Columbia TriStar Home Video 93683
Medusa Dare To Be Truthful
Sometimes, The Truth Can Be Nasty
Columbia TriStar Home Video 93683
Since when do I enjoy Kathy Griffin?
Since right about now.
Kathy Griffin?! Somehow I never thought I would say I enjoy Kathy Griffin. I know, I know-- considering the fact that I: a) have been referred to as a fag hag on many an occasion and also that I: b) actually live in the Castro, this should
come as a shock to some. Forgive me, for I have caught on at last: with the recent advent of cable to my home and the latest season of her reality show My Life On the D-List airing regularly, color me hooked.
I applaud Kathy for being so unabashedly herself. She knows what she is good at (making fun of others, but also herself) and she knows her fans (mainly gay men but also middle aged straight women), and she has no qualms about catering to them. In the near-past I had always thought of her as sort of irritating and uncreative. Now I see that she is both of those things at times, but plenty of others the rest. She knows she is merely a comedic commentator and she knows she is an attention whore, so why not live it up? She is a woman of many faces-- whatever it takes to continually secure her place on the D-List, and I support her in her quest.
Now I am scrambling to catch up on what I missed-- there are 3 other seasons of the show on DVD! I should never have underestimated my enjoyment of poking fun at celebrities. What have I been thinking all this time? Kathy has been there with her gays and her snarky humor all along, and here I was shunning her for n
(Has nothing to do with this blog entry.)
I wish I didn’t like Kathy Griffin so much. It’s such a cliché – me and my boyfriend, Corey, on our way to the foreign country known as Orange County, to see Ms. Griffin perform at the (and how’s this for a cute name) Orange County Performing Arts Center’s Renée and Henry Segerstrom Concert Hall (I think I’m naming my kid that, you know, if it’s a girl).
It was Friday and Corey picked me up, fresh off a typical eight-hour shift in the soundtracks department of your favorite record store. It took about fifteen minutes before I realized that the man sitting next to me was my boyfriend and not someone hoping for a restroom, a wall-item, an “Amoeba buck”, or the “I’m Not There” soundtrack. I relaxed immediately and we discussed matters that are none of your business in amorous tones. Also I ate gum.
Have you tried this stuff yet? The Orbit “sweet mint” flavor? It tastes exactly like chocolate-mint ice cream and is so sumptuous it makes me barf a little, spiritually. Don’t ever try it unless you like being weirded out by deliciousness. I wish it had never been born. I need a piece now. Excuse me…
(That's me there, next to the dude with the thing.)
…Okay, so we made it to the Orange County Performing Arts Center’s Renée and Henry Segerstrom Concert Hall in plenty of time, despite getting lost a while (we were distracted from following directions by a heated conversation about thantophobia and Scrabble). We saddled up to the uncozy Orange County Performing Arts Center’s Renée and Henry Segerstrom Concert Hall bar for cocktails and a quick trip to the Orange County Performing Arts Center’s Renée and Henry Segerstrom Concert Hall restroom for men.