THE BITCH IS BACK

DAHLINGS!!!

After much tinkering around with electro-shock therapy, new psych meds, and a stint in treatment, I'm back and better than ever. The new hair do so doesn't hurt. It's true. I lost it for a minute. I was feeling as exposed as a size 13X gal in the wind with her panty girdle exposed. Of course, Susan could never fit into a 13X, but, whatever. Neither could Betty Desire, come to think of it. I totally deleted all my posts in a drunken, sorry for myself moment, never to be seen again. I never save anything; it's all just hogwash to me. Well, I never save anything but the dregs of the Franzia Box. Those bladders can be squeeeeeeeeezed from here to The Last Supper.

I was there.

Speaking of Jesus, let's talk about my all time favorite Holiday Flicks!

• First of all, stay away from those nasty "classics" like Miracle On 34th Street. What a bunch of malarkey. Think of Natalie Wood's strange and tragic death, you'll understand.
• Go for the gusto of Scrooged, and see how mean-spirited Bill Murray can be, even if he didn't get his much anticpated Oscar.
• Auntie Mame is swell because who could weep over the saga of Mame Dennis, unless, of course, you happen onto the dreadful film version of MAME with Lucille Ball which will make even the biggest fag weep. Her version of We Need A Little Christmas is enough to make one want to convert. To anything.
• Valley of the Dolls is a must see. Hell, there aren't enough booze and pills to make the season merry as it is. Plus the wigs are to DIE!
• Speaking of Susan Hayward, I WANT TO LIVE! pees. And poos. Hey, It's a chick in jail, and she could easily be the ham that you pull out of the oven, just as you empty that last bladder of Merlot out before you send Bryan to the market.
• Mommie Dearest is by far what Christmas is all about. An Eyebrow Flick from beginning to end, Faye Dunaway (who lost her ass somewhere on Faifax and Santa Monica....seriously) is at her hammy best. She sucks, but she's divine.
• David Copperfield. For whatever reason, any little boy dressed as a fop is OK in my book. See the George Cukor version. What he gets out of Freddie Bartholomew and W.C. Fields must have come from a flask.
• Anything starring Lana Turner in her post murder period is swell. She's insanely hammo, and like Faye Dunaway, she lost her ass on Fairfax and SanMo. And by that I mean she lost IT.
• The Way We Were. Well, if you must, but only to see why Babs has to be shot. Err, from the left.
• The Man Who Bought Mustique. Now this is a classic just to see how snotty fucking Brits can be. Princess Mags makes an appearance on this lovely little island, and she seems not amused. She'd had two strokes and a lung removed. Bitchy and useless as ever.
• The Man Who Came To Dinner. This filmed play is the best version of the Christmas Classic. Totally hateful Nathan Lane and Jean Smart scheme to make the worst holiday ever. DO NOT SEE THE GODDAM BETTE DAVIS VERSION UNLESS YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT AN UNKIND HAIRDRESSER CAN DO TO A STAH.
• Georgy Girl. Lumpy, dumpy Lynn Redgrave shows us what a Redgrave can do, without cheek bones.
• Trog. Joan Crawford's last flick, featuring an ape-like man will definitely have you sending Bryan to the store. The hairpieces are aplenty. On everyone. And their cheekbones.

These are just a few of my picks for a dismal season.

Happy Holidays!

By the way, for my blogrolling friends, please send your blog addresses post haste! I thank you for your patience with my oh, so tedious artistic (read: drunk) nature.