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When a fun-loving pair of gossipy homos gets together, nobody is safe. Sure, instant messaging is a wonderful tool for workplace communication and for late-night, ahem, romantic dalliances. But during those down times in the gay media business, what else is there to do but eviscerate the glitterati?
SheWired.com Senior Editor Tracy E. Gilchrist and Advocate.com Editor Ross von Metzke prove that lesbians and gay men do get along... especially when they're getting bitchy over the latest dirt in Hollywood.
It's the week before The Dinah and Tracy doesn't have much on her mind except the extra calories she's failed to burn and the the thought of impending topless keg stands. Still, this pair of gossip mongers weighs in on Valerie Bertinelli's hot-ass 49-year-old bod, then it's on to Beyonce channeling folky singer songwriters Alanis Morissette and Sarah Mclachlan. The original Idol Kelly Clarkson 'does not hook up,' while the Sex and the City sequel is babies, babies, babies and Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange chew the scenery in Grey Gardens.
TEG: Hey you. Do you have time for me? I'm master cleansing in time for the Dinah and I'm about to pass out under my desk.
RvM: Master cleansing? Does that usually involve a Quaalude, can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and an 8x10 of Valerie Bertinelli in her bikini?
TEG: It does now that Valerie is like the new and improved Barbara Cooper...ie, older, wiser and hot as hell in her 48-year-old bikini bod. I think Val needs tutor me privately on weight loss and bikini shopping.
RvM: She probably tossed her jalapeno poppers out the window, found herself a pretty looking Philly in her thirties and got some.
TEG: I'd be standing outside waiting for Valerie's poppers to hit me. Do you think she's into poppers?
RvM: You pig... and I know why you want Val to tutor you. I saw that plaid skirt/ruler kit you have on your desk. Little Catholic school girl fetish fantasy. You want to be touched by an angel?
TEG: The plaid skirt is for me, the ruler is for her! And I'd like to be touched by the devil who looks like an angel. Or maybe that was my ex.
RvM: That was being touched by the devil who looks like hell -- but I digress. I know you’ll find this filthy, but keeping in the spirit of Jenny Craig spokespeople, could Phylicia Rashad play the headmistress in this fantasy. She's lost 22 lbs.
TEG: Absolutely! Phylicia with a power complex. And Kirstie Alley as the fallen angel.
RvM: There's something oddly hot about Claire Huxtable walking in on Barbara Cooper spanking the Grande Dame of SheWired. Kirstie can play the groundskeeper.
TEG: And the gopher who flips of the paparazzi while picking up Chinese food. Wait. But what about Latifah?
RvM: Blech -- she goes to the school next door. Hanover Academy for Wayward Boys.
TEG: Hmmm. I have nothing.
RvM: Neither does Latifah, that’s why she didn’t get in to your prissy ass academy.
TEG: So, what do you think about Beyonce getting her acoustic folk pining lady on covering Alanis and Sarah M? Do you think she also secretly makes love to Joni Mitchell ballads?
RvM: My friend said she has a touch of the fish in her, but I’m not buying. Beyonce doesn't strike me as being even remotely lez. But I do love that she's covering real artists like Alanis and Sarah. But I swear to you. If Sasha Fierce outs with "my hands are small I know," I’m gonna slap her with a ukulele.
TEG: Or if she starts yodeling Jewel's pancake song? WTF? And I agree. Beyonce is as straight as Alicia Keys. But I would love to see Beyonce and Solange cover the Indigo Girls' "Get out the Map."
RvM: Emily Sailers just clocked out. She hates you.
TEG: Or clocked me.
RvM: You’d love that.
TEG: Being beat down by a folk singer? Yeah. That's a badge of honor I would wear.
RvM: I wonder if Solange drives a Subaru Forrester.
TEG: A forest green Forrester with a bike rack on top?
RvM: Who's the bike for? Cuz you know Tina Knowles doesn't know how to ride one. She strikes me as a strictly Jaguar kind of lady, or a Lincoln continental.
TEG: Tina Knowles? Who the hell is that?
RvM: House of Dereon. She of Beyonce's crap-tastic Oscar dress. You just got 86'd by black queens everywhere.
TEG: I need an interpreter. What the fuck sort of colloquial shit are you talking?
RvM: Nevermind. Suffice it to say Tina Knowles is a precious gem that all gossipmongers should know. But then again, if you start talking about chicks like Kris Williamson to mainstream folk, they'll give you the same look Mick Jagger gave Britney Spears when she covered “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” WTF?
TEG: Well, school me then...off line.
RvM: Alright. Oooh, I have an idea. If Beyonce is going to do “Angel,” maybe Sarah McLachlan can do a piano medley of “Bootylicious”, “Bug-a-Boo” and “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It).”
TEG: What about Alanis? Maybe she, Tori Amos and Natalie Merchant can team up for a stirring rendition of "Jumpin', Jumpin."
RvM: I wouldn’t be mad at them. Hey, if Beyonce and Celine can duet on the Bee Gee's emotions, I’m game for anything.
TEG: I missed that! Youtube clip...Puhleeeeeze!
RvM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRZFgfZukRM.
TEG: Somewhere, Barry Gibb is shaving his chest hair over this.
RvM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVBzspv1NS0
TEG: Oh God... Celine in a Gothic style romance replete with poet's sleeves. I think I need to bite my own neck and crawl into a bat cave for eternity.
RvM: Apparently you've never seen her video for “It's All Coming Back to Me Now,” in which she runs through a Transylvania style gothic style castle looking for her lost love spinning in circles in an off the shoulder terrycloth nightgown.
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TEG: Terrycloth...so hot. Just what I want to sink my teeth into. So... moving on. Because I know you could thump your chest over Celine all day...I hear that Sex and the City movie sequel, re-run---whatever the fuck it is will have Carrie Bradshaw pumping out a baby.
RvM: Can she still conceive?
TEG: Not with Matthew Broderick. Not with those highlights he sported at the Oscars anyway.
RvM: Yeah, that was bad. They should really stretch reality and make Samantha Jones go for in vitro and come back with octuplets.
TEG: She sells her story and her babies to Diane Sawyer for a scoop. But really, how did they go from Samantha Jones fucking a firefighter on a truck to diaper changing? I guess I just don't have the maternal thing...
RvM: We know. The closest I’ve seen to you wanting to cradle anything is when your wine of the month club shows up.
TEG: Unless you count my South of Nowhere obsession. What do you think of this Grey Gardens from classic doc film to Broadway musical to HBO film starring ET's Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange as the crazy cat lady?
RvM: Is she playing a cat lady or you call her cat lady because that’s what happened when she went in for a smidgen of Botox and they chopped her fucking face off?
TEG: Both, I think. I mean, I'm sure there are cats involved. But if they ever redo batman and Michelle Pfiefer needs a great memaw, we know who can play her.
RvM: Isn’t Jessica Lange like a minute and a half older than Michelle?
TEG: Hmmm. More like six years or so but Michelle's got a plastic surgeon with a license.
RvM: Michelle drank the potion. I feel like these columns are so gay lately. Let’s get hard core lez for a sec. Kelly Clarkson's new single.
TEG: “I Don't Hook Up”? Bullshit.
RvM: Why... Did you do her?
TEG: If I had the pics, they would be on my Facebook. I'm just sayin’... She's from the south. What else is there to do but get pregnant in the haystacks? Bake biscuits and…
RvM: So you think she has a kid stashed somewhere?
TEG: Oh no. I'm sure she's the kind that gets right to that point and then starts singing “Onward Christian Soldiers.”
RvM: She's probably played with ladies. I’m sure she went on a class trip to see your 1988 touring company of Oh Calcutta and had some very confused feelings along about the time you whipped the girls out.
TEG: That time? How about that time I whipped the girls out in front of thousands six nights a week for two years? I did nearly get picked up by a young’n at the Mississippi Zoo.
RvM: Bonoboe or peacock?
TEG: She tried to get on the tour bus by writing me a poem.
RvM: I think id better go. You just reminded me why I don’t go to zoos.
TEG: Hey, she was cute and it was Mississippi, I could have done worse. Oh well, I know you have to go do something important like gay rights...blah, blah, blah…
RvM: I’m fighting for your right to wiggle your tits in Clarkson's face, so piss off, shrew.
TEG: On that note...I'm BUSY! And BLOATED from the honey, lemon and cayenne pepper. See ya! So next week I'll be at the Dinah. Do you think we can do this while I'm half passed out and topless in some strange girls' room surrounded spent Miller Lite cans and Mardi Gras beads?
RvM: I suppose we can try. But the first time I get the sense one hand is not on the keyboard and fiddling with something else, I’m logging off. Even at 200 miles away, that’s some sick shit.
TEG: Fick me fick me fick me?
RvM: Blech -- you pig. At least do it by the pool like the rest of the dykes.
TEG: Alright. I gotta go work out for the next 108 hours. See you when I'm a size 2.
RvM: So you’ll be back in 2018?
TEG: Bitch! I hate you. Xoxo... Bye
Miss the last Gossip Girl? Read it here!
