Amuse Biatch Heterosexual (?) Monday: Eartha Kitt Was an Awfully Good Girl, RIP

Possums, Charlus is understandably in seclusion and it was fitting for me to pay tribute to my namesake, Our Lady of the XaXa Heels, the ever fashionably "late," Ms.Eartha.Fucking.Kitt. Long may she reign in a sable lined Heaven...

Josie Smith-Malave Has a XaXa Lesson

Miss XaXa Marks Her Man

A special thanks from Miss XaXa to Mark (pictured above with Ted Allen) for his chivalry and solicitude at the GenderPAC cook-off. Like many another blossom of the South created in the hothouse imagination of gay men, Miss XaXa has been known to depend on the kindness of strangers. Mark proved very kind indeed, squiring Miss XaXa around the reception and serving as her paparazzo. Smooches, Mark!

The Lisa Effect: Miss XaXa Turns the Other Cheek

Oh possums, and here she thought she was just going to be called fat.

Yes, indeedy, possums, Miss XaXa has discovered that she has a fan:

Dear Miss Xa Xa [sic],

I think that you should stay away from the Louboutins and save you [sic] money for an updated timepiece. You might also want to add a little color to your wardrobe and not shop the sale rack at White House Black Market for a while (black and white blouse-always v-neck-just [sic] a [sic] ever so slightly diffrent [sic] pattern). Oh darling, I almost forgot- how about updating the coiffer [sic]. Good luck- I hope to see some improvements soon. Chow! [sic]

Oh, possums, to be “read” by someone who appears functionally illiterate—the horror, the horror!

And where to start? First, a word about the “timepiece.” Miss XaXa celebrated her fortieth birthday in April, and ‘twas yours truly, possums, who in April sprang for that pricey little ‘piece as a suitable commemoration of the achievement. And now to be told, a mere two months later, that the time has run on the “timepiece”—the horror, the horror!

Of course, Miss XaXa was in hysterics—of the good kind, possums—at the realization that at least it’s a White House / Black Market employee doing the dissing. “D’you think I could use her employee discount?” she asked in between hiccups and sobs. You see, it was the very fact that she hadn’t got her outfit on sale that was most galling to the ‘Xa. The ‘ Xa is an equal-opportunity shopper and loves herself a bargain, and so the idea that just two weeks ago she paid full price at White House / Black Market for the dress is the worst insult of all. “D’you think I could get the difference back? I’d take a gift card.”

(And here we thought that “White House Black Market” had something to do with yellowcake uranium and 16 words; oh well, “diffrent” strokes for “diffrent” folks.)

One thing does puzzle us, though. What on earth is a “coiffer”? Is that like a fluffer? If so, we must get ourselves one immediately.

Oh, and while we’re at it, we should mention that the photos accompanying this post should also be considered responses to the possum who asked for XaXa cleavage and to the possum who worried that, since she never sees the dark side of the moon (i.e., Miss XaXa’s right side), Miss XaXa might be starring in her own version of the Joan Crawford weepie, A Woman’s Face. Think of it as Amuse-Biatch turning the other cheek, just for once.

UPDATE: Michelle Obama defends Miss XaXa. Watch at the 12:40 mark as Mrs. Obama confesses to getting her dress, fittingly (and fittedly) enough, from White House / Black Market.

Amuse-Biatch Photoessay: There's a First Time for Everything*

*by which we mean, possums, not just that Stephanie Izard is the first female Top Chef, but, rather, that for the first time in memory, while taking a photo with a cheftestant, Miss XaXa did not show cleavage. (And sorry, Google pervs, Stephanie didn't show any cleavage either.)

At the reception in her honor, held a few hours ago at Chicago's Le Passage, Stephanie Izard proved as charming, earthy, and unaffected in person as she appeared onscreen. Rather than manifest abject terror when faced with one half of Amuse-Biatch, Stephanie got into the swing of things and had a good dish with the 'Xa. (Mind you, the 'Xa had been rendered perfectly harmless by two (or three?) of the Stephanie-created rhubarb bellinis.)