Attention Hollywood executives: Judi Dench should be featured prominently in every movie ever made. You could pair her with Kevin Costner and I’d still buy 10 tickets. (Give her Whitney’s role in a remake of The Bodyguard and I’ll wait in the rain for the special-edition DVD with Judi’s extended version of “Queen of the Night.”) She should be the go-to star for all your casting needs. Want to add a touch of class to She Devil 2? Call Judi. Looking for a true Brit to play a more believable Lara Croft and breathe new life into the Tomb Raider series? The Dame does her own stunts. And don’t even get me started on her potential as the new invisible girl in the next Fantastic Four.

When Judi’s dead, someone should re-edit her past work and throw a bit in to all new movies for good measure. Hell, can’t we just record her reading an entire, unabridged dictionary now and stick a bucket full of motion-capture sensors on her to ensure we have usable footage for future roles she won’t be alive to play? Surely some marketing genius at the Gap will be grateful when they need a dead, classy star to hawk black stretch pants or five-pocket chinos in a vain attempt to prevent a takeover bid from Wal-Mart in 2020.

The truth is, I love you, Judi. I’m sure if you got to know me, we’d be terribly good friends. You’d tell me all about what it was like to meet the Queen, and I’d tell you what it was like when I met Brian Austin Green at a gas station near Scottsdale. We’d share a Bloomin’ Onion at Outback Steakhouse and reminisce about the time I introduced you as Dame Dudi Stench to that group of World War II veterans. I’d steal your cell phone when you’re not looking and program it to display dirty words when you turn it on, then you’d call to yell at me and we’d laugh ever so hard. It could be magical, if only you’d return my calls.

 Loading …

There are so many credit cards offering reward programs aimed at a very particular niche of customers. American Express has cards with perks just for people who live in L.A. or Chicago or New York. There are college-student cards that reward users for good grades and on-time payments. Isn’t it time we had a card with rewards designed to appeal to the gay community?

Can’t someone see that there is a huge market for the Art-Fag Visa—the only card that provides cash back on every purchase of designer plastic-frame glasses and MacBook Pro accessories? And where’s the Gender Illusionist Platinum Select Mastercard, offering 5% back on acrylic nails and depilatory creams? Surely lesbians could be encouraged to shop more often if they could rack up points for free power tools and whale-watching cruises every time they swiped the DeGeneres Dividend Card from American Express. And what card would be more fitting for bisexuals than the Discover Flexible Freedom—the card that changes its policies monthly and comes with a free subscription to Details or Jane magazine?

While I’m waiting for my Art-Fag Visa to arrive in the mail, I thought I’d post a short list of my current preferred cash-back credit cards. If you think you’ve found a better deal than the cards below can offer, by all means, post a comment and tell me about it.

Chase Freedom Card (My Top Pick)

• 3% back at gas stations, grocery stores, and “quick-service” restaurants (They’re not exactly clear on the website as to what a quick-service restaurant is, but I get the impression it’s any place that doesn’t have wait staff.)
• 1% cash back on everything else
• If you accumulate $200 in cash back, you get a $50 bonus.

Discover More Card

• 5% back on purchases in special categories that change every three months; from July through September (2007), the 5% is good for gas ad hotels. From October – December, it changes to restaurants and movies.
• Lots of companies give a bonus credit if you use your cash back to buy gift cards. For example, $20 in cash back can get you a $25 gift card from AMC theatres or Banana Republic, or you can convert $20 into a $40 Hollywood Video gift card.

Citibank Dividend Platinum Select Card

• 2% back at drugstores, grocery stores, and utility bills (cable, electric, water, phone service, etc.)
• 1% back on everything else

Just as a side note, you might see ads claiming that AmEx’s Blue Cash card offers 5% back. There’s a pretty big caveat here, since that 5% only applies to gas, groceries, and drugstore purchases, and it only kicks in after you’ve charged $6500 in a year. So, it might be a good deal if you’re spending 15 or 20 grand in these categories every year. But even a Rush-Limbaugh-sized prescription and grocery bill probably won’t push you far over $6500.

 Loading …

So the Spice Girls have announced that they’re going on a reunion tour. Reactions have been mixed, and that’s unfortunate. Even if you hate manufactured pop, there are many reasons to love the Spice Girls. Here are just a few:

• They’re better role models than whoever kids look up to now. None of them ever flashed their spicy parts at the paparazzi when exiting a vehicle. They’ve never been to rehab or been caught driving drunk. (In all fairness to Paris Hilton, I don’t think Victoria Beckham has ever been caught driving herself somewhere, period.)

• The Spice Girls name stands for quality. I bought a Spice Girls watch at Claire’s in 1998, and it keeps ticking no matter what I do. I spot it every once in a while when rummaging through old boxes, and I always notice that the second hand it still moving. It’s kind of spooky—like that scene in Child’s Play when the mother realizes Chuckie is talking without batteries. As an added plus, I’ve heard that the 100-thread count Spice Girls bedding collection was shown in tests to be extremely flame retardant.

• If you’re looking to meet gay guys who were between the ages of 14 and 18 in 1997, you’ll know where to find them on the night of the concert.

Many people don’t realize that the Spice Girls released an album in 2000 shortly after Geri’s departure. At the time, I was “studying” in Europe, where (not surprisingly) the album was quite popular. I really loved the first single, “Holler,” but none of my American friends have ever heard of it. I found a thoroughly pixilated version on YouTube for those of you who didn’t catch it several years ago when it was all the rage in several Eastern-European countries.

The choreography really takes me back to a simpler time. Keep an eye out for repeated use of the classic side-booty slap and a lot of pointing at the camera. I’m also intrigued by the scene where the girls don pseudo-futuristic visors and compete to conjure the sexiest dancing hologram man.

 Loading …

I have a lot of hang-ups that prevent me from feeling content in any job. For example, I have completely unrealistic expectations of how long it should take me to make my first million, and I blame HGTV. Every time I tune in, some mildly retarded, chubby straight guy is making $100,000 a week by following these simple steps:

Step 1: Purchase architecturally bland home in need of repairs.
Step 2: Promote open house before establishing realistic timeline for repairs.
Step 3: Predict financial ruin upon discovery that home is infested with termites or feral cats or heroin-abusing, pre-teen orphans.
Step 4: Combat infestation with several coats of Killz primer and beige travertine tile.
Step 5: Stage home with glass-top tables and fake ferns.
Step 6: Make $100,000.

The post-9/11 real estate boom couldn’t have come at a worse time for me. I was a bit too young and too poor to buy a fixer-upper of my own, but I was old enough to realize that a golden opportunity was passing me by. It fostered a sense of regret that hasn’t mixed well with my ADHD and that “I’m-so-special” feeling that all nerdy kids have. No matter how much I save or how quickly I climb the ladder at my latest job, I can’t help thinking, “There’s gotta be a better way.”

At the same time, a nagging voice in the back of my head says, “You know what would really prove to the world that you’re way more unique than everyone else? Teaching South African kids with HIV to design websites…or training inner-city teenage mothers to be part of a debate team that wins some important competition with a really big trophy.” Then I daydream about who would play me in the made-for-TV-movie version of my life. Then I remind myself that people whose selfless lives are turned into movies aren’t supposed to fantasize about it. It’s supposed to be all about the children or the spotted owls or the rainforests or whatever. You’re supposed to accept your award statuettes with a humble grin that says, “This? For me? Why, the joy of helping others has always been reward enough. Really, you’re too kind.”

Perhaps you, dear reader, can help me sort out some of my own career confusion by weighing in on this question:

 Loading …

When it comes to sunless tanning, I’ve tried it all. I’ve tried Banana Boat lotions and Coppertone sprays. I’ve tried the Neutrogena foam with a gentle hint of color that “shows where it goes” to prevent streaks. I’ve applied it with my own two hands, I’ve traumatized family and friends by forcing them to apply it, and I’ve even tried putting it on with sponge brushes from Home Depot.

A few years ago, my roommate bought me a gift certificate for an airbrush tan—partly because he knew I was too cheap to pay for the service and partly because he was sick of helping me pick blobs of lotion out of my arm hair. The prospect of having someone spray me with a “micro-bead mist” sounded glamorous, so I went to the salon with high hopes. When I arrived, a pudgy, 40-something redhead named Cynthia met me at the door and showed me to my room. Once inside, I stripped down to my underwear, assumed a Vitruvian-Man pose, and prepared to enjoy the sunless tanning secret of the stars.

I won’t say that Cynthia was unprofessional, but I’m quite sure she would have smoked and possibly eaten a meatball sub while applying my tan if it wasn’t prohibited by the county inspector. The end result wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t any better than what I could have done at home for a lot less. This summer, I’ve decided to try a few of the gradual tanning lotions that promise a “subtle, sun-kissed glow.” I’m not big on subtlety, but I should probably accept that there are limits to what sunless tanner can do for me and embrace a more restrained approach. People get suspicious when I leave work on Sunday a shade whiter than mayonnaise and return on Monday somewhere between a sweet-potato-pie orange and a chicken-nuggety brown.

So far, I’ve tried Jergens Natrual Glow for face, which is great. It provides a noticeable (but not unnatural) touch of color. I’ve also been using Neutrogena’s Summer Glow for my arms, which doesn’t stink quite as much as past Neutrogena tanning products I’ve tried. I’ve convinced my significant other to try L’Oreal’s Sublime Glow line, which got great reviews in Consumer Reports. (Yes, I know your grandmother reads that magazine and I don’t care.) He hasn’t seen much difference so far, so I think the lightest shade is too faint. I was also disappointed that the L’Oreal body lotion has “light diffusers,” which are basically tiny pieces of glitter. Unless you’re the kind of queer who likes to keep a tube of cotton-candy-flavored Lip Smackers in your purse at all times, you’ll probably find the sparkly side effects of Sublime Glow to be a negative.

Be sure to leave a comment with any tanning-related wisdom and weigh in on the survey!

 Loading …

One of the first guys I ever fooled around with was the textbook definition of white trash. He would have made an excellent Eliza Doolittle in a gay remake of My Fair Lady—if Eliza lived in a trailer, smoked a lot of pot, wore a gold-chain necklace, and had to borrow her sister’s car to get to the unemployment office. I won’t bore you with the details of the rollercoaster ride that was our six-day love affair. Let’s just say it ended with me stirring my sheets around in an iron cauldron with a giant wooden paddle. The whole experience led me to spend a lot of time praying that God would send me a man with a job. Sadly, the employed guys I met in the months that followed made me realize my prayers should have been more specific.

We all have certain dating dealbreakers. They’re designed to save us time and frustration, and they’re usually the result of years of careful observation. Judging potential partners based on occupation is nothing new, but some job titles are a bigger turn off then others, which leads me to the following question:

 Loading …