To all the ab-fab LGBTQers out there, Gossip Gay says good day! Life on the flipside of WeHo has been utterly trash-tactular for yours truly—and we def got some good and juicy gossip for ya. So let's get to it—stat!
To any gay man who says that he does not have a top 5 list of porn-stars-I-could-totally-cheat-on-my-husband-with-and-he-would-have-no-right-to-be-mad-at-me, Gossip Gay calls you a liar. We all have our fantasy team of dream tops and bottoms. (Ours being Tory Mason, Zeb Atlas, Skye Woods, Caesar and Adam Killian in no particular order—in case you were wondering.) Yes, while the XXX industry is a dirty little business that few of us admit to dabbling in, the truth is—our loins would burst if it weren't for such hits as Bustin Beeber: Never Say Never, Harry Palmer, Twinklight, So You Think You Can Fuck and—well, you get the point.
Anywho, it's recently come to our attention that one of our favorite porn stars (not abovementioned) is leaving the industry for greener pastures—and by greener pastures, we do mean...Juilliard! Yes, believe it or not, folks—this short, blonde and boyish bottom (aside from one pathetic attempt at topping in a college hazing video) is an alpha-talented musician. (Ironically, a penis pianist.)
So he told us over a cocktail at a boring party up in the HollyHills: "It's fun. Don't get me wrong ... It's been really fun. But there comes a point where people stop taking you seriously. They think all you want to do is drink and get bought things and go to parties like...this." Now, granted, that's the ideal life for Gossip Gay—but we're also not 23 with a bubble butt that you could bounce silver dollars off of! No, this pretty boy wants more!
He continues: "I'm not looking to be one of those 'I was a porn star and now I'm a pop star' guys. In 10 years, I see myself living in New York in some loft with a slightly older man who I just love a lot. I'm playing piano in some symphony, maybe not the biggest one, but that's OK. I just want to be happy again ... Porn made me happy at 20, but now it's time to move on ... And playing has always made me happy."
Now, Gossip Gay isn't blowing the loaded lid on who this boy is. He's simply too genuinely beautiful (both inside and out) for us to cheapen his hop, skip and sashay across the country. But we will say to this early-20s twink: "Thanks for the memories! You'll always hold a special place as #11 on our list!"
Coffee Tawk & Print
We’ve all had one of those ideas, right? You know, stumbling to the bus stop—oh, wait! This isn’t Chicago; it’s WeHo and no one takes the bus here (primarily because our city has no idea what it’s doing with its tax revenue and has hired no one with the decent common sense to expand the bus route, build express lanes and keep the public transit schedule running after last call—and also because it’s a little bit gross.) But we digress. Let us start over.
So, we’ve all had one of those ideas, right? You know, stumbling into the passenger seat of some hot, kept-boi twink after a Saturday night of heavy (and overpriced) drinking at the Abbey when utter genius strikes—“I should make a coffee table book!” you exclaim.
Why, if the likes of Paris Hilton, Jessica Simpson and cats-wearing-funny-hats can do it, so can we, right? Well, that’s exactly what one B-list early-on-kicked-off-of-RuPaul’s-Drag-something-or-other has decided, and we’ve got the inside scoop. So he/she tells us: “I have this idea, a fabulous idea. I take pictures of drag queens without their makeup on. Like, picture it—you have this fabulous drag queen on the stage at Hamburger Mary’s or Micky’s or something doing her thang really hot and fabulously, but then we do a photo shoot with her backstage after the show, makeup wiped off, all a hot mess, doing shots or eating a cheeseburger or something.”
He/she continues: “That’s the real life of a drag queen, honey. You spend hours painting yourself up to spin and twirl for drunk bitches, and then you down a hamburger and some vodka all by your lonesome. That’s art. That’s a coffee table book.” She paused for a beat and then concluded with: “...or I’ll just do a photo shoot with a bunch of hot boys by a pool.”
Now, we’re not in the business of saying whether an idea will fly or flop. (I mean, seriously—who thought a reality show about a boring bitch with a fat ass named Kardashian would change the world, right?) But we are saying this: We’ll take a cat in a well-fitted hat over a drag queen crying in her nachos any day.
As RuPaul would say, “Honey, don’t fuck it up!”
While Gossip Gay loves reading fan (and not-so fan) mail from y’all, the occasional bitch with a Gmail account often makes us cringe. This lovely piece of e-correspondence comes to us with care from one Mr. Woods:
Dear Gossip Gay,
While I appreciate anyone who writes in the same rhythm that I do, it pisses me off that you are getting paid for it & I’m not.
Well, Woodsy—let me tell you. Gossip Gay has long earned his publication-worthy paychecks after 15 years of working in the doldrums of Hollyweird. We’ve propped up an unconscious Paula Abdul, gone on multiple coffee runs for Melissa Rivers, shampooed Gary Busey’s hair (seriously!), cleaned self-produced vomit off of Chynna Doll’s implants (seriously seriously!) and even got into a literal slapfest with a B-story biznatch from The Hills—and that was only June 2008!
We could write a book on all we’ve been through. And trust us—you’d buy it, read it, love it and then get it on Kindle! So, drag your online rantings to the trash and hit delete, ‘cuz Gossip Gay ain’t playin’ that.
Until next time, XOXO,
P.S. Have you got something to say? Drop yours truly a line at QueerSay@hotmail.com. We're all eavesdropping ears!