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This week in the world of lesbian gossip


Tracy E. Gilchrist | October 05, 2007

Ellen prefers pussy!

Scratching an itch to state the blatantly obvious, Ellen prefers pussy! Now that the "Save Iggy" campaign to wrest the pup from his fate at the hands of the high-strung, nefarious, whacked out, Mutts and Moms animal rescue agency, has failed miserably, it's refreshing to note that Ellen's reconfirmed her commitment to kitty and tossed another yippy pup on its ear in favor of her feline friends.

In this Post-Iggy world, no longer will playwright David Mamet's assertion in State and Main that something is as tight as "dykes and dogs," hold true, since Degeneres, the biggest dyke on the block, kicked her dog to her hairdresser's curb. And since when does anyone in Hollywood have a hairdresser and not a stylist? That's so southern, curlers in the hair at the supermarket, Steel Magnolias of Ellen to call Cheryl Marks, Iggy's interim mom, a mere "hairdresser".

For anyone who's been virtually headless while Ellen's breaking down on national television / puppy scandal made headlines on Fox News, CNN and even NPR, Ellen and her live-in lady Portia de Rossi adopted a pooch from a pair of hardcore animal rescue nut jobs with the enviable moniker Mutts and Moms. When little Iggy didn't get along with Ellen and Portia's pussy's, Ellen bypassed an adoption agency policy and gave the dog directly to her hairdresser and her adolescent girls.

The Mutts and Moms Gestapo went in to the hairdresser's home flanked by police and yanked the poor pooch from the home it had grown to love� and then came Ellen's impassioned on-air plea to give Iggy back to the family that had bonded with him. Bravo to Ellen for causing a ruckus as big as anything Big Rosie O'Donnell pulled on last season's The View. Now the world thinks we lezzies are a big ole bunch of over-the-top, emotional, cry-babies – even if it is just a little bit true.

It was bound to happen. The seventh plague of Egypt has rained down on Malibu's debaucherous, opulent shores – home to many a millionaire celeb. While Southern California's wild fires are truly frightening, the more bible-thumping among us might say the fires, which have jumped from the beach in Malibu over the famed Pacific Coast Highway, are retribution for Hollywood's sins. But hell, it's really just a good ole global warming-induced drought in action.

Among the celebs whose homes are fanning the Malibu blaze, are Olivia Newton John, Mel Gibson and Britney Spears. Also, Brit's and Lindsay Lohan's ole spa – uh rehab – Promises, is in the line of fire. Other than sweetie-pie Olivia's house in the mix, there might be a pattern here. Either Mel guzzled a pint of tequila and lit the fire with his breath or Brit accidentally tossed her hand-rolled cig out the car window while she was tossing her empty Frappuccino cup. Cuz, you just know Brit's the littering kind y'all.

Meanwhile, BFF's Courteney Cox and Jennifer Anniston also own Malibu homes. They have some sort of Game of Clue-like secret passageway to each other's bedrooms. But really, if Courteney and Jen find themselves scrambling for cover, there are plenty of West Hollywood Lesbos who'll gladly share their beds. And just to illustrate the Weho lesbians' munificence, David Arquette can couch surf and we'll find a nice British nanny for baby Coco.

Like Elizabeth Taylor and Debbie Reynolds before them Empress Angelina Jolie and girl-next-door Jen Anniston have become poster girls for the brunette v. blonde, man in the middle media obsession that just won't die. W Magazine has devised a plan to fan the flames of the three-way that never was-but would have been nice.

For it's November issue, W is putting out two covers, one with Angelina of the Holy Order of Pornographically Hot Lips, and one with Jen of the Holy Order of Bangin' Ass in a Bikini. Fans and pervs alike can pick the cover girl of their choice. I've maintained that since Brad Pitt and Angie combusted upon meeting on the set of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Brad should have just called Jennifer and said, "Honey, I'm bringing Angie home for a M�nage." And that might have been the end of it. If the Angie v. Jen cover girl thing doesn't solve the media's obsession, I'm gunning for Jen and Ange to duke it out on a greased up rubber sheet.

Here's this week's down and dirty: Another in a long line of post-modern Broadway musicals of a musical based on a film, based on a true story that will be turned into a musical film with a soundtrack and no one will remember where the story was originally created. Talks are in the works for a musical version of the Nicole Kidman vehicle, To Die For, the Gus Van Sant opus that was loosely pulled from hot-ass Pamela Smart's true-crime story. Smart seduced a teenaged boy and convinced him to kill her hubby. It's all very sordid stuff, which of course makes for great Showtunes.

Meanwhile, check out the film To Die For, which was Kidman's first foray into the depths of her eventual Oscar-winning talent. It also stars a trashy piece of boy meat Joaquin Phoenix, Matt Dillon as the smarmy husband, and an always underused Ileana Douglas as Dillon's sister.

Aussie Naomi Watts is slated to step into Tippi Hedren's hen-pecked pumps for a remake of Alfred Hitchcock's apocalyptic masterpiece The Birds. You know, because Van Sant's remake of Psycho was such a grand idea. Naomi's pulled a hat trick of juicy roles including in Mullholland Drive, 21 Grams and most recently Eastern Promises but replace Tippi? Nobody gets pecked to within an inch of their life quite like Melanie Griffith's mama Tippi.

Pop-hottie Pink could soon be on the prowl, so says the New York Daily News. Sadly for Pink, the "Don't Ask Don't Tell" philandering policy Pink and her bad-boy hubby Carey Hart signed, isn't working out and the pair is headed for a quickie, Reno style divorce. Pink recently made a load of girls gush when she turned up for The Gymnast DVD release party at West Hollywood's Eleven. The lesbian community offers up a collective shoulder for Pink to lay her head�

It's Spice Girls redux. Those sassy, slightly-over-the-hill British babes have reunited for a new tour and they're kicking it off with their latest bubblegum release "Friendship Never Ends." Awww, lovely sentiment. Friendship never ends when there are millions to be made anyway�.

Self-confessed and damned proud of it, bottom, Suzanne Westenhoefer's show, Suzanne Westenhoefer: A Bottom on Top airs on Logo this week. A side-clutching, gasp-for-air-comedian, Suzanne's show was captured by entrepreneur turned damned fine filmmaker Andrea Meyerson, who's breaking the myth that lesbians aren't funny with her Laughing Matters series.

For those out of the L.A. loop, Meyerson – founder of L.A.'s largest women's outings group, Women on a Roll – also nabbed herself a rep as a lesbian Yenta. Her Cupid's arrows are so precise she could blow those homo-haters over at eHarmony.com out of the water with the girl on girl matches she's made. Heck, my girl and I met on Andrea's annual booze-cruise on a yacht in Marina Del Rey. Thanks for pricking me with your arrow Andrea! – Gay Link Content

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