The Grand Dame of Dish

It's not every day you get to meet the woman whose writing informed your childhood; the woman who planted the seeds of a lifelong fascination with fame in all its fabulous, sordid glory.  With scandalous blind items and tales of celebrity encounters at glamorous parties, legendary gossip columnist Liz Smith singlehandedly transported a goofy, starstruck gay boy from a lonely bedroom in a house on a dead end street in a dead end town to a glittering world of bold faced names, exotic places and lavish Robert Isabell-designed soirees, teaching me the importance of chasing my champagne dreams and caviar wishes at an early age.  I lived by her example, was voted Biggest Gossip and Most Mischievous my senior year of high school, couldn't wait to get to college in a fast paced city with some action, lived life to the fullest and brushed elbows with celebrity ever since, and with the exception of a few wistful thoughts throughout this blog I've never looked back.  As I thanked her for being such an inspiration to me, Liz hugged me close to her and whispered "I feel like I know you."  Oh honey, I feel like I know you too!

So You Think This Is A Good Idea?

My one sided love affair with style-challenged host Cat Deeley is well documented and I think we can all agree that it's an honor for national treasure Paula Abdul's drowsy-voiced presence to grace our TV screens for even five seconds (which is really about how long you get with a lucid Paula), but I was shocked yesterday when Nigel Lythgoe told me So You Think You Can Dance would be back this summer, since they pretty much destroyed it with a season full of little kids last summer.  Half the fun of watching the show is seeing late teen/early twenties hotties who haven't quite come to terms with their sexuality dramatically interpreting choreography while dressed in spandex, feathers and sequins while the nation judges, but it seems a little cruel and creepy when it's nine year olds.

Sally!

Without her signature red glasses Sally Jessy Raphael is just another overweight grandma trying to get out of the cold on a chilly Monday morning.  Anxious to get to her knitting and the hot cup of Earl Grey waiting in the Today Show green room, she was nice enough to take this photo ("Make it quick!") but refused my friend Dan's autograph request and didn't offer either of us a quarter or a Werther's Original like a real memaw would.

Finally, It Has Happened To Me!

Although I certainly made up for lost time, I was something of a late bloomer, meaning that I didn't lose my virginity until I was 21. I know you're thinking, "how could that happen to a guy so devastatingly handsome?" but it's true.  Not that I wasn't trying to get laid sooner, but I always confused sex with love and wanted my first time with Mr. Right to be special and not some one off with a guy whose pick up line was "Wanna go back to my place and watch the new Michael Jackson video?", who rushed through it before his boyfriend came home from work while Beverly Hills 90210 played in the background, then took me out dancing afterwards.  As we walked into Badlands, the irony of CeCe Peniston wailing "Finally, it has happened to me...." was not lost on me, and I hate that song to this day.

A Slip Of The Tongue

Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, you get tongue tied in the face of celebrity and forget how to speak like a normal human.  Sometimes you get so excited that the dumbest things tumble out of your mouth even though you've rehearsed over and over in your head exactly what you want to say, and you spend the next hour metaphorically kicking yourself for sounding like a moron.  And sometimes you say exactly what's on your mind and let the chips fall where they may.  So when Dan Levy, son of comedy legend Eugene Levy and star of Schitt's Creek (Wednesdays at 8PM on PopTV) was leaving Sirius studios in midtown Manhattan the other day, I asked for a photo and told him I was a big fan (LIE) then accidentally on purpose mentioned that I had a crush on him, because he's cute and gay and why not?