Sunday, November 29, 2009

East Side, Bitchez!!

So apparently Hollywood East is picking up steam. From what I've read about it, it sounds like the bygone era of studio systems and star-ownership all over again. All I can say about that is SIGN ME THE HELL UP!! What would be so terrible about a studio forcing me to be beautiful and glamorous, sticking me in the latest fashions, and placing me in front of a camera, so the rest of the world can "ooh" and "ahh" at my glorious magnificence?

Sure, I could end up like Judy Garland (RESPECT) and die before I'm 50, overrun by drugs and work and the like. But everyone who knew her always said she wasn't an unhappy person, and preferred to be remembered as joyful rather than tragic. So she obviously had her positives. She was incredibly intelligent, terribly witty, and a fabu raconteur. Don't forget that talent. That luscious, sexy, God-given talent. I'm talking about her voice, of course. I would love to be remembered as one of my century's greatest singers, and most unforgettable entertainer. Like any gay man trapped inside a girl's body (how convenient, I mean gay men and straight women DO want the same thing, after all), I would love to have met Judy and I would totally Queen out if I woke up one day and realized I was her. But we can't have everything.

I might also end up like Elizabeth Taylor. Her autobio might read something like a Marilyn Manson song. You know, the one that goes "Babble, babble, bitch, bitch, rebel, rebel, party, party. Sex, sex, sex, and don't forget the violence." I mean, she was an alcoholic, a pill-popper, and a bulimic. Not to mention the most notorious SLUT ever. Still, if someone as charitable as Jacko was friends with her, then she must have a good side. I mean what luscious, divine, steamy, sensual, sexy talent. And by talent I don't mean acting skills (get real!! Who knows how long she spent on her knees for those Oscars), I mean her boobs and her face. Oh, and her bedroom know-how. that's what she has. Thank you Dame Elizabeth, whom I follow on Twitter, for all of your efforts in support of slutty, crabfarm, husband stealin' hoes everywhere. We love you and your vagina. You know, the thing that got passed around MGM like a football.

But, maybe if I'm lucky I can end up like Debbie Reynolds. She's still just as beautiful as she was 50 years ago, and she's maintained a career both on and off the screen long after her contemporaries have bowed out (most likely against their will). She's adorable, classy, and funny as ever. She has a great deal of talent, and I wish she would share it. Her only fault lies in her lack of husband-huntin' skills. But, like I said, you can't have everything (though I think Eddie Fisher tried that, and look how he ended up). Debbie, you talent-hogging bitch, I love you, and I would totally make sweet, sweet love to you (oh no she didn't; oh YES I did). Don't die before I meet you.

My celebretardation aside, whatever rainbow Hollywood East blows the film industry over, I hope it's shitty farm house lands on me, cuz my ass wants to be in a movie, GODDAMMIT!!

Peace, Love, and Glamour!!

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