Time for an update on the world’s not exactly best-kept secret, the actual identity of Toothy Tile, the (now infamous) closeted homo actor who used to want us to know he liked diddling boys in parking lots and everywhere else imaginable. Our inbox is a curious, overflowing influx of both salivating and outraged disenchantment. Why are we delaying things, they scream in cantankerous unison, as if Toothy’s consulting us personally, like we’re the Columbia School of Homo-Outing Journalism or something.
We’ll leave that to other institutions of righteous indignation. We here at Awful still say it’s ultimately up to the celeb—not us—to say she or he leans closer to Rosie or T.R. (Isaiah, we are not.) Oh! Oh! Oh! Our fave reader stab—which are all over the friggin’ map these days—at T.T.’s real name? Joel McHale! Come to think of it, J.M. does linger in wardrobe when I’m trying on the latest Ben Sherman…though, it ain’t him.
But listen, Tooth, if you’re reading, and we know you are, just wanna give ya a little fairly heated heads-up: Heaps (albeit small heaps, we’ll admit) o’ your pals are contacting us. They’re complaining not only about this damn about-face on your self-proclaimed mission to take a strong stand at letting the world know how down you are to be queer, but they’re more personally peeved, too. Remember all those canceled dinners and parties and such, the ones where your “people” (who would sell their first adopted Chinese kid for a made-up, ass-kissing item in People) said, “Better not be seen with these fagola guys”?
Well, the guys are getting more than put out over your arguably ill-advised, sudden distancing. In fact, it’s prolly safe to say your old gang’s more worked up than a dog-lovin’ bitch after Ellen DeGeneres’ ass, and that’s no joke. Watch it.