Birthday Wishes for Atticus West aka redrocketboi

'Tis the season for birthdays. I'm still celebrating Lindsay Lohan's. And as luck would have it, mine is coming up rather soon.

Yep, yep, yep. You know you've made it big, when other bloggers post your photo on their website along with a simple but appropriate birthday wishes. M@ (yes, that's right — pronounced "Matt") was nice enough to do just that. Thanks, big guy.

Y'all may think that we (Ed note: actually, just me) here at Popculturejunkies are just pretty people that don't feel emotion. Some of you seem to think that I'm a cold heartless Simple Life obsessed carb-addicted bitch. Hey, I cried when Yoanna become America's Next Top Model. And know that it hurts daddy when you don't leave comments.

So to celebrate my birthday I'd like to share with y'all some of my favorite comments from dear faithful readers. Yay me, Happy Birthday!

On Mary Kate Olsen
From NotYou: You sick bastard. How dare you make fun of the poor girl. I hope one of your female family members/friends/wife/daughter dies from an eating disorder so someone else can make fun of you. Asshole. Burn in hell you dickheaded monster, bastard, cretin and loveless, gay looser!

I don't like the Twins but that doens't mean i'm laughing at the misfortune of others. FUck you fucking shit head.

Ed note: I really like the fact that NotYou mentioned that I'm gay. I hate when 13 year old girls hit on me. So, um, thanks.

From C-Marie: UR A FUCKING ASSHOLE...i mean is that all ur time is used for is making ppl feel like shit. That was pathetic. i mean mary-kate is in a serious matter and ur making fun of her. GO TO HELL. i hope something bad happens to u soon cuz u ficking deserve it for that comment. I cant believe u wud have a heart like that. O wait u prolly dont have a heart u sick bastard. Mary-kate is beautiful no matter wut and shes going to get help, and shes going to look as good as ever. and ur comments r going to make her prove u wrong. I dont have the time of day to read this so im going to exit before i go crazy. again...UR A FUCKING BASTARD AND AN ASSHOLE AND I HOPE U ROT IN HELL ASWELL.

xoxo,
c-marie

Ed note: Still, C-Marie gives the love when she ends with "xoxo." Love ya, too.

From Mystic: u fucking dick.

From Icy: you're a total loser. a LOSER hu luuvs to see others in ordeal. learn to keep ur mouth shut and not to hurt others with it. MK rocks big time.

From Ashley: Wow. I'm wondering if you recognize your own personal insecurity as you maliciously rip apart a successful, inovative entrepreneur who has conquered things that most adults don't in a lifetime. Sounds like you suffer from the same disorder as MK. I mean who really comes up with "its-not-my-fault-I-have-an-ass-the-size-of-a-Japanese-bullet-train." Personal experience?

On my idol Lindsay Lohan
From Mike: I think Lindsay Lohan is super terrif because she enforces for our young Americanas that their bodies are ugly and they really should be getting boob jobs by the time they are old enough to drive. Go Lindsay!

To us, ahem, "older" Americans, Lindsay reminds us that it's ok to pump your skinny teenager full of silicone, because she probably make you lots of money in movies. At the very least, your busty 17-year old will have a much steadier summer income writhing on a pole in some strip mall in Florida than frosting baked goods at Cinnabon.

Ed note: Although not totally directed at me, mess with Lindsay and you mess with me.

Ed note: This post contains one lie. This really isn't a photo of me — I'm much bigger in person.

—Atticus West

Cowboys And Angels

Aside from the Out Far! Gay and Lesbian Film Festival weekend which falls around Valentines day, there are four other gay movie nights that the organization cosponsors. The premiere last night was titled Cowboys and Angels written and directed by Irishman David Gleeson. Much like our last gay movie night (which showed Latter Days), the event was sold out with a line forming an hour before the movie even started.

I met Jeremy there, Merce and I are trying to spend as much time as possible with him. Next month he leaves for Japan to teach English for a year. There were others that joined us, met us there or that we ran into while we waited in line. Merce dropped off an extra ticket for us to use. The festival organizer — Amy — saw us and gave us free movie passes for Colin Farrel's new movie next Tuesday. "Hey do you wanna help tear tickets again?" Merce and I are amazing ushers, we talk to everyone and rip those tickets in half like it's nobody's business, so we said sure.

Amy called my name from the floor of the mall. I looked down from the balcony where the line was and could have sworn she said come on down. Naturally, I told people to "MOVE! GO! THE MOVIE'S STARTING", after roming up and down the line cajoling them into making the trek down the stairs and into the theatre. I was pretty proud of myself. "See Jeremy," I said, "That's how you get the party started." The line stopped. I looked down again to see the festival organizer say, "Not everyone! Just you! And bring your friend."

Well I felt stupid. I dodged some ticked off people who were excited to get in and made my way down to the special screening. Some dork grabbed my shirt. I hate being touched by angry queens, especially if they have a good reason to hate me.

Ticket tearing is actually a very social job. You make sure everyone knows they need their stub to get back in, if for any reason they decide to leave the movie. You dodge the horny boys that want to touch your abs. But most importantly, you get reserved seating in the VIP section that's roped off to the general gay public. I love it!

We tore tickets for twenty minutes. There were some speeches made, a few thank you's went out, but mostly there were giveaways being hurled into the audience. Amy said she'd get us after the speeches were over, but she forgot. The doors automatically closed in front of us. "Fuck this. Let's find our seats," I suggested. We walked in a few minutes after it started, but enjoyed the rest of it.

College, cute gay boys, Irish accents, hot chicks who can through a punch, the fashion world — it was a pretty entertaining movie. But what's more important? Seeing a good movie, or being seen at a movie full of homos? If you get the chance, volunteer for the next gay film festival in your city. And wear a cute shirt.

Christina Milian' s "Dip It Low" Video

This morning my local hip-hop DJs where talking about Christina Milian's new music video "Dip It Low." Currently, the song is number four on the R&B/Hip Hop charts. Christina Milian is now a celebrity sex symbol even though she's already produced one hit song "AM to PM" and wrote hits for other singers which include Jennifer Lopez.

What pissed me off is that the DJs — the masters of music, the leaders in new music, and homophobic annoying prank callers painfully devoid of any humor — didn't get what the video was about. It's called "Dip It Low." Yes, it's about sex, obviously. But the theme of the video, set design, and clothing is inspired by various Asian cultures. So is the — get this — calligraphic ink they used to "dip" Christina in and "spin her all around."

Calligraphy is important to some Asian cultures. It's an art which goes back four to five thousand years ago in China alone. The DJs went so far as to describe the video as a hot chick being covered in tar. Yeah, 'cause tar will let you spin around on a slab of marble by hot guys in no shirts. No, tar is sticky, dumb shit.

Jesus turns 32 while I battle West Nile

Friday marked a very important date in the history of the Catholic Church. No, I got that wrong — Friday marked a very important day for my friends and I because Jesus (pronounced hay-soos for those unfamiliar with Latin culture) turned thirty two. Naturally we got together for for a big alcoholic buffet with side platters of Zoloft and Malibu Rum cherries. Friends indeed — Omar and Merce walked me to my car afterwards, afraid I'd get lost along the way.

But I'm getting ahead of myself …

I'm such a boy about going to the doctor. I never get sick (or I'd like to think) and I heal quickly like that comic book character Wolverine. But for two weeks I haven't slept more than an hour at a time without waking up with godforsaken neck pains. Troubled and confused that my mutant powers were malfunctioning, I hung my head in shame, made the appointment to see my doctor and anxiously awaited his diagnosis. He made it perfectly clear that I couldn't drink when I took the medication he was prescribing, and that I should in fact take two each night before bed. Seriously afraid that I was battling the West Nile virus — but more afraid that I wasn't beating said virus, like really quickly — I graciously accepted the prescription. It was for muscle relaxers.

To me, prescriptions are more like movie tickets; the person at the counter gives them to you with four other pieces of paper that look exactly the same and somehow your expected to fish 'em out a few minutes later for the ticket tearing person while the line gradually becomes more anxious and angry behind you. So much like a movie ticket, I managed to loose it in about thirty seconds and just forget about it for a few days.

But I still couldn't sleep.

I finally found the prescription in my car when I was reaching for some stale Trident gum in the driver's side door. Even if I didn't take them all, I could always sell them on the black market, right? Who wouldn't want muscle relaxers? I gave the pharmacist my paper and she looked at me. She just looked at me, then "Have you ever bought from us before?"

"I've never bought drugs from anyone," I said. I was equally alarmed that she thought I was a user and that I didn't know the proper procedure with my pharmacist dealer. And that was that, she made me promise that I would not take the meds on beer or alcohol and that I'd only take one a night. One a night? My doctor said take two.

Fast forward to the party …
I'm offered a drink from the first person I meet when I walk in the door. "Um. No thanks." I'm offered a second drink from the birthday boy. "I can't. I'm uh ... (on meds)," I whisper. I sit down next to a big girl talking trash about the pretty girl that just walked in the door.

"Here. Take this!" She said an then she tries to force a rum filled cherry down my throat! She pushes it against my lips, I whip around in my chair, and then turn back and shout.

"I CAN'T DRINK! I'm on medication." I clearly state.
"Which one?"
"Zoloft."
"Me, too. It's in my purse. Want some more?"
"Um, I was just kidding." Freak.

So the party was odd. I got force fed a fat chick's cherry and I managed to keep people out of the party by not being bright enough to learn how to open the front door. Let me explain. I swear I'm not that stupid.

Did you ever see Jurassic Park? Remember the part where the velosaraptors learned how to open the door by pushing the handle down and then pushing the door open? Well, this was like so much harder. Really. I ran up to the newly cleaned glass door and pushed on the large bar and assumed it open. Nothing happened. The people on the other side semi-smiled. My smile turned to worry, I looked at them and with my eyes I said, "I can't help help you." So I booked it and ran back to the Zoloft girl with a glowing tit (she said it was her phone).

Someone must have opened the door for those poor sad people at the front door, they were dancing and drinking a few minutes later. I'm told that if I press the green button near the door, it opens.

I hear the door bell, someone else arrived — I can finally be helpful! I ran to the door. I pressed the green button. And nothing happens. The door doesn't swing open so I pressed it again. And again. And again. I hit the green button with all the life in me when I heard Jesus (that's "hay-soos") call to me. "Lonnie," he said, "hit the button and open the door ... at the same time!" Oh, that's all?

I do what he said and it opens just fine. But come on, the button is like four feet away from the door. No one in a wheel chair, an eight grade education, or with short arms is going to have what it takes to open such a door. But thanks to Jesus any ol' velosaraptor can do it. Now that's evolution! Happy birthday Jesus.

Lindsay vs. Hilary For President in '04

It’s not that I like Lindsay Lohan more than Hilary Duff. I just don’t think Hilary is even in the same league as Lindsy. Sure, deciding who to love and ultimately vote for is a personal decision and one you shouldn't choose willy-nilly. You're going to enthusiastically throw away $8.50 to see them in a movie so allow me to make the choice for you! To be fair, let’s take a look at their platforms (not their shoes, but how they stand on specific issues):

ON GAY MARRIGE PEOPLE:
Mean Girls portrays positive examples of empowered gay youth. The movie actually has a message that says you should be yourself.

A Cinderella Story perpetuates unhealthy stereotypes of gay men (and synchronized swimming). Everyone in this movie is annoying; we really watched it to see Chad Michael Murray and Jennifer Coolidge.

ON ONE’S ROOTS:
Lindsay is a proud to be a red head.
Hilary tries to be a blonde. But anyone who actually saw the Lizzie McGuire movie would know that she should be a brunette. She’s hot with dark hair – it makes her look more like Jennifer Garner, and that’s a good thing.

ON MUSIC IN OUR SCHOOLS (read iPods):
Lindsay signed a five-record deal with Tommy Mitolla (Mariah Carrey’s ex-husband. Thalia’s ex-husband?). And she sang in two of her last three movies.

Hilary’s first album is pathetic. Yet ... I hate that I like her first two songs. Wait, did I just compliment her? Plus, her sister is much more talented in the vocal department. But this is really what bothers me: why do you never mention that your new song is a duet and that it is indeed your sister? You don’t want her infringing on your share of the marketplace do you?

ON CHAD MICHAEL MURRAY (cause he deserves his own section):
He’s my hot boy of the year, bumping Orlando Bloom off the chart. Sorry Hil, but he’s sloppy seconds for you, Chad was already in a movie with Lindsy a year ago called Freaky Friday. Jamie Lee Curtis won an award for her role opposite Lindsy and it had an awesome soundtrack.

When Chad asked if he and Hilary were dating on the set of A Cinderella Story, he said, “No. She’s too young, she’s more like my sister.” Ouch. The sister comment is always death. Besides, Chad is 22, Lindsy is 18, and Hil is only 16. That makes Chad the perfect age for our favorite red head or for me.

ON SOCIAL SECURITY AGING:
Lindsy had a cool invite printed that promoted her 18th birthday. She even has a favorite drink. Being able to admit that means she won’t have a problem denying she likes the sauce later in life because she’s not trying to protect her fake “all American blond” girl image.

Lindsay is energetic, creative, and talented. Her credentials over-qualify her for pop star of the year. She signed with Ford modeling agency when she was only four — and she happens to be the first red-head they ever signed. She showed her versatie acting prowess in both Parent Trap and Freaky Friday aside from singing her own songs. The choice is clear: vote for Lindsay Lohan for coolest teen in ’04.

Riechen Lehmkuhl's Amazing Fourth of July Weekend

Festive indeed, this weekend brought America's favorite gay reality TV stud Riechen Lehmkuhl to Phoenix. Reichen was a Captain in the Air Force before becoming one half of the winning team on CBS's Amazing Race.

He arrived on Friday hours before I met him. A mutual friend introduced us to each other and before I knew it, we were all three talking and swimming in the pool.

We transferred to the hot tub where I learned Riechen likes his feet rubbed. I asked how he spent his birthday this year to which he said, "Whatever my manger wanted me to do that day." Ouch! He had been auditioning for roles in Las Angeles all week long, the hot tub was the highlight of his week. There was a full moon above us while we chatted.

Fourty minutes later, a few more guys joined us, a some sang Cole Porter songs while Riechen enjoyed the copious foot massages. The hot tub was quite shallow, which made everyone's limbs lie under or over someone else's. There was even a cute naked dude in the mix sitting to Reichen's left and to my right.

On Saturday I ran into the Amazing Race winner again, he was the guest of honor at another party. He said he had been signing calendars (photographed by Kal Lee) throughout the day and that he was happy with how it turned out. I was introduced to other people and lost sight of him. Later, I was waiting in line for the bathroom, a door opened to my left and I saw him and … ahem … a few other people. I saw someone's legs in the air, I won't verify who's they were. Email me for racy details.

So, how was your weekend?