"I'll get you, my pretty! And your little afghan, too!"

We kid, Jonathan, possum. There's no place like homo, there's no place like homo!

Update: We never thought this would be necessary, but perhaps it's simply a testament to how few people are watching the show and/or reading the Bravo blogs. So, anyway, possums, let us explain the joke.

On his blog this week, Jonathan Adler wrote: "Bonjour. No new episode this week, so no proper blog. But, I'm answering some of the questions that y'all have posed in response to previous blogs. I have chosen to answer the fabulous people who asked interesting questions. I have chosen to completely ignore the naughty person who said that I look just like Margaret Hamilton, the wicked witch from the Wizard of Oz."

Since it so happened that it was a commenter on Pink Navy who made the original Margaret Hamilton observation, and given how little material this show gives us to work with, we thought it might be mildly amusing to put up a little quick PhotoShop job of Jonathan Adler as Margaret Hamilton in The Wizard of Oz. It's as simple as that. We hope that will clear things up.

How You Like Them Apples (and Bananas and Grapes)?

Just in time for the weekend, possums, we bring you the original lady in the tutti-frutti hat, Carmen Miranda herself. This clip from The Gang's All Here ought to give you an idea of what our dreams are like. Be sure to watch for the giant, phallic bananas at about 3:45 in.

Cuánto Le Gusta, Le Gusta, Le Gusta: The Adler in the Tutti-Frutti Hat

By Pink Navy News (PNN)
March 2, 2007 12:30 PM PST

WEST HOLLYWOOD, California – Attending last night’s event for homosexualist employees of NBC/Universal (including the company’s Bravo subsidiary), held at brick-and-mortar-shell palais des poseurs The Abbey, cool-kitsch potter Jonathan Adler gave an exclusive interview to PNN reporter Lazarus West. Dressed to the nines (as well as to the five-servings-a-day), and quaffing one of the fruity cocktails that are the specialty of this boîte for boîte-munchers, Adler issued an apology for unqualified statements made during the fourth installment of Bravo’s latest “Top”-format reality show, Top Design.

The episode aired on February 21 and contained statements likening contestant Michael Adam’s choice of colors to those of “banana” and “grape.” Designer Adams, 23, is best known for being so gay that the amniotic fluid in which he lay suspended for nine months (as he decorated the walls of his mother’s womb with tiny-finger paintings of birds) is now classified as weapons-grade by the U.S. government. Scientists warn that a few drops in the water supply would be enough to turn the city of Des Moines into a homosexualist mecca of interior designers, stylists, and couch-jumping movie stars.

Adams and his cult following of “minions” disagreed with Adler’s comments. One senior minion official, who requested anonymity because of the sensitive nature of the discussions, was seen visibly shaken, pacing while muttering to himself, “Damn you, it’s plum and light canary!”

But following recent revelations that Elle Décor includes the Adler-banned “grape” and “banana” colors on its cover, and in the wake of incidents involving plastic grapes and bananas being thrown at him, Adler realized that he had made a mistake. He now declares himself “a friend to all fruits.”

"Top Design" Shocker: Raggaydy Andy "Dogged" by New Mexican Foot Fetishist!! Lifetime/Logo to Co-Produce TV Movie for Their "Gaymen in Peril" Series

Possums, our thoughts and prayers go out this morning to Bravo VP, blogger, boy reporter, and online salonnière Raggaydy Andy Cohen.

Ever since the success of "quirky New Mexican" dramedy Little Miss Sunshine, the denizens of the Land of Enchantment have felt liberated, perhaps entitled, to bring their quirks out into the open. Unfortunately, our Raggaydy Andy has now become a victim of this revolution. Read this excerpt from today's edition of his blog as he describes the horrors he is enduring, and for which our hearts go out to him:

Oh hey, remember last week when someone called from New Mexico asking Jonathan Adler and I to remove our socks? I thought it was so quaint and hilarious that someone from across the country would be able to impact two people to take off their socks. Well, it turns out we got a ton more emails from our NM buddy last night and he was, from my estimation, a little desperate for me to free my feet from my boots and show my ankles. No, I mean he was desperate to see my bare naked feet and ankles.

Mommy, why is the man from New Mexico so interested in my feetsies?

I actually am pleased that someone is interested in my dogs because I pretty much am not too into them. So, keep them cards and letters comin'!

Andy, possum, you seem understandably shaken. Perhaps you should get Chris What's-'is-name from Dateline NBC on the case. You can't be too careful with these New Mexico quirky pervs. They start out NM and end up SNM.

Further Proof That God Is Jewish AND Gay

From Margaret Russell's blog:

Would you like a behind-the-scenes look at Top Design’s fourth episode? First of all, the judging was taped on a Sunday evening at the same time as a boisterous bar mitzvah was going on one floor below at Wolfgang Puck’s WP restaurant at the Pacific Design Center. The music was pounding, we couldn’t hear ourselves think, and at one point production was shut down because the band’s rendition of "It’s Raining Men" was drowning out anything going on in the White Room.

We've Heard of Idol "Worship," But This Is Ridiculous

Just the sort of talented doll every boy wants in his bedroom (and it has handles!). Is it any wonder, possums, why we get so many "Matt Lorenz gay" Google queries?

Pinky on the Brain

Thanks to the exclusive dispatches of our pals at Fishbowl LA, Andrea "Ally Sheedy" Keller is fast becoming the girl we would most like as our fruitfly. After all, a girl whose cri de coeur is, "Give me lumber," is a girl after our own hardwood coeur. And the way she ever so delicately and elegantly thumbnailed Matt Lorenz as "showing raised pinky and being particular," well, we couldn't have done it better. Andrea knits, and she may well give Madame DeFarge a run for her money. Well done, possum.

Pink Navy Girl in Every Port: Dalida

If Judy Garland had had a disco period, access to peroxide, a beauty-queen past and a string of men who killed themselves, she might have been this week’s Girl in Every Port, Dalida.

Our girl was born Yolanda Gigliotti in Cairo, Egypt, to a family of Italian immigrants who expected her to go to secretarial school. As usual in these circumstances, however, she had other ideas. In 1954, she entered and won the Miss Egypt contest. She changed her name to Dalida, played a bit part in an Omar Sharif movie and then promptly left for Paris to make a name for herself.

After the usual struggles, she was taken up by, and took up with, Lucien Morisse, the married artistic director of the Europe 1 radio station, and recorded her first single, entitled, wouldn’t you know, “Madonna.” But it was her second single, “Bambino,” that turned into her first number-one hit, and she eventually became the opening act for Charles Aznavour.

After the usual montage of hit singles and concert tours, she returned a star to her native Egypt. Then it was back to Paris, more hit singles, and an ultimatum to Lucien Morisse—divorce your wife, or else. She and Morisse married in 1961, but a few weeks after the wedding (which had involved the expense of flying her entire family from Egypt), she traveled to Cannes for a concert and there fell in love with a man named Jean Sobieski (who later went on to father Leelee Sobieski), and left her husband for him.

She bought herself a chateau in Paris, on top of Montmartre, behind the Sacré-Coeur. Then she divorced Morisse, broke up with Leelee Sobieski’s future father, and became a blonde.

More hits and world concert tours, and lonely years in the chateau. In 1966, the RCA record label introduced her to a young Italian songwriter, Luigi Tenco. Naturally, they fell in love while working on a song for her for the San Remo music festival in Italy. Indeed, they decided they would both perform at the festival, each with their own version of the same song, “Ciao Amore.” In January of 1967, they arrived in San Remo, and announced that they would be getting married in April, a marriage that, alas, was never to take place. Neither Tenco nor Dalida won the song festival, and Tenco got smashed on tranquilizers and alcohol, and accused the festival’s jury members of being corrupt. He then went back to their hotel room and killed himself. A few months later, Dalida tried to do the same by taking a full bottle of barbiturates.

She reinvented her look again, started wearing a long white robe, and was dubbed “Saint Dalida” by the French press. More hits and world concert tours. And in 1970, her ex-husband and Svengali, Lucien Morisse, committed suicide. (For those of you keeping score, that’s two.)

In 1973, her duet with Alain Delon (yes, that Alain Delon) was a huge hit, and she met a new love, Richard Chanfray, who claimed to be the Comte de Paris, but was most likely an impostor (shades of Zsa Zsa Gabor and her prince). More phenomenal hits and world concert tours.

Then she went back to her roots (recording in Arabic) and had her disco period. In 1978, she had a smash show at Carnegie Hall, which (in the symmetry of these music-star narratives) made up for an unsuccessful American tour in the 1950s.

In 1979, she had her biggest disco hit with “Monday, Tuesday (Laissez-moi danser),” which we have included below in two versions for your delectation. The first version, from one of the numerous variety shows on French television, is not to believed—hydraulic lift, white fur stole, clones in leather pants. And the best part occurs about a minute into the clip when, having thrown her white fur stole to the floor in a grand and fabulous gesture, a fan or flunky sneaks in on his knees to save the white fur from the trodding feet of her back-up dancers. The other version is a remix by Cerrone, and, oh boy. Once again, you are advised to pull the shades down, and hide anyone you want to protect from the huge, gay-making ray that will erupt from your computer and lay gayste to everything within a two-mile radius.





Returning to Egypt in 1979, she was met by President Sadat. More hits and world concert tours. Then she broke up with Richard Fresnay, got in trouble for supporting President Mitterrand, and left on a year-long world tour to get out of the spotlight in France. She returned to France in 1983, and later that year found out that Fresnay, erstwhile Comte de Paris, had committed suicide in St. Tropez, albeit not in a cabana. (That’s three.)

More concert tours, more failed affairs, and on May 3, 1987, the woman who sold something like 80 million records (back when there still were records) and became the foremost European gay icon, killed herself with an overdose of barbiturates. She has, indeed, practically been elevated to sainthood. The French government released a Dalida postage stamp, and one of the main squares in Montmartre has been renamed in her honor. Her gravesite is a place of pilgrimage. Oh, and did we mention that during her last-ever photo shoot, with Mario Testino for Vanity Fair, Princess Diana was listening to Dalida’s hits? (Oh, and Di's boyfriend, Dodi al-Fayed, was also Egyptian.) Hmmmmm. Makes you think, doesn’t it?

Pink Navy Weekend Movie Recommendation

Courtesy of Ensign Laz.

Its Timbers Shivered, Pink Navy Sends Goil Amornvivat to the Brig

Goil, possum, we hate to do this, but we run a, er, tight ship, and we couldn’t just let this go.

Possum, you’re gay, you’re 33 years old, you live in New York City, you’re from Thailand for God’s sake, you went to Yale, and you don’t know what a cabana is?

“And did you mention he's gay?” interrupted Miss XaXa.

“Yes, darling. And it’s implied, since he went to Yale.”

Now, Goil, possum, this is a serious offense, don’t get us wrong. But since this is also a first offense, we're not going to take your gay card away. Instead, you'll be subject to a one-day suspension of your gay card.

You may chalk up our crotchetiness to a pronounced case of misantropez, but we’re afraid you’ll also have to spend one day in the Pink Navy brig, watching the Jean Seberg-Deborah Kerr version of Bonjour Tristesse and the Brigitte Bardot version of And God Created Woman to get a better sense of the fantasy St. Tropez.

You are certainly welcome to appeal the sentence. David James Elliott has agreed to join Pink Navy's FAG (Fruity Advocate General) program, and should you choose, he will act as your defense counsel.

IT IS SO ORDERED.

Because Hard Wood Has a Soft Core

We were going to object, "This is Santa Monica Beach, not Santa Monica Boulevard!" but the protest died on our parched, trembling lips.

Beauty Queens: Jean Genet "Wham!"-sy Leaves Pink Navy Speechless, Shirtless

Speech... center... im... im... immobilized. Cannot... form... sentences.

After a good slap from Miss XaXa, however, we were almost back to ourselves. Ofttimes we fault Bravo for obviousness, but sometimes, when they present you with the cover from Lumberjackin', or Hardwood 2, or Nailed!, it's really hard to object. What's a little pandering when it leaves you hankering?

Miss XaXa's sole rhetorical question: "What's that on his right bicep?"

Our final rhetorical question: Who's going to send this picture to Ted Haggard to test his sobriety?

Pink Navy Ship's Catfight: Our Valentine to You

Ahoy, sailors, er, possums. As our little way of thanking you for traveling with us on the HMS Snoozefest that is Top Design, we offer you a special valentine, a brief scene from François Ozon’s film 8 Women, his fabulous French take on The Women.

You don’t have to know any French to understand what’s going on; in fact, it’s better if you don’t. All you need to know is that Catherine Deneuve and Fanny Ardant are sisters-in-law, and that they hate each other. Well, that’s what they say....

Hide the women and the children, and household pets and the elderly, too. And anyone on medication. This is not for the faint of heart.

Mr. Doonan-Adler Tells You How It is: Simon on Straight Men, British Lesbians, and Penelope Cruz

Simon Doonan, madcap spouse of Top Design lead judge Jonathan Adler (the pair is scheduled to appear on the Web-only broadcast, "Watch What Happens," after tonight's episode) is in particularly fine fettle in this week's column. As ever, the cherce bits:

* I’m totally haggard. What I’m really trying to say is, I’m totally Ted Haggard—or rather, I’m totally jealous of Ted Haggard. Last week, the former crystal-meth-snorting, hustler-hiring evangelist declared that he is now, after three weeks of counseling, “completely heterosexual.” What a huge relief this must be for the poor bloke. How much simpler and less shrill must his life have now become! I’m really quite envious. After spending a week in the screeching nelly maelstrom that is New York Fashion Week, a life of low-key heterosexuality—ahh! The Dockers, the golf shirts, the cell-phone pager strapped to one’s belt!—sounds appealingly serene.

* The female British schoolteachers of my youth were irate, nihilistic, fag-snorting closeted lesbians, almost to a man. If an ordinary pink-cheeked lass were to have shown up at my school looking for employment, the headmistress would have said, “Go away, and come back when you have become an irate, nihilistic, fag-snorting closeted lesbian—then we can talk.”

* The same lily-livered prissiness is being directed at American Idol. The judges continue to be criticized for their blunt mockery of the contestants. As a loyal viewer and person with functioning eyes and ears, I can honestly say that the contestants are not at risk, my new favorite phrase. Far from it: They are all suffering from extremely high self-esteem and will definitely survive the verbal lashings that they occasion upon themselves. Besides, aren’t there enough pleasant smarmy people on the telly? We could use more abusive, foul-mouthed and unremittingly surly people, non?

Um, isn't this like talking about rope in the house of the, er, hung man? Perhaps tonight of you possums could ask Jonathan Adler to be more abusive, foul-mouthed and unremittingly surly, and thus improve the show's entertainment quotient?

* Finally, to affairs of the heart. I normally try to avoid getting in the middle of celebrity break-ups, but I am dumbfounded as to why Olivier Martinez would leave Kylie Minogue (non-stop Aussie good times) for Penélope Cruz (gorgeous, but, like many actresses, takes herself a bit too seriously.) Any insights would be gratefully received.

Oh no she di'n't! Mira, Simoncito, con la Peni no te metas, porque vas a tener mas de una Cruz que cargar. Honey, the Penny is going to drop on this one.

Matt Lorenz: Tales of an American Boyhood

Like contestant Michael Adams, sometimes we don't even have to lift a finger to paint. Others do it for us. From a delightful, and not at all slyly incriminating, article in the Mankato, Minnesota, Free Press:

When Matt Lorenz was in kindergarten he decided his teacher did a pretty lousy job of decorating the classroom Christmas tree, so he got his mom to donate a new one so he could decorate it to his satisfaction.

Yes, given the evidence, one could say Lorenz was always on the path to interior design, at least since the age of 5 growing up in Comfrey and Nicollet.

...

Lorenz, who lives in Chicago with his wife and 4-year-old daughter, hasn’t seen any of the footage yet. He’ll be watching the show for the first time Jan. 31 like everybody else, he said.

“I’ll probably be in the corner of my living room crying,” he said.

Lorenz was born in Madelia and moved to Comfrey with his mom, Marilyn Pederson of Mountain Lake, when he was 3 years old. Growing up in Nicollet, he used to decorate his farmhouse to the max around Christmas time with lights and elaborate decorations that attracted 2,000 people every year. The Free Press even did a spread on the display in 1988, he said.

“Not bad for the hicks in the sticks,” he said.

“I am SO not gay, dude. Look, I said the word ‘sheetrock.’ And the word ‘dude.’ And no, that is NOT longing and whimsy in my eyes.”

So this is only their second date, and they already look and dress alike? What are they, lesbians?