NY Mirror

The movie's been effectively literalized—only the animation interludes don't work—replete with really fun scenes of the botched sex change singing for horrified tourists at a seafood chain restaurant. (You expect Skip E. to pop up in the background, but he was probably busy at that Golda Meir show.) "I was sort of burnt out on the acting," Mitchell told me as I shielded my sensitive skin from the light. "I'd set up the shot for 10 hours and then call, 'Action!' and I'd forget my lines and get kind of pissed off. I'm taking a break from acting. It's like my graduate thesis is over." Are his Roxy club days kaput too? "I only went there once," he said, "the one time I did Ecstasy. It was so speedy and really bad, it turned me off." I hate when that happens!

Apropos of lousy drugs, here's what hell, 2001-style, would consist of: You've just been dumped by Gary Condit, but would rather die than go home to commiserate with your mother, Paula Poundstone. For some quick escape, you get pal Lizzie Grubman to drive you to a snooty nightclub, but on the way, you careen into a dumpster, where you come across the father of your baby, Robert Blake. When he excuses himself to find a gun "to protect you with," you race off to track down your lawyer, but find him slumped over, dead in a car. Delirious, you call Backstreet Boy A.J. McLean to cop some fairy dust, and end up—most tragically of all—missing band rehearsal the next morning! You're thrown out of the group and have to take a job at a seafood restaurant, opening for John Biner!

Speaking of Condit, I'm not sure I like the way his supposedly kinky sex habits have been used to imply that he's an evil person. Wasn't the sex consensual? Still, I think he's evil anyway.

He’s making me look like an idiot!: veteran interviewer Skip E. Lowe.
photo: Ted Soqui
He’s making me look like an idiot!: veteran interviewer Skip E. Lowe.

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