NY Mirror

And now, let's fill our Solo cups with sequined Champale and go to the Eugene party for Cheap Date magazine, where creative coordinator Marlon Richards told me the publication comes out "whenever we have enough money." How noble of him not to hit up Dad for dough, especially since Papa is a Rolling Stone—Keith Richards!

I got no satisfaction watching the Miss USA Pageant, except for the poignant spectacle of Miss Missouri totally bombing out in the question-and-answer segment—and I'm talking nuclear bomb. When asked whether the media create too much controversy around sports, Miss Missouri admitted she didn't understand the question—"I can only repeat what's on the card," said celebrity inquisitor Daniel Baldwin—and then, when quizzed about who her favorite female athlete is, the floundering sexpot said she's not a sports person and had no idea! One last question: Can you find your way to the exit, darling?

By the way, recent sexuality coverage has raised some provocative questions and even answered them. Denis Ferrara wrote a wonderfully thought-out column for the vacationing Liz Smith about the Eminem crisis. And though I've addressed Rosie O'Donnell's private life for years, New York magazine ran one thing about it and then she practically came out! Oh, well, I welcome the progress, even if I don't get a Waldorf tribute for it.

Everyone says they love you: Julia Roberts (with beau Benjamin Bratt) at the AMMI tribute.
photo: Patrick McMullen
Everyone says they love you: Julia Roberts (with beau Benjamin Bratt) at the AMMI tribute.

Of course, not everything's so jubilant or clear-cut. Chastity Bono was just quoted as saying Tom Cruise couldn't possibly be gay because he dated her mother, Cher! (Yeah, but didn't David Geffen too?) Oh well, at least I just had the pleasure of personally confronting Eminem's mother on Sally Jessy Raphael. Mama Mathers—who's not trailer trash, by the way; she lives in "a modular home"—insisted, "My son's not like you think. Some of his best friends are gay." Oh, please, miss honey! That's the oldest excuse in the book—and besides, you're the one who's suing him. Now someone get all this fucking peanut butter off my sequins!


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