I went away to Provincetown this weekend for my last true vacation of the summer. Best summer ever guys! We all need to keep in touch when we go college in the fall! Nothing can break the bonds of our friendship! I’m gonna miss you all so much!

You guys have all been to P-Town already, right? Because this was my first time and I’m a little bit in love with the place. I also came back with a set of Saved By The Bell “The College Years” trading cards, lip gloss in a container shaped like a toilet, and Celine Dion’s driver’s liscense (it’s class “DIVA”), gifted (pronounced jifted) to me by the incredibly funny Dina Martina. She’s a Seattle drag queen that brings drag to a transcendent level of comedy; I am hesitant to even call her a drag queen, because she’s just a drag creature. You just have to see one of her shows to understand, and I highly recommend it to any of you still going out to P-town this August.

I never really knew that a Cape Cod loving white Anglo Saxon Protestant lay deep within my hard working and drinking Irishman’s soul, but there’s one deep down in there, enjoying watercress and cucumber sandwiches, playing tennis, and arrogantly dismissing all poor people. After visiting, all I really want to do is run away for the next three months in a sea shanty on the beach, watch the weather turn into fall, and try and write the next great American novel.

The big gossip while I was there was that Andrew Sullivan had recently bought the last small apartment on the tip of Captain Jack’s. The place seriously looks like this:

How do I become Andrew Sullivan’s houseboy?

Yes, these homes might be whimsical and childish looking. I recognize this. They also kind of look like where the Pirates of the Carribean (from the Disneyland ride, not the ones in the movie based on the ride) might live. But I also find them to be completely desirable living accommodations? Is this ok or do I need to be saved from my own bad taste?

Throughout the past years, the sisterhood has kept us together through changes, loss, love, and taught us to believe in ourselves. The pants had the power to cause miracles…. because they fit all of us? Even the curvy girl. For realsies. That’s the premise of the original Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and last night I got to experience the long awaited sequel.

I think it very well be a testament to my character that I still haven’t seen The Dark Night but I have now seen both Mamma Mia! and SotTP 2. I think it means I just value having fun more than most people, but it may secretly mean that my brain is that of a 13 year old girl. You decide. If the latter, I blame the high levels of mercury in the tuna I eat and marijuana.

While the original Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants may be a near masterpiece of teen coming of age cinema, full of hope, change, loss, life experiences, and moments that make me cry, the second unfortunately suffers from sequel syndrome. I do still greatly appreciate the movie however, since it brings America Ferrara, Blake Lively, Amer Tamblyn, and Alexis Bledel together in one place. Here comes my personal discussion of the movie, which is full of SPOILERS. So don’t read on if you care about this movie (why would you, again?). Read More!

Wait really? Have you guys seen this?

Really? Tyra Banks as Michelle Obama? For Harper’s Bazaar? Is this America’s Next Top First Lady? America’s Next Top Michelle Obama? I don’t even think Tyra can claim that she’s has the glamour and class really needed to pull something like this off… I mean she’s legitimately afraid of dolphins. Couldn’t they have gotten Iman or someone with international flavor and class?

‘Member this classic guys?

And there’s more where that came from! Read More!

I’m back from my sojourn into the the Land of the Bears, an experience filled with tons of stories.

me: jesse got a cold so he had to go home early
Amy: oh poop town
me: but we still all had a good time
it was like a playground
a playground for dirty faggots
Amy: AHAHHAHAAH
me: I was glad because it had major lame potential
Amy: well i’m glad it was not lame
me: but like…. the people we were with
made it SO good
like, if I wasn’t with people that can take the whole thing with a grain of salt, just have fun, and appreciate some of the place’s ridiculousness at least ironically
then it would be lame
but we had an awesome time in spite of all the horrible, horrible house music being played everywhere

What I learned is that, exactly as represented in John Water’s A Dirty Shame, bears love to cuddle.

But with all good things come some bad things. While I was busy yucking it up, the print version of Playgirl folded. The somewhat genius Michelle Collins, who I have had the pleasure of seeing do stand up for Gabe and Jenny’s show and who blogs for Best Week Ever came up with this tribute which is totally worth sharing and re-blogging. Read More!

I’m leaving for the West Coast guys. Going camping with some friends. Going camping in conjunction with Lazy Bear Weekend!

The only problem with this is that as publisher and editor of this blog, there will be nothing new here to entertain you until I get back. The Social Crisis will return in a week, ya’ll.

But really, guys, I’m going to be camping and running around in the woods and making masks. I need to know my spirit animal for this crazy vision quest I’m about to embark on in northern California. Some have suggested that it’s a red panda, although I think I’m more like a koala. Obviously an internet poll posted in my absence is the best way to determine this. Find the poll after the jump. Read More!

Last night I had the total and complete pleasure of seeing Mamma Mia! the movie. I really don’t even know where to begin with this movie. WARNING SPOILER ALERTS ABOUND IN THE ENTRY (but like, really, who the fuck cares about a spoiler alert for Mamma Mia!) My friend Pete most likely summarized the moments that make this movie incredible the best via one of his Twitters:

FabergeLeggs Mamma mia: shouldnt every film have a pulsating mosaic dolphin? Barring that, a cougar christine baranski on a jetski.

Even though something deep inside me was moved to see it on the big screen, I really wasn’t sure what to expect out of this movie. That was until Meryl Streep starts singing “Money Money Money” and the entire thing fades into a fantasy montage that involves on the bow of a ship, draped in yards of flowing, silken fabrics blowing in the wind, while Christine Baranski and Julie Walters sit atop Jet skis locked on the deck of the boat on either side of her. That shot fades away to a shot of Meryl Streep’s face superimposed into the center of a roulette wheel while she holds five poker cards in her hand. At that point I realized exactly what sort of movie this would be and couldn’t be happier. The rest of the audience seemed to agree, as no one ever objected to my incessant giggling and outbursts of “wait… what the fuck is actually going on?”

But really, guys, while the movie is fun, it makes exactly zero sense. Was Meryl Streep drunk the whole time? Read More!

Have you guys heard about the ever growing phenomenon of the New Old Gay? Doree Shafrir, part of the troupe of internet-famous ex-Gawker editors, has written a piece (of shit) for the New York Observer today that explains it all for you.

Doree offers up her insight into what she calls the “New Old Gay” identity, which seems to be based entirely on a one night she spent at Musical Monday at Splash.

To be classified as a New Old Gay requires more than an appreciation of Patti LuPone, though love of somewhat tragic, just a tad grotesque, totally fabulous divas is a requirement. In some ways the New Old Gay can be read as a reassertion of a gay identity that had all but been given up for dead: If gays can be married and have children and live contentedly in the suburbs, or on the other end of the spectrum, do the same drugs at the same loft parties as their Oberlin classmates, and if everyone thinks AIDS is no more serious than diabetes, then, really, what’s the difference between the gays and the straights? By dialing back to and reinventing the old gay stereotypes, they may have the best shot at reclaiming gayness as something actually different.

It’s akin to the ways in which identity politics have played out for various minorities and ethnic groups; everyone makes this huge effort to assimilate, and then, after 10 or 20 years or so, they realize: It’s boring!

And thus, the New Old Gay appreciates and embraces camp and high kitsch, but not ironically; ultimately, the New Old Gay is earnest. He doesn’t even necessarily have to be into musical theater, though he almost always is.

Really? AIDS viewed to be as a manageable illness on the same level as Diabetes? So is GMHC irelevant now? Are you trying to tell me that there’s no reason for me to continue using condoms? I’m so glad that someone is finally recognizing the way that a deadly virus has been embraced by a clueless population and turned into a non-issue. Read More!

Speaking of Margaret Cho, the loudmouthed lady comedian is about to reinvent her career with a reality show. But unlike “D-List” success story Kathy Griffin, Margaret Cho was never even a little funny.

I’ve already gone on at length about why I think Kathy Griffin is essentially awful. She treats her gay male fans like pets, glorifying them in a manner that comes off as gentle fun-poking, when in reality is merely a marketing tool (that has, needless to say, worked like a charm).

And yet, I somehow find Margaret Cho more offensive, and not just because - again - her “dirty, edgy” humor makes Carlos Mencia look like George Carlin (hush yo’ mouth!). It’s bad enough when a comedian’s home run is dependent upon race relations, but Margaret Cho quickly traded the “My mom is crazy!” bit for something significantly ickier: the self-positioned “outsider” stance.

Although she’s now slender and married to a dude, Margaret Cho was - at one point - chubby and “bisexual” [and Korean - IMAGINE THAT!]. She swiftly adopted the “oddball” status that has since been mainstreamed by Pete Wentz and his army of Emo kids in eyeliner and skinny jeans. By doing so, she went totally LGBT-friendly, calling herself “queer,” fondling a vagina or two, and taking up burlesque (the unofficial hazing ritual for any overweight lady who even thinks about going lez). Thus, Cho acquired a gay fan-base. Are homos really that easily manipulated into disguised consumerism? (Answer: Yes. Yes they are.)

And that, readers, is likely how she got to write an idiotic (and dare I say “destructive”) piece in this month’s Advocate titled “Dick O’Clock.”

Most fag hags agree that the best times they’ve ever had were at gay bars, sharing precious moments with their fags, drinking lovely pink cocktails and dancing and laughing the night away.

Until it becomes “dick o’clock.” You know what time that is, don’t you? It is when all the gay men in the club simultaneously start looking for dick.

Margaret Cho, you see, is a dear, dear friend to gay guys. She can say “fag” and it’s okay. She’s in the club, you see? She, herself, is a self-appointed “fag hag” because - that’s right - she knows the terminology [bitches]! Read More!

So this one time Kyle and I were sitting around at Erin’s house having beers and watching Desperate Housewives or something equally vapid and came up with the best joke ever. It’s a show called America’s Next Top Margaret Cho. It involves a bevy of AZNs trying to become America’s next top Margaret Cho by competing in a modelling competition. It has since become this video made by me. Enjoy the weirdest short video ever put on the internet.

America’s Next Top Margaret Cho from Colin on Vimeo.

Remember the Cindi tumblelog we made? That was the fake life of a fictional hipster? The worst kind of hipster girl? Kyle’s been posting a lot of pictures and I occasionally post some text and we’re still keeping it up. But this morning I had a conversation that made me question whether it was parody… or actually a representation our real lives.

me: are you going to deerhoof tonight?
because EVERYONE’s going
Hannah: probably
hahahaha
me: hahaha
Hannah: i hate deerhoof
me: i assume cindi is over them but needs to make an appearance
HOW CAN YOU HATE DEERHOOF?!?!?!?!
OMG CINDI
Hannah: but i’m psyched on the idea of a experimental orchestra doing rites of spring
they are so dull
they are both precious and pretentious
me: haha, but they’re cute and fun
Hannah: i want to kill them
HOWEVER
me: i don’t think they’re pretentious at all
precious I’ll give you
Hannah: apparently the guitarist from xbxrx and the flying luttenbachers plays with them now
which is rad
me: HAHAHAHAHA
omg, I love it
Hannah: god i hate myself
me: you’re making me shit myself
Hannah: I AM NOT EVEN DOING IT ON PURPOSE
me: I KNOW
you’re the best at it
Hannah: BEST ON ACCIDENT
UGGGHHHHHHH
also i am so hungover i want to die
BECAUSE CINDI (read: ME) WENT TO BOTH ENIDS HAPPY HOURS LAST NIGHT

Fuck.