Josh & Josh are Rich and Famous

Josh & Josh Weekend: The Met, Damien Hirst's Shark, Central Park, Deborah Cox, and Casey Affleck in Gone Baby Gone

On Saturday morning, after a street-side brunch in Hell's Kitchen (it was in the mid-70s and muggy--paging Al Gore), we headed uptown to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Our first stop was the rooftop of the Met where several sculptures sit amongst one of the best views of Manhattan.

The view looking south-southwest from the top of the Met.

Looking south from the roof gallery.

Josh H. and Josh K. sporting their blue Met gallery tags.

After lazing around the roof for a while (it was so quiet and peaceful above the fray of the city), we headed down into the galleries and did some browsing.

One of the highlights of the visit was seeing Damien Hirst's "The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living," colloquially known as Damien Hirst's shark. The 14-foot tiger shark, immersed in formaldehyde, sits in a gallery of its own on the second floor of the museum as part of a visiting exhibit. I surreptitiously shot this photo (note my fingers reflected in the glass) as we made our way through the gallery. Naughty, naughty! (Who, me?) I did it for the art, people. It's not every day that you get to stare into the mouth of a shark.

After our visit to the museum we sauntered down Fifth Avenue (Josh K. bought a painting on the street from a talented artist), and then meandered through Central Park. It was hard to believe it was the third week of October as we walked through the still-green park, filled with families and couples enjoying the summer-like afternoon. Maybe this is the upside of global warming? At least it's fun for the moment.

Later that night Dylan and I went to one of his friend's birthday parties, held on Chrystie Street on the Lower East Side, in a rented-out club. The birthday man, a kind and generous self-made kazillionaire, hired Deborah Cox to entertain the 150 party-goers for the evening.

Before dinner Deborah sang songs from her new jazz CD, Destination Moon, on which she covers the songs of Dinah Washington. Deborah has some serious pipes, and it was fun seeing her do her thing up close and personal.

Besides sounding great, the woman also looked great. She's popped out two children, people.

After dinner Deborah did another set, this time in jeans, performing some of her big-hit club anthems. At one point she came off the stage and the fella above couldn't help busting out a few moves. (Seriously, how many gallons of sweat have the gays poured out over the years on dance floors to Deborah's "Nobody's Supposed to Be Here," "Things Just Stay The Same" and "It's Over Now"?)

On Sunday Josh and I went to an early showing of first-time director Ben Affleck's new movie, Gone Baby Gone. Starring his kid brother, Casey, who made quite a splash in the recent Assassination of Jesse James, he turned in another great, subtle, winning performance.

Casey's character, Patrick Kenzie, is a small-time private detective hired to investigate the kidnapping of a young girl on Boston's rough South Side. A maze of corruption, scandal, and twists follows. It was well acted and directed, but it was also definitely on the grim, dark, slightly-depressing ride.

After the movie we headed to Cafe Utopia, a diner with great burgers on 72nd and Amsterdam, before heading southward to do a little shopping and browsing. We did a few turns around a giant Pottery Barn, fantasizing about someday having apartments of our own in the city. (Just as soon as we start our jobs with $100,000 salaries it may even become a possibility. Score!)

We hit up Banana Republic, where I snapped up a few sweaters for work (but will it get cold enough this October to wear them?) before grabbing drinks at Starbucks and settling in at a mini park near Columbus Circle to rest and chat. Afterward we made our way down Ninth Avenue, kissed each other on the cheek at our "goodbye corner" and headed home after our Sunday in the city.

Once Upon a Hell's Kitchen: Barrett Foa, Hunter Bell, Josh & Josh, and Tyrone

Josh H., Hunter Bell, Barrett Foa, and Josh K. in Hell's Kitchen, October 16, 2007.

Last night Josh K. and I went to dinner with Tyrone, an old friend of ours in town from Minneapolis for a few days. Josh K. met Tyrone early on in college and I met Tyrone years earlier in high school, first in a gym class (weight lifting, of  all things), and later became close while in the theater department (yep, more like it).

The three of us ventured out on Ninth Avenue and settled in at a favorite eatery in Hell's Kitchen for a night of carbolicious food and good conversation.

Afterward we stepped out on the sidewalk and decided a picture was in order to commemorate the evening. Deciding that a reach-and-shoot photo might be a little awkward with three people, we accosted two cute guys standing in front of the restaurant who were scanning the menu.

"Hey, um, would you mind taking a picture of us?" Josh K. asked.

"No problem," one of the guys said, taking the camera.

We were really geeked when, a few moments later, we realized one of the guys was Broadway star Barrett Foa (Avenue Q, Putnam County Spelling Bee). When Josh and I then introduced ourselves Barrett's friend, Hunter, his face lit up with recognition.

"Wait, are you guys . . . are you Josh and Josh?"

Then, as things are wont to do in New York, the world got smaller. It turned out that Hunter was Hunter Bell, the writer and star of the fantastic Off-Broadway musical [Title of Show], a man who's tight with Michael Berresse, a Broadway star we interviewed for the blog. Then, of course, it turned out that one of Josh K.'s friends knows someone close to Barrett on one of New York's gay hockey teams. (Everyone together now: "It's a small world after all . . . ")

It was a great little night, not only because we got to connect with an old friend and chow down some awesome Italian food, but also because we had one of those random moments where a Broadway star and a talented writer end up taking your picture and perfect strangers turn out to be not so perfectly strange after all.

The Jokes, They Write Themselves

Before the irreverent-but-brilliant "Jesus is my homeboy" t-shirt, there was CatholicShopper.com's collection of cute little resin statues of Jesus playing little league baseball, soccer, and football. 

But those were simpler times.

Now, an illegitimate president rules the world, Doogie Hawser is gay, and Britney's vuh-gine regulary makes headline news. My first-and-only girlfriend Brooke sent me this picture from a gym she recently visited in Brookings, South Dakota that shows that Jesus has changed a bit, too: he got a gym membership. What's he benchpress these days? Oh, you know, just the sin of the world.

//Josh K.

Home Sweet Home (For Now)

It started in May, back when I was technically living in Washington Heights. I say "technically" because I had keys to the apartment, and a fully realized bedroom, but I spent only a couple of nights a month there. The rest of the time I was at my boyfriend's apartment in Hell's Kitchen.

"Why don't you just move in for a month or two while you find your new place?" Dylan asked. "We're practically living together already."

It was a generous offer. Also, it was true: We were practically living with each other. Thus, when the one-year mark in the Heights arrived on June 1st, I packed my bags, threw them in the back of a van, and moved to Hell's Kitchen.

I spent the month of June, and most of July, doing the dance all non-broker-fee-paying New Yorkers know too well: the Craigslist mambo of death. I sent out dozens of e-mails to apartment listings and an unimpressive trickle of responses slunk into my inbox. Only one of those apartments seemed like a real possibility. The potential roommate, however, had a few red flags. (Insert prodigious coughing here.)

By that time, though, I'd been living with Dylan for almost two months. I felt bad about not finding a place--I certainly didn't want to overstay my welcome--and was ready to take this apartment.

"Please don't take that apartment," Dylan implored. "The guy is a one-man universe of drama just waiting to happen." (It was true.)

Then, just in time, a little miracle.

A friend of a friend, whom I met at a party, had two floors of a gorgeous townhouse in Jersey City. She and her friend had three bedrooms--three real bedrooms, not Manhattan-style bedrooms--and they were looking for a third roommate. She and I had hit it off months earlier and, after Josh K. and I took a field trip to Jersey City to see the place (the trip was much faster than going to the Heights, by the way), it was a no-brainer: I took it.

There was one small catch: The place was being renovated and wouldn't be available until September. After conferring with Dylan, though, he didn't see a problem with that. We'd already made it two months and been fine, so what was one more? Especially when the wait meant a fully renovated townhouse with a real bedroom and--drum roll, please!--all new appliances, including a washer and dryer.

As September approached, however, the renovations still weren't complete. The talk at first was that it'd be a few more weeks. Then, after a few more weeks, it was to be a few more weeks. Then, finally, the bad news: It could be November before they were done, and maybe even January 1.

The girls were very apologetic, even though none of it was their fault, and they hoped I'd still be able to live with them. I wanted to, but I wasn't sure where to go from there.

On the day that I learned it could be January 1st before I could move into the townhouse, a friend in Hell's Kitchen, whom I hadn't seen in months, sent out a mass e-mail. "My roommate is an actor and he's going on tour from October 15 through January 1. If you know of anybody who might be interested, I'd love to be saved from having to interview Craigslist crazies." I knew exactly how he felt. I hit "reply" immediately.

The best part? I only had to move two blocks. (Josh K. and Dylan are both five to ten minutes away by foot.) A little Manhattan housing fairy must have sprinkled some serious fairy dust to make all of this work out. Seriously, color me grateful.

It was weird clearing my stuff out of Dylan's apartment today. He's been away on business for a few days, so I've had plenty of time to get everything together. After I'd lugged my things down the street and into the new place, I tidied up Dylan's apartment, shut off all the lights, grabbed my keys and started to shut the door. I paused. After living there for more than four months it was odd to be leaving.

But, at the same time, it also felt good. It felt right. Dylan and I love each other, and we've definitely had some good fun over the last few months, but we're also clear that there's no need to rush something as momentous as permanently moving in with each other. Moving in has a way of changing a relationship, regardless of who the couple is or how amazing they may be, and I'm thinking that, right now, for us, there's no need to be making those kinds of big changes.

Tonight I opened the door to the new apartment, turned on the lights in my bedroom, and looked around. Damn if it didn't feel just a little bit like home. And, for the next ten weeks, it will be.

Josh & Josh Exclusive: On The Set of Sex and The City: The Movie (With Photos by Josh K!)

Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) runs after Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) on her way to confront Big (Chris Noth, far right near Town Car), armed with a bouquet of flowers. Photos by Josh K. taken just after 2 p.m. today.

Whoa! So, Josh K. and I just got back from the Sex and the City: The Movie set. They're filming outside The Bryant Park Hotel (40 W. 40th Street).

At one point we stood a few feet from Sarah Jessica Parker in full (crazy) wedding regalia, as well as Miranda and Charlotte in their (gorgeous, non-matching) bridesmaid dresses. (We also stood close to Mr. Big and Steve, who chatted amiably between takes.)

It seems that we may have been there for the climactic scene of the movie. Here's what happened.

A limousine starts cruising down West 40th, goes about fifteen feet, and then abruptly stops in the middle of the street. Carrie gets out of the right rear door, a huge bouquet of flowers in her hands, and starts running at a tux-clad Mr. Big, who has just stepped out of Town Car. Carrie starts beating Big with the bouquet, screaming, “I knew you would do it!” looking both angry and heartbroken.

Miranda and Charlotte bust out of the limo and come after Carrie, ushering her back to the limo. Miranda and Carrie make it into the vehicle before Charlotte turns around, her face contorting, and yells something at Big before getting into the limo, which speeds off another fifteen feet or so before “cut” is called.

We watched the whole thing three times.

Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) rushes to Carrie (SJP) as she beats Big with her bouquet. Photo by Josh K.

Charlotte (Kirsten Davis) and Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) comfort Carrie as she makes her way back to her limo.

Steve (David Eigenberg) and Big (Chris Noth) chat together between takes.

Charlotte (Kristin Davis) on the set between takes.

All photos by Josh K. for Josh & Josh Are Rich and Famous. If you wish to use them credit Josh & Josh and link to the permalink for this post.

Also, The Sex and the City Movie Blog has picked up our story and pictures.

Josh K.'s Birthday Week, Xanadu, Die Mommie Die, Michael Clayton, and National Coming Out Day, Oh My!

So it’s Josh K.’s birthday week and, as such, we decided to celebrate by going to a couple shows this week, topping it off with a birthday dinner in the Village this weekend.

Yesterday we headed over to the Helen Hayes Theater on West 44th Street to see our first show. We settled into our (great) seats and flipped through the Playbill. We were both a little skeptical (um, a musical based on a monumental cinematic flop?), but we were both game.

We were so wrong to be skeptical. Lord forgive us, we knew not what we did. We hadn’t known the pleasures of . . . Xanadu!

What Douglas Carter Beane (The Little Dog Laughed) and Jeff Lynne did is brilliant. They took a maligned box office disaster and played up all the jokes about it and spun it into Broadway gold, a truly delicious musical comedy. Honestly, this is the funniest musical we’ve ever seen on Broadway. (We saw Spelling Bee on Adult Night, which came close, but Xanadu still kinda won.) The audience giggled, guffawed, chortled, and plain old screamed laughter through the whole 90-minute non-stop show.

The plot is deliciously ridiculous: A Greek goddess appears in Venice Beach, California, in the 1980s to inspire a sidewalk chalk artist to greater things—like starting a roller disco in an abandoned building!—while the Greek goddess’s six sisters (two of whom are male) lurk and plot and schtick around on the sidelines. Oh, and most of the show is performed while on roller skates. Score! It's oh so wrong that it's oh so right. And, yes, there’s a dance number in a telephone booth and a Greek goddess riding a merry-go-round horse high in the air while belting a pop rock number.

And it’s all wonderful. Perfect. Hilarious. Great voices, fantastic deadpan humor, an Australian accent that will leave you incontinent, and great dance performances. There are even songs I want to download on iTunes from the show. How many musicals have you seen lately that you can say that about, right?

Kerry Butler as Kira, the Greek goddess, is amazing. (If Nicole Kidman and Sarah Michelle Gellar had a love child, it would be Kerry Butler.) She’s hilarious, she can sing, she’s gorgeous, and she plays the material perfectly.

Cheyenne Jackson, from the moment he got on stage, had us drooling. And then, of course, there’s the gorgeous voice and deadpan comedic delivery that go with the jaw-dropping gams, chiseled face, and big soap opera smile. (He wears daisy dukes and short shorts most of the show. If you weren’t reaching for Ticketmaster already, you should be now.)

Kira’s sister goddesses, including those played by Mary Testa and Jackie Hoffman, are really the cherries on top of a great show.

Basically, if we could go out on the town with any cast on Broadway, it would be the cast of Xanadu. (We eliminated Spring Awakening because they’re all, oh, five or six years younger than us, and if we wanted to play high school, we’d go out with the cast of The Hills. You know?)

We can’t say enough good stuff about the show. Josh and I were yelling out one-liners all the way down the street after we left the show. Ten minutes later, over slices of pizza, we were still laughing.

Xanadu. Seriously.

Tonight, continuing our JK Birthday Week Celebrations, we’re seeing Charles Busch’s Die Mommie Die at the New World Stages. We saw the hilarious film of the same name, starring Busch (natch!), and we can’t wait to see it all live. Long live Angela Arden!

The Movie To See This Weekend: Michael Clayton

So little needs to be said other than, “Go see this damn movie this weekend.”

Dylan and I saw the movie over the weekend and loved it. (Um, people, it’s George Clooney and Tilda Swinton. Hello!) George plays a law firm fixer who’s in a heap of trouble in his own life and then finds himself in more when he gets involved with a case involving a weed killer that’s killing people and weeds, a product and company defended by the amazing Ms. Swinton (Orlando, The Deep End).

It's smart, it's entertaining, it keeps you guessing and intrigued, and we actually get to know our well-drawn main characters and what makes them tick. It makes the final ten minutes of the movie—the ultimate booyah!—even more amazing.

Also (drum roll, please!) today is NATIONAL COMING OUT DAY!

Are you a big ol’ happy homo, an ever-so-lovely fruit fly (the positive form of “fag hag”, obvs), or a great big ally of the community?

If so, time to come out! Feel free to do so in the comments, y’all.

A New Anthem: Dame Shirley Bassey's Remake of "This Is My Life"

I can't get enough. A big fat Thank You to my man for introducing the song to me this weekend and for playing it at full volume, Shirley's powerful voice filling the car, while I attempted to sing along. Them's big shoes to fill.

Faggy? Sure. But just try to not do the same. I dare you.

This is MYYYYYYYY LIIIIIIIIFE!

Buy it, and the rest of her new album of remixes and remakes (which are fantastic), by clicking here:

//Josh K.

Stalking The Sex and the City: The Movie Shoot (Part Two)

Today on Gawker I saw that Sex and the City: The Movie trailers were showing up on 39th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues, so I headed over there on lunch break and, at 1:20 p.m., saw the streets jammed with the massive white Haddid trucks.

On Sixth Avenue, between 39th and 40th, I saw more of the trucks and stopped to ask a production assistant if it was Sex and the City and he confirmed that it was.

While passing by the trailers I noted that some of them were labeled with character names, including "Cab Driver" and "Stunt Cab Driver" and "Bryant Park Waitress."

Armed with the information that Bryant Park may be involved, I started snooping around the park, but found nothing. However, three giant light towers are outside the New York Public Library at Fifth Avenue and 41st Street, so I'm guessing they may be filming there later this afternoon. Either that or the library is doing major renovations or something.

--Josh H.

Josh Talk: What's Good About Betty, Bad About Grey's, Beloved About Chris Garneau, and What J&J Are Up To Now

Tonight Josh K. and I gathered at his apartment for back-to-back Ugly Betty and Grey's Anatomy episodes. Curled up with a pack of Oreos, popping them in our mouths as we watched, we were pleased again with another good Ugly Betty episode. Last week, the season premiere, was better (very funny, perfectly paced), but this episode was certainly good. The show knows just how to play its over-the-top comedy, with enough camp and heart to make it credible and beloved at the same time.

One show that's just plain old playing over the top, however, is Grey's Anatomy. They're taking themselves far too seriously over there at Seattle Grace right now, and after the shiteous season premiere last week (really, saving a cheap animatronic deer in a pickup in the parking lot, Izzy? seriously?), this week we picked up with more vomitous Izzy-George love crap and, of course, "shocking" medical drama that "just happens" to compliment the main characters' story lines.

Josh and I were head over heels with Grey's during its brilliant first season, and were still enamored during most of the second season. But then third season? When Izzy turned into a whiny bitch who delivered four-minute soliloquies on the meaning of life? And that three-episode ferry disaster? Don't even get us started.

That said, Josh and I are pleased to bestow the coveted New Television Season Character That Most Needs To Die A Quick Death and Never Return Award to . . .

Lexie Grey, the extraordinarily obnoxious long-forgotten half-sister of Dr. Meredith Grey, in a role that needs to go away stat. Take cues from the precocious little sister on Growing Pains that magically disappeared one season, or Celia's oldest daughter on Weeds who was in two episodes and was never heard from again. Lexie Grey needs to be just, oh, gone. Now. Next episode.

What keeps us tuning in for now? Why are we going to give the show another two or three chances this season? It's because we can't stop loving Dr. Christina Yang (the amazing and ever-talented Sandra Oh) and Dr. Miranda Bailey (Chandra Wilson). Hopefully they can get us through the drought.

Chris Garneau performing at Joe's Pub in NYC on September 28, 2007

Meanwhile, did you hear Chris Garneau's song on Grey's Anatomy tonight? During the scene in which George talks to Mrs. Burke about the joys and travails of marriage, Chris's song "Castle Time" is playing in the background. Love it!

On Friday night Josh and I went to see Chris perform live at Joe's Pub. The show was fantastic.

Chris was joined by a cellist and a percussionist and the added instrumentation to the songs from his first album added a new degree of richness and fullness to the material, which was already quite good. The audience was eating out of his hand the whole night.

He also played songs from his forthcoming album, due out in early 2008. Unfortunately he didn't play "We Don't Try," one of our favorite songs of his, but the show was so good that we forgave him quickly.

Afterward we said said a quick hello to Chris backstage at Joe's and introduced him to Dylan and our friend Louis. We're definitely looking forward to attending another CG show soon.

On Saturday Josh and I made our way to our old neighborhood on the Upper East Side and had dinner at our former regular brunch haunt, First Wok, on East 88th Street and Third Avenue. (It was practically directly downstairs from our first apartment, so in this case it really was all about location, location, location.)

Afterward we browsed our old Barnes & Noble before heading over to the Met to sit on the stairs and people watch. (Isn't it sad that now all I can see is Serena and Blair sitting at the top of those stairs on Gossip Girl? Lord save us.) Later we sprawled out on the lawn south of the sailboat pond in Central Park and saw designer extraordinaire Jonathan Adler walk by on our lazy afternoon.

On Sunday night we huddled up with the French film Avenue Montaigne, newly out on DVD, which ended up being the perfect light touch before the start of a new week. We went out for a late dinner afterward at our regular haunt in Hell's Kitchen, sitting and talking streetside long after our plates were cleared.

This weekend Josh K.'s boyfriend is whisking him away for a surprise weekend trip while I stay closer to home, preparing to move into a new apartment in Hell's Kitchen ten days from now. More on that next week.

Investigating the Sex and the City Movie Shoot (Spoiler Alert)

*UPDATED*

Page Six and the blogs (Gawker, Perez, etc.) reported today that Sarah Jessica Parker and the Sex and the City movie cast were filming all day today at St. Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue in New York City. (The picture at right was taken yesterday during filming in NYC, courtesy of Getty.)

Because it was an opportunity to do some hard-hitting, in-depth, meaningful reporting (Christiane Amanpour, eat your heart out), I grabbed my camera and hit the streets, heading east to Fifth Ave.

Why would Sex and the City be filming at St. Patrick's, pray tell? The big hot rumor is that Big and Carrie's wedding takes place at the cathedral.

What did I find when I arrived at St. Patrick's, though? A whole lot of nothing. Just a bunch of tourists plodding around the famed cathedral where the Kennedy clan attended church, married, and buried.

I put my diligent reporter hat on and started chatting up a friendly security staff member. I asked if they were shooting the film there today and she shook her head.

"They're not filming here today. They're supposed to be here later this week, but not today." She didn't know exactly when later that week the filming would occur. She did say there had been filming earlier that day at Sak's, across the street, but nothing at the cathedral.

So much for the esteemed veracity of The New York Post's Page Six reporting, hmmm?

At least this little reporter got the scoop. Good thing I have that degree in journalism. Whew!

Meanwhile, this movie that's due out May 30, 2008 . . . It makes us a little nervous. Why are they messing with the show and the characters, each left in such perfect places when the show wrapped a few years ago? I know the girls need paychecks and all (and those movie roles they were hoping for didn't quite pan out), but are they sure this movie is a good idea? You know how when you raise the dead you sometimes get a lifeless zombie? We don't want no zombies.

More later this week if/when we catch the cameras rolling.

Uh oh. Pictures are coming out of Sarah Jessica Parker, as Carrie Bradshaw, decked out in wedding gear on the SATC movie set and, um, we're afraid. Very afraid. What's that feather thing sticking out of her veil? (As one dear friend said, "Do you think somebody's gonna tell her that there's a dead cockatoo on the side of her head?") What's with the dress top that will not hang on? And what's with, um, what's hanging off Carrie/SJP? More photos from Splash.