Welcome back, gays and gay-ettes, for another edition of WeHo underbelly LOLs. Yes, boys; Gossip Gay isn't laughing with you—He's ROFL-ing at you. So here's the queer gossip for y'all (and about y'all) that's got us snort-chortling this week!
Vodka Doesn't Thrive
Kaiser wants you to "Thrive!" Long has Alison Janey told us that through her sold-out commercial ramblings. And while we love the intention behind the health-filled (yet vomit-inducing-to-all-Republicans) Obamacare, let's face it. We want Government-cheesy insurance that isn't for the masses.
That's why we turned to Kaiser. Sure, it's middle-of-the-road, middle-class care—however, with our bi-polar high blood pressure pre-existing conditions a'plenty, it's the only provider that won't financially amputate a proverbial arm and leg.
So, we filled out or acceptance Q&A, as Kaiser is keen on "getting to know all about us." And all was well—until we got to the page entitled: "How much do you drink?" We wanted to be truthful; truly we did. So when they asked us how many drinks we consumed a day, of course we said two. Since their definition of a drink is a shot-and-a-half of vodka, two drinks is equal to an insanely strong XL cosmo—and that sounds about right, right?
Then we were asked: "How often do you have four or more drinks in two hours or less?" Well, considering Gossip Gay gets plastered at the Abbey each and every Sunday, rain or shine, without fabulous fail, we answered weekly. Yes, weekly sounds about right...right?
Finally, good ol' K-Perm asked us when and/or if we plan on changing our drinking habits. The answer was multiple choice, and after scanning the selections we went with the ever-honest: "I drink more than what's recommended and don't plan to drink less in the next six months." Again, only being honest here!
Submit. Click. And wait. However, we didn't wait long, because Kaiser's response came quick to our inbox: "Thanks for being honest about your drinking. You've been drinking a lot at one time—how do you feel about that? We'll talk about this more in your plan. If you'd like to change your drinking, there's help for you. Talk to your doctor for advice."
Honestly—we only have one question, and it's not for our doctor, but it's for our editor: "Since Gossip Gay spent half of an entire column writing about binge drinking at the Abbey, can we submit our receipts for petty cash? We could seriously use the extra $600 a month for those pesky incidentals like gas, food and shelter!"
Now, all this Kaiser talk has made Gossip Gay thirsty. We need a drink!
Bitchin' is a Drag
Eat Well on Santa Monica Boulevard on the "other side" of La Cienega in WeHo. Oh how we love thee's club salad, especially when you double the bacon and mayo and nix the lettuce and tomato. The crayons with which to color, the foreign rent-bois that serve us and the drunken Goldcoast-ers that stumble in; yes, you hold a special place in our hungry, hungry heart!
But what we love most of all is the unemployed bitter queens that dine here during weekdays. And that's why we always keep our queer little ears wide open for gossip when dining here. And yesterday was a gem.
So said one overly tanned, obviously bottom bitch-boy to his equally tange-tinted butt-to-butt BF: "I am just so [bleeping] pissed! I mean, honestly! I mean, for reals! It's like...I am someone, you know? I call the people at RuPaul and I'm like I'm totally guest star material. You know, it's like me. I'm someone. I give fashion advice to Bravo for a living for [bleep's] sake! I'm someone, you know? I should be on the show, judging or handing out wigs or doing mini-challenges or whatever to those drag bitches...but they don't care about talent there. They're like only casting their friends. It's like a total star f*ck over there. Well, [bleep] them! I'm someone! They're no one! Star f*ck away, bitches! F*ck them!"
We've got the questions for said Bottom Bitch. 1) Why are you wearing a jean skort (seriously) with a somewhat showing green man thong underneath? 2) Who the f*ck are you? Gossip Gay knows (and/or has given a handjob) to every D-list fasionista queer in La La Land. Earth to the orange queen bitching and moaning, if we haven't given your pee-pee pencil a horizontal handshake, you're not "someone." You're nobody—a nobody who looks like he's OD-ed on vitamin C!
Last Sunday, Gossip Gay attended a low-brow Poquito Mas-catered afternoon aboveground pool party in—you guess it!—the heart of the suburban SoCal valley! And while a whole slew of Midwest-ish ramblings were overheard (aka: where to buy the best fanny packs, how to clip coupons for Costco, what happened on the latest episode of Who Wants To Be a Washed-Up 15-Minute Hooker), perhaps the best queersaid chitchat we sat in on was two hot-in-the-body, ugly-in-the-face queens debating: "Is it better to resole your 2-year-old $600 Prada shoes or go buy a new pair of Prada shoes, albeit last season, when they go on sale on Rodeo Drive?"
While both shoe-fetishing queens put up good arguments, we (as did they) remained split on the issue. However, as the conversation climaxed, things got heated—like, insanely heated. So much so that names like "cheap ass bitch" and "last season wh*re" were hurled about the room. In the end, both Sole-Loving Queens agreed to disagree (yet drunkenly mumble backfat-riddled insults about each other underneath their double-mint breath) throughout the afternoon. Oh, tragically, magically delicious!
Yes, folks, for as trashy as this pity of a party was, Gossip Gay can assure you that there was no Payless BoGo-ing up in this Burbank-adjacent hizz-ouse!