So this week I had 4 auditions (if you count the one I have tomorrow). I’ve been a British architect (or as I like to call him, an “affected gay guy with a Naomi complex”), a homosexual male dumped when his beau realizes he’s actually straight and a young, successful husband, buying a car for my wife. Time will tell which I was the best @ I suppose. Please let it be the “gay guy who gets dumped” role. I read with a beautiful guy and hopefully life won’t imitate art. And that “co-stars meet and fall in love on set” thing happens. We can be like Brad and Angelina. Or Courtney Cox and David Arquette. This boy can dream.
I saw Underworld: Evolution and liked it so much Mel & I rented the original Underworld. I have been crushing on Scott Speedman since Felicity. For me it was never Noel (too nice and needed a diet), it was all Ben. Conflicted. Flawed. And hotter than damn July! Oh and he’s naked in Underworld: Evolution. His butt is like sunshine! Toss it in the air baby! Brighten my day. Oh and in the 1st Underworld there is my (imaginary) husband, Wentworth Miller. He doesn’t look so good though…Which still means he looks better than damn near everyone else. Went (my nickname for my imaginary husband) I love you.
1st: What the hell is Kanye thinking? In this interview he compares himself to Christ! Okay maybe not but it sounds inflammatory. Now I did agree with him that “The Bush” doesn’t care about Black people but c’mon!
Sometimes I think famous people should just shut up and be famous. This is one of those times.
In a segment, I like to call “Damn! Why Isn’t That Me?”:
Ron Perelman, the owner of global cosmetics giant Revlon, is divorcing Ellen Barkin, the star of the movie Sea of Love and that terrible movie co-starring Laurence Fishburne. In a completely unrelated stream of thought, isn’t every movie with Laurence Fishburne bad? Yep, Mr. Perelman. He of the bad advertising campaigns that feature actresses instead of models is dropping his personal actress like a hot potato. But here’s the thing, he served papers on a stunned Ellen, whose prenup states she’ll get twenty million for anything up to five years but more if she hangs on longer. That marriage was like the ultimate, glam reality show; a married edition of Survivor or a real luxeBig Brother.
It’s late, or is it early? I’m experiencing mind-numbing insomnia. Since I returned from Chicago, I can’t sleep. Actually, I couldn’t sleep in Chicago. There I thought it was the time difference. Insomnia is the worst. I can’t get to sleep until 5 or 6 am, but I sleep till 1 or 2 in the afternoon once I do. It’s vampire hours. It’s 3 am, and I’m headed to bed, but I just checked my email. I got what I consider an ugly response to The Race Entry, my most responded to and read blog entry thus far. Yeah, I keep track of that. At first, I didn’t want to publish it, as it was anonymous, which I don’t like. I went as far as to not publish it under comments. I hit the reject button, but these replies get emailed to me so I had the copy. I walked away from it and came back. Here it is:
Recently, I met a guy, or should I say a guy met me. He hit me up, made the initial approach if you will. The conversation was great. He was cute, smart, and had BODY. He was sexy. Since he approached me, I thought, “Why wouldn’t he want to hang out?” Yeah, hang out means go on a date or even more. When I asked him out, he said he was “Flattered,” and thought I was “Nice,” but he did not date Black guys. What? What does that mean? You don’t date Black guys. How can you not? He said he didn’t find Black men attractive. Hold up! What are you saying, “You don’t find Black men attractive?” How is that? Are you telling me that I’m not fine? Or Gary Dourdan? Or Kanye West? Or Michael Ealy? Or Tyson Beckford?
Last week I flew to New York to appear on BET’s 106 & Park. The entire cast of Remixed! was asked to do a little PR. Since Joia and I live in L.A. we decided to fly out together. Joia arrives at five am my house to catch the Super Shuttle. Yeah, I said Super Shuttle. Fifteen bucks ain’t bad when no car service is being provided. But why was the driver blasting smooth jazz way too loud at 5:15 am? Even after I asked him to turn it down. Once at LAX, the holiday crush was in full effect. The line to get upstairs to the security line to get to the gate was over a block long. Finally, we are on the plane. Delta Song. G-H-E-T-T-O. No 1st class. No business class. They don’t have it. Two rows of seats, three seats in each row. What is that Police song, “packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes?” It was however cool that they have DISHTV. I got to watch an episode of “Remixed!” at 40,000 feet. That was cool. I had a mile-high moment with myself. Alright, not really but watching myself on TV, on a plane was very cool.
The plane lands (thank you Father), and we arrive only to discover New York is in the midst of a transit strike. Luckily BET has a car for us, the driver was cute and very good at what he does. An hour later, a fast trip through Harlem, and we are at our hotel. If you haven’t stayed at the Hudson Hotel, you should. It’s nice. The rooms are tiny. The bathrooms are chic. The artwork is by my fave artist, Francesco Clemente and the restaurant and bar scene is very good. The guy who checked us in was hot and gave me the eye.