!

Actual Craig's List personal: I Am So Beautiful Even God Says So

Reply to: anon-76500256@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-06-01, 7:52PM EDT


Are you beautiful like me? Do peoples tell you that you is beautiful? Do peoples like to touch you and sex you? Do peoples like to see your sex? Everyone wants to see me sex. Everyone wants to touch my sex. Do you want to touch my sex?

IS THIS GHETTO OR WHAT?