Christmas came early with Golden Globe nominations. And now, visions of the K / Cates dressed as sugar plums – whatever the hell they really are – are dancing around in my mushy lil' head. And by the Kates I’m talking about your basic Winslets and your Blanchetts.
Toss big screen nominees Penelope Cruz, Meryl Streep, Marisa Tomei, Anne Hathaway, Angelina Jolie and Frances McDormand in that hot mix and my head my just spin off from all those gorgeous globes at The Globes come whenever the hell they air in January.
And that’s not even figuring small screen heavy hitters and hot-ass nominees Mariska Hargitay, Tina Fey, Kyra Sedgwick, January Jones, America Ferrera, Sally Field, Mary Louise Parker and Debra Messing decked out, bejeweled and flashing the cleave on the red carpet. With the economy in the tank and SAG threatening to pull a bullshit move and strike at this juncture, here’s hoping this bevy of babes with superior acting chops decides to get drunk on Veuve Cliquot and engage in a rousing game of “I never” après the Awards.
Oh…and some dudes were nominated for a few awards too. While there’s a soft spot in my heart for Mr. Brad Jolie-Pitt, who’s nominated for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, it’s really all about Angelina and the ménage of congratulatory, pats-on-the-bum and extended hello kisses that’s occurring between Empress Ange of the Pornographically Hot Lips and the K / Cates ocurring in the recesses of my filthy imagination.
However -- I must say -- I thought this was the year the ancient, straight, white members of the Foreign Press and Academy Awards patriarchy would throw the gays a bone -- considering those lil’ anti-gay marriage and adoption amendments fucked us over this election. I’m wildly disappointed that Milk,Gus van Sant, screenwriter Dustin Lance Black and Josh Brolin were shut out of the Globes. Really, does Clint “All-American Old Man Male Wet Dream” Eastwood really need more kudos and another nomination or award? Although, I must admit I’m happy he got Angie’s ass back to the red carpet.
Since it is the season, Awards that is, and Hollywood has waited 51 weeks and four days before releasing just about any film worth spending $12 on, I am thankful for Ms. Winslet’s heavy press tour promoting her paean to breasts, ass, illiteracy and oh Nazi War Crimes in The Reader. While the lovely Brit chewed the scenery in Stephen Daldry’s film based on Bernard Schlink’s novel, it’s her reteaming with her Titanic co-star Leo DiCaprio in the film her hubby of American Beauty fame, Sam Mendes directed, Revolutionary Road, which promises to blow the doors off the Academy. And let’s face it, it’s much more satisfying to objectify and ogle Ms. Winslet when she’s not starring as such a reprehensible character as in The Reader.
At least I’m not the only lez on the Hollywood block who’s got Kate’s assets on her mind. A very taken -- and by taken I don’t mean smitten, or maybe I do -- Big Gay Ellen Degeneres delved into Kate’s issue with keeping her girls under wraps on celluloid on her talk show Tuesday.
Big Gay Married Ellen touched on Kate’s proclivity for onscreen nudity, querying Kate on how she handled her love scenes -- albeit not as nude as say in, The Reader, Holy Smoke, Little Children, Titanic, Quills…take your pick -- in Revolutionary Road. Kate copped to being a bit nervous about those intimate scenes with Leo, while her hubby was behind the camera, to which Ellen replied “You should be.”
When Ellen pointedly asked why Kate lobbed her breasts out so often, the staid Brit attempted an intellectual answer about real bodies, physical imperfection and how her body isn’t the same now that she’s had two kids blah, blah blah…. Ellen was thinking what I was thinking and told to Kate to prove it. “Take off your shirt.” And Kate, being the good gal that she is, began to comply. NBC or the FCC or some uptight shit tamped that down but the sentiment remains that Kate was ready to toss her designer duds to the wind for Ellen.
Speaking of Big Gay Ellen -- for anyone who’s been living in an isolation tank for a week -- the queen of daytime took to the streets of Burbank with one Ms. Brit “I’m a Pop Star Again” Spears to spread some Christmas cheer, donning Dickensian drag and generally acting like fools. A good time appeared to be had by all -- especially the old man for whom Brit and Ellen shimmied and shook their naughty bits on his front porch. Hell, who am I kidding? If that duo turned up at my door looking like lesbian Cratchett family, I’d lure them into my den of iniquity with margaritas and junk food.
Good for Brit. While it’s the holiday season and I really wish my fave gift that keeps on giving, Lindsay the Lush, the part-time Lez, the Lohan, would act up a tad -- she hasn’t had any fun press since she fought with her Facebook on her MySpace a few weeks ago. However, it’s nice to see the former troubled pop starlet Britney back on her feet. But Brit’s never been as much fun as the Linds -- who appears to be a straight-up bitch of a bad girl with a manageable Grey Goose, Red Bull and Ambien addiction. Poor Brit’s likely truly bi-polar and a little bit too sad when she’s down, so I raise my glass of Sam's Club orange soda in a toast to Ellen’s caroling partner.
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Ah…the close of the year is nigh. It’s a time for reflection and for fresh beginnings, for mourning of the series finale of South of Nowhere and a time to anticipate the sixth and final season of The L Word knowing that Leisha Hailey’s Alice Doesn’t Live in Weho Anymore, or whatever they intend to call it, spin-off is right on its heels.
That said, I was wholly late to the party with SON. For years I’d heard tell of this teen show with the girl-on-girl storyline and I just never imagined it would be so damned fetching.
So, I borrowed a 22-year-old co-worker’s computer to dive into her complete library of SON on her iTunes. And I’ve spent untold hours this fall enrapt in episode after episode of those raspy voiced darlings Mandy Musgrave’s poor little rich bad girl Ashley and Gaby Christian’s all-too together Spencer. I think I got a little red wine on my co-worker's trackpad but MacBooks are pretty sturdy.
You might wonder what a seasoned Lesbo like me is doing vicariously living through the tale of two high school girls. It’s simple. I had Facts of Life, Jo and Blair, and while there’s no denying my predilection for the pretty rich bitch Blair, the metaphorical blue balls were unbearable. It just can’t compare to the on-screen consummation of two fictional girls in love.
Hell, when I was in high school my erstwhile girlfriend and I settled for drunken fumblings in the back seat of her VW Rabbit before she headed off to her boyfriend. There was no in-school hand holding, hugging or candid girls’ room chats. There was no sharing of lip gloss, no playing hooky at the beach in Malibu and no slow-dancing at the prom. Farewell to those husky-voiced cuties Spashley and here’s hoping we see Mandy and Gaby enjoy long, fulfilling careers with plenty more girl / girl roles to come. Just a thought…
Speaking of girl-on-girl, is it me or does ideologically conservative hot mess Lil Lissy Hasselbeck have a soft spot for Melissa Etheridge? Melissa turned up on Tuesday’s The View to promote her holiday album Blue Christmas… and the convo quickly turned to gay marriage. Typically strident and unbending, Lil Lezzie -- Lissy -- practically folded when Melissa asked her if she supported same-sex marriage. They ended the segment with mutual “I love yous.”
Lissy’s a jock so here’s the thing….before she married her piece of NFL man meat Tim Hasselbeck, I’m thinking a college-aged Lissy engaged in a few post-soccer, volleyball, field hockey -- whatever she played -- girl-on-girl make out sessions to the Melissa Etheridge collection circa Your Little Secret in 1995.
The full-on L Word Season 6 foreplay has begun and now that Ilene Chaiken and the Showtime Gods have let the "Jenny’s Dead" cat out of the bag, the question posed by the Showtime marketing department is “Who killed Jenny Schecter?”
Well, that’s easy. You did Ilene Chaiken. You killed her. You and your writers and all of those nay saying fans who’ve wanted her dead since poor Mia Kirshner’s character first climbed atop Eric Mabius' Tim only to fantasize about pool sex at the Porter manse.
Ms. Ilene has never made it a secret that Jenny’s the closest L Word character to being her alter ego, so I’m thinking Big Mama Chaiken pulled an M. Night Shyamalan and played God – Oh to be your own creator and killer. It’s simply diabolic, genius stuff. And I can't wait!
