I love me some Anna Effing Wintour. She’s a fabulous bitch. And I definitely love me some internets. They’re paying for my house. And oh god oh god do I love me some gossip. If you don’t have anything nice to say COME SIT BY ME.
J. Harvey made my naughty bulbous areas tingle during my afternoon RSS-a-thon with this JUICAY tidbit:
No people. I couldn’t make this stuff up.
The Vogue web site is getting a long over-due makeover. A Vogue staff member, who wisely remained anonymous tells Page Six all about her latest demand.
“They are expanding the Vogue Web site and getting more involved with the Internet. But Anna hates the word ‘blog’ so much, she refuses to call anything on her site a blog and has charged her staff with coming up with a new word that isn’t as garish-sounding. She wants it ASAP - in time for launch.”
But another source, also wisely remaining anonymous, defends that Wintour is just concerned that name blog will improperly fit the stories. Meanwhile her rep assures gthe blogging community that she “has nothing against blogs.”
Aww, here I thought Anna and I were BFF. Blog on people. Blog on. Yes, I know the video above has nothing to do with Anna, but I thought it would be a nice change from seeing the Wintour grimace. Plus I love shoes, its Friday, and I will no doubt be drinking my Irish ass into oblivion the rest of the weekend. Cheers! PS- The vid is a little NSFW. (Read More)
Given the original Pudenda Shenanigans meme, I find her implicit intimate knowledge of bathhouse culture HIGHLY telling.
According to a transcript posted on Wonkette, yesterday’s edition of “The Big Idea With Donny Deutsch” featured guest Ann Pudenda Shenanigans saying of Bill Clinton’s perceived sexual proclivities, “I think that sort of rampant promiscuity does show some level of latent homosexuality.” Then when Deutsch pressed Pudenda Shenanigans to elaborate, the two reportedly shared this exchange:
Pudenda Shenanigans: …I think anyone with that level of promiscuity where, you know, you — I mean, he didn’t know Monica’s name until their sixth sexual encounter. There is something that is — that is of the bathhouse about that.
DEUTSCH: But what is the homosexual — that’s — you could say somebody who maybe doesn’t celebrate women the way he should or just is that he’s a hound dog?
Pudenda Shenanigans: No. It’s just random, is this obsession with his…
DEUTSCH: But where’s the — but where’s the homosexual part of that? I’m — once again, I’m speechless here.
Pudenda Shenanigans: It’s reminiscent of a bathhouse. It’s just this obsession with your own — with your own essence.
DEUTSCH: But why is that homosexual? You could say narcissistic.
Pudenda Shenanigans: Right.
DEUTSCH: You could say nymphomaniac.
Pudenda Shenanigans: Well, there is something narcissistic about homosexuality. Right? Because you’re in love with someone who looks like you. I’m not breaking new territory here, why are you looking at me like that?
So wait — narcissism and “obsession with your own essence” are homosexual traits? Well hell, Ann…
…sorry we’ve never invited you to Pride.
Stay tuned for later Pudenda Shenanigans leaps in logic, when we hear she’ll claim Bill named his daughter Chelsea because “the Castro” and “West Hollywood” were both too wordy.
Thursday night my friend JF and I went to see Kathy Griffin live at the Warfield. The show was absolutely fantastic. I thought I was going to have a stroke from laughing that hard for 2 solid hours. She worked hard for two hours and the audience adored her.
I also thought I was going to die from physical discomfort. The Warfield is one of the theatrical jewels of San Francisco. It’s an embarrassment. The seats are too narrow, too shallow, and too hard to sit in for a long show (except for the filthy velvet seat covers). And holy shit was it hot. No A/C. Very few places in San Francisco have air conditioning mind you—it’s only uncomfortably hot for a few weeks every year, but a theatre should be one of them. The Warfield officially seats 2,250 people. Great entertainment comes through here regularly, and it is always packed to the rafters. Even on a cold night this place is hot, and it was unbearable on Thursday. I was pickled by the time the show was done.
Like lots of other folks I know, I’ve fallen completely in love with her thanks to her reality show “Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List”—a reference to the fact that she works her ass off in the entertainment business, and still gets the shit work, like corporate gigs for Alka-Seltzer and other places where the straight, white male demographic clashes rudely with her primary topics.
I’ll set up this clip. Kathy went to Iraq to entertain the troops. Her act is delightfully bitchy with plenty of references to homos and sex and other “inappropriate” topics (like most people would want anything else). The Army sent her a contract that theoretically ruled out about 90% of her act. She read the more ridiculous parts of the contract to the audience. (This is not from the show I saw, but it gives you a taste):