Careless Whisper?:George Michael planning to 'marry' partner Kenny / Maybe Geroge will break down and get him a last name for a wedding present (Ireland Online)
Chucky's Revenge:Martina Hingis says she will return in 2006 / This is really great news for women's tennis. Too bad they can't all be back at the same time; this means you, Jennifer, Mary, Serena, Venus, Lindsay, Justine, Kim ... (IHT)
Blonde on Blondie: New Wave legends Blondie are filming their current U.K. tour for a warts-and-all documentary, focusing on the relationship of ex-lovers Debbie Harry and Chris Stein. Let's hope Truffaut-in-training Madonna doesn't helm the reins on this one, her latest tour-all film was the biggest dud of '05 (NME)
City Is Black:Power Outage Temporarily Darkens Detroit / Really? I thought they'd been out since 1967 (AP)
French Toast: Bush to lay out Iraq victory strategy / It's not gonna work, W, so time to pull a de Gaulle and pull out now and (maybe still) be a hero later (AP)
Go Away, Little Nut: Jeanine F. Pirro's bid to unseat Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton suffered another embarrassing setback on Tuesday when the state Legislature's most powerful Republican said she should call the whole thing off and run for state attorney general instead. (NYT) (see related embarrassment)
Maybe it's trendier to listen to Gwen, Kylie or Britney these days, but for my money, I stick with what works. The Bananarama gals have been making great pop music since I was a child. I remember my cool older brother coming home from college with the import 12-inch singles of "Really Saying Something" and "Shy Boy" and thinking these chicks were the funnest band ever. Twenty-five years later they sound better than ever, and somehow look as good as ever, too.
Although (212) fave Siobhan Fahey moved on ages ago (her new solo single kicks ass, too!), the duo of Keren Woodward and Sara Dallin have carried on the Bananarama tradition beautifully, culminating in their best album in a decade, the just-released "Drama."
Yesterday, I pointed out how weird it was that all of these male football fans are so oddly hung up on Jake "The Snake" Plummer'smustache. I feel I made my point, even if I still don't understand what a bunch of straight guys are doing sitting around talking about another guy's shaving habits. (Get a girlfriend or something, guys, or whatever it is you're supposed to do.) But since I'm the queer here, I feel that it is my place to point this out, too: Jake is kinda hot. (Or is that what you guys were really trying to say all along with all of that teasing about the mustache? Shucks, fellas!)
And as if being a hunky NFL quarterback weren't enough, the guy has his own charitable organization (the Jake Plummer Foundation) that does a lot of good work for sick and abused children, as well as raising awareness about Alzheimer's (in case you'd forgotten).
It's really nice to see an athlete grow into his own in his 30s, start playing the best game of his life, and give something back to society. Way to go, Mr. Pornstache!
Newly Newlywed:Nick Lachey will reportedly play a baseball player/newlywed in a new WB pilot. Let's hope this one gets picked up. I don't think I can make it through another TV season without my Nick. And the casting sure sounds right. He certainly has the right ass to be a 'ball player. (AP)
Guess Knot: I now pronounce you Nobody and Dork: Kimberly Stewart ends embarrassing 11-day fake engagement to Laguna Beach boy Talan. (Newsday)
Ace Rebound: Aussie hothead Lleyton Hewitt and his wife Bec Cartwright announced today that they are the parents of a baby girl (sure hope she's not a lezzie; you know how he feels about the gays). Their engagement came less than four months after Hewitt's break-up with former tennis world number one Kim Clijsters, and followed Cartwright's four-year romance with "Home and Away" co-star Beau Brady. The couple have sold the story rights to the birth to women's magazine Woman's Day. Previously, the pair had sold the story of their engagement and pregnancy to competitor New Idea. Sounds like a lasting relationship in the works to me. (News.com.au)
Nutty:I've heard of people having deadly peanut butter breath before, but come on: A 15-year-old girl with a peanut allergy died after kissing her boyfriend, who had just eaten a peanut butter snack, hospital officials said today. (TimesOnline)
J.Lo-dose: Longer needles needed for fatter butts: Many patients fail to receive full dosage of drug, study finds (Reuters)
I'm confused. Is the whole world just a bunch of cappuccino-drinking queens these days? I really don't know how else to explain this one.
We had football on in the newsroom at work on Thanksgiving and the camera kept zooming in on a player who looked like he'd just stepped out of the documentary "Gay Sex in the 1970s." A bit of quick research revealed that the hunky guy in question was Denver Broncos quarterback Jake Plummer, a fellow Sun Devil who is better known as "Jake the Snake."
Now football is supposed to be the ultimate "man's man" sport, yet this cursory Google search of Plummer's name revealed that there are currently hundreds of sports columns, blogs and message boards strictly devoted to debating the merits of Plummer's mustache — called a "pornstache" by his legion of fans.
There is even an enormously popular online petition signed by more than 5,000 fans that was started after Jake shaved off his Magnum P.I. souvenir recently. The comments were made nearly all by men and included these testosterone-challenged classics:
"Your 'stache brings inspiration to the masses. Grow it back, for the greater good"; "He's a shell of a man without it!"; "Heartbroken without the Plummer 'stache"; "with the mustache the broncos would have won 60-3"; "Bring back the porn stash!"; "What the world needs now is a sweet, sweet 'stache"; "Jake The Snake, you already have the stage name, so keep the stache"'; "what were you thinking, man??? it worked"; "I don't believe we should live in a world where Jake Plummer exists without a mustache"; "I don't care for the Broncos or Jake. But that 'stach ruled"; "Jake you are my Fantasy QB. Whatever it takes man, whatever it takes!"
(The power of the people was apparently felt: Jake was Colt Studio-ready by Thanksgiving's game against the Dallas Cowboys, and the 'stache delivered a big win.)
So what is up with all of these "macho" football fans? Are they all a bunch of mustache-loving Castro daddies? Have the metrosexuals really taken over the NFL fan base to the point that the quarterback's grooming habits are a real concern? Or is the straight world really just that amused by a grown man's fuzzy lip? (As my mom would say: I don't get it.)
Who really knows, but one thing is for sure: Freddie Mercury is somewhere out there just tickled pink.
My friends and I decided that our one-time fave Kathy Griffin jumped the shark a few weeks ago when she filed for divorce from her adorable hubby Matt Moline. Now gossip-queen-deluxe PerezHilton is reporting that the two have reconciled.
From the get-go, the separation didn't ring true. They seemed too close and too happy on her recent reality show for nothing to have seemed, at the very least, strained. So now I have this horrible feeling that the whole thing was some D-list publicity stunt so Kathy could get new material about whether or not anyone cared that she was divorcing. Then again, maybe it wasn't. Perhaps there is some reasonable explanation forthcoming. I'm not sure what to believe.
I always loved Kathy and would like to believe that what she's been going through is sincere. But having never read the book or anything, I'm wondering if it is even possible to unjump the shark ...
Invariably when you start to notice an actor is in a lot of movies you see, it's not because you're happy to be seeing them so often. Jude Law and Nicole Kidman of late, Sandra Bullock in the 1990s and Michael Caine and Gene Hackman in years gone by all seemed like they never said no to a paycheck, and I'd be happy if I never saw any of them again.
So it's quite a treat to see Peter Sarsgaard working so much and repeatedly delivering outstanding performances, even when the films he's in aren't as good as he is. He's handsome without being distractingly good-looking and seems like the rare performer who is equally willing/equally good as a supporting player or leading man.
Last night we saw "The Dying Gaul" and Peter and the film were both wonderful. The movie is a love triangle (2 guys and a girl, minus the pizza place) set in the world of big-time Hollywood film productions and has a Hitchcock psychological thriller cum Greek tragedy feel to it. It is beautifully filmed, filled with surprises and is highly entertaining. Campbell Scott and Patricia Clarkson (whose face I couldn't place until I got home and discovered that she was fun Aunt Sarah on "Six Feet Under") make up the triangle's other vortexes.
If you don't know who Peter Sarsgaard is, he's the shining moment of the mediocre "Kinsey" and "Shattered Glass," and is also great in "Boys Don't Cry" and "Garden State" (all worth seeing).
No, this photo isn't from Fallujah. It's from Midtown Manhattan:
The holiday season starts off with violence as an innocent nutcracker statue is sliced in half, extremities brutally removed, and left for dead: A tourist looks in horror at the pained face of a nutcracker after a brutal attack outside of the UBS building on 6th Avenue, New York, NY. No suspects have been named as of press time.
Growing Up (Not) Gotti: You gotta love NYT columnist Clyde Haberman for calling bullshit on Irving and ChristopherLorenzo, the hip-hop producers from Queens, who decided one day that they wanted to be known as Irv and ChristopherGotti. You may have read about these self-made Gottis. They are on trial in Brooklyn, accused by federal prosecutors of using their record label, the Inc., formerly Murder Inc., to launder drug money: "One of these days, a jury will decide their guilt or innocence. Wouldn't it be more exciting, though, if the jurors could also render a verdict on the Lorenzos' taste in names?" (NYT)
Reservation in Hell: I defy you to read this article about the girl with cerebral palsy who got hit with a light fixture during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade without dying laughing. (NYT)
Duke It Out: It seems that Teen People has sent a story about Nazi pop-tarts Lynx and Lamb Gaede to the gas chambers after an unauthorized staffer promised the girls' mother that the magazine would avoid using such sweet words as "hate," "supremacist" and "Nazi" in the piece. You know how touchy those white pride types can be. (NY Daily News)
I still haven't started watching former "Manhunt" cutie Matt Lanter as the First Son on "Commander In Chief," but if they're going to keep showing him parading around in a bathing suit, I may have to tune in. The other boys were all wearing Speedos, but the president's son chose a more conservative, basic blue trunk. He's hot either way.
Isn't this what got him in the trouble in the first place? Teen sodomist to enjoy stuffing at home (AP)
Talk about surreal: Peter Brady to wed America's Ex-Top Model on television (AP)
Butterball woos customers with its turkey line: A man asked operator Mary Van Ness if thawing his turkey in an electric blanket was OK. A woman told Van Ness that she was thawing hers in her Jacuzzi. A woman told operator Dorothy Jones that she planned to jump into a hot shower with her frozen turkey. (C'mon, we've all been there.) (USA Today)
Thanks to all my friends, family and online readers for their concern about my kitty, Troy(shown above in my favorite baby pic, circa 1994).
The good news is he is home where he belongs tonight. Being the spoiled little guy he is, an overnight stay in a scary hospital proved to be very hard on him. The vets had to put him in the "cage-aggressive" area and give him a tranquilizer because he was none-too-pleased when he woke up this morning and didn't see me (go, Troy!).
The minute he saw me in the waiting room he went from a moaning and hissing terror to completely normal. When we got in the taxi, I opened his cage door so I could pet him and instead of staying in the cage like he normally does (terrified of a moving car, of course), he crawled right out and laid himself across my lap with his head up on my chest like a little baby. The cab stopped and started and weaved through traffic like a maniac, but Troy didn't flinch once and spent the whole ride staring into my eyes. It was the happiest ride I've ever had.
Oddly, when we got home and Michael came over, he started to get really freaked out again and was hissing at both of us and moaning if we got anywhere near him. I had to finally make an appearance at work (these $1,300 kitty overnights don't pay for themselves) so Troy got some alone time and by the time I got back at around 11:30 p.m., he was his full-on sweet self (eating, purring up a storm and being a total cutie).
The emergency room vets want him to stay on his low-carb diet and to cut back to 1 unit of insulin twice a day (he had been up to 6 in the morning and 5 at night). Still searching for a new vet; have a few ideas from a co-worker.
Thanks, again, from Troy and me!
I wrote aboutPeople magazine's sexiest men issue last week, but I finally flipped through the hard copy at the drugstore yesterday.
Now maybe I'm mistaken, but I could have sworn that every man who made the list had a big thing across the top with his name, occupation AND age. Everyone except Anderson Cooper.
Now I'm not saying the Latin-boy-loving newsman lies about his age — he's widely reported as having been born in 1967, making him a very believable 38 — but is it a copy-desk/layout error that kept his age off these pages, or is the requisite vain-queen syndrome already kicking in?
My furry little friend, Troy, is in the kitty emergency room on the Upper East Side tonight, recovering from near deadly hypoglycemic shock and several seizures. What he went through Sunday evening can only be described as harrowing. I am completely heartbroken and beyond angry.
Although Troy's vet didn't bother to tell me this, apparently there is no accurate way to check a cat's blood sugar at home. Yet this idiot has repeatedly increased Troy's insulin dosage based on these tests. Furthermore, when I called a friend of a friend who is also a vet and told her Troy's symptoms earlier tonight, she did not think it sounded like "a hypo," so I erroneously stopped administering the customary "honey under the tongue" en route to the hospital. (The emergency room doctor said that my doing this earlier may very well have saved his life.) I honestly do not know what to do at this point. Yes, I'm already looking for a new veterinarian, but they all seem to know very little.
For now, I just pray Troy will rebound from this nightmare, and that the seizures have not caused any permanent harm to him. The people at the emergency room were very nice and I'm hoping they take good care of my baby. It's awful lonely around here without him.