Just A Gay Boy

Because it's Friday and I'm tired and hungover and can't think of anything to write and if it's good enough for the New York Times then it's good enough for me

 

Find the full article here.

A gauntlet, if you will

If you haven't noticed, I come from a place where comedy is of the utmost importance; your strength of character depends wholly on your ability to execute a fart joke flawlessly. When raised in this kind of environment during your formative years (i.e. college) you tend to develop a strong sense of competition among your peers, one that can get out-of-hand after a rousing game of "That's what she said" has run its course.

Recently, some of my college friends from California created boneraday.com, a website dedicated to famous artwork reimagined through boners. This is just the kind of thing we wasted hours on at school when we should have been doing other things like, you know, growing up. Anyway, when my roommate and I, whom I also went to college with, heard about boneraday.com we decided to issue a retort.

Here was how the challenge was extended:

***
From: In The Butt
To: Farley, Scott, Matzke
CC: Sarah, Evan
Date: Thu, Jan 15, 2009 at 4:57pm
Subject: A gauntlet, if you will
Mailed-by: gmail.com

Dear Sirs:

We understand you have been hard at work on a website about boners. While we commend your creativity and spunk, in the spirit of healthy competition we have erected our own site; a West Coast vs. East Coast Comedy-Off, if you will. The gauntlet has been thrown.

To button this letter, below is a haiku by one Mr. Evan Pohl:

Knock, knock. Who is there?
It is us dickfaces, HA!
Ready to look dumb?

Heh, heh,

Evan and Sarah
Founders & CEOs
http://inthebutt.tumblr.com/
***

Prepare yourself. Things are about to get epic, kittehs.

It looks more like a fruit bowl than a national award

If you will remember, a film I worked on won an award from the National Board of Review, and last night we got that awar...erm...serving dish. My boss laughed when I put some oranges in it this morning, only didn't have the heart to tell him I wasn't joking.

No one gets my humor.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Tonight I Am Partying...

Very exciting news! For those of you who don't know, the last 3 years of my professional career--which is to say the entirety of my professional career--has been, more or less, devoted to helping one feature-length documentary see the light of day. Luckily, we were privileged to have a national theatrical release last fall, and now we've received the National Board of Review's Freedom of Expression Award! We may not have been shortlisted for the Oscar and it's likely the Golden Globes will pass us up, too, but a party a Cipriani's and a glass of Veuve with Clint Eastwood is a damn good consolation prize!

Gay Movie Weekend, The Worst Date Ever, The Trouble With Sleep and Where The Shit I've Been...

Anyone who knows me knows about my inability to multitask, so when dinners, drinks and dates crowd my iCal the first responsibility to feel the crunch is usually my writing and, more specifically, this interdiary; gravely irresponsible of me, I realize. It's scientifically proven the world is kept on-axis and safe from vacuous celestial wormholes because of my eloquent prose and masterful illustrations. That being said, I'm back, vigor renewed, and ready to join Al Gore in doing my part to protect our great planet by taking shots at Lindsay Lohan and that dude from "The Hills" whilst drawing ornate mosaics of penises and butts on the backs of magazines. YOU ARE WELCOME, EARTH.

Last weekend I went to see Were The World Mine with my friend Evan (no relation). Essentially, it's the story of Timothy—frustrated, tormented, gay—and the mythical, love potion-shooting flower he discovers during rehearsals for his high school's musical adaptation of A Midsummer Night's Dream. He spends the majority of the film running around town giving everyone the floral equivalent of a money shot, turning innocent baby breeders queer as a three-dollar bill. Partly to teach them a lesson, partly because Tim-boy’s jonesing for the captain of the rugby team, he pays particular attention to the school’s jocks. Lots of shirtless dance montages ensue. (There’s other stuff that happens, but I’m taking journalistic license since there’s Chipotle staring me in the face and I can’t concentrate.)

As a whole, the film’s uneven and the writing suffers under extreme storyline demands, but it’s still worth a trip to the Village with your fellow gal-pals. As Evan #2 put it, it’s like a feature-length Sean Cody video. Just try to spot body hair. I dare you.

And then there was this little film, Gus Van Sant’s Milk, which I saw on Thanksgiving with my friend Amy. I gotta say, I’m a sorta kinda yeup pretty much speechless. It was just…right. And flawless. And inspiring. You’d think there wasn’t a celluloid taboo to break after Brokeback but there was, and now, because of this film’s compassionate, honest portrayal of gay activism and its early pioneers, I’d be hard-pressed to find anymore. Extremely timely and absolutely necessary, it’s a poetic indignation of baseless hate and, without crossing too far into the realm of sentimental schmuckdom, a beacon of hope. (Ugh! Typing that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up! Maybe I need to watch Beaches, get in touch with my sappy, schmaltzy side? I am gay, after all. I know it’s in there, right next to the side that fawns over Bette Davis and “Golden Girl” reruns.)

I went on my date with Project Runway Contestant. Here’s what I have to say: Talking about how fame hasn’t changed you does not a good date make. Granted, I didn’t help the situation much. I’m emotionally retarded and deathly afraid of anyone saying they like me, so I prefer to go on dates in very public places with enforced time limits in an effort to squash any budding signs of romance. That being said, meeting at a Starbucks in Times Square on your lunch break is not really conducive to getting to know someone. But it’s my own fault. I was only interested in meeting Heidi Klum. Whateva.

Getting to sleep has been a struggle lately. Just within the last week, right before shutting my eye drapes and engaging in a blissful eight hours with La Franco, I get a pang in my chest, the kind of stabbing feeling you get when you miss someone your heart wants but your head knows better than to think about. Annoying.

Reading List



Hero by Perry Moore and The Thought Gang by Tibor Fischer

Whole. Lotta. Balls.

Question: If the top of my head is now officially a cast member, when should I expect my SAG card?

Anatomy lesson

Random Fact: Good first dates are good to have

Papa had himself a date last week, and it was a good one. A good one. Sweet kid. Cute as hell. And I swam with him back in the day, so he scored fairly high. There's probably more there. We'll see. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, have a look at what those crazy kids over at McDonald's have been up to:

There is nothing happy about that meal.

  

I saw Rachel Getting Married with my friend Chris last weekend and, even though I've never been a fan of La Hathaway's, bitch brought her A-game. Really. Just so on point. In fact, solid efforts from everyone, especially Rosemarie DeWitt, who plays La Hath's psycho-analytical sister, Rachel. The writing was a little weak and overindulgent at times, but Jonathan Demme's use of handheld photography really kept the film grounded. We both cried. Like a lot. Like held each other and wept until snot came out of our noses. Like afterwards bought chicken soup and afghans and curled up next to a fire in a dimly lit room to discuss the complicated dynamics of motherhood until we tired and fell into an argument about why Jack and Enis just COULDN'T MAKE IT WORK. Yeah, it was one of those kinds of experiences, so only if you're ready to do some emotional excavation do I recommend. If you're looking for a giggle and a blow job, go see Beverly Hills Chihuahua.

Speed The Plow, on the other hand, I wholeheartedly do not recommend. What. A. Pile. Whew! It was bad. Just...bad. My friend Anna took me last week, and only because she's so pretty and generous and pretty can I be brutally honest: Thank God those tickets were free. I mean, what were they thinking reviving David Mamet with The Piv and not letting him be "The Piv"?! Look, we've all seen Entourage. We know what he can do. Every episode one of three things is bound to happen: 1) He'll break his phone, 2) He'll call Lloyd a cocksucker, or 3) He'll claim he sodomized Warner's Head of Development. In short, The Piv as Ari Gold was tailor-made for Mamet, so why WHY is he parading around on stage like a sack of wilted kale? Everyone else was fine, I guess, but the production as a whole just stunk. Meh.

Reading list

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, Audacity of Hope, Making Gay History

Palin: A maverick when it comes to using the word "maverick;" 15 times in 90 minutes

The veep debate was last night, and, I gotta admit, it wasn't the train wreck I had anticipated. Of course Palin sounded like Neve Campbell performing King Lear, but at least she offered up some coherent, albeit scripted, thoughts. Here're some of the highlights:

1. Palinisms galore: "Aw, shucks," "Gosh darn,"  "You betcha," and "Joe, say it ain't so" all made appearances.

2. Palin claimed General David McKiernan, the United States' commanding officer in Afghanistan, supports the Iraq surge as a model for invading the country when in fact he absolutely 100% does not. Oh, and she also called him "McClellan."

3. Biden, when talking about McCain's health care plan, served Pailn a big ol' plate of Shut The Fuck Up by calling it the "ultimate Bridge to Nowhere." SNAP!

4. Trig Palin, the VP nominee's 5 month-old special needs sack of potatoes and the GOP's political pawn du jour, burped on national television.

Jonathan Demme's new film "Rachel Getting Married" opens today. I don't know what possesses parents to allow their 9 year-old to wear out two VHS copies of "Silence Of The Lambs," but I'm forever grateful mine did, for it hermetically sealed me for life to all things La Demme. I will be seeing this. Oh yes.

And Papa got himself a date with a very cute boy next week. Very excited. More to come...