Crazy, Sexy, Uncool

Full disclosure: sometimes I take my cellphone into the bathroom with me to catch up on the news or gossip while I'm in the crapper.  Yesterday was one of those days, and it's a good thing I did, because a tweet from the Howard Stern show let me know Mike Tyson was in the studio promoting his one man show 'Mike Tyson's Undisputed Truth'.  Can you even imagine what a mess that is?!  I managed to catch him leaving Sirius, where he stopped to sign a few autographs for the graphers that were hanging around outside.  I asked if he could look up while he was signing and he actually turned, and in that stupid burnt tongue lisp that he has, answered 'Yeth, I can do that' as if I was asking him if HE WAS ABLE to actually turn his head rather than if he WOULD turn his head.  Oh Mike, you're the gift that keeps on giving, and I thank you for being able to turn your head to the side for me.  A couple observations: that tattoo is pretty damn awesome, even if it barely showed up in the picture, and he's not as big as I thought he'd be.  I guess all that pigeon racing and ear biting has kept him from hitting the gym.

 Then it was off to The Today Show to see Darren Criss from Glee.  He's the cute one with the talent, and the only reason I tuned into season two, which got way too precious and afterschool special for my tastes.  The show jumped the shark with all those pointless celebrity guest stars, and I jumped to American Horror Story, which is Ryan Murphy redeeming himself for the tooth decay a generation of teenage girls and gays got from Glee.  And just as you'd expect, Darren was mobbed by the Benzoly Peroxide crowd on the way out of the studio.  He was nice enough to pose for pictures and sign a few autographs, and in spite of those Count Chocula eyebrows he is kinda cute in person.

Some lady named Lauren Graham was at Sirius too.  She was on Gilmore Girls and is now on some other show I don't watch, and was promoting something I don't know or care about at Sirius.  She came out of the building and was immediately surrounded by graphers and paparazzi.  Scared and unable to find her SUV (someone's getting fired over that one), she and her publicist headed back into the lobby, where they tried to hide behind an American flag, although the lobby is all glass and we could clearly see her waiting for the SUV.  When the car pulled from 50th street and around the corner to 49th, everyone traipsed through the building, RIGHT IN FRONT OF LAUREN GRAHAM, and over to the 49th street exit.  Like literally right past her and the flag.  And she didn't really have a choice when the SUV pulled up but to leave out the 49th street exit, right through the crowd she was trying to avoid.  Sorry honey, but you're no Mike Tyson, and you should be happy someone is bothering to take your picture.

HAPPY 420!

You know how some people always seem to look at the clock right at 11:11, and then say something like '11:11, make a wish' or something like that?  Well a million years ago when I was still living in Miami I was at work one day and happened to look up from a very busy day and notice, out loud, that "it's 4:20."  The next day it happened again, and then, in a groundhog's day kind of way, it kept happening day after day after day to the point that my coworkers Ashleigh, Jenny and Xenia would try to jump in and say it the minute the clock hit 4:20 instead of letting it happen organically like it should.  It kept happening even when I lived in LA, and I ended up breaking in a whole new group of coworkers while still letting Jenny and Ashleigh know 'it's 4:20' even though it was 7:20 in Miami. 

Now, we all know that 420 is a pot reference.  I'm not Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman but I believe that pot has medical benefits and should be legalized.  I used to see cannabis clubs all over LA, and even considered getting myself a medical marijuana card so I could get the good shit legally, (I get anxious.  Don't judge.) but then I thought about 'what if I get the weed that gives me the munchies?  Who the hell wants the munchies when you're busting your ass in the gym twice a day?  Wouldn't that be just my luck to get fat from munchy weed trying to treat my anxiety?  Maybe I should just go to Tijuana and see if I can get a tapeworm instead?'   Besides, ever since I fucked my lungs up running with the bulls I can't even inhale the right way, so handing me a joint is a big waste of time. 

Speaking of the good shit, here's Cheech and Chong leaving Sirius studios Thursday April 25th, thanks to a tip from my friend Marie.

Wild and crazy and whatever

Going to Broadway red carpets the last couple nights has given me a ton of photo opportunities, but it's put a serious cramp in my blogging, so let's take a step back in time to Tuesday and do a little catching up, m'kay?  Kate Hudson was at Good Morning America to promote another movie I won't see, and let me just say right now that GMA is getting to be a real nightmare.  The barricades are about three feet out from the window now, thanks to Damian climbing the windows to get a better vantage point (yeah, I'm not kidding....climbing the damn ledge of the window rather than bringing a stepladder LIKE THE REST OF THE PAPARAZZI DO you fat, lazy asshole!), and there's always a crowd of people in the studio, so good luck getting a decent shot of the guests through the window now.  This is the same paparazzo that will stalk Sarah Jessica Parker when she takes James Wilkie to school, so there's no love lost here.  Way to ruin it for everyone douche bag.  Suffice it to say, getting this shot was a bitch.  And since Kate walked straight from the stage door to her SUV without so much as a wave in the direction of the 10 people that were actually waiting for her boring ass, I'd say she's a bitch too.

Miguel, some Indian kid who's always there (I really need to start talking to people in the morning) and I raced to Rockefeller Center, hoping to catch Steve Martin leaving the Today Show.  Years ago when I lived in LA, Steve did a conversation with Carol Burnett at the Saban Theatre and they both signed books afterwards, but I was so Carol crazy that I didn't even think to snap a shot of him, so I figured this is my chance.  Rick was waiting when we got there, and thankfully Steve hadn't left yet.  The official NBC Today Show photographer, who used to be a paparazzi before going legit, came out and talked to the photographers, who abruptly left, and we started having doubts about whether Steve would leave through the 48th street exit or through the garage.  Rick and I went into the lobby, and then down the winding staircase toward the green room (and the Rockefeller Center underground shopping area, don't get excited, it's a public space) right past two ladies carrying garment bags and another lady that we didn't realize was Edie Brickell until it was too late.  I'm not aware of too many things, and one of them is what Edie Brickell looks like these days, so if Rick hadn't said anything I wouldn't have known because who the hell expects to run into Edie Brickell on the winding stairs at Rockefeller Plaza at 8:45 on a Tuesday morning when I should have been having coffee on my way to work?  Miguel and the Indian kid raced down the stairs behind us, and now instead of two discreet people being somewhere they probably shouldn't be there were four people and more commotion than necessary, but thankfully Miguel spotted Steve and we got back up stairs and outside before getting kicked out of the building even though we really weren't technically doing anything wrong officer.  Back on 48th street, we waited about five minutes and out came Steve in a jaunty fedora and lime green shirt and tie combo that would have blended beautifully into the rush hour commute if it weren't for those damn fans waiting at the door with cameras and pictures to autograph.  He was in a rush, but pleasant enough to sign a few autographs and look up so I could take this picture of his face and not just the top of his fedora.  Thanks Steve!

Feast your eyes on Ryan Lochte

Because there's not much else to write about special education's golden child, here's a photo of Ryan Lochte at the NBC Experience store in Rockefeller Plaza yesterday, where he was promoting his new reality show "What Would Ryan Lochte Do?"  My suggestion, just sit there and look pretty, because aside from swimming there's not much else he can do, and it's a good thing breathing just happens because even that might be too hard for this one to handle all on his own.  I passed by on my lunch hour and there were about fifteen people there, getting autographs and pictures with him.  I'm sure his Hooked on Phonics was working overtime in the days leading up to this appearance, because he seemed to have no trouble signing his name over and over without sounding out the letters or asking for help. 

Catching up with Marky Mark and Tom Sizemore

Marky Mark was on Good Morning America Monday to promote Pain and Gain, the steaming pile of neon shit he's starring in with The Rock.  Arriving well after 8AM, thanks to an interview with Howard Stern (all hail the king), he headed straight into the studio, promising to sign autographs on the way out.  Between the mouth breathing and the grunting, I'm not sure what the interview was about, but it made me long for the days of his CK underwear ad so I could look at him and that third nipple without having to hear him speak.  I know he's all Oscar-nominated thespian now and wants to forget those days, but that shit was his best work and I'm not letting go!  I defy you to sit through The Happening and not agree with me...ninety minutes of pure shit where NOTHING HAPPENED!  It would have been fine if he was shirtless the whole movie, but nooooo!  True to his word, he signed a couple autographs on the way out before ducking into the waiting SUV.  Word to your mutha dude.

Yesterday I was walking to work just as Tom Sizemore was finishing HIS interview with Howard Stern, and I managed to catch him leaving Sirius studios.  Tom was a major fuckup, turning a promising acting career with roles in Saving Private Ryan and Black Hawk Down into a string of drug arrests, multiple stays in rehab, and assault and battery charges from ex girlfriend Heidi Fleiss, who I'm dying to meet.  On my first visit to Los Angeles, I Google searched Heidi's address and made a point of driving past her home, which was so far up in the hills just past the Beverly Hills Hotel that the road turned to dirt before I got there and I had to park and walk the last little bit, only to find a mailbox and a gated winding driveway up another hill.  I don't know what I was thinking.  The two ex-lovers were combustible on Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, but Tom managed to clean up and is now celebrating four years of sobriety with a new book, which is what he was promoting at Sirius.  He seemed pleasant enough, puffing a cigarette and signing autographs for one of the grapherazzi stalking the building.

LaToya Jackson - Shine bright like a.....well.....whatever....

When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade.  And when life hands you cubic zirconia, you shine that shit like a diamond and put it on display for the world to see.  Nobody does that better than the Jacksons, who have managed to ride the coattails of Michael, and now Janet into relevancy for the last 50 years.  With no discernable talent of her own, LaToya Jackson managed to release nine studio albums, be part of "We Are The World", pen two memoirs, pose for Playboy twice, create a psychic friends hotline, grace three reality shows (including becoming a detective on that 2007 summer smash Armed and Famous) and get a namesake dessert at Millions of Milkshakes in West Hollywood.  (The "La Toya Jackson Shake" consists of strawberries, bananas, pineapple and coconut, topped with whipped cream and a Cadbury flake.)  She is responsible for "Heart Don't Lie", instantly recognized as a masterpiece by my brother and I when we first saw the video on MTV, back in 1984 when MTV played videos.  Look for it on You-Tube....you'll thank me later.  So when the crown jewel of the Jackson family left the Havenhurst compound, which is an island of misfit toys if ever there was one, to promote her new reality show Life with LaToya (on OWN, 10:30 PM Saturday) at Good Morning America, there was no question I'd be there.

Looking like an underexposed x-ray, LaToya took her seat across the studio, while hair and makeup did the best they could at 8:00AM to make her look like the exquisite My Little Pony she wants to be.  With a look of permanent surprise on her face and a wardrobe straight out of the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, they had their work cut out for them, but these folks are professionals damnit, and they worked their magic while she sat there daintily sipping her Evian through a straw.  Transfixed by her aura, a mixture of Tinkerbell, cotton candy, meringue and 99 cent store glitter, I have no idea how the interview went as I happily snapped away.  She really is a living breathing Tickle Me Elmo, and you just know she wants to buy an island made of candy like in that AT&T commercial.

Having said all that, I watched the show and guess what....I liked it!  I guess I'll have to wait a little longer for her stint on Dancing with the Stars or (please God, please!) her turn as a mentor on X-Factor.

Carol Burnett - I'm so glad we had this time together

What is there to say about Carol Burnett?  An icon in the entertainment industry and one of the funniest comediennes of all time, she and her merry band of pranksters Tim Conway, Vicki Lawrence and the late Harvey Korman have made audiences laugh 'til they wet themselves for 45 years thanks to The Carol Burnett Show and it's subsequent DVD release and syndication.  Who can forget such classic sketches as Carol, as Scarlet, descending a winding staircase wearing a curtain complete with curtain rod in the send-up 'Went with the Wind' or Mr. Tudball and his dimwitted secretary Mrs. Wiggins?  (I sound like a Time-Life commercial for the DVD collection, but who cares, right?)  My favorite sketches were always The Family sketches, with Eunice, Ed and her cranky Mama.  The bit where they're playing Sorry has scarred me for life in the most perversely wonderful way, and I have the phrase 'SORRRRRY' stuck in my head to this day.

So anyway....Carol is in NY this week to promote her new book 'Carrie and Me: A Mother-Daughter Love Story' and made the rounds of TV appearances, including Good Morning America, The View and an interview at Sirius satellite radio, as well as a book signing at Barnes & Noble in Union Square, and of course I was there.  I've had the good fortune to meet Carol twice before, but unfortunately the pictures always came out dark.  When she was in NY last year to promote the DVD release, I got a motion shot as she walked to her car, but I've never managed to get a good, clear photo of her just being Carol.  So I was on a mission! 

Leaving straight from work, I got to Barnes & Noble at 5:30 for a 7:00 signing.  Thank God my friend Rick, who takes Polaroids of celebrities and then has them signed on the spot, was there or it would have been a long hour and a half wait.  We were in the third row, and were informed over and over and over again that 'Carol will not be posing for photos, but you are welcome to take as many as you want from the audience.  She will only be signing the featured book, and will not be signing any memorabilia.  She'd like to spend as much time with each of you as possible, so there will be no Q&A session, but she will talk briefly before the signing starts.'  I must have heard that about ten times while we waited.  Oh, and the A/C was out, so you can imagine how it felt in a warm, crowded bookstore after waking up at 4AM (don't ask!) and working all day.  Booksignings are kinda like a circuit party for the nerd set, a literary Comic-Con of sorts, so familiar faces dotted the crowd.  I mentioned to Rick that one lady up in the front row with a really strange rock necklace and a dried up purple flower in her hair looked very familiar, and he thought so too.  And then it came to us, literally at the same time, like when you were a kid and you said the same thing as your friend at the same time as your friend and then you punched them in the arm and said 'jinx, you owe me a beer' even though neither one of you was old enough to drink beer, 'She looks like Magda from Sex and the City!'  A quick google search (Magda, Sex and the City) confirmed that it was indeed her, complete with a photo showing the same purple flower and rock necklace.  You remember Magda?  Miranda's housekeeper, who replaced her vibrator with a statue of the Virgin Mary and bought her a rolling pin "To make pies. It's good for a woman to make pies."?  I guess she didn't get much in the way of residuals from that show.

At 7:00 on the dot, out came Carol Burnett, who I must say is very spry for a 79 year old who's career was built on very physical comedy.  And she was delightful, giving a short speech about how grateful she was that we'd all come out to see her and how excited she was to meet us, which I'm sure some publicist in the back room wrote in the car on the drive over from the hotel.  The line moved pretty quickly, and by 7:20 it was my turn.  I thanked Carol for all the laughs she'd given me and my family over the years and wished her well on the book tour, she looked up, shook my hand and thanked me for coming to see her.  Again, I must say that the older celebrities are MUCH nicer to their fans!  Rick got his Polaroid, although he hesitated to ask her to sign it, and we headed out to the subway, two happy campers basking in the afterglow of another celebrity encounter.

As we put our books away, adjusted our bags and pulled out our subway cards, Magda came out to the sidewalk.  Rick looked at me and I looked at him and we both nodded in agreement.  'Would you mind if I took a Poloroid of you?' Rick asked.  'My friend and I are big fans of Sex and the City and we thought it was you inside.'  She was a little confused at first, and then absolutely thrilled that anyone even recognized her (because when you look at the picture, let's face it, she doesn't stand out unless you've seen every episode of Sex and the City a million times on E! while folding your laundry like I have) and smiled for the camera.  What a sweet lady.  Her name is Lynn Cohen, not Magda, which is funny because I went to college with a girl named Lynne Cohen that I'm friends with on Facebook to this day, and Lynne if you're reading this, hey!

America's Got Talent at the Today Show

It's rare that I have to choose between two celebrities that I truly enjoy appearing on two different shows at the same time, but today was one of those days. Carol Burnett?  Howard Stern?  Carol Burnett?  Howard Stern?  Carol Burnett?  Howard Stern?  Carol was appearing on Good Morning America while Howard and the America's Got Talent judges were doing a red carpet appearance at the Today Show.  My friend Ashleigh (there, you got your shout out!) rationalized that Carol lives in LA, so the chance to see her is rarer than the chance to see Howard, especially when AGT starts filming live shows from Radio City Music Hall, which I can see from my office window.  BUT.....when Stern show regular, and my friend, Mariann from Brooklyn called me yesterday morning to ask if I was going to Hammerstein Ballroom for the AGT auditions and to confirm a time for the red carpet arrivals and let me know that Stern fans had special access, the decision was a no brainer.  So at 7AM this morning I was at Rockefeller Center for the Today Show with Mariann, High Pitch Erik, Bobo, Fred the Elephant Boy and the Stern Facebook Superfans, waiting to greet the King of All Media.

I can trace my Stern Show experience back to 1997, when I was living in DC and working at a law firm with my friend Sherry, who was a regular listener and always talking about Howard this and Howard that.  She got me into the show and we'd always kiki about Pamela Anderson whenever she was on, and how fabulous she was and how we were dying to meet her.  (Note, she is and I did.  Twice.)  I became a regular listener thanks to Sherry, and can now count Wendy the Retard, Beetlejuice, Eric the Midget and Debbie the Pet Lady as regular to my morning as my coffee.  Thanks Sherry!!!

I can't describe the experience in a way that will make any sense to anyone who doesn't listen to the show, but I can say that when the judges came out the crowd went wild.  Mariann is devoted to all things Howard, and she had signs, posters, tons of candy, and had the crown chanting Howard, Howard, Howard, Howard!  It was as if the other judges weren't there, and Howard ate it up!  On the red carpet, he stopped and thanked her and since I was standing next to her, I asked him to sign his 2011 Rolling Stone cover for me.  Yes, I finally got Howard Stern's autograph!!!!  Day made!

Mel B. came out next, and I really really really wanted to get a good picture of her, since I love the Spice Girls and all the kitsch they represent.  I remember seeing her at an Emmy party back when I lived in LA and not realizing who she was, and then again at the Melrose flea market when I didn't have my camera, so today was the third time and it was a charm.  Zig a Zig aah!

Heidi Klum was all supermodel and absolutely lovely.  There's not much more to say about her except that she was very nice to the crowd, and actually took the time to have a conversation with High Pitch Erik, which, if you're familiar with High Pitch, is quite an accomplishment.  Good for you Erik!

Nick Cannon was pretty cool, talking with the crowd and posing for pictures. 

Oh, and Howie Mandel was there too but who cares, right?

The GAYEST day of my life

I hereby declare that Friday, April 5, 2013 was absolutely the gayest day of the 42 years, six months and six days of my life so far, and that's saying A LOT considering the places I've been and the things I've seen and done.  But I digress.  It started this morning with a stop at the Today Show, where I was hoping to snap a shot of Mariel Hemingway before work.  Mariel, the actress/model granddaughter of Ernest Hemingway best known for her roles in Personal Best and Star 80 just wrote a book about living your best life, and who could resist some life lessons from a woman who has battled depression all her life, whose grandfather committed suicide and whose sister died of a drug overdose?  She's the first person I think of when I'm feeling blue and want to turn my frown upside down!

I arrived at 7:15, and after Marie and I caught up we started chatting with an autographer that I've never seen before.  He seemed cool, and was definitely more knowledgeable than your average fan who found the right door to wait at, so it was a nice way to pass the time while we waited.  And waited.  And waited. A publicist came out, anxiously checking his phone and staring down the street, giving us hope that Mariel was on her way.  And still we waited.  Marie left around 8:15 to meet a friend for breakfast, and no sooner did she leave when worlds collided.  A swarm of students on a field trip from some mid-western flyover state that you wouldn't catch me dead in lined up against the side of the building so their chaperone could take a head count just as an SUV pulled up.  As it came to a stop and the paparazzi and autographers sprang to attention, the entire herd of children filed in front of us, into the street, right up to the SUV and around behind it to cross the street.  We all looked at each other dumbfounded.  Seriously, you stupid people couldn't wait two minutes so that MARIEL HEMINGWAY CAN GET OUT OF HER SUV?  Are your scrambled eggs that important?  Jesus Christ!

When the parade passed us by, the driver opened the rear door, and there was Liza Minnelli!  I'm not shitting you!  Liza Minnelli!  I knew she was scheduled to be on the show, but just assumed she'd go through the garage like she always does, but oh no, not today.  And ever the professional, Liza with a Z wrapped her shawl around her, struck a pose (which is no small feat for a 67 year old woman with an artificial hip) and gave sass a new look.  YOU GO GIRL!!!

Now you can say all you want about Liza Minnelli, and lord knows she's been through it all and back again, but being in her presence, in all her twitching, wobbling, lisping, wigs, eyelashes and sequined glory, is like being in the gay holy land.  I've never been a huge fan of hers, but I applaud the artifice and production that goes into being Liza Minnelli.  She is a fighter, and for that I applaud her!

At this point it was a given that if Mariel had arrived it was through another entrance, so I headed around the corner to Rockefeller Plaza hoping to catch a peek at the interview and see which way she would exit (and whether I'd even have a chance to snap a pic).   I could see the back of her head through the window, and the other autograph kid and I watched as she and her coauthor were interviewed by Matt Lauer.  We both had the same thought....keep an eye on her, and if she leaves through the 49th street door we can catch her there.  Interview over, she headed over to the window to give Liza a hug, and it was a scene straight out of Studio 54 circa 1978 as the two stars caught up with one another.  Somewhere in heaven Halston and Steve Rubell were smiling as Andy Warhol wrote the whole scene down in his diaries.  The only thing missing was Bianca riding into the studio on a white horse.

Mariel headed toward the studio door, and the autograph guy (I really should have gotten his name, because typing the autograph guy is kinda dumb) and I raced back toward the 48th street exit.  All of a sudden there was a loud RIIIIPPPP, as he caught his pant leg on one of the fire hydrant things that extend out of the side of the buildings here in Manhattan, and tore a hole down his pant leg.  Now here's where I really should have taken a picture to make this story complete, but I was all eye of the tiger in the moment and focused only on Mariel, who I could see in the building lobby heading toward the plaza exit.  She walked out into the plaza in a heated argument with the guy she was with, heading around the corner onto 48th street, but the paparazzi and autographers would not be deterred, and she stopped to sign a few photos while her friend slowly burned inside.  I'm not sure if she did that for us or to piss him off, but it really doesn't matter because I got a great picture and didn't rip my pants.

Gay morning?  Check!  But wait, there's more!

It was the first night of previews for two new Broadway shows, I'll Eat You Last, with Bette Midler, and Jekyll and Hyde, with Deborah Cox.  I know!

I did my homework, and was at the stage door for Bette just as the show let out.  It was fucking freezing.  Like Arctic windy in Schubert Alley, and stupid me didn't think to bring a hat or gloves because it was beautiful all day.  And my timing was perfect, because I was right at the front of the barricade, and a TON of people who'd seen the show were behind me.  Ha ha!  The security guys told us that Bette would not be signing anything for the first three shows, but still we waited, freezing, for what seemed like forever, as the wind kept whipping through the alley, groans and moans erupting every time it did.  One woman kept on calling out 'Bette' as if she could hear her through the brick walls of the building, and another guy felt the need to let the crowd know 'that's not Bette' whenever anyone who wasn't Bette came out, as if we were all blind and he was our seeing eye dog for the evening.  At about 10:15 (45 minutes into my wait time, fingers nearly frozen in the claw position I was holding the camera in), Bette's husband emerged, and got into the waiting car as the loudmouth lady called out 'Mr. Midler, Mr. Midler' which couldn't possibly be construed as emasculating or obnoxious now, could it?  And then the door opened, and there stood Bette Midler.  She basked in the applause as the crowd went wild, cheering and clapping and calling out to her for autographs and pictures.  And then she came right over to the barricade and started signing!  I mean, right next to me!  And went all down the barricade, making sure to sign as many as possible, never looking up once.  So here's The Divine Miss M. as she exits the Booth Theatre.  It's not the sharpest picture, but my hands were numb.  And you weren't there, so don't judge.

But wait....there's more!

The Marquis Theater is half a block from the Booth Theatre, so I was able to get to the barricade in time for Jekyll and Hyde to let out.  Like literally just as it was letting out.  I was joined by the real life Rachel Berry and Kurt Hummel, who talked nonstop about theatre and how fabulous the show was and how excited they were to see the cast up close in that way that teenage theatre people do when Broadway is still magical and their dreams haven't been crushed by casting rejections and they get all jaded by the business while working as many restaurant shifts as they can fit into their schedule while still going on auditions.  It was actually refreshing to see such hope and optimism, and I hope a little rubbed off on me, although I'm sure it probably didn't because I'm a lost cause at this point.  They geeked out whenever the stage door opened, whether it was an orchestra player, a stage hand or even a guest of the cast.  Supporting cast got to sign playbills as if they were superstars, and maybe one day they will be.  The loudest geek out was for Constantine from American Idol, and I'm not sure why because except for touring in Rock of Ages and now Jekyll and Hyde he's still just Constantine from American Idol. 

And then the door opened and out stepped Deborah Cox.

Now, I have twirled on dance floors all over the country to Deborah Cox,  from the beaches of Miami to the monuments of DC, from the mountains of Palm Springs and the bowels of the LA club scene to the Pier Dances of New York.  Some nights I remember clearly, others not so much.  But I know I had a damn good time.  So when the angel of my clublife appeared before me, all I could do was thank her for her part in many glorious nights of hedonistic clubbing abandon.  Did she wear her hair in a ponytail?  Did she dress herself up in Chanel?  Absolutely not!

So in one day, I photographed three gay icons and Mariel Hemingway.  And then on the way back to the subway I saw a girl get hit by a petticab and do a faceplant on Seventh Avenue.  Ah, New York, you never disappoint!

Two Kids on the Block

New Kids on the Block were on the Today Show this morning, and I'm so glad I didn't gulp my coffee down and rush to get over there.  It's still fucking cold in New York right now.  I don't care if they performed naked with Pamela Anderson as their backup dancer, nothing is worth standing around freezing my ass off in this neverending winter for at this point.  Ok, an In-n-Out Double Double with onions is, but they didn't have that.

But, as my photo with aging vamp Mamie Van Doren and my devotion to all things John Waters can attest, I am a lover of the absurd, and the higher the kitsch factor the more appealing it is to me.  So yeah, I was at the Today Show before work this morning.  When they finally performed they were shaky, but with a couple rubs of Ben-Gay they should be just fine.  Maybe.  Let's be honest, they aren't new kids anymore, and they sounded like a couple cats fighting inside an empty garbage can.  But the fans went nuts for it.  Oh the fans.  The middle aged, middle America, wide in the middle fans!  I swear I could have made a killing if I'd set up a mom's jeans booth in Rockefeller Plaza this morning.

When they finally came out to leave it was just sad.  A couple were completely unnoticed, Donny Walberg was mobbed, and Joey McIntyre looks the most healthy.  I'll let the pictures speak for themselves, and not even editorialize that it looks like someone scraped Danny Wood off the dance floor of White Party Palm Springs and he had himself one hell of a weekend.  Just saying.

A little bit country. A little bit holy shit!

Let me say straight up that I know nothing about Brad Paisley, which is why I was in no rush to head to GMA this morning to see him cohost the 8AM hour.  In fact, aside from Dolly Parton, country music is a genre that's totally lost on me.  But my dear friend Jenny Dunnigan is a country girl at heart, and I knew she'd get a kick out of a picture of Brad, so after working out, showering, shaving and my morning coffee, I was off to Times Square in the off chance of getting a shot.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, but nothing lost if nothing shot, right?

Tons of people in the damn studio again, and this time they were all giants.  I mean literally the tallest group of people that have ever been in the studio.  Even the paparazzi standing on their stepstools were having a hard time getting shots through the window, so this was gonna be a bitch.  I thought about leaving for work, but my 'fuck this' moment was interrupted when someone (I think it was RJ, but it could have been Hollywood...they were both on stepstools) said 'there's Marie Osmond!' 

Now, we all know that I love crazy people.  The odder the better, that's what I always say.  And Marie is batshit crazy in the best way.  She loves wigs. She makes tranny dolls. And she sang the masterpiece Paper Roses.  Remember her final Dancing with the Stars routine, when she and her partner dressed up like dolls and flopped around the dancefloor right into third place?  Or when she fainted on live television?  Of course you do!  So there's a lot of reasons to love Marie Osmond, and all those reasons are what kept me at the GMA barricades this morning instead of picking up my whole wheat bagel, toasted, with salmon, cucumber, tomato and onion, and going into the office early.

I'm not sure why there were so many people there, but it seemed like a ton of loudmouth fans waiting with the photographers on the west side of the barriers.  Women with loud, obnoxious, smoke filled voices cackling in that 'I've got something caught in my throat from the 6 billion cigarettes I've smoked in my life' way that's always so appealing right in your ear at 8AM.  Dear God what I won't do for a picture!!  The stage door opened, and a pretty, dirty blonde lady came out.  The cacklers went wild, calling out Stana or Shana or something I couldn't quite catch.  I don't know who she was so I didn't bother.  Thankfully, that's who the ladies were waiting for, so when she left they did too.

Brad Paisley was doing a weather bit outside with Sam Champion, so I was able to snap a quick shot of him on the way back into the studio.  This one's for you Jenny!

And then a magical thing happened, like some kind of leftover Easter miracle.  (No, nobody came to the edge of the cave and saw that the boulder had been moved and the cave was empty. It wasn't THAT kind of miracle.)  A discrete town car pulled up to the studio, and a woman stepped out from the passenger side while a man walked around from the rear drivers side.  A gasp from the photographers as they realized who it was.  Wait for it.....Robert Redford!  Robert fucking Redford!  In the flesh!  Flashbulbs went off, the crowd went wild, or as wild as a crowd of stunned onlookers who weren't expecting a screen legend to magically appear before them unannounced could go.  I snapped as fast as I could, and although he never stopped, I managed to get a decent shot.  You be the judge.

Not long afterward, out came the gayest thing on the planet, Marie Osmond, pancaked to within an inch of her life!  She was giving Mormon fierce, with a fitted jacket/blouse/fitted skirt ensemble reminiscent of Alexis Morell Carrington Colby Dexter Rowan back when Dynasty finally hit number one in the ratings and Aaron Spelling could go all out with the clothing allowance and shoes that would make Carrie Bradshaw proud.  She posed, she preened, she signed, she lapped up the attention.  She was unbelievably sweet, like a giant Easter peep come to life.  (see how I did that?)  And then she got into the SUV and went home to her dolls.  You just know she tells them bedtime stories and tucks them in and shit.