Flip back a few pages to the movie listings and find the ad for the new Mafia flick The Crew. In it you will notice Burt Reynolds, Richard Dreyfuss, and some old coot you've never seen before. That's Seymour Cassel. Seymour and I are acquainted from the days when he was co-starring with Karen Sillas (blond, thirty-ish, kinda dykey--no one you would have heard of either) in a CBS detective series being filmed in Portland called Under Suspicion. The show went tits up after one season and can only be seen now in syndication on TNT (of course). I used to go slumming with the cast and crew, and let me say, if old Seymour isn't world-renowned for his acting, there's one thing he is known for--his lechery. Rumor has it that randy old Seymour used to get drunker than a poet on payday, bang on the door of his female co-stars, and drunkenly try to get THEM to go tits up. One lady finally got so fed up with the boozy old coot that she relocated her digs and forbade anyone to tell him where she was. While watching The Crew, I cracked myself up wondering if old Seymour got in his cups and tried to get on top of Richard Dreyfuss while filming. I was the only person in the theater laughing.

I also stumbled across actress Fairuza Balk eating a sandwich at Three Sisters in Pike Place Market. You know who Fairuza is--she's the creepy-but-still-sexy-in-a-really-fucked-up-devil-worship-kind-of-way chick who starred in The Craft (now playing every hour on the hour somewhere on cable) and The Water Boy. My sources say that Fairuza is in Seattle shooting her next project. But rumor has it that projects aren't the only things Fairuza likes to shoot. I once met an adorable little scamp with a buzz cut and a Southern drawl named Cooley who claimed he and Fairuza were an item. He riveted me with tales of Fairuza's wicked shenanigans--like the time he says he and the little witch were thrown out of an upscale Atlanta hotel after tossing back a few, getting rowdy, and aiming a firearm out the window at horrified passersby. All things considered, it is understandable that I did not say hello when I saw her. But from where I was standing, her sandwich looked like turkey and her male companion looked nothing like Cooley.

I think Susan Powter is just going to leave her fat-free fanny parked in the closet until someone catches her messing around with George Michael in a public men's room. (Or something like that.) I've met Susan up close and personal, and, in this fruitcake's opinion, a dykier dyke never dyked. So I can't help but raise my eyebrows in wonder about Susan's relationship with Insurance Commissioner/would-be Senatrix Deborah Senn. Guilt by association may be terribly unfair, and I am not saying Debby is a bona fide carpet muncher, but those two birds of a feather have been flocking together quite often lately. They have been spotted together on the street, carousing at the EMP (with fellow possible lesbo Annie Lennox), and teaming up for Deb's "sunset cruise" fundraiser on August 14. And considering Debby's haircut....

I am watching you. Try to be interesting. Send gossip to adrian@thestranger.com.