By Alex Distefano
By Scott Snowden
By Anna Merlan
By Steve Almond
By Jena Ardell
By Jon Campbell
By Alan Scherstuhl
By Tessa Stuart
This should top Danni's performance last year, when she shot rubber eggs out of her butt as the crowd got the yolk. On the phone last week, Danni told me that while she may not have her own eggs, she did recently have breast augmentation, while decidedly keeping her penis. "I live as a transsexual," Danni said. "I like to say 'transsexual' more than 'woman.' I'm very comfortable being in the middle."
With schlong in tow, Danni stars as an s/m top in various trannie porn films, a way bigger niche market than my vanilla mind ever imagined. "This year," Danni informed me, "transsexual porn has outsold lesbian porn three to one. Ninety percent of it is dominant transsexuals that fuck a big straight guy. The audience is straight married men and women as well."
But wait—how straight are these people? As Danni wryly replied, "When they're getting a close-to-nine-inch cock up their ass, you have to wonder. But I'm the very last person to be labeling people, let alone gender and sexual orientation!"
Meanwhile, I've been popping extra bon mots out of my butt at anyone who'll read them on Twitter, which is supposed to be about both sending messages to your followers and receiving them from folks that you follow. But I've noticed that some celebs are way more interested in getting out their ideas than fielding others'. For example, while Paris Hilton has 1,609,837 followers (and tweets to them all day about adopting animals and loving Zoolander), she's only following 262! That ratio ain't right!
Even more distinctively, Rufus Wainwright is followed by 19,334 people and he's following zero! Zilch! Not even Paris Hilton! I've always loved his individualistic resolve.
By the way, if you want to be my Facebook friend, you have to either comment "I love your work" or look incredibly cute and/or creative. Otherwise, I can't be bothered.
A new friend—in real life—is Cuban singer Margarita Pracatan, who served me paella and personality in her Upper West Side apartment last week. Margarita's malapropisms are delightful (She says "Juilliard" when she means Club Juliet, and "Larry Delafonte" for the singer of "Day-O") and so are her personal pronouncements. "I haven't had anyone downtown in 25 years," Margarita exclaimed, referring to her private area. "I had a boyfriend, but he died, thank God."
Jeremy Renner, what's your excuse?