Transsexual porn mega-star Wendy Williams has been wiling away her days in her snowbound Kentucky condo blogging about her cats, jacking off into a Fleshlight, plotting world domination and waiting for more donations to roll in for her surgeries.
Will a leather daddy be the next mayor of Ft. Lauderdale?
This just in! Has-been, literally pint-sized B-lister Verne Troyer is a sex addict, in addition to being an alcoholic and hung like a toddler.
For some of us goths, Halloween recognizes yet another day to dress like the damned, take GHB, and blast Ministry records in our rooms while plotting the deaths of neighborhood children just as we would on any given Friday evening.
The economy’s in turmoil. Why not get drunk? You could also check out our guide to surviving the tough times here. Then take a look below at our hand-curated selection of parties for homos in SF, NY and LA.
Forget HUNG, VGL or PNP, the newest way to make your online profile is to have g-a-s.
No, we’re not talking about Michael Lucas’s latest fetish line. The soaring price of oil has had many unlikely consequences, from higher food prices and staycations to requiring reimbursement for expenses incurred getting to the bareback orgy at the motel off of the 405. While a small percentage actually are looking for honest odorama, most are just looking for a little help to get from door-to-door.
“I can remiburse your gas expense,” suggests a typical voracious bottom from Hollywood. “Only tops need apply.”
Like a once-in-a-lifetime confluence of astronomical events, the International Mr. Leather Expo is happening in Chicago this weekend AT THE SAME TIME as the infamous Grabby Awards. The Sword will be covering the weekend live-blog style, in association with Fleshbot. After the jump, a refresher (in case you missed them the first time) on this year’s Grabby nominees.
Get out your beads and call your dealer: it’s still not over. May marked the beginning of the gay pride season, which starts in Las Vegas and Long Beach and doesn’t end until fucking November when Palm Springs has theirs. We swear we are proud, sometimes. And we know it’s important for all you suburban and rural gays to strap on those Camel Baks full of vodka and descend on your nearest metropolis to drink and dance amongst throngs of your own for the first time since last year. We totally can’t wait.
We’re trying to cover our bases with this series, examining everyone from obviously queeny minstrels like Charles Nelson Reilly and Paul Lynde to down-low homo stars like Anthony Perkins and Rock Hudson. And we’re actually starting to empathize with old Momwhen it comes to not being clued in to all the inside jokes and subtle (or not-so) fashion evidence paraded before them when these homos appeared on screen. We still can’t really forgive her for saying that the Village People “went right over [her] head,” but we at least kind of get that not everyone was all that cosmopolitan, and it was easier just to assume Truman Capote was “theatrical” than to shake up the Eisenhower-era-hangover that relegated these proto-Pride-Day MCs to the realm of “characters,” or just “perpetual bachelors.” Today, we look at a slightly different breed than the rest.
Getting caught up in the whirlwind of Marc Jacobs’ ultra-private sex life is probably the gay version of what it would be like to be Britney Spears’ bodyguard: you spend hours coaching her into getting dressed to go to Starbucks before she breaks down and decides to go with the tear-away pants, crop top and hoodie combo; you spend every late night drinking room-temperature Smirnoff straight out of water bottles while looking through magazines at her competitors and listening to her obsess over how she’s going to copy them; you get forced into hokey iPhone photo shoots everywhere you go and have to take care of all of her babies/dogs/STDs for her because she won’t stop texting; you get scared she’s going to throw something at you when you fail to chop up her crystal into lines fast enough; and some days you have no choice but to fear for everyone’s lives and break down into hysterical sobs.
In case you haven’t heard of him, or what he’s had for lunch today, or how he feels about looking in the mirror, the perennial bastion of refined masculinity and intrepid reporting that is GQ offers up a probing profile on the gym-crazed midlife designer, so, you know, you can catch yourself up to SPEED! Oh, sorry was that caps lock? No pun intended! The master of reinvention and bicep curls offers up some profound thoughts on topics ranging from how he thinks families are overrated, how much he loves his personal trainer, and why he’s willing to do whatever it takes to look younger. Sez Jacobs:
Our favorite gay, homophobic, synthetic and “not-gay” celebrities have made for quite a multicolored springtime week in gay photography. Much like Lil’ Kim and Robin Antin must weed through a gaggle of bellowing, horny teens in order to form the perfect “Girlicious” pop group on network television, so must we tastefully curate ten perfect images which synopsize a week in new boyfriends, blowjobs and blowhards. Ladies and queens, we give you this retarded Week In Gay Photos.
However, unlike Jennifer Aniston (who recently made a vow of celibacy until she finds “the one”) Jacobs has decided he’ll have sex with every guy he sees, just in case. His plan evidently seemed to be working when he found a new romance in the form of “Austin A” (in a cerulean fedora leftwards), that is, until he took him on a getaway to Los Angeles this past weekend. According to Page Six, Jacobs arrived with Austin and a Jason Preston look-alike. “Marc was dressed in a tank top and black sweat pants. He looked like a mess,” a source hilariously recanted. “He was kissing both of the guys, bouncing back and forth between them and acting loony.”
Who would have thought these babes would grow up to be lovely, er, ladies? Following the success of our porn star/baby pic match-up game, we bring you this, another Friday contest. Be the first to match the baby pictures with the fabulous trannies they became (including Rupaul, NY’s Hedda Lettuce; LA’s Jackie Beat; San Francisco’s Peaches Christ, Juanita MORE! and Heklina; as well as Chicago’s Honey West and superstar porn director Chi Chi LaRue), then email us.
First correct response gets a month of free porn. Babes and babies after the jump…
Thanks to a few well-placed handjobs and a bottle of Kahlua, we’ve weaseled our way into Grabby headquarters and stolen the list of nominees that’s scheduled to be published tomorrow. We started to tally the studio with the most noms, the movie with the most noms and the studio with the most movies and, well, wait… what were we saying? Sorry, we totally fell asleep. It doesn’t really matter since there’s enough noms here for each studio to spin, Bush-style, an edge up on the competition. By noon tomorrow, everyone will be in the lead.
This may be the first year that the GayVNs best the Golden Globes in viewership, and we couldn’t be more pleased: not only has our industry’s little fete grown in recent years, the clothes are more exciting. No offense to Valentino Garavani or Domenico Dolce, but porn star fashion — with it’s reliance on mesh, mess and meth — is infinitely more exciting. We’ve got 35 days until we can bring you the new Spring Collection, so until then, here are the nominations …