We've all had that sensation of being in a movie theater or a comedy club where the more people laugh, the more things seem unfunny.
Last night I saw Flight of the Conchords at San Francisco's Davies Symphony Hall, and it was a bit like that -- but not because the New Zealand musical sketch comedy duo gave a bad performance. Laughter poured from the front, back, and sides of the audience, and girls were screaming as if Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie comprised a boy band. (They areon TV a lot.)
But things were decidedly quiet where I was sitting. The man next to me slept through the entire show. The row of people directly in front of me kept turning to each other inquisitively and then whispering interpretations of what they couldn't quite hear. Someone nearby was farting nearly nonstop. Maybe the gas made it difficult for the jokes to penetrate the pocket of airspace around us. More likely we were stuck in a spot with poor acoustics, a problem compounded by enamored fans eager to personally engage their heroes by shouting things at them.
The audience was so rowdy that Clement and McKenzie seemed a bit flustered. One of many girls screamed, "I love you," and Clement remarked, "You think you love me, but the truth is I'm too dangerous." Another shouted, "I want to touch you," and McKenzie invited her on stage. This unfortunately emboldened a woman who ran through the swanky venue to take a cell phone photo at the edge of the stage during the pair's mock Barry White tune "Business Time." Clement waved her away, lost his concentration, and then flubbed his lyrics. During other songs, he struggled with a malfunctioning white plastic instrument that looked like a cross between an autoharp and a flattened urinal. "I love your chest hair," a man yelled at Clement. This the deadpan singer took rather well.
Unfortunately, the duo failed to perform its gayest songs. One, "Inner City Pressure," is a flawless '80s synth-pop simulation of the Pet Shop Boys' "West End Girls" with a perfectly posed video to match. Another, the folky "Bret, You Got It Going On" features an impeccable Jack Johnson impersonation set to some of the most homoerotically ridiculous lyrics ever. I'd post them, but someone has kindly subtitled this video for listeners trapped in the same kind of hearing-impaired bubble I was in last night.
Seeing as Big Business is always on the hunt for the next big idea -- and new sources of $$ -- it isn't shocking to find corporations interested in cashing in on the always booming personal grooming market. While we have razors with 14 billion blades and trimmers and sugars and lasers and waxing kits, we still haven't fully conquered the humble yet hearty human hair follicle.
Gay men, women, and metrosexuals (does anyone else miss the days when you could tell whether or not the looker in the locker room played on your team simply by how anemic or robust the patch above his privates was?) continually engage in the never-ending war with unwanted hair and are therefore forever searching for a new product to make the weekly (or daily) battles to stay fuzz free faster, easier, longer lasting, and above all, less painful.
As I was ambling around the Internet looking for inspiration for a totally unrelated column, I somehow got off-track and found two unexpectedly delightful (I don't use that word lightly) marketing campaigns for new grooming products:
> Phillips cast a crossdressing dancer named Karis (his non-stage name is James) as the new spokesperson for their Satinelle-Ice Epilator, the tag line for which runs, "Being a man I can't take pain. So I use Phillips Satinelle-Ice Epilator."
I'm probably much more wary and unwilling than the average guy when it comes to assigning good intentions to mega-corporations, but I have to admit I'm fairly impressed by Phillips. Yes, the campaign is definitely about generating attention for their new product by capitalizing on shock of the "other", but at the same time the ads present Karis as a healthy (read: not disturbed, deviant, bonkers, etc.), beautiful, seemingly happy person without judgment, ridicule, or even too heavy a dose of tokenism. The clips aren't being shown in the United States (big surprise) but they are running globally and can be viewed on the Phillips website. If this isn't cause for an all-out epilating celebration (or maybe not -- even with a built in ice pack -- ouch!), at the very least it's a move in the right direction.
> The other commercial stars several hunky German soldiers using a Braun electric razor. One shaves his face, one shaves a heart shape in his chest hair, and a third is busy trimming his pubes. A cranky commanding officer comes in and asks "what is going on here?!?" The soldiers all move in closer to peer at the guy caught with his pants down and offer their guesses as to what his patch is supposed to resemble: "A butterfly? A car? A map?" The commanding officer -- none too amused -- replies, "This is the German Federal Armed Forces!" leaving the soldiers confused as to how that could possibly be the intended design of the new coiffed nether region in question.
Braun gets big points for their campy mix of humor and sexuality and extra bonus points for presenting what could pass for the beginning of a really hot porno.
"It's written by guys, who happen to be gay, who are sluts. Let's
face it: Most men are sluts. That's what testosterone is supposed to do.
As a hunter, if you stayed alive after 30 nature wanted your genes out
there. Women were just trying to get the best sperm to make a
masterpiece. You have a bunch of guys who are sluts, writing for women and telling them they are supposed to act like this."
You got us, Lauren! Turning women into sex-crazed zombies is but one small part of the gay agenda. We also really love show tunes, spend all of our time at the gym, and carry around tubs of Crisco for impromptu fisting parties -- and you would have seen the girls participating in more of that stuff, too, if SATC episodes weren't only 28 minutes long.
> Steven Tyler is in rehab -- for his foot. The Aerosmith front man reportedly entered a California facility earlier this month to treat a substance abuse problem, but he is now claiming he's merely recovering from foot surgery. "The doctors told me the pain in my feet could be corrected but it would require a few surgeries over time," Tyler said in a statement Thursday. "The 'foot repair' pain was intense, greater than I'd anticipated. The
months of rehabilitative care and the painful strain of physical
therapy were traumatic," he said, adding, "I really needed a safe environment to recuperate where I could shut off my phone and get back on my feet." I don't want to come off as brash or cocky in your time of podiatric distress, Steven, but three years ago, when I was recovering from sinus surgery (sexy, right?), I laid on my lumpy orange IKEA couch for two weeks watching the Price is Right, and I healed just fine -- without a rehab team to nurse me back to health.
> The very thing you've been waiting your whole lives for is about to happen: Irrefutable proof that aliens exist will be presented in Denver. Jeff Peckman, who is promoting a ballot initiative to create an Extraterrestrial Affairs Commission in the city, says he has footage of a 4-foot alien looking through a window and will show the clip at a press conference today. Peckman claims the film is one small portion of the overwhelming proof he has that aliens have visited our planet. He also says that an instructor at the Colorado Film School in Denver scrutinized the
video "very carefully" and determined it was authentic. The clip will not be shown to the public because it's part of a documentary that will be available for purchase in the coming months. Brilliant plan, Peckman! Why on earth wouldn't you charge people to see what is undoubtedly proof of the most important revelation in world history?
Smoke monsters, ghost kids and flash-forwards, oh my! It's Lost season-finale day and Popnography's found out the super secret twist ending that you'll be talking about for months.*
Turns out the mysterious Orchid Station that everyone's racing to doesn't have the power to travel through time at all. In fact, in the last minutes of tonight's action-packed episode, John Locke switches on the "frozen donkey wheel" device -- and it turns everyone on the island gay. That "spectacular kiss" we've been promised? It's between Jack and Sawyer, as the doc hops in the copter to civilization and Wildman Sawyer mouths, "You complete me."
Now that all the natives have gone homo, let's look at the exciting new relationships we can look forward to next season on Lost, along with their obvious new coupley smashed nicknames:
Benayid (Ben/Sayid) We've already seen this season that bug-eyed baddie (or is he?) Benjamin Linus enlists former Iraqi torturer Sayid Jarrah in his plans. Now that his wife is out of the picture, the two are able to spend time traveling around the country hurting people both psychically and psychologically. And while you'd think these two would spend their off-hours building a time-traveling S&M dungeon, expect to see a very special holiday episode where Benayid invite the Oceanic Six to a dinner party where we learn that the ever-patient Sayid has helped Ben finally master how to cook a turkey.
Hurlnard (Hurley/Bernard) Bernard says "Goodnight Rose" to his wife in an early episode when he suddenly appears in L.A. and woos Hurley. Turns out Bernard loves them large and begins taking Hurley to the Soutland's finest rib joints. But like everything on Lost, the happy couple is doomed; when Mama Reyes puts Hurley on Atkins, Bernard loses interest. Dude!
Chreamy (Christian Shephard/Martin Keamy) One's a creepy dead guy and the other is a hot muscle twink who likes to kill people. Can you say "Match made in heaven?" And it is, until Jacob finds that the good Dr. Shephard has been using his cabin for more than just creepy and infuriatingly obtuse oracular orders.
And, for the ladies:
Sate (Sun/ Kate) While you would think the perfect woman for Kate would be former Others hard-ass Juliette given, you know, they have so much in common (a thing for Jack, a love of gunplay, long manes of soft brushable hair), it turns out the Island has different ideas. Once again fleeing the country, Kate leaves baby Aaron with Jack and heads to South Korea, where she and Sun live happily ever after. I'm just kidding. This is Lost, so they both wind up fighting all the time and double-crossing each other. But they have really awesome make-up sex every time.
*It's also possible that we just spend too much time on Lostopedia.
You're one of the best eggs in the music industry, hands down. With
as much talent as you have, I'd expect you'd have some eccentric ego,
but from what I can tell you seem to have none. (That actually makes
you more talented, by way of some crazy cosmic arithmetic.) Every time
we get the chance to hang I'm inspired by your creativity. Your mind is
like a stadium with the dome open... you have ZERO judgment when it
comes to things that move you. When most people get the feeling they
might like an idea, or a shirt, they run it through a series of
filters; 'what should I think, given my personal attributes?'
'How does this read?' 'What would Kanye do?' You have what makes
talented people successful for years and years - a brave sense of self
and a completely authentic relationship with your tastes.
That's why I'll throw a guitar in the car and be there anytime you need me. It's a short list. (I'm lazy.)
A gentle warning to Pete from a girl with a pop music memory way longer than is at all healthy:
Mayer's been down this road before. He and Justin Timberlake were best bosom buddies back in 2002 and 2003, when they popped into each other's gigs and waxed poetic in interviews about each other's awesome talents. From a Blender Q&A in late 2003:
A friend of mine went to the party Justin Timberlake threw
after this year’s VMAs, and he said you two were flirting. Any truth to
this? Mayer: Could be. Maybe. There’s a certain sexuality that some friends have,
absolutely. I think sexuality has to exist between any two living
things for those two living things to get along. You know, do Steven
Tyler and Joe Perry flirt with each other? Absolutely. That’s what
makes things cool. But not, like, weiner-in-tush flirting.
Sure, he still takes the time out to make a YouTube video covering JT's songs, but it's not like it was in the gay old days. You've already given him the prime solo guitar slot on your Michael Jackson remake. What will you think of next to keep him interested?
Here's
what we know. Multiple sources tell us the mother is Jaymes Foster, a
record producer and Clay's best friend. He lives at her home when he's
in L.A.
We're told 50-year-old Foster, who produced several
Aiken CDs, is due in August. She's the sister of record mogul David
Foster. She divorced a few years back and has no kids. Aiken is 29.
We're
told Foster was artificially inseminated. But Clay is a lot more than
sperm -- we're told he will have an active role in raising the child.
Hey, I'm a big fan (duh) of gay families. I'm just not sure which of Clay's life lessons most need to be passed along to the next generation...
I love when one of my favorite actors keeps popping up in shows I love. It's like the universe is just begging me to be even more obsessed than I was already inclined to be!
The first place I saw Max Greenfield (above, left) was as Deputy Leo on Veronica Mars, the sweet, seductive cop who worked for Veronica's dad and somehow managed to trump either of the other candidates for her affection. More recently, he's been playing a less sweet dude on Ugly Betty as Rebecca Romijn's assistant, Nick (the anti-Betty).
This past Monday he was one-half of ABC Family's first -- and second! -- same-sex kiss, when Greek's Paul James finally pounced on his new boyfriend, mid-frat party. Even though I'd already gotten the scoop from Paul, I couldn't resist an offer to talk to Max, too. He's just as nice and funny as you'd expect, with an added bonus of feisty and self-deprecating.
> Willie Garson -- AKA Sex and the City's genially geeky gay, Stanford Blatch -- is in the final stages of adopting a son. The boy hails from Los Angeles County and will be Garson's first child. Speaking of the difficulties of adopting a child, the seemingly-straight actor remarked, "You know what, it should be difficult. It’s not like buying a suit or another pair of glasses." No -- it's like buying a really expensive pair of glasses that will one day totally embarrass and disappoint you by getting suspended for fist fighting with Max Aguilera in gym class.
> In other celebrity adoption news, Christina Crawford is worried about the children acquired by their famous parents. The adopted daughter of Joan Crawford -- and the author of the memoir Mommy Dearest which begat the campy classic film of the same name -- says, "I have tremendous concerns about celebrity adoptions by people like
Madonna and Angelina Jolie." She continues, "From the
adoptee's point of view, it is vitally important to know who they are,
where they came from, or it can have profound medical and psychological
effects." Crawford, who is celebrating the 30th anniversary of her memoir, claims her mother had no interest in providing a loving home for her children: "It was complete and total hypocrisy between the public and the private. She adopted us for the publicity." We won't forget Tina, or ever look at a wire hanger again without wincing.
> Kirk Cameron is releasing his own memoir, Still Growing, which chronicles his journey from teen heartthrob on the hit sitcom Growing Pains to father of six and fanatical Christian. And luckily -- since there's no way in hell we'd actually fork over any portion of our hard earned paychecks to purchase the book -- the first chapter is available at Good Morning America online. Some of the highlights? Cameron recalls the pleasure of duping Tracey Gold, whom he calls "the most gullible person in the world"; reveals his favorite singer was Prince (and that he also enjoyed Boy George even though he was a "he-she who wore pastel eye shadow"); and the best part of being spotted by a car full of screaming girls was "taking off while the shock kept them stuck in the intersection." We get what's going on here, Kirk: First you establish what a prick you were, then by chapter four you show us despite all the fame and fortune your life was actually incredibly empty. By chapter 8 we've learned how Jesus gave your life meaning, and finally you close with a sales pitch about how we too can find the peace and joy that you have. But somehow -- and we're just guessing here -- we're pretty sure we're going to like the prick who listened to Boy George and taunted Tracey Gold a whole lot better than the one who thinks we're all destined for the lake that burns with fire and brimstone.
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