Stardate 01032003
I know its lame, but I’m going to do it anyway. This is my “Year in Review” column. Except it’s only been half a year that I’ve been doing this, so it’s the “HALF A YEAR IN REVIEW” column.
Screw the concise prose, here’s a list of places that I have taken you this year, kicking and screaming every inch of the way.
The Playboy Mansion (Hmm. Hey? How about it guys, some of you, and I dare say a few of the ladies?).
Nothing else really matters after that. But we went to the Adult Video News Awards and met Larry Flynt and Ron Jeremy, in the same week, no less, than meeting Hugh Hefner at the Playboy mansion. What was up with THAT week?
We went to some movie premiers and made googly eyes at Paul Rudd and compared the thinness of Mira Sorvino’s arms with Julianne Moore’s arms. I dare say they are both on the verge of simply evaporating. But Kirstin Dunst would give them a run for the money in the “I’m nothing but a wisp of smoke” category.
I got me picture taken acting like a supermodel by Billy Zane and nearly collided with Toby Maguire while ogling Heather Graham at a pajama party sponsored by SONY. I said SONY.
SONY. (I’m whoring myself out for a PS2. GIMME GIMME GIMME !!!)
Forrest Whitaker hooked us up with some fly honeys at the PAPI CHULO wrap party. That was the point in the year when I realized that Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck were BIG NEWS because that’s all anyone wanted to talk about with me. Because you know, we’re hella tight and all.
Lily Tomlin gave us some very good advice. “Don’t be afraid to miss an opportunity.”
Michael Moore hugged me. Bill Maher ignored me. Kieran Culkin fled from me. Jeffrey Wells had coffee with me. (All the while saying, “I don’t know why I ordered, I’m not that hungry.) Andy Jones of E!online told me how important GQ was to him as a teen and Alonso Duralde, the Associate Entertainment editor of THE ADVOCATE pimped MOVIEPOOPSHOOT.COM twice, proving that the only fags that really matter, me and Alonso, don’t think JAY AND SILENT BOB STRIKES BACK is homophobic or that Kevin Smith is pandering to homophobes.
Alexis Arquette, brother-in-law of Courtney Cox and brother of the hilarious David Arquette, asked me if I had a ticket to the Elton John Oscar™ Party. Yes, that is why I’m standing across the street in my black jeans and hoody frantically taking notes while flash bulbs lit up the line as the likes of Sir Paul McCartney and Elijah Wood arrived.
I then went and watched the arrivals at the Vanity Fair Oscar™ Party. Which is THE party and Owen Wilson was the only person to come and sign autographs, which was a nice movie star thing for him to do.
This was an Arquette triple threat year and that put me down two out of five FRIENDS (Cox and Matt LeBlanc, who, if you missed it, you missed it, was in I thought was one of the years best films, ALL THE QUEEN’S MEN). It was a big year for FRIENDS. They won Emmys and everything.
Ann Magnuson said a million nice things to me. I counted.
I moved to San Francisco and thought I’d just be writing about punk rock and politics and instead we met John Waters, Robin Williams (and yes, I do know he won for Best Supporting Actor in GOOD WILL HUNTING, even though I didn’t mention it last time) and Gus Van Sant.
This was also the year that I learned a lot of very important things.
Ben Kingsley, I discovered, is absolutely magnetic in person.
LOVE LIZA star, Phillip Seymour Hoffman has a brother, Gordy Hoffman, who likes Shakespeare and we went to his Company’s Marathon reading of EVERY SINGLE Shakespeare play and I read a shepherd in A WINTER’S TALE.
Steve Kmetko at E! News Live got canned the same week I ran into Henry Winkler eating chicken from a take-out place. Coincidence?
Susan Sarandon is a pro at working a room. Ryan Phillipe is not just a pretentious pretty boy. He has actual emotional complexity and psychological depth. Who’da thought? He also lets his wife Reese’s stylist buy his clothes.
Cassandra Peterson is hella cool. Paul Reubens is hella nice. Chris Kattan said, “Call my publicist.”
Nina Hagen drinks beer. Camryn Manheim is VERY tall. Tim Blake Nelson likes fine art. Dennis Haysbert (The President in 24 and also starring in FAR FROM HEAVEN) is a big walking hug. I wanted to curl up in his lap and fall asleep. Purrrrrrr….
Halle Berry won an Oscar™ for best actress and it didn’t ruin her career. The Moon revolved around the Earth. The Earth revolved around the Sun. People were born. People died. It was the same old tired story.
Most importantly though, MOVIEPOOPSHOOT.COM was founded and the world came that much closer to achieving perfection.
So whats up with this year? This 2003 year. Here’s how mine started.
I had a very small party, just two people, and we watched AMELIE, drank coffee and ate chocolate chip and pecan cookies. I opened the window at midnight to hear all the people shouting and such and across the street a guy walked out of the liquor store and thinking nobody saw him, he folded up a paper towel and stuck his hand down the back of his pants, gave a hearty wipe and threw the paper towel in the garbage can. I guess he was wiping the new year away.
Yup. Happy New Year.
And then we went on e-Bay and looked up all the things we think are cool – bog oak, arts and crafts medieval revival, 19th century English ironstone teapots, mourning jewelry, hair wreathes, devils, bones, silver salt spoons, turn of the century (the 19th century) travel souvenirs, poison bottles, cloche hats from 1910 – 1930 and wax dolls. Everything cool was a million dollars, of course.
I also did some sleuthing and discovered how a casual comment can turn into serious buzz.
I caught this blurb on Eonline.com.
Hey, maybe it's true: Everything old really is new again. Okay, maybe not.
And now I shall point out the mysterious echoes in the world of Pop.
Everything Old is New Again and Everything New is New Also by Thom Fowler. That’s me.
I guess I’m the new guru of hip. The reverend of cool. The master of style. I’m Isaac Mizrahi from when people cared. I’m Jean-Paul Gaultier after Madonna. I’m Dolce and Gabana in bed. I’m motherfuckin’ Anna Sui and Issey Miyake givin’ the what for to Donna Karan. It’s my birthday, It’s my birthday. Whoop. Whoop. I run the dojo of dope. The Kwai-Lan school of fuck yeah. I got a big bad caddy from the ghet-to. I got your balls from the get go. Uh huh. Uh huh. I didn’t take my medication. I’m dope sick from masturbation. I got four white walls and a tie-me-down bed. I sprained my back trying to give myself head. I got my rhymes from Tar-jay. It’s time to Par-tay. Shake your boo-tay. Woot. Woot.
And now, we shall make fun of celebrity outfits while Charlie takes us out with 50 ccs of Thioridazine. “I can fly. I CAN FLY!”
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