ABOVE: Tom's in the homo stretch.
6 posts categorized "MICHAEL URIE"
I was gonna go to D.C. this weekend, or even plan a camping trip, but they seem to be falling through.
Instead, I had my getaway right in NYC: My pal Mike had an extra ticket to the Drama Desk Awards Monday evening, as well as the after-party, so I was only too happy to snap it up.
We attended with our other pal, also Mike.
Did I mention that Mike #1 is 10X the starfucker I am, and that Mike #2 is 100X the starfucker I am?! Having two people seeking star pic-withs is ideal, because if you grab someone, it's easy enough to then switch positions and stars are usually happy to oblige. With three, it becomes overwhelming.
So, I did not go for everyone they did (Danny DeVito, Amy Ryan, many nominees), yet still had fun and wound up with some nice photos.
We found Randy Rainbow (so nice, with Mom as his date) before the carpet, but then parked where the stars would go from carpet to theater so the guys would be able to grab as many quick pic-withs as possible.
I must say my spotting abilities were on point — I went from tiny Danny DeVito to towering Tommy Tune, and helped them spot Kate Walsh and other famous people they knew but couldn't place. (Though I was hopeless on theater people.)
Facebook @boycultureblog: Above, please check out my pics from last night's Cocktails & Classics party, hosted by Michaels Musto & Urie, with Robin Byrd & more!
The Guardian: In Amsterdam, a gay couple attacked for holding hands receives support from straight men, who poured into the streets holding hands.
Huff Post: Horrific chemical attack by Syrian government probably meant to send a message of defiance to all regimes seeking to oust Assad: He'll do anything.
Kenneth in the (212): Nick Heyward of Haircut 100 returns.
Facebook: Scruff plans Dance for Pride in New Delhi with local LGBTQ community.
I had a blast at an intimate cocktail party earlier for Cocktails & Classics (#CocktailsAndClassics), the Logo TV series that's a (good and bad) movie lover's wet dream. So glad Michael Musto asked me!
The show, hosted by one of my celebrity crushes, Michael Urie (whose performance in Buyer & Cellar is one of the best things I've ever seen of any kind), brings together gay gab, cinema and the sometimes befuddled stars of neo-classics in a chatfest of which you'd die to be a part.
The party was to celebrate the show's second season, and was held at The Eventi - A Kimpton Hotel (#EventiHotel) in Chelsea in a charming screening room, where we all watched Mommie Dearest (1981) ... again!
At the screening, I had a great chat with Urie about Madonna (he raved about her Rebel Heart Tour, his first-ever Madonna concert!) and Manilow (he is a Manilover); kibitzed with Musto about his ready-to-wear statement necklace made of wire hangers; listened in shock as Mommie Dearest actress Rutanya Alda told me Faye Dunaway recently asked her to help her write Dunaway's proposed memoir about the movie for free; said hi to CockyBoys pornstar Tayte Hanson; did an interview with Tym Moss; and was reunited with Jason Russo of HeyMrJason Photography, who shot my book(s) party. I sat with fellow blogger Kenneth Walsh of Kenneth in the (212) and our pal Greg Endries, the latter of whom won the night by exclaiming, “I'll have what she's having!” when Christina Crawford/Diana Scarwid was moaning during her ovarian-tumor episode.
After the jump, check out 99% of the fun panel talk that preceded the movie, featuring Musto, Urie, Shangela and the ageless Alda (presented in black-and-white for that extra cinematic flair) ...
GLAAD's Rich Ferraro has consistently invited me to his organization's events and I've consistently declined; I officially cover so many events for my dayjob and unofficially cover so many events on my blog for fun that my thought has been I don't really need to hyperextend myself by marrying the two and officially covering an event for my blog.
Gays & thespians: Honoree Nixon with Prayers for Bobby's Weaver
But The 21st Annual GLAAD Media Awards were honoring Cynthia Nixon and Joy Behar (two of my favorite redheads—the red carpet was truly red/orange...it was a Night of 1,000 Gingers) so I made it my first red carpet, quickly discovering that doing an event with no boss to please and nothing to lose and yet having orchestrated access to the main attractions can wind up being the best of both worlds—officially fun.
From where I stood
I arrived around 3PM for press check-in. There was a crush of people and the nice lady at the desk wasn't; I asked where to go and she said up the escalator, which isn't really that descriptive considering I was in the Marriott Marquis in Times Square (a place I was at on 9/10/01, and where I discussed going to the World Trade Center the following day to get TKTS tickets for a show...something that never panned out, obviously). I went up, as commanded, but couldn't figure out where to go next. I was pointed in many directions, finally landing on the third floor. (You'll see from the photos that I was much even more disheveled and droopy than usual.)
All my B-roll footage:
Here, I found my spot on the line—right toward the end. Red carpets are like the social caste system made manifest, or like a literal food chain. On the latter, I would be the seeds the birds poop out to keep the plants growing. To make it less metaphorical, I was two slots behind something called Autostraddle.com, which I refuse to look up because it sounds like one of those mechanical dildo sites. (I broke down and looked it up—it's a kinda great lesbian site with lots of traffic.)
But it turns out my spot wasn't so bad (considering I'm just some guy with a blog) because most of the stars were rather available and those who weren't were stopping to my left to do stuff with GLAAD. At first, I was right next to Ben Harvey and Dave Rubin of Ben & Dave's Six Pack (pictured, image from Metrosource). They were also covering for Queerty, though I wondered if they might not get less frozen reactions if they left the Queerty part out (I still link to Queerty, but I think it's fair to describe it as somewhat caustic). They were cute and as nice as can be; I point this out because the act of having a six-pack makes people gushingly nice, but the act of having six-pack abs usually does the opposite. They were professional and hot, the types of guys you wouldn't hate being stuck on a crowded elevator with, so I hoped they'd help attract stars, Suddenly Last Summer-style.
Samara puts the Reichen Lehmkuhls on the spot