By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
By Raillan Brooks
But Lizawith nine hip replacements and a limpbeating defenseless "Puffy Daddy" Gest? I just can't picture it. In fact, Liza herselfwell, comic Mario Cantone doing an impression of herjust called me to rasp, "I never hurt him! The only thing I ever did was strap a dildo on and fuck him up the ass. He squealed a little, but it was consensual!"
I'm horrified to use that as a segue, but the Kobe Bryant case came up at the Blue Fin lunch for Showtime's upcoming lesbian series The L Word, where co-star Mia Kirshner told me she feels the legal treatment of the accuser has been "disgusting and irrelevant. A woman's sexual history has nothing to do with a rape trial!" California resident Kirshner also had steaming-hot opinions about new governor Arnold. "It's insane!" she balked. "He was elected because he's photogenic, but he's really not."
Still, the Gropinator would absolutely love The L Word. As they showed clips of the slender, gorgeous cast members cruising and caressing each other, straight guys in the crowd licked their liver lips. But where are the diesel dykes? There are some in the show, Kirshner assured, and besides, it's not supposed to represent everyone, "it's [writer/producer] Ilene Chaiken's world." Well, I never thought I'd be fighting for stereotypes, but there had better be some fat, bearded, Birkenstock-wearing butches in there or I'll be furious!
At the opening of Michael Ault's new bottle-service pavilion, Nocturne, the slinky female dancers wore masks and lingerie, and cynics might say that the resulting boîtedescribed as "a cross between an Eyes Wide Shut set and a Venetian Carnival seen through the eyes of Tim Burton"is to decadence as Pamela Mackey is to feminism.
And finally, my thighs were wide shut at a fully clothed, Liz Smith-co-hosted dinner for The Human Stain, where star Anthony Hopkins told me, with shattering truthfulness, "Doing a movie is just a job. I show up and do it. I don't take it too seriously." Well, my job was to track down Dominick Dunne at another table and ask about the Liza mess. (After all, his appearance at the wedding cemented it as a crime scene.) "It was a marriage about a wedding," Dunne deadpanned. So it should have ended there? "It did end there," he said, laughing. And now, this column ends here. Blame my fucked-up childhood for all the mistakes.