Philly Blunt

Freelance writer. Editor and web-video producer. Former Atlantic City Press and Philadelphia Weekly staff writer, City Paper managing editor/columnist and Dougherty for Senate campaign manager. Comments welcome here or emailed to brianhickey9 [at] hotmail. Now on: Facebook (Brian Hickey, in Philly) Twitter at Flickr at Be sure to check out Hickey on Divorce Court:

12 June 2008

Gaylords, Cougars, FatOnes Gone Wild

I'd be utterly remiss if I didn't, before getting into the earth-shifting news of last night, touch on a fine piece of Letourneau-esque drama straight from the Philly burbs.

On April 11, [45-year-old Lynne] Long-Higham [on right in photo] hosted a coed teen party at her home on South Dove Road, according to the complaint filed against her. About 20 teens attended the party. Six boys - five of them at the time were 15 and one was 14 - stayed the night.
[38-year-old Angela] Honeycutt began a sexually explicit conversation with the boys and "stated something to the effect that 'men have to take control to get something they want,' " court papers said. She then allegedly began kissing one of the boys.
Three of the teens later accompanied her to a bedroom, where she asked, "Who wants to take a shower?" authorities said.
One of the boys got in the shower with her and engaged in sexual intercourse, the court papers said. Long-Higham and two boys listened at the bathroom door, the documents said. One of the teens noted that Honeycutt "could get into trouble for this," and Long-Higham told him "that's why you can't tell anyone," the court documents said.
Later, Honeycutt allegedly engaged in sex acts with a second teen in the bathroom, and she also was accused of exposing herself and doing a dance during the course of the evening that was "sexual in nature."

That's right, boys, er, men of America: You need to take control to get what you want. Especially middle-aged suburban women with an exhibitionist streak. Now, who wants to take a shower?
Actually, I do this morning. Because I saw, hands down, what I deemed, after a cocktail or two, the "finest program in the history of television" last night. It's called Celebrity Circus, and you must watch it -- after a cocktail or two.
A guy from NSync (me think) is the host. He's dressed like a ringmaster (or flamboyant Fantasy Fest attendee). And he acts like a total, total moron.
The judges:
1) some snappy, nasty lady who swings on the wild trapeze for a living,
2) a (what seems to be) very out-and-proud (what seems to be) Spaniard who talks as if he'd been ethered, or given that stuff to numb ones mouth at the dentist wearing a cross around his neck. (A move which left me mulling whether the church would be happy with such a gent sporting a religious symbol around his clearly waxed chest. I mean, seriously, what are the rules on that anyway?), and

Yes, that's right. Mitch. Effin. Gaylord. Back on the scene. Crispy and clean. When I lost all bearing in reality after seeing Mitch Effin Gaylord judging celebrities (and we'll get to them momentarily), I turned to Bride Hickey and said the world will never be the same. I need to write about it. Well, Bride Hickey then said, Why? Who cares?
Through my tears of joy (I kid, not), I told her everybody cares about Mitch Effin Gaylord. And if they don't, well, they're sure as hell going to care about seeing Wee Man try to do the "Wheel of Death," and Peter Brady walk the tightrope not only with a broken arm (suffered in training, apparently) but with a dame standing on his shoulders.
Oh yeah, there was also Rachel Hunter spinning on the trapeze. To a Britney song. And since they never showed a close up, the scene brought about a couch-bound conspiracy theory that NBC was trying to make people think Mrs. Federline was up there. Then, Wee Man did some tricks to Quiet Riot. See what I'm talking about?
Surreal. Magnificient. I will never be the same.

So in closing, a few lines I typed into thee old blackberry to commemorate the end of time, pre-Celebrity Circus:

"The gyp was that he was never in danger of actually getting burnt." -- in reference to Wee Man standing atop the half of the Wheel of Death that wasn't on fire.

"Why is gay Spanish Louie wearing the cross? Is the pope going to do something about this?" -- in reference to Louie, who might not be Spanish, or gay, but probably is both.

"This is the best thing to ever happen. Period." -- self-explanatory.

"When can we have a sleep-over so I can dance for the crowd and see who needs a shower? And, can we invite the Gaylords?" -- never really happened.


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