I spent all of yesterday boxed up in an LAX-adjacent hotel talking to callbacks for a Bravo competition show, and I flew back on the 4:30 American that gets in at 12:30. I am ti-ti today and I was very bored-bored on the fli-fli. I also am beginning to feel like Ryan Bingham from Up in the Air, without the love of my frequent flyer programs and hotel points. (And without the rico-suaveness of Clooney.)
The new issue of Vanity Fair features an oral history of disco by Lisa Robinson, in which I dove right in. It's good and interviews some of the major players but I could've read 20 more pages. Oh, and I want to buy prints of every photograph in the layout, specifically one of Diana Ross standing atop the dj booth at Studio 54, adressing the crowd. I stared at it for about eight minutes and saw that someone's holding her feet. I gotta get my hands on that pic (taken by a Daily News photographer)!
Speaking of Diana Ross, did you hear that the other day she was on a plane to L.A. with the Jersey Shore kids and they were raising all sorts of hell and acting like superstars, while the biggest superstar of all sat there signing autographs and being all pious and Mother Theresa-like ... Mm-HMMM! Oh and guess who else was on that flight...? My guest tonight on Watch What Happens Live, Mr. Cheyenne Jackson of hunkdom and Broadway and 30 Rock fame. And you can better beweave I'll be quizzing Cheyenne right around midnight about the guidos and Miss Ross. (Gretchen is on too.)
Anyway, someone hook a brother up with that picture, OK?
Also in the Vanity Fair is a James Woolcot piece about celebrity porn videos. I thought it was going to be hilarious, and something of a review of the tapes, but it was neither a review or especially hilarious. His poison pen must be resting a little after his blistering condemnation of reality TV a few weeks ago....
That onboard Wi-Fi has me playing Wordscraper like a zombie and staring at a Facebook screen reading status updates of strangers that are killing me with their oversharing mundanities. (Kind of exactly like this blog.) (Is "mundanities" a word and if not, why not?)
When I wasn't staring at the gripping news that someone was sitting on their couch getting ready to watch Idol with their cat, I was reading Game Change, which is proving to be a page turner. I love it. It is every bit as gripping as stranger's status updates are not.
About an hour before landing, I caused a Twitter frenzy when I posted the simple query "Is it legal to be gay and NOT obsessed with Gaga? Am I in trouble?" It seems that I AM in trouble with the gays o America. It's not that I don't like her — I do and I appreciate her talent and artistry. I'm just not OBSESSED like everybody else so I am beginning to feel like there's something wrong with me.
Maybe I'm straight. Don't hate me. I might be.