I am screaming and punching myself

Worshipping at The Church of Kylie

By the time you read this, J and I will be on our way home from New York, where we spent a 5-day weekend celebrating our 1-year anniversary, the dear friends we have in the area, the fact that Daniel Craig and Hugh Jackman are on Broadway and the show I never thought I'd be able to see: Kylie Minogue in North America!

The video quality is about what you'd expect for a concert, but dude! She sang while dancers were holding her above their heads in a split! That's a level of showmanship (and athleticism!) that I can only genuflect before.

I've been a Kylie fan for years now, but I came to The Church of Kylie relatively late in Our Lady of The Insured Kiester's career. My first Kylie album was Fever; I had to go into the back catalog to discover the wonder that was Light Years.

J and I went to the Monday night show, while my beloved friend Gabriel caught Sunday's show. Since we heard of her tour in early summer, Gabriel and I have been "squee!"ing to each other over Facebook. He posted a set list from her Oakland show last week, so I was able to put together an iTunes playlist for concert preparation.

And as I listened to her signature brand of dance-pop, I realized part of what makes Kylie so special: there's a fundamental sweetness to her musical persona. Even when she's singing about sex, there's nothing sleazy about it; it's all vague wantings and desirings. She'll lick her lips, but it's with a smile rather than a pornulated pout.

Plus, you get the sense from listening to her songs that she'd be so much fun to be around, that she'd make as good a friend as a lover, if not better (Kylie's musical persona has a history of broken relationships, I'm afraid). 

Now, I realize that all of this is part of her job as an international pop star and gay icon. But Her Holiness does that job better than just about anyone else on the planet. That's what makes her divine.

RIP, ANS

I just wanted to offer my respects for the late Anna Nicole Smith. Her life was pretty erratic -- often entertaining, but occasionally heartbreaking as well, especially with the death of her son Daniel hours after the birth of her daughter Danielynn.

I actually had a hard time finding a photo of ANS where she wasn't visibly drunk or at least partially naked. In almost all her pictures, she was working the pinup poses, even when mostly clothed, and that seemed somehow disrespectful. Smith's sexuality was definitely a huge part of her public persona, but I like to think that an important part of her private persona was being a mom. Here she is with Danielynn. Below is a shot of her with Daniel. (I like to think of the two of them being reunited now. I know that makes me a sap and a cheeseball, but it ain't like you didn't know that already.)

Rest in peace.

Shaking my head in confusion at the Mayer

Several months ago, my logic center suffered a mild seizure when I contemplated a possible romantic relationship between John Mayer and Jessica Simpson. I wanted to like the guy, but his alleged choice of companion pretty much threw his entire character into question. I was relieved when Us magazine seemed to take particular joy in crowing that he had dumped her after she turned a couple of dates into a major relationship. Okay, I thought. He's got some semblance of taste after all. But it seems I was mistaken.

Like he hasn't seen it before

My perennial favorite British pop star, Robbie Williams, has announced that he will do a full-monty striptease for Elton John's 60th birthday in March. Of course, to my mind, nothing could top the one he did in the video for "Rock DJ." (Caution: not entirely safe for work, plus it gets a little gory.)

The greatest celebrity ever!

Okay, why has nobody told me about the miracle of tackiness that is the bimbonic Katie Price (or, as softcore enthusiasts the world over know her, Jordan)? How have I gone so long without being fully aware of her amazing powers of vapidity, vulgarity and flat-out sleaze? How on earth did I manage to miss her freaking wedding??

Oh, yeah, her husband's a genuine, down-to-earth kind of guy, an old, gentle soul who doesn't care about the glitz and sparkle. Theirs is truly a love for the ages. And as the two of them demonstrate on the red carpet for the premiere of The Dukes of Hazzard, they know exactly how to dress and behave for a public event.

It's never too late to ruin a year!

Happy New Year, everybody! I hope '07 finds you tanned, rested and ready. While the rest of us were popping champagne and watching Dick Clark's ball drop, some celebrities were taking this last opportunity to make 2006 "the year of The Big Mistake" (or, in some cases, just reinforce the horror of aught-six). When Michael Jackson smooching James Brown's corpse is the most normal celebrity sight from a holiday weekend, you know something is seriously awry.

(Photos snagged from ohnotheydidnt.)

That was fast

Some people will do anything to get out of Christmas with the in-laws. On the other hand, yaaaaay!

She's not doing this with him todaaaaaaaaaaay

Or any other day, apparently. To my utter astonishment, Whitney Houston has filed for divorce from Bobby Brown. I'm still waiting to see if it'll take, honestly, because I can't imagine these two separate from each other.

And that was love, or so I certainly thought. Didn't they almost have it all?

Rethinking rethinking the Mayer

Let me make this short and sweet: HAH-hah! Whatever faith I had in John Mayer is restored.

Damn. Look at her. It's like a feral fembot or something.

Quien es esa nina -- who's that girl?

'Cause I don't believe she's the legitimate, biological, produced-in-the-traditional-way offspring of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. I just don't.

I also think she might be wearing a wig.