Talk about a graphic novel!

Blisteringly erotic gay comic released.

Walk Off the Earth cover Madonna's "Material Girl."

Most at the Met Ball ignored the "punk" theme. Who looked best?*

Jesus Luz goes shirtless for Junior.

Hot 97 DJ Mister Cee: "I am not gay."

Chris Pine would play gay.

In Minnesota, marriage equality advances.

Getting picked up by Ryan Gosling.

Air Force's Sexual Assault Prevention & Response Office head assaults woman.

NYC couple attacked in broad daylight near MSG.

Gay vs. lesbian with AARP as the weapon.

Use these self-publishing moms for inspiration to make bank.

Pat Robertson: Gays like murderers,  rapists, thieves.

ABBA museum. Suggested donation? "Money, Money, Money."

You know I'll be attending this:

Str8 ally Chris Kluwe dropped by the Minnesota Vikings.

Jimmy Wright's drawings of NYC's gay meat market.

Helen Mirren vs. drummers.

Fuck, yeah, Ryan Phillippe.

Pet Shop Boys compare new album to Madonna.

Christina Crawford on her mom's rumored affair with Marilyn.

A Portrait of James Dean: Joshua Tree, 1951 avail for digital download today.

Come back to the five and dime, Jimmy Peen, Jimmy Peen (#bulge).

*Dakota Fanning, Anne Hathaway, Madonna, Rooney Mara, Gwyneth Paltrow, Sarah Jessica Parker, Aubrey Plaza, Amanda Seyfried & Kerry Washington can all get it.

With thanks the Real Househusband Gordon: Bethenny Frankel's Skinny Bitch Girl millions might be in jeopardy now that it's been alleged the product contains more than just agave nectar and tequila—it's supposedly got potentially toxic sodium benzoate.

A few thoughts: How does someone get $100 million for an "invention" that is nothing but agave nectar and tequila in the first place? How can Frankel dismiss this concern as a "non-event"? And is the reason I don't have $100 million that I don't drink?

18 and pregnant with ambition

Eighteen-year-old Kevin Michael Barba is a reality show waiting to happen. He was introduced to the culture via a deliciously catty Gawker item lampooning a letter written on his behalf seeking help in securing a publicist. His goal? To be an out gay role model to teens, a human It Gets Better—even if his privileged upbringing makes him one of those rare It Was Never That Bad To Begin Withs.

Like any good member of the proletariat, I figured he might be a male Paris Hilton and scoffed at his naked desire to be famous. But I was curious, and after some Facebooking, I met with him for lunch at Blue Fin in Times Square. And lo and behold, I found him way more likable than his assistant's letter betrayed—yes, in spite of the fact that he's less than half my age and has an assistant in the first place. In person, he comes across as downright earnest, hoping to do good and at the same time wondering aloud how so many Gawker squawkers could liken his haircut to Justin Bieber's. ("Old people only have one point of reference for 18-year-olds?" I offered.)

Oh, Jackie!

He's also self-aware enough to note that while he hopes to inspire others, he'd also like to earn a Mazel of the Week nod from Andy Cohen someday. His role models sound like ingredients in the image he hopes to convey—Cohen, Jackie O, Bethenny Frankel.

Lest you think I'm just cozying up to him on the off chance he could be persuaded to pay for my first tummy tuck, I paid for lunch over his strident objections. I wanted to preserve my journalistic integrity. So keep an open mind and have a look at how he responded to all my questions—if you watch to the end, you might even get a chic Countess LuAnn de Lesseps reference...

Above, Bethenny Frankel's hubby Jason fills out his swimsuit nicely in Life & Style (April 4, 2011). Below, the same issue offers a still of Justin Timberlake's bicep from Friends With Benefits:

Sly dawg Ryan Phillippe grins and bares his arms in OK! (April 4, 2011):

Gotta love this pic of José Guillermo Cortines from TV y Novelas (Abril  2011):

More after the jump...

Bethenny Frankel may have GLAAD-handed the press at GLAAD Manhattan, but as I pointed out, she left without ever going up to the party in spite of being signed on to host. The New York Post now makes note of her faux pas.

I still like her better than Jill, and I will boycott any GLAAD event that glorifies these slimy Tareq & Michaele Salahi characters!

Bethenny Frankel was at the bottom of my list of fave housewives back during Season 1. After all, she wasn't even a housewife! Who needed this ringer? But over time, I've come to respect her for her sense of humor and for her principled positions against the sincerity of Jill and the mental fitness of Kelly.

At GLAAD Manhattan last night, I asked her how she feels about "gay" being used as an insult ("it's just ignorance"), if she's always been as pro-gay as she is now ("I was the one with the mother with the friends who were men with muumuus on, like the long caftans on. and I was the one who was eating sushi in sixth grade and was made fun of for it...I don't judge anyone") and the whereabouts of her absent cute husband ("I definitely—by the way, my cute husband is at a work dinner—but I definitely don't trust you guys around him. No way!")

"Simon would be out if he were gay!"

I spoke twice as long with her Real Housewives of New York City co-stars Alex McCord and Simon van Kempen, who told me they'd be fine with any of their children coming out as gay when they get older, they're pissed off when people try to imply Simon is secretly gay as if that would be something to be ashamed of and that Alex may or may not want her own spin-off series.

Full videos after the jump...

Scott Herman is a straight ally and a gay sex object

Last night was GLAAD Manhattan (tons more photos at Guest of a Guest), an event held at 230 Fifth's swanky rooftop garden and bar that was hosted by Bethenny Frankel. Well, she hosted it in the sense that she showed up looking smashing, GLAADly did unguarded interviews with every outlet on the red carpet and then split without ever setting foot in the party.

Empire state of mind—José and I

It was a steamy affair—New York + humidity = everyone swimming in their underwear. To make matters worse, I'd walked over from Times Square in my jacket. There was a tropical theme but I don't look good in floral shirts, so I had to improvise, grabbing a Hawaiian T-shirt of mine that has since become one of José's pajama tops and wearing it under my jacket. Of course, half the people arrived in shorts and tank tops. Leave it to the guy who has worn long pants once all summer to be overdressed.

GLAAD: Just an idea, but try a slave auction next time...

Speaking of which, the first thing I spotted when I got off the elevator was a mass of barely-clad models showing off their swimsuits. Turns out they were auctioning off their worn Speedos. I got close enough to see that they were wearing something under the Speedos (so fetishists would think this auction failed the smell test), but I didn't have $90+ on me anyway. I have no doubt they found plenty of takers at varying price points.

What a drag!

The carpet was as small as the minds of the people GLAAD is up against, but quite chummy. The lesbian videographer next to me from Go nudged me out of her shot so gently it felt like I was being put to bed by Mother. There were some Z-list celebs to contend with—bless them, though—which is only difficult in that you feel like an asshole having to discreetly ask who they are. The only one I really had to roll my eyes at was a blonde bombshell who told me, when I asked why coming out to this event was important, that she loves parties.

Jujubee made perspiration look elegant

I was shocked when several of the evening's drag performers blew off the cute reporter next to me. Apparently, he was friends with them, so they weren't taking him seriously. Lookit, if you're a drag queen at an event, you better be willing to pose for photos until the flashes die out and answer every question asked of you.

 

José and I went to the gay pride parade our first year together but skipped it many years in a row; it can burn you out considering so many of the contingencies are gay-friendly churches (but still...churches), politicians and random people in undecorated cars. I love a parade, but I can take or leave a procession.

He gets my vote as King of Queens 

But for the past few years, I've made a point of going to check it out. I agree with Joe completely that it's important for everybody to go—and that there is no "real" gay person, no such thing as an LGBT person who "makes us look bad."

If anything, I think the parade is about the very serious issue of our right to be what some others might find silly, and our right to giddily embrace the fact that there are enough of us around to cripple Manhattan for a day.

Marilyn as First Lady on that fateful Dallas day 

The G-string of doom 

The only star I saw was Real Housewives of New York victim-princess Bethenny Frankel, who's grown on me a lot over the years (not unlike an unwanted hair, but one that eventually is so enormous you can't bear to pluck it). I thought she looked good, but a young guy behind me, who'd been leading the, "Who is 'Bethenny'???" cries finished by saying, "She's UGLY. Go home." Harsh, even for me.

Not ugly were her two sexy boytoy walkers. But...where is that "gay" husband? He'd have looked aces marching beside her with his titties out.

More images after the jump, many of them starring sexy boys and men...

Jessica Hahn looks great!

In Touch (April 19, 2010) has a great idea—pointing out stars whose style is like the Golden Girls—with a laughable execution. The writer picks random images from the series, not signature looks, and badly mismatches them with contemporary celebrities (and Tom Cruise's spawn) whose outfits barely resemble the originals. Bizarre in a noteworthy way.

Even without having just seen John Waters talking about "getting some pelt," I find the caption on this Bethenny Frankel photo in Us (January 4, 2010) completely weird. "Showing her pelt" is probably technically correct—it can mean human skin. However, the word is more commonly used to refer to animal skin with fur still attached. All I could think of was Bethenny's pelt, which wasn't really something of which I wanted to spend Christmas Eve day thinking.