Strange Bedfellows

Accosted by fat guys, disgusted by Ann Coulter—all side effects of fabulousness


PUTTING THE "C-WORD" BACK IN D.C.
As long as I've delved into the political pistou: Bigheaddc.com's ROB CAPRICCIOSO just threw me a book party in our nation's capital, where I became surrounded by mouthy media and tanked twinks. Rob wanted JEFF GANNON—the gay escort turned Republican mole—to co-host, and I went along with it since I generally enjoy mixing strange bedfellows for some sick times. Also, I thought it would be a perverse kick to get Gannon to endorse my book, which is BUSH-bashing and out-gay gay gay. But mainly I wanted to get him to trash the prez. He did so—but only because he feels the guy is not conservative enough. Oy. That's it for the strange bedfellows!

Anyway, after the party, Wonkette wrote something snarky—no, really, they stretched their muscles and wrote something dismissive and shitty, I swear—smirking that the event wasn't for real seeing as there were no books on the premises. Honey, the truth is I brought a stash with me and snuck them out all night to the important people! (Or at least the ones who nicely introduced themselves.)

James St. James
photo: Austin Young
James St. James

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Tune in: La Dolce Musto


The twinks then followed me in a huge conga line around Dupont Circle, formerly "the fruit loop," as we mourned the fact that a new stadium in town has caused the demolition of nine gay bars. Hopefully the arena will house many a CHRISTINA AGUILERA concert to make up for it. Bravely, we tracked down the remaining boîtes—like the refreshingly unfabulous Fireplace and the slap-happy Omega, where a friend tipped a go-go boy, only to realize he was just a customer. The guy, flattered, took him home.

The next day brought the inevitable museum trip to see that great work of art—Dorothy's ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz! They're hanging at the Smithsonian, and I assumed I'd have to fight a swarming crowd to get a peek, these being the footwear answer to the Mona Lisa and maybe even the lower-region version of Anna Nicole's tiara. But nobody seemed to care, maybe because there are six other pairs in the world (including the one Toto chewed on and the one DEBBIE REYNOLDS plays with). Or maybe everyone else is just straight.

I'll leave you with some belated Oscar thoughts: They finally put words to an ENNIO MORRICONE tune and you couldn't understand a single one of them! EDDIE MURPHY lost because he's even nastier than ALAN ARKIN! WILL SMITH's kid needs to be immediately seized and decontaminated of all shtick! JENNIFER HUDSON is single-handedly bringing the '70s back with that LaBelle-like capelet and her After Dark–style Vogue cover! When I think Good Samaritan, I think Sherry Lansing! (Oh yeah, she's a regular Trans Angel.)


musto@villagevoice.com

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