The new A-Team movie held together about as well as a failed aspic, but it had its (three) moments.
Also, it inspired me, my BF, and my BFFs to come up with awesome ideas for the leads in an All-Lady remake of the classic 80s TV show.
Check out my review for VanityFair.com.
This week was the season finale of the first season of Glee, and it is not without a tinge of melancholy that I write the last of the school year’s Glee-caps for the Vanity Fair site.
Check out my synthesis of this week’s conflicted/fulfilling episode, and my speculative predictions for the coming fall by clicking right here.
[Photo by Adam Rose/FOX]
The BABE Rally is a 1500 mile, cross country, mobile scavenger hunt that is taking place right now on the highways of America (or at least on certain portions of the highways of America.) Each team of contestants drive a beater, purchased for under $500, south from New York over the course of five days, completing absurd challenges–the most difficult of which involves keeping their shitboxes running. As if the Gulf Coast needed any additional pollution, their destination is New Orleans.
I visited the send-off party for this year’s run and took some photos of the crappiest vehicles for my car column at Vanity Fair.com. Click here to meet the winners (losers?).
And if you’re interested in reading the essay I wrote following last year’s BABE Rally, you can do so by clicking here—-> You’re-Are-Here
Lacking the skills, patience, or equipment for a proper automotive comparison test, the vehicular homosexuals over at Vanity Fair‘s gay car blog (aka: moi!) invent our own version. With scoring.
See who wins. Click here—->Audi vs. BMW
It’s Wednesday, people. Which means, last night was Tuesday. Which means I was up until 2:00 am crafting my incredibly deep and original thoughts about the evening’s steaming fresh episode of Glee so that I could deliver this genius to all of you this morning over at the Vanity Fair site. This post announces that it is now available for your consumption.
On Saturday night, I was granted the opportunity to attend the Glee: LIVE! concert at Radio City Music Hall. There, I made a number of startling, un-startling, discoveries, the least surprising of which was that the concert was exactly as I expected it to be. Which is to say, spectacular.
Click here to read my review for Vanity Fair.
In anticipation of its Sunday run, the Indianapolis 500 came to New York. And, in my role as Vanity Fair‘s online automotive columnist, I got the chance to ride in it with a handsome, Nietzschean-named, Australian front-runner. Sort of.
A new episode of Glee screened last night, rendering inevitable another of my increasingly bitchy re-caps for Vanity Fair. The question I seek to answer in this one: How could an episode packed full of such visual and thematic riches be so…boring?
Click it, and you will find release.
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is finally up for repeal a process that is making it’s way toward Congress. This means one thing: prepare for a big, pink, sticky mess. Actually, it means two things: the above statement, and my inevitable take on it, for Vanity Fair.
The Gay Uncle would like to welcome George Owen Berk Eggers to the realm of the air breathers. It wasn’t an easy path for this ten-and-a-half pound baby boy–either through the birth canal, or into the world of respiration. He got a little…stuck on his way out, and was born not breathing. As you can see from this photo, he’s currently in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Miami Children’s Hospital with his parents: the G.U.’s sister Roxy and her hubby Nick. Gunc was downt here last week to help support his family, and to care for George’s two-year-old sister. This was both challenging and entertaining. The toddler is a pistol. But her care was lubricated by the steady implementation of the Four Ps: puzzles, picture books, pools, and piña coladas (not to mention the iPhone’s constant access to the fifth P, the video for Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi”.) George is now breathing on his own, and we all hope he will come home some time in June.