NY Mirror

The most deranged leaders of all—the church's pedophile apologists—star in the Best Documentary winner, AMY BERG's Deliver Us From Evil, which chillingly details how Father Oliver O'Grady molested away as his beady-eyed higher-ups refused to read his (rosary) beads. How on earth did she get O'Grady to cooperate? Did she offer a chicken buffet? "It was another confession for him," she told me. "That's how he dealt with things all along—he'd go into confession." Me too! It doesn't work!

New year's evil
New Year's Eve gets the award for the second-biggest amateur holiday after Halloween, so it was fun to spend it with the pros at the Hiro Ballroom's Cuckoo Club. There were go-go dancers with cock socks to protect them from poking my eyes out, a weird baldy who always zooms in on the only biological woman in the room and rubs against her behind, and LADYFAG—a newish-on-the-scene Canadian cross between Frida Kahlo and Big Bird—who sparkled and high-kicked but mercifully didn't molt all over the dancefloor.

Earlier, at a civilized house party at star photographer HARRY KING's apartment, sitcom legend JOYCE DEWITT demonstrated the "chair dancing" she does at bars to convince people she's having a good time, even though she's shy and would often rather be relaxing home alone. I agree—one's company!


See also:
Living La Dolce Musto
Photo gallery by Tricia Romano

Tune in:

I had unwanted company last Tuesday at Room Service's "strip room" when a seductive female employee started stroking me and purring, clearly wanting to go further for tips. "Sorry, we take it up the ass," I genteelly informed her about me and my circle of friends. "I don't care," she countered, blithely. "Well, I do!" I replied, slinking back to the main room.

Back in the safety of my living room, I nodded off to the boring faux cynicism of Dirt, with shark-faced COURTENEY COX failing to convince as human, let alone inhuman. And though JEFFREY CARLSON once threw me a very fishy look when I was schmoozing with a Taboo co-star of his, I've always found him ultra-talented, so I tuned in to All My Children to see him as a transitioning rock star, thrilled that Erica Kane won't be the show's only tranny anymore. He's sensational, with taunting eyes, drop earrings, and an even deeper voice than FELICITY HUFFMAN's. He even managed to be so riveting while singing "Falling in Love Again" that you didn't stop to think it was a Hedwig rip-off. But now that Zarf/Zoe is being questioned about various murders, I pray this doesn't turn out to be another psycho-killer tranny for the public's delectation!

Perfectly sane drag queens entertained me, gossip queen CINDY ADAMS, and writer BEAUREGARD HOUSTON-MONTGOMERY at Lips, from ALL-BEEF PATTY belting the prison matron's song from Chicago (yes, she sang! A drag queen sang live!) to GINGER and owner YVON LAMÉ ripping into the crowd and each other during raucous rounds of Bitchy Bingo. It was all very hilariously no-holds-barred, but it took a lumpy audience member from Iowa to step to the mic and tell the night's best joke: "Why do women make bad carpenters? Because all their lives they've been told that this [she made a tiny-meat gesture with two adjacent fingers] is eight inches!" Top that, Rupert Everett.

Web extra: Tired of my constant whining and pleading for validation? Then come tell me off about it in person—please! This Friday, January 12, at 7:15 p.m, I'll be hanging out at Oscar Wilde bookshop (15 Christopher Street), where I'll making an in-store appearance to schmooze and/or peddle my new book. I need the attention!


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