(From “Friday Night with Jonathan Ross” on BBC One, 10/30/2009.  Thanks Campbell Tim.)

As Campbell said, “Who the fuck needs Lady Gaga now?”  Well actually, I do–at least until Christopher Walken starts doing this:

Ah… hello? *taps microphone* Is this thing on? Greetings, dear readers–it’s me, your long-lost blogger. Wait, do I still have any readers? Or is it just the two people who ended up here by googling “regret lesbian blog”? All right then, you two.  Let’s get started.

I realize that my posts are appearing at an alarmingly sporadic rate these days, and for this I apologize. My goal is to get back to posting on a sort-of-weekly basis (if I ever did!), as opposed to this maaaybe-monthly-if-you’re-lucky schedule I seem to be following right now. And if you think that’s an empty promise, then I applaud your pessimism: as a wise man once said, people like us are constantly being either proven right or pleasantly surprised, not like those foolish, decidedly un-lumpy optimists. At any rate, I will most likely put forth the effort to post more, if for no other reason than to keep Brendan off suicide watch.

So for today’s post, I thought we could do a little round-up of noteworthy (read: gay and/or hilarious) news from around the internetz.  Rest assured that I have only selected topics that are of the utmost importance, and whose extraordinary impact on our daily lives is undeniable.  Because that’s the award-winning brand of gritty, hard-hitting journalism you’ve come to expect from “regret lesbian blog”–er, I mean Ah, Regret.

Miley Cyrus deletes her Twitter account :( :( (Thanks Virb.)  Ugh, I know right!  What was she thinking?  Apparently her new boyfriend, Liam Hensworth (whoever that is), told her to get rid of it.  Nick Jonas would have never done such a thing!  Incidentally, Miley was just voted “Worst Celebrity Influence of 2009″ by some random internet poll.  And rightfully so:  the irresponsible tween idol has driven one of her fans to threaten to kill her own cat over this.  And I don’t blame her, I mean where else am I going to find gems of hard-earned wisdom like “@mileycyrus: Just ate an entire jar of Peanut Butter for breakfast! Yummy :)” and “@mileycyrus: What am I missing in my life???? Bangs.”  #mileycomeback, you know you’re feeling the regret on this one!

50 Cent states the obvious. During a radio interview, the rapper–or, “Vitamin Water investor”, whichever makes him more money–referred to Kanye West and Lady Gaga’s planned (but subsequently cancelled) Fame Kills Tour as “the gay tour”.  Really?  A tour featuring a gay fish and a muffin-bluffer is gay?  We had no idea.  Anyway, 50 later issued an extremely sincere apology in which he claimed to have “no issue with Lady Gaga. She makes great music.”  Um, no Mr. Cent, she does not make “great music”.  She makes mind-numblingly catchy music and never wears pants.  And dresses like this.  But hey, those are some of the very reasons she’s my number one role model in life besides Amy Winehouse and Lily Allen.  Speaking of which…

Lily Allen dresses up as, ahem, a pink triangle. ?!?!?! I guess we’ll all just have to draw our own conclusions on this one.

Michelle Obama’s hips don’t lie. The first lady hit the White House lawn to try to inspire the fat children of our nation to move something other than their texting thumbs.  Apparently a bunch of lucky kids “got to skip rope, jump in a moon bounce and to hula hoop it up with the first lady. (Mrs. Obama is no slouch in the hula hoop department. On Wednesday, she powered through 142 swivels before her hula hoop hit the ground.)”  UH!  142 swivels!  How did these ungrateful brats get the invite?  Why not ME?!

“Gossip Girl” has been pretty gay lately. Chuck kissed a boy, and I sort of liked it, but I would strongly prefer that any future gay kisses take place between gal pals Serena and Blair (three words: Let. It. Happen!).  Unfortunately, however, I get the sinking feeling that the only hot lesbian action we’ll be seeing anytime soon is Dan “processing” his feelings with Vanessa, Rufus, or any other poor soul who gets within five feet of him.  (P.S. Alex, I really need you to get back to processing GG eps in your blog!)

…But “Glee” is still the best show on television. So if you still aren’t watching it, shame on you.  (And if I’m still not writing Glee-caps, shame on me.  Sigh.)  High School Musical 3 – cheesiness + Jane Lynch = EXCELLENCE IN PRIMETIME TELEVISION.  (See also: Entering Gleek-dom.)  Busy on Wednesday nights between 9 and 10 PM?  (You’re not.)  No problem–you can catch episodes on Hulu any time.  And for the true Gleeks out there, Sue Sylvester is on Twitter telling you why she’s a winner and you’re not (“@S_SylvesterGLEE: Contracted a wicked case of H1N1. You know how I’m going to fight it? Willpower.”).  Rachel and Kurt Glee-tweet as well.  (Thanks Brendan.)

That’s all for now, kiddos.  Leave me some love (read: criticism for not posting more often) in the comments.  Good night, and a regretful tomorrow.

Hm this cast looks familiar...

Oh dear lord.  Not since the announcement of “The L Word” Season Six’s “murder-mystery” theme have I felt such a heavy sense of lesbian dread.  Apparently Showtime, not satisfied with the irreversible damage Ilene Chaiken has already inflicted on our lives through the directing of television shows, is gleefully providing her with an whole new outlet for her sadistic tendencies (special thanks to Ah, Regret reader Heather for the tip):

[Showtime] has greenlit nine episodes of “The Real L Word: Los Angeles,” from “L Word” creator Ilene Chaiken [...]

[The show] will follow six lesbians in Los Angeles as they go about their lives — a lesbian answer to Bravo’s ”Real Housewives” franchise.  [Variety]

Wow.  There is SO much that is wrong with that.  Sooo so much.  Shall we begin?

First thing’s first.  It’s ILENE.  Remember her?  You know, the woman responsible for things like Shenny (still, just… ew), Season Six in general, and oh I don’t know–Dana’s death?  No?  You had successfully repressed all of that and moved on with your life?  Well I’m sorry to trigger an emotional relapse here, but hey–in this blog, if we go down, we go down together.  (Alex, I know what you’re thinking, and that is not what I meant!  But I like the way you think.)

Next order of business: I find it mildly horrifying to read the words “lesbian” and “reality show” in the same sentence.  Just think–if a show about attractive lesbians and their fictionalized drama drove us, on a weekly basis, to the brink of insanity, I can’t imagine how we would ever be able to cope with the real thing.  (Well OK, not completely “real”–it’s a reality show for god’s sake; it’s going to be at least somewhat scripted.  Even so, I expect that it will still have a higher degree of real-ness than, say, all of Kit’s dialogue in Season Six, for example.)

I mean, I’ll admit it: despite my incessant whining, “The L Word” was at times sexy, entertaining–even fun.  (I don’t know “When?”, exactly–maybe Season Two?  Just go with it, OK?!)  But real dyke drama is rarely any of those things.  In fact, it is probably more accurately described as “headache-inducing”–which could explain why, when I first learned of Showtime’s plans for “The Real L World: Los Angeles”, I promptly suffered a migraine.  (Oh don’t worry, I have plenty of experience dealing with these from the final season of “The L Word”.  I just need to go lie down for half an hour and I’ll be fine.)

(OK, I’m back.)  With regards to casting for this show, one can only imagine the well-worn “types” that are bound to be selected: the pretty one who could pass for a straight girl, the fiery latina, the butch one, the futch one, the old (but not too old) one, the tattooed singer/songwriter… something along those lines.  And I’m sure this calculated mixture of diversity will yield appropriately melodramatic results (although one could argue that if you put any six lesbians in a house together, even if they’re relatively similar by reality-show standards, melodrama is still absolutely guaranteed to occur).

However, based on my own life, I would recommend that if the “Real L Word” producers really want hilarity to ensue, they should consider this list instead:

• The fast-talking Asian
• The old-school dyke with stories to tell
• The (charmingly) surly lump
• The hard-drinking rugby player
• The straight-girl-seducer
• The lezbro*

*Not technically a lesbian, but would definitely aid and abet dyke drama.

In fact, I could provide Showtime with a list of specific names of people that they should fly out here for “The Real L Word: Seattle”.  They could rent us a luxury house on the sound, stock the cabinets with tequila, and let the cameras roll.  And when it got rainy, the Seasonal Affective Disorder would kick in in for added moodiness!  Only one tiny little contract stipulation: NO ILENE!

Think Jane Lynch would want to dabble in directing?

Where to begin?  Well, to paraphrase Eric B & Rakim (seems like a good starting point!), It’s been a long time, I shouldn’t have left you / without a new blog to step to.

What?  Sometimes it’s just easier to say things in a song, OK?!  Anyway.  First of all, I have what I believe to be an excellent excuse for not having written in so long: I moved!  (That is, we–as in Erin [is easily outraged] and I–moved.)  That’s right, we said goodbye to Sunny Boulder and hello to Rain City–Seattle, here we are!  (Cue the sound of a thousand unicorns stampeding northwestward.)

Moving is hard, you guys.  Not to mention TIME-CONSUMING!  As in, how am I supposed to blog when THERE’S NEVER ANY TIME!  But more on that later.  For now I’ll just say that I’m sure many of you readers were pleased that our moving / road trip adventure offered you the opportunity to pester me IN PERSON (as opposed to the usual emails, gchats, text messages, etc. etc.) to, for the LOVE OF GOD, BLOG MORE !!!!!!!!!!  And I just want to let you guys know that your feedback is always (read: only when accompanied by you buying me a drink) appreciated.  Thanks, The Management.

Anyway, having been on the road like Kerouac (hm, note to self: write novel; become voice of generation), I am wayyyy behind on the internetz.  So please, dear internet-obsessed readers, leave a comment updating me on the crucial things I’ve missed over the past few weeks.  And by “things” I mean any news or gossip regarding Lindsay Lohan, Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus, former “L Word” cast members, or any other celebrities with whom I am unreasonably obsessed and like to pretend I know personally.  Or anything else gay or hilarious that happened recently.  (Remember, kids:  You do the work so I don’t have to!)

Now, perhaps at this point some of you readers are finding that your initial blinding euphoria over a new surlylump post has given way to a feeling of puzzlement.  (A roller coaster of emotion–what else would you expect from me?)  It’s about the title of this post… what does it mean?  Well, it’s actually a clever allusion to Julie & Julia, which just so happens to be the film that inspired me to finally get back to my long-lost little blog.  (I should note that Erin took me to see the movie, so you really have her to thank/blame for this post.)

Most of you guys are familiar with this movie by now, even if you haven’t seen it yet (which you should!).  You read the New Yorker, you read the Times… you know everyone is all up in arms about Nora Ephron and Julia Child and the Food Network and the foodie revolution and what does it all mean!

But these people are missing the point.  What they don’t realize–and what I didn’t realize until I saw the film for myself–is that Julie & Julia is not a movie about Julia Child.  It’s not even a movie about food.  Julie & Julia is a movie about BLOGGING.  (And butter.  But mostly blogging!)  Wait–what?  Blogging?  Even though I had read reviews of the movie beforehand, I still was not prepared for this thing to be about blogging–which is probably why I was so surprised when it ended up really striking a chord.

On a side note, I must say that it was odd, yet soooo meta (just like everything else in my life, ever since I first took a cursor to an Edit Blog Post screen) to see a movie about blogging.  Naturally, I will now blog about a movie about blogging.  (And then my computer will barf rainbows and lolcats and Lindsay Lohan’s Twitter page all over the place and then Blue-Screen-of-Death because it JUST. CAN’T. TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!!!1!1!!1!!111!!!!  You see, machines have feelings, too.  Well mine do, anyway.)

To summarize, the film intertwines the lives of Julia Child, the beloved chef and television personality, and Julie Powell, a blogger who chronicled her attempts to cook all 563 of the recipes in Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  (Powell’s blog is still online–it’s definitely bizarre to read it on my computer screen after having seen it on the big screen.)

My favorite part of this film was, hands down, Julia Child’s voice (or Meryl Streep’s portrayal of it, at least).  Discordant yet charming; hilarious yet dignified.  The following promotional clip for a PBS special presents a montage of Julia Child clips for your enjoyment:

And my second-favorite part was… JANE f-ing LYNCH!  Wischnia!  Um, why did no one TELL me that she has a role (albeit minor) in this movie!  She plays Dorothy McWilliams, Julia’s younger sister with whom she shares both a tall, gangly appearance and a tendency to emit high-pitched, warbly howls when excited.  This makes their scenes together–especially the one in which the two joyfully reunite in Paris after a long separation–a true delight.  And that’s not just because I’ve never met a Lynch  movie (or television) role I didn’t like!  (Although this is certainly true.)

Quite possibly the greatest actress of our time.

Anyway, as shown in the film, Powell’s blog attracted so much attention that she ended up getting interviewed in the Times Food section, which led to calls from agents and publishers, which lead to a book deal, which led to Ephron writing the screenplay for this film based on Powell’s book and Child’s memoirs.  (All this from a blog with no theme, no embedded videos, no Twitter widget–nothing!  Can you imagine?  Just text.  Sometimes I have to wonder why I even bother! *sigh*)

So what did I take away from Julie & Julia?  Well, basically I realized that yeah, my blog is great, but it’s clearly in need of some sort of… gimmick.  Something to magically catch the attention of a New York Times journalist, thus setting off a series of events that will finally make all the misshapen, beer-soaked, crappy-office-job-holding pieces of my decidedly unimpressive life fall into place (just in time for the big 3-0, or in my case, the big 2-5–I still have two months left!), the completed puzzle forming a beautiful glamour shot of me–the same one displayed on the dust jacket of my new BOOK–because I have metamorphosed from the caterpillar, Failure, to the butterfly, Author, and Ellen Page or someone is portraying me (Jane Lynch could play Campbell!) in an f-ing MOVIE about MY LIFE which = MY BLOG.

So… ideas?

Let’s see.  Going along with my blog title, I could do one regretful thing each day and then post about it.  Oh wait–that’s basically what I do now, except much more posting.  And I certainly haven’t gotten any Times interviews yet (maybe because they don’t have a Regret section?  Wow, I could totally spearhead that.  Times, email me!  I know you read this.), so I’ll just go ahead and cross that one off the list.

Based on the success of my gake post (not to mention Powell’s cooking-related blog), I could chronicle my attempt to make every rainbow baked good possible.  Cookies, doughnuts, muffins… everything!  Ah, I’m getting a headache just thinking about this–and I don’t know if it’s from the dizzying colors, or from the amount of sugar I’d surely consume while preparing said rainbow foods.  Plus you know I’d eat all of the finished products and get fat, and then I’d look like a fat surly cow in my dust jacket picture and Ellen Page would have to put on 30 pounds for the role or wear a fat suit or something.  Ugh!  Scratch that one.

Again, when the going gets tough (read: coming up with ideas is exhausting), I turn to my beloved readers.  Anyone got a good blog gimmick for me?  If it works out, who knows–maybe Jane Lynch will be playing YOU in my movie.  Comment away.  In the mean time, I think I’ll go eat a cake–all this food talk is making me hungry.

Moo!  I mean, bon appetit!

Because it produces exchanges like this one.  Which blow my unhealthily-L.Ron-obsessed mind.

@TheEllenShow: On today’s show, Lindsay Lohan tells me the truth about her breakup with Samantha Ronson. http://bit.ly/yjnqG

@samantharonson: @TheEllenShow oooooh- oooooh- i wanna know!

@sevinnyne6126: @TheEllenShow tell me all the deets!

LOL!!!!!!!!

And to think that when Twitter first got popular I asked myself, “Why do I even need this thing?”  The horror!

'I love lesbians, but in the least d-bag way possible.'

This past weekend Denver was hosting some sort of rainbow-lovers’ festival.  And I <3 rainbows!!!!!  So I rounded up fellow ROYGBIV-ers Camby and Erin, and we hopped onto our unicorn and rode into the city to see what all the fuss was about.

We may be proud, but sadly our beer is still forced into hiding.

He blew those bubbles right onto a big fat bear, who was not amused.

CupGAYkes!

Taste the rainbow.

Mmm... feelings

Campbell: 'If I were gay, I'd work out a lot more.'

Erin is already veiny enough to be a gay male dancer.

Um... I think this one is for straight girls.

Words to live by.

I want my patio to look like this.

I think you have too many shades. SHUT UP.

Erin really wanted this tank top.

Wait... what ?!?!

So here’s a somewhat disappointing follow-up to my previous post.  It would seem that the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck (BGICT)–the news of which whipped up a coneful of internet frenzy (with rainbow sprinkles on top) and inspired my new Big Gay Career Plan (BGCP)–is more elusive than a unicorn.  And I don’t mean a unicorn in this blog (where you can see one in every paragraph if you look hard enough)–I mean a unicorn in the wild.

I recently received some BGICT-watch updates from East Coast correspondents Shelley (PA-based) and Campbell (Boulder-based, but who just returned from on an epic food/drink pilgrimage to the mother state [NJ]).  Last Sunday, these two epicurious adventurers met up in NYC for a casual outing (pun intended), which means they found themselves smack in the middle of the BGICT’s gay-borhood.  So when it came time for dessert, Shelley reports, there was only one logical option.

Prior to this trip, Campbell and I had discussed adventuring forth into the city in search of the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck. Mainly, for our surly and lump-like friend Val, whose aspiration currently includes selling some food-based product out of a traveling, converted Uhaul (Help her make it happen Brendan!). The plan was to photo-document the occasion, and possibly film a short interview with the BGICT driver.

Now that would have been more deliciously educational than alphabet soup.  But you know what they say about the best gay(ed) plans…

[...] The only problem was, the BGICT never showed. Scared away by the rain, I suspect. Campbell did, however, ask a passing stranger if she knew where the BGICT was, but she only responded with a quizzical look and directions to the location of a regular ice truck.

No, no, no. You see…we wanted the big gay one.

[...] The only problem was, the BGICT never showed. Scared away by the rain, I suspect. Campbell did, however, ask a passing stranger if she knew where the BGICT was, but she only responded with a quizzical look and directions to the location of a regular ice truck.

No, no, no. You see…we wanted the big gay one.

And while that does sound a bit dirty, I completely agree with Shelley’s sentiment.

<EDIT> Before venturing back to B-city, Campbell couldn’t help but search for gay dessert glory one last time.  The following is the text message conversation which ensued:

Campbell:  The BGICT does not want to be found!
Me:  It must be at the end of the rainbow :-/
Campbell:  I need gaydar
Campbell:  He wasn’t “out” today

Speaking of priceless sexual innuendo… While so far none of us has had any success actually finding the Big Gay One (BGO), our friend Wix (what’s the female equivalent of a lezbro?  A lez-sis?) managed to get a little taste, courtesy of Twitter.

@amelish: today’s twitter double entendre RT @biggayicecream: “secret soft-serve” tonight: I’ll be out at Midnight in the East Village for a quickie.

@biggayicecream: I guess @amelish is right, but my double entendre was unintentional. Ha! We’ll be slinging cones fast-n-furious for one hour or so.

A tweet from the Big Gay Ice Cream Man (BGICM) himself!  Certainly not as satisfying as an actual Big Gay Ice Cream Cone (BGICC), I’d imagine, but a treat nonetheless.

Anyway, the Search for the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck (SFTBGICT) continues.  As does my gross Acronym Over-Usage (AOU), for which I remain unapologetic.  (You can thank Campbell for that:  If Shelley = OMF, then Campbell = OAOU.  OMG.  STFU.)

Let me just start out by saying that all credit for today’s post goes to Virb.  (She thinks of the topic so I don’t have to.  The rest of you readers, take note.)  My parents certainly owe Virb a debt of gratitude, because ever since I blogged about the colors of my (amazing technicolor) parachute, she has dedicated herself to the thankless task of discovering the perfect career choice for yours lumpily.  (I would try to think of ideas myself, but I just really don’t have the time.  I’ve been busy with… stuff.  cough.  smushmrinking.*)

As you may recall from the aforementioned post, for me the real question isn’t, “What color is your parachute?” (duh–rainbow.); it’s “What careers can someone with a gay parachute like yours successfully pursue (read: tolerate)?”  You may also recall that I did come up with a few promising leads, but, frustratingly, each of these–like all of the other career ideas ever postulated by me or anyone else–is ultimately going to end up getting thrown out for one reason or another (i.e. would require me to obtain a graduate degree, and/or work with people, and/or get up early, and/or put forth a great deal of effort…).

So you can see how, when it comes to figuring out a way to attain financial stability in a manner deemed socially acceptable for a college graduate with a middle-class socioeconomic background (*YAWN*–my memoirs should be riveting), Virb could very well be my only hope.  No pressure or anything!

So let’s take a look at what Virb has come up with so far.  First suggestion: Tweeting about wine for a Sonoma County winery.  Virb: “Twittering and alcohol? Sounds like a job for you, Val!”  Well, I can’t say her reasoning one this one isn’t sound.  If there are two things I love–and am (or at least was, in college) darn good at–they are typing little thingamajigs on the internetz and consuming alcohol.  Quite often at the same time!  (Coming soon: blogsfromlastnight.com)

The one teensy, tiny little negative I can see here is that I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, qualified to write about wine.  Case in point:

• “An earthy Pinot Noir–nice acidity, soft mouthfeel, cherry notes. Paired with duck breast and shaved black truffles = a terrific dinner.” (What an oenophile might tweet about wine.)

• “A Saturday morning–purple-stained teeth and shirt, dry mouthfeel, heavy sense of regret. Paired with a throbbing headache = a TERRIFIC day.”  (What I might tweet about wine.)

So yeah, maybe that wasn’t the job for me after all.  But the other day Virb came up with one that–and I think you guys are going to agree with me here–is a surefire winner: Big Gay Ice Cream Truck driver.

The dream.

Now, I know what you’re thinking–Virb, having already given up all hope, has resigned herself to fabricating hilarious rainbow-themed “jobs” for me for her own amusement.  Well, I’ve got news for you: this profession is (as of last week!) more real than unicorns (which, as this blog has has proven time and again, are 100% real).  And if you don’t believe me–and are currently based in the NYC area–you can go taste the rainbow for yourself!  (And I’ll continue to eat my hetero ice cream out here in the mountains, not the least bit jealous.)

The genius behind this big gay concept is Doug Quint, a “New York-based bassoonist who just finished coursework for his musical arts doctorate at CUNY”.  (One can only hope that his ice cream truck will be blaring soothing bassoon versions of the traditional jingles.)

There are a few noticeable differences between him and Mister Softee. For starters, his concern for Proposition 8 in California, but also his topping selection. The BGICT will offer olive oil and sea salt, Nutella, bacon [!!!], and any suggestions from his clientele, who will earn freebies when they sport his apparel (the tank top is called the “husband beater”).

And what was Mr. Quint’s inspiration for the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck?  Well… ice cream trucks.

“Let’s face it, ice cream trucks are kind of queer, and a middle-aged white man driving one is pretty suspect,” Quint said.

He definitely has a point.  However, I’m beginning to get the sense that what we’re dealing with here is the Big Gay Man Ice Cream Truck, and–judging from the sheer length of the “L Word” recaps** in this blog–I think I would be distinctly under-qualified to take the wheel in such a vehicle.  But although I strongly prefer to give up when the going gets tough, I’m not going to let this career option slip away just yet.  Dear readers, how do we like the sound of the… (drum roll)…

Big Lesbian Ice Cream Truck (BLICT or LBD for short) ?

• Tagline: “Better than sex–not that you’re having it!”
• Driver uniform: flannel shirt, cargo shorts, Crocs.  (Mullet optional–might scare small children.)
• Toppings include rainbow sprinkles, Doritos, entire ice cream cake, tuna fish.
• Complimentary tissues for customers eating their feelings.

Now all I need is a financial backer (*cough* Brendan) for start-up costs (i.e. truck, flannel shirts with embroidered logo, etc.).  Soon enough, scores of cranky old lesbians will be running out into the streets Boulder, shrieking with girlish delight for their Dorito-topped sex–er I mean, ice cream.  (Hope that didn’t ruin your appetite.)

<<CRUCIAL EDIT>>: In the winter, the BLICT would convert to a fish taco truck.  Mmm, year-round lesbian treats!

*[Hint.]

**Warning: DO NOT ATTEMPT TO READ.

*Because she just is.  Trust us.