Put Some Gay In Your Day, Dallas!

Hooray for Hags – Nancy Nichols


Long before there was Will & Grace, generation after generation of gay men have sought out the perfect brassy yin to their equally bitchy yang – the fag hag. And when Gay List Daily came flaming out of the cyber closet, we knew just the girl we wanted to christen our wings: Nancy Nichols, senior editor at D Magazine and quick-witted spitfire extraordinaire.

When she’s not busy tending to “The Fockers” and other fine feathered friends (she’s a regular Dr. Doolittle with the birdies), you can find her talkin’ travel and spilling the beans on the restaurant scene with that biting wit that can make a grown man cry, especially if that man is a chef who just served up a shitty soufflé.

Really, Nancy, if you don’t have something nice to say then come sit next to us.

And believe it or not, that line worked. She took a few minutes to espouse some tidbits of wisdom about Babs, boobs and basketball boyfriends. (For you non-sports gays, basketball is the one with the round orange ball.)

Sadly, our efforts to woo her away were futile as she’s supremely loyal to her own gay. But that’s just the kind of behavior we would expect from one of our favorite fruit flies.

Q: Straight women and gay men go together like white and rice (although brown has less carbs). What words of wisdom would you impart on a gal who is looking to find a gay to call her very own?
A: Well, perhaps I’m an old-fashioned fag hag, but I prefer les boys to find moi. If you have the time, I suggest you hang out in the Classic Drama section at the video rental store between the Barbra Streisand and Judy Garland flicks. Or, ask your hairdresser. What, the person cutting your hair is a straight? Are you nuts? Not only are you getting a bad haircut, you are cutting yourself off from one life that you need to live.

Q: Although we gay boys love our ladies, we occasionally forget they aren’t Barbies and talk them into a really ridiculous outfits or situations. What’s the best and worst advice your faithful fairies have given you?
A: I suppose “if you’ve got it, flaunt it” is the easy way out, but my main Mary always sez, “Get those girls up and out. God knows it will distract them from your varicose veins.” The other best advice he ever gave me about dealing with any situation was, “Mary, it takes a fairy.” Amen.

Q: Mama always said, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” (but she probably didn’t expect her son to be paying such close attention). As resident Foodie Grande Dame of Dallas, what’s the single best dish/place in town to wow a potential suitor?
A: Oh lord, don’t ask an old food hag to name her favorite anything. You don’t seduce a man with food, you seduce him with, well, you know– what Lauren Bacall always said about her lips. The whistling thing? Putting them together? (Do I have to spell it out?) Straight men don’t care about soy-glazed ginger sea bass served under the rococo ceiling at The French Room. A number 5 at Keller’s works just as well if you put your lips together and blow. I mean, whistle.

Q: As a Dorothy to our rainbow, you’ve probably got impeccable Gaydar. Name one celebrity (local or national) who REALLY sets yours off?
A: I always thought basketball stars Magic Johnson and Isaiah Thomas had more than just a man “thang.” Locally, are you kidding? You trying to get me fired?

Q: Okay, last one. As you may know, we’re kind of celebrity-obsessed at Gay List Daily (especially if said star has a six pack and Armani undies on). If you could switch bodies with one celeb for a day, who would it be and why?
A: Well, I wouldn’t want to switch with her [last] week because she had her stomach split open when she delivered twin (probably gay) babies, but I would like to step into Angelina Jolie’s body for the rest of my life. I mean to be sorta tall with skinny arms, long sleek legs, pouty lips and perky, full breasts? Yeah, that would be my fantasy. I would go straight, relatively speaking, back to Los Angeles and knock on my ex-husband’s front door and say “hell-oooo” to his new wifey-pooh. Then I’d go back home to Brad and farm out the kids.

Wanna know more?
Give Nancy a whistle over at her blog