OCTOBER 23, 1998

GAY PEOPle's ChroNICLE

EVENINGS OUT

Madame Dish is TV's newest gender-bender

by Ed Karvoski, Jr.

Forget about Monica Lewinsky. Now there's a new cigar-wielding, seductive, dark-haired lovely in Washington, D.C.— Madame Dish. The Hollywood genderbender will guest star on UPN's The Secret Diary of Desmond Pfeiffer, a new sitcom` about the British black butler of Abraham Lincoln.

In the episode scheduled to air Monday, October 26 at 9:00 pm, Madame Dish plays the impresario of the Georgetown Burlesque House.

"I am very excited to have the opportunity to create this wonderfully outrageous, cigar smoking, gravel voiced, period purveyor of flesh and beauty," notes Madame Dish.

Underneath that rich red velvet period dress and fashionable ring curls is Madame Dish's alter ego, Steven J. McCarthy.

"I'm an actor, not a drag queen," says McCarthy.

However you label him (or her), it's a fact that McCarthy has embraced various degrees of androgyny throughout a career rich in theatrical accomplishments. He made his professional acting debut at age 8 in a touring company of The Sound of Music. Utter-

ing his first line onstage, McCarthy's character announced, "I'm a boy." The audience laughed. "Even then, at that moment," he

recalls, "I knew that meant something."

It meant that the young thespian was about to discover his genderbending persona.

"My first drag role was when I was nine," says McCarthy. "I was at a theater summer camp and I wrote a play about an ugly princess. None of the girls wanted to play her because she was ugly, so I played her."

With McCarthy stepping into the lead role, however, alterations were made in the character description.

"I played the princess much more glamorous than how I had originally written her," he said. "There was no way I was going to be ugly onstage!"

Years later, in the 1970s, McCarthy performed various crossdressing characterizations alongside the likes of legendary artists Sylvester and Divine. In the '80s, his many acting appearances included a recurring gay role on the Showtime sitcom Brothers.

In more recent years, McCarthy has continued to rack up an impressive range of credits-plus some interesting comparisons.

BIG TIPS

While playing an androgynous character in the long-running stage show Grandma Sylvia's Funeral, he was compared to Boy George. While hosting the cable-TV talk show Dish, McCarthy adopted the moniker Madame Dish and was likened to Barbara Walters. Appearing recently in the stage show Strip on the West Coast (soon to tour nationally and abroad), McCarthy/Madame Dish was dubbed by the Los Angeles magazine Buzz as “the ethereal, wise-cracking descendant of Marlene Dietrich and Eve Arden."

Time will tell what kind of comparisons Madame Dish will get as a result of the upcoming appearance on The Secret Diary of Desmond Pfeiffer. One thing is for sure: This actor donning period drag is hoping for a return visit.

Somewhat schizophrenically, Madame Dish/Steven J. McCarthy sets the record straight: "Steven has never wanted to be a woman; he likes what God gave him and he likes using it with other men. But Madame Dish? Madame Dish is a woman.'

Hear her roar on UPN's The Secret Diary of Desmond Pfeiffer. ♡

Ed Karvoski Jr. is the author of What's Your Gay and Lesbian Entertainment I.Q.? and A Funny Time to Be Gay.

He gave me his number-do I call today? Next week?

by M.T. "the Big Tipper" Martone

It isn't like I didn't grow up in a house, or that I haven't lived in my share of shares. Recently, however, I've been a pretty devoted apartment dweller. For the minor inconvenience of being quiet for people I don't know, I get the satisfying feeling of being surrounded by folks who will never come in and finish off the goat cheese, misplace my good scissors, or imply that I should do the dishes before I damned well feel like it.

Most importantly, when you live in an apartment and you hear footsteps, it's easy to surmise that they're caused by an actual person elsewhere in your building, and then just to go about your activities unbothered by thoughts of, say, ghosts.

Well, that comfort is gone. My gal and I just found a house to rent: big, with a yard, and enough improvements to be made that we won't get too slack-jawed watching Friends five times a week. We've been there several times; dropping off boxes, avoiding the moldy eggs in the refrigerator, contemplating colors for the walls, but it wasn't until last night that we'd actually been there...in the dark.

As we drove up, we noticed the light on in the top floor. That made sense, since we'd been up there the day before poking around. We'd just forgotten to turn it off. So we dragged some more boxes inside. Then I thought I heard footsteps. But I didn't see anybody. Then she thought she heard footsteps. But she didn't see anybody. So I shoved her out the front door and slammed it behind me, and we skittered to the car and stared at the front door. Do you think we can live there, but just in the daylight?

Dear Big Tipper,

I met a guy last night, and, well... it's been such a long time for me that I can't even` remember any more.

What's normal? What's acceptable? What's just too too? Of course I'm talking about length, of time. What is the proper time frame to respond when someone gives you his phone number? That month? That week? From your car phone on the way home from the park? I just can't remember what's proper etiquette. Should I bike right over to his office and park outside? Do I e-mail his employer? Page his heroin dealer? Is it any wonder I'm single? Please hurry.

I'm Not Getting Older, I'm Getting Bitter

Dear I've Got to Admit He's Getting Bitter,

Honey, they can smell fear, so keep your desperation vibes as low as possible, but don't hesitate to follow up with someone you think is sweet.

If you meet someone some evening, you can call the next day and ask him for coffee some time soon. Call right away, but don't push for a date that minute: give him a little time. Interest is sexy, pop-eyed enthusiasm can be intimidating.

I hope you've already called him and are doing it as we speak, but if not, call him now. Being in a rut for a little bit does not commit you to a lifetime of pining. Good luck.

Dear Big Tipper,

I have a problem that I don't quite know what to do about. I'm a dyke in my mid 30s blessed to be in a casual, non-monogamous

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relationship with a younger (early 20s) dyke.

I say "blessed" because my babe is not only beautiful and bodacious, but smart, witty, and overflowing with sexual energy. Besides the vim and vigor that comes naturally around the everyday things in life when you're 20-something, her appetite for carnal delights-whether on the giving or receiving end is damn near insatiable.

Therein lies the problem (I know, I know... we should all be so lucky).

You see, my sweetie has a soft spot, so to speak, for oral, rather than manual or other types of stimulation. And like the Energizer bunny, she keeps going and going and going.

and as much as I delight in pleasing her, my poor tongue just can't keep up! There have been times when we have experienced what she refers to as a "grand finale" orgasm in this fashion, but more often than not, she settles for a differently-induced and less satisfying orgasm, and I end up with a sore tongue and a wounded ego!

I've not had this situation occur with other partners actually I've been told I'm pretty good in the ways of oral love. I certainly don't want her to feel that it's somehow her fault because she "takes too long," because believe me, I'm grateful for every minute I'm working to bring her to those fireworks. But I do worry that I may never be able to satisfy her in this way.

She's convinced that there must be some "tongue-strengthening" exercises I could do, which, for her, I would gladly submit to, regardless of how silly-looking or potentially painful they might be. Problem is, I've never heard of any such exercises. Do you know of anything that would help? Help me out here, Tip, and we'll send you a tape of the next "grand finale."

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Dear Tongue Tied,

Tongue-Twisted

First of all, I've heard that you're good in bed too, so don't worry that your reputation is getting damaged. Second, congratulations! Everyone should suffer from too much lovin' every once in a while. The fact that you both feel frustrated is too bad, though. So let's see..

I think you should save your awardwinning lingual delights for the grand finale itself. Don't start with the dive. Start out with your hands, or her hands (her tongue if she's limber), and most certainly toys like vibrators. When the moment of orgasmic truth seems to be at hand, so to speak, dive like the love submarine, and eat her like I've heard you can. Then she gets to come her favorite way, and you don't get carpal tunnel in your face. She might also find new ways she likes to come. Have fun figuring it out.

For a limited time, everyone who sends a letter or e-mail question to Big Tips will receive a piece of Blessed Mother bric-abrac: a key chain, a little statuette, perhaps a magnet. I am breaking up and dispersing a huge collection over the course of this year, and you are my latest recipients.

For more information on this "Diaspora Project," contact me at M.T. Martone, care of the Chronicle, P.O. Box 5426, Cleveland 44101, or fax to 216-631-1052, or e-mail to martone@drizzle.com.

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