Anatranny of a Murder...

Well, after crawling back from the brink of death after gagging over 'Telephone' -- and subsequently scarfing up death's poisoned sandwiches by watching and re-watching it in all its nearly 10 minute glory -- I'm finally at a place (drunk) to talk about it.

The lesbian theme starts off strong and disturbingly muscular...

Cooter -- thanks, but no thanks. She might not have a dick NOW, but sex reassignment surgery has come a long way. I'm just sayin'...

Yes, that is smoke. Yes, this is also where I began to have heart palpitations from all the fierceness.

This big black bitch might be my favorite moment, well...ever. Here she is owning the world in an all too brief moment.

Give it a Mugler stutter step...

B makes her first appearance, breaking Gags out of jail. You know what they say, once you kill a cow...you gotta eat some fish.

B clearly getting ready to stick her face betwixt Gaga's legs. What would Hova think of all this?

Beyonce couldn't give less of a shit, because she's going full on dyke and Mr. Carter-Knowles be damned.

Call her mellow yellow. B goes to meet Tyrese, who is apparently still alive...? Though not for long...

"Sometimes I feel like I live in Grand Central Stay-SHUN. " That's it. ACT! Throw an Oscar in this face.

A pussy sandwich? Meanwhile, I love the queens turning it in the kitchen while the Lady poses in what has to be the must-have accessory of 2010. Call all you want, but you're not gonna get my telephone hat.

I know this is Gaga's song and video, but B blatantly steals the show. That face. That wig. That jacket. Those thighs. I think we've just been introduced to Gaga Fierce.

Speaking of epic (read: tranny) faces...

By the way, this recipe is my diet for the next 5 months as I prepare to enter a speedo, as being dead will be the only way it'll happen.

Hot cakes and hamhocks, anyone? Hold that thought, I've got an incoming call. No, I don't want to switch my long distance carrier. This isn't even a real phone. Yes, I'll hold.

Oh you know, I'm just standing here, posing, nonchalant as usual, with this phone in my hair. Just a regular day in the Haus of Gaga.

After stealing her honey, that selfish motherfucker Tyrese got what was coming to him. He'll soon be back to singing for sodas on the bus.

And here we have the inevitable dance routine, amidst a sea of corpses.

Gaga bless America!

Blow-up Doll Beyonce, now available in Buxom Brunette and Sapphic Sasha.

Fosse.

Flanking their pussy wagon, Gaga and B give their all while looking impossibly fabulous. This is what pop music is all about. Not giving a shit.

They give one last pose for the cameras...

Before driving off into the sunset, a la Thelma and Louise, leaving a path of destruction and tranny heels in their wake. To be continued...? Let's hope so.

Dying of Antici...pation Akimbo

The wait is almost over. Ever since B admonished that her life resembled the commotion of Grand Central Station, the ladies of AnA have waited with bated breath for the video. After several delays, our pateince will (hopefully/no doubt) be handosmely rewarded.



Pray tell, will you be taking any calls tonight?

Doubtful it seems as I plan on dancing.

Oh hi...

Here I was, innocently trying to enjoy my view of Spain...what's that? Braw-Sill. Bra-Seal. Brazil. Well, why don't you speak up a little?!

Here I was, enjoying my view of...Brazil, gazing out into the wonder and the majesty of the city of Brazil when I was bomber jacketed by all these...people.

Can't a multi-hyphenate global phenomenon just be a real girl for a second or does Sasha Fierce have to come out and start regulatin' in this bitch?

You don't want to see me angry. You won't like me when I'm angry. I grow a robot hand and start throwing my hair around like one of those medieval mace things.

Now put your hands up! And get outta my way, I'm late for dinner with my alleged husband!

Red Carpet Rundown: The 2010 Grammys or Why the Music Industry is Doomed

Last night's Grammy show was the worst in history. And it started off so well, too. Gaga opened the show with yet another epic performance with her mother.

Then things quickly fell off.

B was amazing as usual, but disappointed by neglecting to have her army of male dancers put a ring on it.

Pink was incredible and death-defying, though much like me five minutes into the show, was not "Sober."

J.Huds and Celine belted out "Earth Song" in an all-too-brief tribute to MJ, also featuring Usher, the legendary Smokey Robinson and some country tart.

The one who didn't win Album of the Year. Also, any mention of the latter is strictly verboten on this blog.

And finally MJB melted my icy heart with a touching rendition of "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" with Andrea Bocelli. Who is apparently blind. Who knew?

Those were the only highlights in an otherwise dreadful show that proved once again that the Grammys are the least relevant awards show on the planet. Well, almost.

Anygay, onto the "fashion" of last night. Like the show, also a major disappointment, except for Gaga who is apparently the only person who gets it.

Here's the lady in Armani Privé. I wished upon this star that she'd walk away with an armload, but apparently wishes don't come true. Fuck you Disney. Meanwhile, Gags had 5 Armani Privé

outfits that we all missed out on thanks to some 20-year old talentless slut hogging all the trophies.

The event known as Celine Dion, looking flawless in someone I've never heard of. Aquilano.Rimondi. Anyone?

The red carpet look was, in a word, horrendous. B looks like she's wearing a carpet. And with the zipper down the front, come on, kids! Her show and performance outfits were far better, most likely because they were chosen by Sasha Fierce, who I wish would just take over and make all the decisions from now on.

Ciara in Givnechy Haute Couture, proving that this HC season was one of the more dismal in recent memory.

Coco Rocha in her own design. Okay.

Mr. Fierce in Tom Ford. The Knowles-Carters ran away with a ton of Grammys last night. Jay also got one for his collaboration with Rihanna. In other news, Rihanna was found with a stiletto through her heart earlier this morning.

Someone dug up J. Lo from ten years ago when people still cared about her and threw her in Versace. Perhaps hoping to reclaim some of that past glory? Here's a suggestion, dump the corpse you call a husband and focus on your career.

From J. Lo to J. Huds. She looks stunning and is working that post-baby body in Victoria Beckham. Also that China bang was the best hair of the night.

And from one bang to another. Katy Perry showed up in a shitty Zac Posen that revealed a bit too much side boob. Dolly and Ms. Streisand have all but given up on you, Zac. But I still hold out some hope.

Glee's Lea Michele looked great, opting for a short Romona Keveza dress and sultry hair. She looks like a Jersey girl out for a night of dancing, Long Islands and perhaps a BJ in the men's bath, i.e. perfect for the Grammys.

Pink channels early-00s Kylie in this Bob Mackie number that is basically all I ever want in an outfit.

On her way to the Oscars, Nikki Kids apparently got lost, but still looked Prada perfect.

I love how sluts get younger every year. Soon they'll be giving pregnancy tests in day care.

Grown-ass lady Mary J. Blige popping in fuschia and popping out a tad.

Now, I've never been a fan of Rihanna. I just don't believe her. She's like a blow-up doll Jay-Z likes to play with when B's on tour. But I kind of love this Elie Saab Haute Couture gown. Call me crazy. I hope this doesn't mean she's growing on me. If so, I'll need to visit the pharm ASAP to find the right ointment.

For God and the Gays Akimbo

Well, thanks to some inopportune soapboxing, a touching MJ tribute and...really because of Lady Gaga, the VMAs managed to leap back from numbing irrelevance to put on one hell of a show. An awful show forged in the bowels of hell, yes, but, hey, we were definitely entertained. So let's take a break from Fashion Week and sort through the shitshow with which MTV has yet again burdened the world.

There was a lot of chit chat about this being all about the ladies, with B and Gags monopolizing the majority of the nods (but as far as we're concerned, it's always about the ladies). Sadly, though, there was no Mugler-off, as AnA had hoped/predicted, but neither lady disappointed.

Mrs. Carter earned some MAJOR diva points upon receiving Video of the Year for our nation's new national anthem, when she let accidental star of the night, Taylor Swift, finish her thank you speech -- in a completely unrehearsed and unscripted moment -- that was so rudely, though understandably, interrupted earlier. Beyoncé owns all of us. If you need further proof, just watch her suitably epic rendition of "Single Ladies."

There she goes, Miss Tranny America.

There, but for the grace of B, go head girlfriend.

Lady Gaga is officially AnA's favorite person right now. Not that she didn't give us plenty of reason before, but tranny took it to an entirely different level thanks to an ever-evolving wardrobe during the show's three (hundred) hours. Despite being robbed for best pop video by an absent and vacant Britney Spears, Gaga emerged the clear winner of the night.

Gaga + Gaultier= A dysfunctional gay marriage made in haute couture heaven

Oh. And then there's her genital-quavering performance of "Paparazzi," which will inevitably go down in VMA history, and will be pantomimed daily at the AnA loft for the next three months.

Insert gratuitous feminine hygiene joke here.


Changing the world, one outrageous headpiece at a time.


Thrust that tiny silver lamé man in the air, you've earned it. We also love how you apparently thrust your face into a mound of cocaine, a la the last 10 minutes of Scarface, before entering the press room. It's called being a pro.