Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Makes Francine Paschal look like Harper Fucking Lee.
Nikki(1) blushed, thinking of Eric’s devil-may-care attitude(2), bad-boy smile(3) and chiseled body.(4)”
Wait a minute. Did Michael Patterson write this?
(1) It’s always Nikki, isn’t it?
(2) "Devil-may-care”? Really? In a contemporary “novel”?
(3) Come ON.
(4) I just bet. And considering that the setup is that it’s been 10 years since she’s seen him, I wouldn’t hold out too terribly much hope for the chiseling. “Bad boys” don’t tend to age well, sister.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
What is the frequency, Kenneth?
Monday, November 17, 2008
1) Must we – really, must we – allow Fred Armisen to go on living?
2) Have y’all read this? You should. Sample quote: “ …and legalizing gay marriage, while it may annoy those people, will not force them to meet any gays, eat any gay wedding cake, RSVP to any gay invitations, or otherwise get any gay cooties on themselves.”
3) Is there any organized group of persons that is a bigger bunch of economy-sized douchebags than MENSA?
4) Where is the smiting? I was told by the people writing in to my hometown newspaper that there would be rains of fire, rending of garments, gnashing of teeth, dogs and cats living together (total anarchy), attacks by jihadis and the killer undead and whatnot if Obama were elected, and, well, I’m still here. I ain’t seen anybody Raptured up, either, so I don’t think it’s the End of Days – but maybe that’s actually scheduled for Inauguration Day, when he’s sworn in on the Koran, wearing a dashiki, exchanging "terrorist fist-jabs" with Seekrit Black Panther Michelle, and refusing to salute the flag (which he fears and loathes) all the while?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
I like my coffee like I like my men.
This post brought to you by the increasingly douchey and useless Rob Morrow, who continues to crap all over the legacy of Northern Exposure (which, in retrospect, was clearly good despite him, not because of him, and anyway I always liked Ed and Chris way better except I shared Fleischman’s NYC obsession) with his edgeless, chemistry-free performance in Numbers, a show which owes its place on the Gleemonex household TiVo solely to the tenacious grip of one David “Luck Be a Lady” Krumholtz. The incident in question involved the numbnuts Morrow bringing coffee for himself and Bunk from The Wire in one of this show’s endless stand-and-chat-on-the-aerial-walkway-outside-the-FBI-building scenes. But yay, Bunk getting work, eh?
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Fashion plates / [something something something] / fashion plates
But so it took a long time to get here, and during the teen years, there were some … well, I was going to say “missteps,” but these were tragedies. Behold my shame:
Hair Tragedies of My Past
1) The spiral perm. This I convinced myself I needed, during my obsession-with-Major-League-and-consequently-with-Rene-Russo phase. It was the New Thing in perms – there’s always a New Thing in perms, with much weeping and angst following – and I wanted those awesome low-key ringlets of hers. Well. Yeah. So, no. Plus also it lasted about a week. My hair wants what it wants, and it wants to be UNCURLY goddammit.
2) The Sun-In episode. My hair is a sort of brown, which can lighten considerably when exposed to long summers of actual sun and chlorine and whatnot. But I am an impatient girl at times, and round about 7th grade, me and my friend Julie W. got heavy into the Sun-In. Her hair ended up a passable blond; mine, a strange orangey … something or other. There are some odd xmas photos of me with this hair and some green eyeshadow, about which the less said the better.
3) The perm that only took on one side. Lotta hair, only one home perm kit. Ma Gleemonex tried, Shatner bless ‘er, but it was not to be. Too bad that was the year I was in the newspaper and on TV a lot.
4) The Regis Hairstylists debacle at the Golden Triangle Mall. What can I say – I was twelve and hadn’t been to a salon since my great-grandmother quit the biz, and their ads made them seem really cool and hip. There were bangs involved, and layers. Also mousse. I can barely think of it without physically cringing, over 22 years later.
5) The year of the crimping iron. Sixth grade, I think, and I was hardly alone in my maniacal pursuit of MAXIMUM CRIMPAGE. Particularly in AWESOME PATTERNS. This may or may not have coincided with the summer of those weird little hair-paint mascara wands (I had a three pack of hot pink, screaming yellow and electric blue). We all looked like tiny little whorey music-video escapees with a thing for Grace Jones.
Good times. Good times.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Half a Dozen Awesome: Things That are Fucking Awesome
1) will.i.am on Anderson Cooper/CNN on Election Night ... via hologram!!! They didn't explain it or talk about the fact of it, they were just like, "Oh hey, here's will.i.am via hologram. Hey man, what's up?" I hereby declare that any appearance I ever do on any kind of televised media will henceforth be via fucking HOLOGRAM. People are going to start to wonder whether I do, in fact, exist or am I some kind of foulmouthed avatar or am I from the future or what. It's going to rule.
2) Palin 2012. Oh my god, y'all, that is fucking HYSTERICAL! Please, Republickans. PLEASE do this. It will be the funniest Presidential race in history. Y'all won't carry a single precinct. Except maybe my own personal hometown, because them peoples is crazy. And frankly, most of them are suspicious of anyone who DOES know that Africa is a continent and that the countries comprising North America are us, Canada & Mexico.
3) LL Bean Wicked Good Slippers. I just got mine. They're red, they're lined with shearling, they are the best $49.95 I've spent in a long long time.
4) The Happy Fun Box. Y'all, teevee is really good right now, even though there'll be no more Mad Men for like a billion more years (aka nine months or so). Two particular mentions, if I may: I love 30 Rock with the openhearted love you can give a warm soft Labrador puppy, only it's more verbal and cerebral and ... just, goddamn I love that show. And Friday Night Lights (exclusively on HD Seekrit Channel $%--niner Whiskey Hotel Charlie Bravo): Shatner bless you kids. Can we just pretend Season 2 never happened? I don't even care about the timeline fudgery that has Saracen & Julie (S1 sophomores) and Riggins & Lyla & Tyra (S1 seniors) all currently seniors, with Street & Smash (also S1 seniors) both done graduated ... who fucking cares? Welcome back!
5) This article on Salon, from my GenX to the goddamn Boomers, essentially saying that with Obama's election, we get it now. But the best part is how the writer really gets us: "We aren't joiners. We don't like carrying signs. We tend to disagree, if only on principle." "We went to church and learned about God's divine plan every Sunday, but all it took was one Dr. Seuss cartoon about an entire world that existed on a speck of dust, and our belief in God was deconstructed in an instant. Our childhoods were one long existential crisis. We ate Happy Meals while watching the space shuttle blow into tiny bits." "Things were much worse now, worse than ever -- but we'd always expected that they would be, eventually. That's one of the few rewards of being deeply pessimistic, of being trained to lower our expectations, of living in a constant state of distrust and learned helplessness." There's more, and it's really pretty uplifting. Read it, y'all!
6) Satsuma Mandarins from Capay Organic Farms (but you can get them anywhere). Heaven in a tiny orange seedless easy-to-peel globe.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
And crown thy good / with brotherhood / from sea to shining sea
Gives you goosebumps, don’t it? In one day, the whole world changed – we shucked off that scaly skin we’ve been wearing around for eight long, dark years, we told the rest of humanity that we’re ready to join them again, we’re ready to be our best selves, we’re tired of the ceaseless grinding shit-machine we’d become and we as a nation are transformed. Obama is not magic, he’s not perfect, he’s not God – but he is a great leap forward for hope, for change, for the future. Holy SHIT, it feels good to feel good again!
But this joy, unfortunately, is not the unalloyed variety. I speak, of course, of the loathsome Proposition 8, the willful entrenchment of vile and hateful bigotry into our state’s Constitution. I can’t walk around grinning my face off and doing my little happy dance about Obama, lest someone think I’m celebrating Prop 8’s (all-but-certain) passage, and I can’t mope around all glum, lest someone think I’m mourning McCain’s loss. It’s weird around my office, here in SF, among my co-workers – several of whom have married their partners recently in this window of opportunity, fearing they might not have the chance later.
It is astonishing to me that so many of the two-thirds of Californians who voted for Obama – a vote for change, progress, inclusion – simultaneously voted to strip a basic right from their co-workers, neighbors, friends and family members. It’s so ugly, so cruel and unnecessary – I’m so disappointed in my fellow Californians, and so heartsick for the people whose lives and marriages are directly affected by this loss of equality. It’s ridiculous, and it sucks, and I hate that so much of the energy behind it came from out-of-state religionists (it’s all “states’ rights, yay!” until it’s something THOSE motherfuckers don’t like, ain’t it?). Mr. Gleemonex blames “that jackass Newsom” (whose grandstanding “whether they like it or not” clip featured prominently in a lot of Pro-8 ads), and I can’t say I disagree; a lady who rides the bus with me furiously demanded that any church that posted signs, paid for mailers, or mentioned it from the pulpit should have its tax-exempt status revoked immediately (I definitely second that!).
I’m trying desperately to find some silver lining – I’m assuming there will be legal challenges, and that some lucky couple will eventually find their way to the U.S. Supreme Court (HHL, is that how it would work?), and maybe – MAYBE – the right to marry will go national in one blow, and these fucknuts will have won the battle (Prop 8) but lost the war.
We have to hope. And with President Obama at the helm, there is reason to hope.
May Shatner bless us, every one.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Commencing countdown, engines on
But this election – my god, Internets. It’s T-minus 36 hours, give or take, before the crushing ball of anxiety in my upper chestal region either lets up for the first time in years, turned to vapor and exhaled on a happy drunken cloud of jubilant celebration, or becomes a charred, stinking thing that slowly chokes the very life out of me. Odds are good for the former – but the latter won’t be off the table till a certain mean old unprincipled asshole makes a certain phone call conceding what’s been apparent for weeks, if not months. I’m worried about shenanigans, and about the people desperate and vile and scary enough to pull them. I’m unable to look at political stories, news about the election, whatever scaly, tentacled bloody horrors the Republicans are inventing even as I blog. I just can’t deal. Tomorrow night cannot come soon enough.
NO ON 8. NO ON 4. YES ON OBAMA.