I’ve neither seen nor mentioned that wretched gay cowboy movie in any way (you’ve maybe noticed), and I harbor no notions of really doing so, ever. Everyone has their smitten brownnoses crammed squarely up that damn movie’s saddle-sore and spit-lubed cramhole, and it hardly behooves me to join the tittering queue. I’m sure you understand.

Fucking gay cowboys.

Elsewhile: Somebody spotted my good friend (and consummate “butt buddy”) Trey Parker lingering amid the copious faggotry and general karaoke glory of the gay, gay Crescent Tavern recently. I forget whom exactly. (And frankly, it’s beside the point.) No gay cowboys were immediately available for comment.

Next: “I've never seen so many tacky fur coats… on men and women,” reports my super-secret on-the-scene spy covering the fuckfest of glamour that is Sundance. “The highlight of the night was pushing past Paul Rudd to get into a magazine party… there was John Waters sitting with a crazy looking old lady. I immediately thought of you.” Although its puzzling whether Mr. Waters or the crazy lady evoked memories of me in the heart of my secret Sundance spy, I’d still like to express to him (or her!) my most heartfelt fuck you. Also, there were no gay cowboys. So.

“Adrian, Russell Crowe is allegedly ‘performing’ with his ‘band’ down the street from my apartment. My friend saw him. He was on his mobile and she quickly fled the scene. Smart girl. See what we have to put up with in Sydney?”—Nora

“Dear Nora, Sydney? Australia? Indeed. I deserve more fucking money. And Paris Hilton is being sued for allegedly taking a big blond pee all over the backseat of some cab. How fucking hot is that? OY?”—Adrian

Elsewhile: It has recently been discovered that one of the Baldwins is suddenly a porn-hating born-again Christian. I’m not sure which one. Fuck him anyway.

And finally: It seems that a local ball-sporting team of some sort will be competing in an allegedly gargantuan event called the Super Ball or what have you, which I’m sure even haters of the football can enjoy, since super balls are so bouncy, and also because I will be featured in a remarkably entertaining 30-second commercial set to run during the big and bally event (hawking Washington Credit Unions no less!) that was just filmed in Seattle by brilliant John Polnik and Bret Nielsen of Fueled Creative. The commercial will be seen by four million people, and if you’re not one of them, I’ll cut you. No joke.

Go, Shehunks!

Experience! The making of a glamorous Super Bowl or whatever commercial at www.adrianryan.com!