Scarlett Rouge Porn Star

SCARLETT’S LETTERS: The 3 Faces of Me

Dear James and James,

What’s that game when you create your porn identity by adding the name of your first pet with the first street you lived on? Mine would be Milky Spring. Quite hot and pretty appropriate. Really the joke’s on me; I can thank my bohemian parents for already providing a perfect porno name in case I was so inclined to follow a calling in the sexual arts.

Karl Lagerfeld Quentin Tarantino

EXCLUSIVE: Lagerfeld Pitches Script to Tarantino

I have done it! I have pulled it off! I am a hit!

How do I know? Vogue says so. WWD says so.

It’s true that Chanel, the maison de couture for which I design, is one of the few remaining big advertisers in fashion. Therefore, all the important publications are my bitches. Big deal! The fact remains that I have reinvented haute couture. How? With the sneaker.

Yes, the common sneaker used for cardio training, which as you know I don’t advocate because it makes you hungry, and being hungry makes you fat, like Adele. But if you are buying the Chanel couture sneaker you won’t be running around a bigger space than your closet. Okay, okay, maybe your bedroom, or an art gallery. If the normal Chanel prêt-a-porter sneaker starts at $600…

Scared Shitless — Confessions of a Butch Pussy

I admit it: Most of my life I was a fraidy-cat, a panicked pickle, a serving of yellow-belly sashimi.

Not any more, for some reason. Something happened in early middle age: I stopped running and turned around to face my fears and went, “Boo, yourselves!” and they vanished, as specters of all kinds are wont to do when confronted.

Fear isn’t always unpleasant. There are entire recreational industries devoted to people tempting danger for the adrenaline rush. There are even professions that thrive on the natural high that comes from flirting with disaster: the armed forces, the stock exchange, Somali piracy.

Monsters University

Irrational Hatred of My Irrational Hatred

Can you do it? Can you bear the following six words without storming off in anger or labeling me a heretic? Consider it a test of your fortitude. I’m talking about these six words: I can’t freaking stand Pixar movies.

When I tell people I can’t stand Pixar movies (or any computer-animated cartoon movies for that matter), they become so irrationally hostile that I wonder if Moses didn’t carry a third tablet down from Mount Sinai declaring Toy Story to be God’s own directorial debut. It’s as if I told them I dislike their children.

Remembrances of a Terrible Ghey

For the past few weeks I’ve been living in the Boystown area of West Hollywood, better known as Weho, an unintentional misnomer for the neighborhood; I’m sure it’s been observed before that BigHo might be more appropriate. This is a temporary arrangement that will likely last the rest of the summer, which we don’t mean the same way in Los Angeles. It’s been observed before by anyone who’s ever set foot in Southern California that we don’t really have seasons, rather three stages of the year that might be titles taken from a Gershwin songbook:

Alice Eve Bra

Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Wearing a Bra

Have you heard? Starting next season, American Idol will go by the name of Celebrity Judge, since that is apparently the only thing people give a shit about anymore on that show.

Perhaps I made that up, but when was the last time anyone discussed the actual contestants around the water cooler or in the gossip rags? The last bunch of seasons has been about “Ooh look. Steven Tyler has degenerated into a drag queen and a whack job,” and “Check it out; Nicki Minaj and Mariah Carey are about to get in a fist fight.”

Karl Lagerfeld

Imagining Lagerfeld: Symposium in the Sex Shop

Whenever the Paris collections roll around, I’m reminded I haven’t touched base with my imaginary best friend, Karl Lagerfeld.  As some readers may recollect, he and I have had our discussions—none of which have ended well, sadly—first over a gourmet sandwich, then at rock-n-roll Ralphs in Hollywood (during which he tried to brain me with a canister of Ajax), and over a workout at Golds Gym

Why Sterling Archer Is My New Straight Boyfriend

I guess I have a bit of explaining to do.  Given that PFC’s demographic apparently skews thirty to forty-five, most of our readers might not be aware of the salty adult animated comedy series Archer currently in its fourth season on FX. (‘Salty’ is my new favorite adjective since our contributor Eric Baker referred to this site that way as a warning to the readers of his own blog before linking them here.) 

Ben Affleck Daredevil

Why Ben Affleck Owes His Career Resurgence to Disco

When ratings for this year’s Golden Globes were revealed to be higher than those of last year’s edition, entertainment writers (naturally) took the sensationalistic approach: Tina Fey and Amy Poehler are funnier and cooler than Ricky Gervais (which is far too subjective)… Audiences were letting Ricky Gervais know they don’t approve of his antics (they waited a silent year?)…

Tom of Finalnd

EXCLUSIVE: Tarantino Making Movie About Gheys & AIDS

In an appearance on an Australian radio broadcast the other day while promoting his Django Unchained downunder, Quentin Tarantino made a surprise announcement, which perhaps wasn’t so surprising for those of us who saw the obvious trajectory of his self-consciously subversive movies.  QT, as he is known to Scientologists who still hope to bring him into the fold, was making this appearance on a station notorious for causing a nurse to kill herself after they prank-called her while she was caring for the Duchess of Cambridge.  His goal?