Makes me wonder sometimes if I even see myself when I look in the mirror.
Archive for the 'Celebrities' Category
Jennifer Lawrence, for wit and grace under pressure; also known as “maintaining poise and humor while answering stupid questions from the press.”
I mean, really — these are the best questions they can come up with? Seems like they don’t even need to be asked.
Anyway. I think she’s terrific. She was fantastic in Winter’s Bone, she’s young and beautiful and confident and not a wisp.
My only regret is I managed not to see this until today.
Interesting take on the controversial “Boob Song” performed by Seth McFarlane on the Oscars a couple nights ago.
Read and watch here.
As those of you who have been reading this blog for a while probably know, I would usually like to weigh a little less* and fit into my clothes better. I oscillate between wanting to live life fully, enjoying good food and wine and meals with family and friends and striving for better habits in terms of eating more healthfully, getting more exercise (yoga, walking, an occasional training-for-a-theoretical-5K every once in a while) and drinking more water (and less scotch). To varying success, all of it.
When I recently realized that I was even “outgrowing” my “fat pants” I decided that drastic measures needed to be taken. I am now 5 days into the 14-day first phase of the South Beach diet — no potatoes, no bread, no rice, no pasta, no sugar, NO WINE or alcohol or any sort. Lots and lots of water.
Today I actually find myself 600 calories under what I’m allowed/supposed to eat, and I don’t even want them. I had kale for dinner (Only Daughter conceded that it “wasn’t awful,” high praise from an 11-year-old gymnast-turned-ballerina. It’s a long story. Another time.) I’ve lost a few pounds, and feel pretty good, and am not actually starving, etc. etc. But I don’t want to do this by starving myself either, because I know then I’ll just put it back on.
At the same time I’m reading Hungry, the book/memoir (if one can call a book written by a 23-year-old a “memoir”) by the “plus-size” (12. As if.) model Chrystal Renn. Here are “before” and “after” photos: before, contrary to the usual arrangement, being when she had managed to starve herself into a 98-lb vacant-eyed, non-menstruating version of her former self, and after being when she had begun to eat again and had returned to a healthy weight, where she now stays and has a wonderful modeling career as a vibrant, healthy, voluptuous woman:
So, I am my usual conflicted self. Am I eliminating carbs and sugar to regain some control over my food cravings and get my body to a healthy weight, or am I succumbing to the pressures of society and trying to conform to a weightmeaningimage imposed upon me by people whose only concern is that they make me feel badly about myself so I buy their product/join their gym?
Husband was not home tonight, so I sat on the couch after a very long and busy day and watched Frasier reruns. Amongst the awful and incessant commercials aired during an hour and a half of television there were 11 commercials for diet programs and/or “diet” foods, 2 commercials for anti-aging makeup, as well as one commercial each for an artificial sweetener, the “Curves” exercise facility, and for Gorton’s grilled fish, “only 80 calories per serving.”
Is it any wonder we’re all so filled with self-loathing? Does makeup really keep me from aging? Is aging such an awful proposition? Is buying processed, pre-grilled fish really a healthy alternative for someone who cares about the food he or she is putting into his or her body? (I should just say she/her — in all of those commercials, only ONE of the “protagonists” was male — and he was having his powdered donut being crumbled into bits by his loving and “supportive” significant other.)
Maybe it’s just me, but the one on on the left in the photo above is clearly starving; the one on the right is vibrant and strong and sexy and alive.
And not that far off from where I am right now.
Maybe if I just lose 5-10 more pounds.
*Is it Freudian? I actually just started to proof this and realized I had written “I usually want to weigh a little more. . .” Pah.
Husband sent the link to this article to me today because we have been discussing over the past few days whether Petraeus should have resigned or not.
I say that the author might be kind of almost maybe sort of just by a hair missing the point.
I agree that there are some indications that the two “culprits,” Mr. Petraeus and his paramour, Ms. Broadwell, are not, shall we say, the sharpest knives in the drawer.
BUT, no security was breached, no CIA secrets stolen. Mr. P. sent his lascivious emails to Ms. Broadwell from a non-CIA account, and Ms. B. sent emails to Mr. P from an account shared by her husband. But HE had no reason to believe that his non-CIA account would be investigated, and, clearly, Ms. B. had no concerns that her husband would wile away empty hours scrolling through the “Sent” folder. Do any of you ever look in your Sent folder?
Here. Give me a sec.
Yup. Just as I thought. 8708 messages in the sent folder, the most distant from 2009, which is when I bought this laptop. Haven’t looked at 8703 of them since I sent them.
Ms. B’s husband wasn’t the person who caught on to the affair — the FBI was, because Ms. B was so caught up in the weird and untenable position she found herself in that she was jealous of another woman and thought it was a good idea to threaten her in a way that would be absolutely traceable and serve easily as evidence against her.
So yes, kind of stupid. Is it also ironic? Maybe not. First Son claims I attribute irony to coincidence too often, but I do believe that irony includes when one act, taken in the hope of a particular result, results in the opposite.
Anyway. The author points out that Clinton did the right thing by lying through his teeth, and that Patraeus should have followed suit.
Clinton shouldn’t have lied, Broadwell shouldn’t have exposed her own vulnerable position by sending threatening emails, and Patraeus shouldn’t have resigned over some over-developed Puritanical sense of guilt.
IMHO, of course.
I’ve seen a lot of posts on facebook in the last couple of days by people linking to a number of the vile things Ann Coulter has been saying.
Not unlike the whole Rush Limbaugh/Sandra Fluke (whose name Rush, I’m-quite-sure-not-unconsciously, pronounced Fluck) imbroglio.
And I have a proposition for all of you.
Instead of quoting them, or linking to newspapers which quote them, or to youtube videos that display them, etc., etc, we just ignore them.
They make the ridiculous amount of money they make because they are hired by people who don’t care what they say, as long as they get people to listen.
How about we just stop.
Nothing shuts someone up quite like being ignored. And it doesn’t mean we’re burying our collective heads in the sand, or allowing their propoganda to pollute the world, because we’re just turning a deaf ear, and going about making sure that that which really matters is done, and that which really matters is heard, and seen, etc. etc.
Boycott the ridiculous, unless your paying attention to it can somehow change it. In which case, rock on and peace out.
How about it? Can I count you in? Let’s see, if we just stop paying attention, if that makes them all go away.
Heard Salman Rushdie on NPR’s “The Story” for the few minutes I was in the car tonight. (Yes, I renewed my membership. Yes I asked for the Thank You gift. Yes, I donated $10 more than I planned to alleviate my guilt. Yes, I was raised Catholic. Any more questions?)
Anyway, he was talking about how he really felt a sense of accomplishment in keeping his ability to write books in a way that would not reveal the circumstances in which he was living. To paraphrase*:
I didn’t want to think about the fact that I was living in a small, afraid little world, in which case I would write these small afraid little books; and I didn’t want to think about being bitter or angry because then that would come through and those books would be miserable too. I really pride myself on the fact that someone who didn’t know the circumstances of my life from 1989 to 1998 could pick up any of the books on a shelf that were written by me in that time frame and still would not know that I was living under a fatwa.
What an inspiring example of the triumph of the human spirit and of mind over matter.
You can listen here. I’d listen and actually quote, but it’s past my bedtime.
*I am paraphrasing. I can’t find a transcript. I apologize if I don’t have it exactly right.
I stumbled across this article recently because a friend had posted it on her facebook page.
(As an aside, I feel it necessary to point out that I, being of an older, more paranoid generation, went to the website myself, so that facebook wouldn’t feel compelled to tell the world that I had read the article. But that’s a topic for another day.)
If you enter Jennifer Lawrence’s name into the Bing search engine,
(As an aside, I feel it necessary to point out that I, being of an older, more paranoid generation, no longer use Google, since Google seems to think it is perfectly acceptable not only to track my use of the internet, including the words I might write in an email message, but to use this use and these words to target advertising to me, AND remove my ability to stop it.)
you get page after page of beautiful images.
As you should; she’s a beautiful girl.
But if you enter “Jennifer Lawrence without makeup” you get page after page of snarky people, oh so happy to give her a hard time because she actually looks like a person.
Now isn’t that charming.
(And clearly a man, although I didn’t dignify it by clicking on it, and I ask you not to either. Hence the lack of a link. If you can’t resist, well, you have your own conscience to face.)
Today someone had put this article, from “Yahoo! News” (now there’s an oxymoron if there ever was one): Supermodels without Photoshop.
(As an aside, I feel it necessary to point out that I, oh, never mind. . .)
This seemed related to the post that was percolating in my mind, so I went there to see more. Most of the pictures were of perfectly beautiful girls looking perfectly beautiful but without makeup. There was one picture of a trio of supermodels waiting for the Glamour photographer to snap his shot.
The one on the left is obviously anorexic, the one in the middle is a “plus-size” model, which probably just means that she can buy clothes off the rack, and her suit bottom seems to be a size too small, but she seems to have a perfectly beautiful, normal, womanly shape. The one on the right seems to have left her hips at home, but I’m sure once the photographer starts clicking she can jut one off to the side to make herself appear to have at least one.
Aside: I’m always curious about this, as the majority of models have quite voluptuous breasts [without our knowing whether they are "real" or not] and no hips to speak of. Yet they always stand in hip-jutting poses, demonstrating clearly that having hips is desirable. Is the non-existent-yet-jutting hip somehow neater or sexier than the actual hip? Is there, for example, something wrong with her?
or do you remember when Kate Winslet was in Titanic, and people said she was “fat”?
Anyway, the “author” of the “article” poses this difficult and thought-provoking question:
and watch this:
Rush appears in all his overweight ignorant glory around 7:40.
How can a 60-year old man in the 21st century be so woefully misinformed about the female body? And how can he twist the truth so dramatically and get away with it (and this isn’t by any means the first time)? The thing I don’t get is how we knew he was an idiot 20 years ago and his listeners and advertisers are just now figuring it out?
Or, as Rachel points out, it doesn’t matter. He’s saying what he says to provoke, to be famous, to get people to talk about him.
But he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, it’s quite clear he doesn’t have any women working for him (or maybe someone might have informed him of how the Pill actually works), and there are plenty of people listening to him who agree with his ignorant vitriolic bullshit.
Maybe, instead of talking about Rush, we should be talking about why 50% of the population is represented by 19% of our government, and how we (women) got this far in a country where we are still so little understood and so poorly represented. As Rachel points out near the end of the video clip, Romney doesn’t seem to understand how contraception works a whole lot better than Rush. And as she also pointed out, it’s bad enough to be a jerk, but it’s even worse, especially when you’re trying to generate national discourse on important societal topics, to be stupid.
642 hits so far today, wait, now it’s 669, mostly by people apparently looking for a picture of J-Lo’s nipple. In fact, this seems not to be that rare of a sighting; maybe you should just keep paying attention and someday you, too, can claim that you saw it, along with most of the modern Western world. We can all say we knew you when.
I apologize to my faithful readers, if you feel that you are being unfairly scolded. A good opportunity to apply the “if the shoe fits, wear it” adage.
Wouldn’t we all be better off if we spent more time thinking/worrying/doing something about/empathizing over things like politics, religion, parenthood, marriage, life, womanhood; things that matter I imagine, no, hope, to many in the world?
I don’t have a picture of J-Lo’s nipple, and I’m not going to look for one, although nothing’s stopping you from trying here.
I thought, briefly, about putting up a picture of one of mine, but that would just be weird, and wrong, and weirdly wrong, and I imagine there are at least 15 of you out there who just heaved a giant sigh of relief. (The rest of you, please just keep whatever you’re thinking to yourself thankyouverymuch.)
You’ll have to content yourself with this nipple-like picture of the halo effect caused by a lunar eclipse.
Besides, a nipple’s a nipple. What possible difference could it make?
Ew. Just made the mistake of looking to see if I could find a picture of a “generic” nipple to post.
Now I have to go poke my eyes out.
Tomorrow we shall return to serious topics, like Rick Santorum saying that the separation of church and state makes him feel sick to his stomach. Take THAT Tea Partiers.
Okay, first of all, I was really curious as to why I had 51 hits in one hour last night when the usual hourly rate is more around 10-20. Then I discovered that J-Lo apparently had a wardrobe malfunction, and I had a post about J-Lo from a couple New Years Eve’s ago. Really? This is all you have to do? Look for a picture of J-Lo’s nipple? I’m betting it looks pretty much like anybody else’s.
ANYway. . .
…I have just wasted 30 minutes I can’t get back looking at pictures from the Red Carpet “ceremony” (seriously? it’s a ceremony now?) so I thought I would waste a few more commenting on them.
But first a question. How much Botox is too much? The bottom half of Billy Crystal’s face looked 60+, but his forehead NEVER moved. Weird.
For the sake of fairness/disclosure, all of the photos below (unless otherwise noted) were taken from theenvelope.latimes.com.
In her pre-skeleton days she used to be beautiful.
I just don’t get it. Why does this repeatedly happen, where there seems to be no such thing as “thin enough”?
Speaking of skeletons. . .
Stand up girl! You’re at the Oscars!
“Princess Charlene and Prince Albert”
Enough of the ridiculous, now for the “Stunning”:
(I am a little curious about the back.)
But which concerns you more?
Fascinating: extremely interesting or charming : captivating
Barbara Walters’s list of the 10 most fascinating people of 2011:
American Reality Royalty the Kardashian family, Simon Cowell, stars of television’s hit comedy “Modern Family” Jesse Tyler Ferguson and Eric Stonestreet, MLB star and New York Yankees Captain Derek Jeter, American business tycoon/author/television personality Donald Trump, pop singing sensation Katy Perry, and quite possibly the most famous sister in the world — Pippa Middleton.
Modern Family I’ll give her, because it’s television, and she probably has some kind of quote for having to have so many TV people, and it’s not the worst show in the world.
New York Yankees Captain Derek Jeter because he’s actually a good athlete, and not the worst role model in the world.
But the rest of them? Ugh. Nothing remotely interesting. Exactly the opposite, actually.
You mean like which of the Kardashian’s supposedly has the biggest behind? How snarky/not snarky is Simon these days? What’s up with The Donald’s hair? What would Katy Perry do/be if she actually could sing? And Pippa? What’s her claim to being interesting? being Kate’s sister? Bet she loves that distinction, as we all have throughout eternity. (“Oh, you’re _________’s sister/daughter/mother/friend!” Can’t I just be me?)
I don’t even know if I can come up with 10 for 2011. Maybe that’s the problem — she has so little to work with.
1. The Sand Dancer guy I posted about yesterday.
2. Leo DiCaprio
3. Julien Barnes
4. Christopher Hitchens (can I nominate someone posthumously?)
5. Jude Law
6. Melinda Gates?
7. Amanda Palmer?
8. Theo Jansen
Had taken a vow of electronic silence, but a couple things have come up today that I just can’t resist posting about.
First: Truth In Labeling
Good to know.
This made me curious, so I looked a little further:
Sheesh. Are we really this stupid?
In an “are we really this stupid”-related story, I ran across this article in last Sunday’s New York Times, about a woman and what she wore day by day as she went through her week. Apparently she’s quite wealthy, and philanthropic, and stylish, so, as my husband posits, we’re supposed to care.
Is this, really, “All the News That’s Fit to Print”? Or maybe, just a little more.
We decided that this was a good day to take Dexter for a walk. He does pretty well with his leash when we take him out to go “potty,” and we took him for a short walk yesterday, and after a little resistance he had trotted along quite happily. Not so today. By the time we realized that he really was quite overwhelmed and was not going to take a step of his own free will he had damaged the bottom of 3 of his 4 little paws, and is limping around all gingerly and pathetic. I feel absolutely terrible, but I’m also a little irritated, because his feet seem to feel fine enough when he wants to sniff the wheelbarrow, chew branches, and chase his purple monkey around the kitchen, but are apparently too sore for him to bear the leaves and stones when we take him out to pee. Does it say something about me that I’m always quite convinced that I’m being manipulated by a 10-week old puppy who looks like a cross between an Ewok and a baby polar bear? (Cynical, party of one.)
Anyway, the guilt is almost more than I can bear. I’m a terrible person.
But I still don’t care what Muffie wore, or to wear she wore it.
Which of the below are we expected to give a flying f@#$ about?
Michael Jackson’s doctor found guilty
Tintin movie to make North American debut in Quebec
Vanessa Redgrave to have Academy tribute
Bieber to take paternity test
Paul Haggis to chair Canadian Film Centre programs
Lady Gaga tops MTV Europe awards
China artist Ai Weiwei receives $800K in donations*
Canadian pays $31K for John Lennon tooth
Lohan checks in and out of LA jail
What a surreal world we live in, don’t you think?
(My various influences were stifled here:
What a surreal world we live in, don’t'ya’know?
What a surreal world we live in, eh?
What a surreal world we live in, what?
Bonus points if you can assign appropriate locations for each of the above.)
Wow, it’s been a long week and it’s only Monday.
Not a good sign.
*Not to influence anyone, but I vote for Weiwei. Anybody know where I can send a fiver?
Me: Well, why do you suppose she’s famous?
OD: Her brother, Jaden, was in that Karate movie.
Me: Oh, so that’s Will Smith’s daughter. She’s famous because her parents are famous, and are apparently willing to allow her to make a spectacle of herself to exploit the publicity opportunities.
OD: Yeah, but she’s famous.
Me: There are better, more important things than being famous.
OD: Like money?
I’m so proud.
(When I harumphed, she said, “candy?”)(It is Halloween after all, and she did give me her [lone, miniature] Babe Ruth and [lone, but super size] Butterfinger. Such a good girl.)
In a related story, what’s up with this hairdo?
This has to fall under the “you don’t have to do it just because you can” category.
A blogger I follow recently posted this picture of Lindsay Lohan:
with the heading “If You’re Thinking of Tampering With Your Face”
What has happened to this girl? She looks 50. And hideous.
I always thought she was one of the most beautiful young actresses I had ever seen.
Look at her “then”
What is she thinking?
I can’t imagine it can merely be puffiness from her raucous lifestyle — what I want to know is how can the girl directly above look in a mirror and decide that she needs to do something to make herself prettier?
This is difficult for me, because I really want to have my neck fixed. I didn’t like my neck when I was in my 20s, and I really don’t like it now. And despite Nora Ephron’s advice, I don’t like turtlenecks; they make me feel like I’m being strangled, and I don’t think they actually help because they just push that little pooch of extra skin up so not only is it visible, but it looks even bigger than it actually is. But, as I’ve written before, I’m vehemently opposed to plastic surgery and everything it represents, especially the idea that we’re not supposed to end up looking like we’ve lived in our faces, or that there’s some ideal of “beauty” that we should !!! all aspire to.
I also worry because Only Daughter has just been accepted as “talent” at a local modeling agency, and she’s very excited. Except she, all 4’5″ 60 lbs of her, already thinks she has fat calves, wishes she had curly hair like mine (she’s Korean, I’m not, and my hair is just curly enough to be annoying) and obsesses over every pimple.
She’s beautiful, and I worry that throwing her into this world of models and clothes and the quest for “perfection” and eating disorders and body obsession and inadequacy is only going to play out badly. How does someone manage to grow up and look in the mirror and still see beautiful?
A lot of people speculate that Lindsay Lohan’s mother is behind a lot of her problems, as well as her sister Ali’s and her apparent eating disorder.
The radical difference shown above is reported to be a result of “natural” changes from adolescence, and Ali becoming taller and “slimmer.” Do they mean starving?
She’s so skinny. This just makes me so sad.
Anyway, I know it’s always easy to blame the mom, even though sometimes it probably is the mom’s fault. I always joke that I’m willing to take all of the credit and none of the blame, but that’s not really true. I take a lot of the blame, even when I probably shouldn’t.
Please indicate the option which seems to best represent the “truth”:
1. Flowers and plants start to look bad in September because:
a) the shortening of the days and the cooling of the temperature adversely affects photosynthesis
b) you’re so tired of watering and fertilizing stuff that doesn’t bloom/grow/bear fruit, or is just going to be eaten by apparently ravenous, and quite inconsiderate, deer, you can’t be bothered
2. President Obama, while continuing to say the right things while not apparently doing much of anything, has aged 15 years in 3 because:
a) the job of the presidency sucks and no one in their right minds would do it
b) Just for Men hasn’t perfected the formula for African-American hair
3. Only Daughter asking if the car was unlocked means:
a) she needed to go look for a book she left in the back seat
b) she thought it would be interesting/fun to leave the front door open over night to see how long the battery would last
4. CNN runs a ticker beneath the President’s speech telling us what he just said because:
a) the average American likes to have things summarized into neat little sound bytes so he/she doesn’t have to think too hard
b) the average American is a stark raving idiot lunatic who needs to be told what to think so as not to pull any muscles or to have to take time away from important pursuits like wondering whether Jennifer Aniston’s actually married or not and keeping up with the Kardashians
5. I’m really good at stacking dishes in the dish drainer because:
a) it’s like a really interesting, perpetually different, 3D geometry puzzle which challenges my/your ability to make logical connections and to understand spatial relationships in the real world
b) I’m/you’re too lazy to dry.
*These are not my dishes, nor my kitchen.
I don’t get it. I even kind of get the dramatic makeup, but why wear a nylon wig when you have hair like that? Is she trying to be unrecognizable when she goes out in public?
In a related (who gives a flying hmhmm) story, the page on the Harper’s website that bore the first picture included this link: Khloe Kardashian: All of Kim’s Fat Goes to Her Ass!
This was apparently revealed on David Letterman, at which point Kim replies that she works out a lot … but finds the nuts on NY street corners irresistible; by which I assume she doesn’t mean this guy:*
*Please don’t be offended. I’m not, by any means, making fun of this poor man, but of Kim. Why is anyone even wasting their time talking to these women?
Husband and I had a debate recently, which prompted me to post this survey.
The tepid response has not helped resolve the debate, but I was encouraged when reading the New Yorker review of the movie Crazy, Stupid, Love.
“The young actress Emma Stone, playing a straitlaced law student, has a classic moment: going home with Jacob, she orders him to remove his shirt, which he does, revealing a chest so perfectly sculpted that she’s revolted. ‘Seriously? It’s like you’re Photoshopped.’ Men may be relieved to hear that at least some women find a gym body a little too close to narcissism to be a turn-on. . .”
As the bloggess would say,
And no, I don’t feel like this
I feel like that a little sometimes when I’m Home With Children (HWC). I haven’t been in this house alone, I think, since April. I try to be a good mom. I try to be a patient mom. I try not to bite my daughter’s head off when she interrupts me for the 47th time to get her the cherry fruit snacks that we’ve hidden from Second Son (a.k.a. the SnackFooderator) or make her some toast or help feed her snake or paint her fingernails or spot her while she practices her walkovers or, well, you get the idea. I worry sometimes that my level of preoccupation is manufactured by my subconscious to mirror the level of my mother’s preoccupation — except she had 8 children, and I only have 3, and only 2 of them live at home, so What’s My Excuse?
Anyway, I’m in my house alone for the first time in almost three months. It feels good. I’m sitting on my (purple) couch in my air conditioned house eating tabbouleh, fresh mozzarela, and sipping delicious coffee. Does it get better than this?
It did, of course, take some kind of divine intervention for this to happen. Planets aligned just right with moons or something.
Stage One: Second Son is finally working. He had a job lined up in April, they asked him to wait three weeks while they trained their first round of new hires. He waited three weeks, they told him they had hired too many people and didn’t need him. I thought this was really a crappy thing to do, and that they should have at least given him 10 hours a week for a month or six weeks or something to account for the fact that MICHIGAN’S ECONOMY IS IN THE TOILET and he waited through the three most important job hunting weeks for an eighteen year old — the three weeks before all the college kids come home. SO, he started over. Looked for several weeks, got hired in early June to work in the kitchen of a new hotel that was supposed to open on June 20, and which has taken its first bookings yesterday. When he went in last week (finally!) for the scheduled training there wasn’t even a kitchen yet, just a big empty room covered in sawdust. The crew stood around with their hands in their pockets, moved a few 2x4s, the chef bought them lunch and sent them home. So, finally, Friday they installed shelving, yesterday he worked thirteen (13!!!) hours stocking and learning how to make things like spinach-artichoke dip and risotto (cool! but no, they didn’t get to eat it, and he didn’t bring any home. What’s Wrong With This Picture?). Today he is back for another long day.
Stage Two: Daughter is camping with her dad. There is apparently a pool, a camp store with lots of candy (Daughter: “There’s a camp store! With lots of candy!” Me: “Great! Do you still have all your teeth?”), and two boys, sons of friends of Former Husband, one of whom Daughter likes. I believe she may have told him that she liked him. Such bravery.
She’s ten, and wondering if this is an appropriate wedding dress:
I said no, unless you’re a jellyfish. She also wants to know who my Hollywood Crush* is (not Orange, or Grape, but maybe someone along the lines of that Logan kid who played Percy the Lightning Thief, or godforbidJustinBieber) and if it was okay for her to kiss boys now that she was going into fifth grade. (NO! NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO!!!)
Stage Three: Church was cancelled this morning. I’m the pianist, and this never happens. Every Sunday morning I whine about having to get up, and shower, and practice my little Bach pieces or my little Debussy pieces, and then the sermon goes too long, and I don’t get home until noon, whine whine whine. Not today. I was up, and showered, and had practiced all four of my little Bach pieces yesterday, when my phone rang.
Pastor: “Are you playing today?”
Me, in my head: “The time changed again? I thought I already missed that service back in March!” (I have issues.)
Me, out loud: “Yes?”
Pastor: “Take the day off. The power’s out: no elevator, no parking ramp because the door can’t open, no lights, no sound. . .
Me, in my head: “So?”
Pastor: “. . . no air conditioining.
Me, out loud: “Oh! Now I get it!”
Anyway, there are lots of elderly people, lots of stairs to get to the sanctuary, it’s going to be VERY warm today. I get the day off. Nice. If only I’d known that before I’d gotten out of bed, showered, gotten dressed, put on makeup. But still. Sunday off. Nice.
Stage Four: Stepson and Husband are playing paintball. I’m not kidding. Husband bought it on Groupon, and the expiration date is fast approaching, and the friends Stepson wanted to invite couldn’t make it, so they’re off playing paintball. It’s supposed to be 90˚ today, and they’re going to run around like commandoes (not to be confused with going commando) and shoot 500 little paint pellets at each other and anyone else who crosses their paths and have a rip-roaring good time.+ I think it would be kind of fun, definitely more fun than laser tag — a form of entertainment that must be one of the most shameless ripoffs known to man, right up there with bottled water, the ever-shrinking boxes of pasta, and the price of a box of tampons.
I’m home alone.
Why does this feel so much better than being home with one teenager who sits in a chair and stares at a screen all day? It’s not like they interfere with my productivity, or prevent me from smoking crack or hooking up with strangers or something.
I can’t quite figure it out.
Anyway, I’m either going to go read my book, the Sunday paper, practice the piano, or, if I get restless, get groceries, or drive to World Market to buy important things like bamboo steamers, honey pots, and a large jar to make Limoncino in.
Using a vegetable peeler, cut the yellow part of the peel from 15 lemons, Be careful not to get any of the white pith.
Pour 750 ml of vodka or everclear into a gallon jug.
Add the lemon zest.
Cover and let sit for at least 10 days, up to 40 — the longer, the better. Don’t stir, or fuss with. Just let it sit.
When done waiting, (patience! patience!), mix 4 c. sugar with 5 c. filtered water in a large saucepan, and bring to a boil. Boil for ~ 7 minutes. Let cool to room temperature. Add sugar syrup to the lemon/alcohol mixture. Cover jar, and let rest for another 10-40 days.
Strain the limoncino through cheesecloth to remove the zest. Pour into smaller individual bottles. Store in the freezer until ready to serve.
+Breaking news: Paintball hurts. Husband’s Observation: Every kid who spends hours in front of video games yelling “Boom! Headshot!” should go and get blasted a few times by someone they never see coming. Something to think about.
*Robert Downey Jr., Javier Bardem ( long as he looks like he did in Biutiful and not like he did in No Country For Old Men), George Clooney, and Johnny Depp.
Just watched Platoon for the first time since the late 1980s. Some random thoughts:
John McGinley is a whack job. This is clear in this movie, as clear as it is in Scrubs. In some strange way, they seem to be the same character.
Tom Berenger (Barnes) is a terrible actor. He had one convincing moment, when his eyes met Charlie Sheen’s (Chris) in the helicopter right after Chris realized that Barnes had killed Elias.
And finally, if Charlie Sheen were old enough to play a soldier in a movie made in 1986 he is, in fact, old enough to know better. And what’s up with the forced smiles? Not happy in his work? You can see more here.
A friend of mine on facebook posts this conversation in her status update:
Husband: Turns out Prince who-gives-a-turd is marrying Lady Mc-worthless-pants. I just couldn’t be happier. I hope the news doesn’t talk about anything else ever.
Wife: Hey, get out of the shower! You’re missing pictures of the bride!
I have a good laugh, “borrow” it to put in my status update (with credit given where credit is due, of course), and then, even though I am pretty sure I feel more like husband than wife, proceed to look for a picture of Kate Middleton, who is reputedly quite beautiful.
When I google “royal wedding,” the first listing is E! so I figure, what’s to lose?
And that’s what I get. Now there are at least 3 minutes of my life I can’t get back. Are there actually that many people out there who care about this drivel? Although I guess I can make it through my day much more effectively and productively now that I know that Blake Lively (whoeverthehellsheis) has dyed her hair red.
Oh, and Lindsay Lohan has admitted, to Jay Leno of all people, that she has finally learned to love herself. Now if she could just stop taking herself out at night and giving herself too much to drink, we’d all be better off, although I guess we would have less to read about.
From the spring 2011 collection:
One question, about the outfit on the right.
And then there’s this one:
My caption for the outfit on the left: Ado Annie meets Laura Ashley.
In my quest, I found these:
Apparently the version on the left isn’t thin enough, so they had to remove all evidence that she had internal organs or a ribcage.
And then we have Filipa Hamilton, before:
According to the site from which I obtained the above picture, when enough people complained to Ralph Lauren about how flipping deformed this woman looks, they claimed responsibility for their manipulation of her image, and apologized. Is it actually possible that no one noticed that she looks like a bobble-head doll until people complained? And look !!! at the first picture of her. Why are they manipulating her image? Is there supposedly something wrong with how she looks? Actually, the first image is from Ralph Lauren, also, so maybe nobody really knows what her body looks like. Has anyone seen her in person, taken a picture of her, and not photoshopped it?
Oh, look what I found:
Which one do YOU think is more attractive?
Heard on NPR this morning:
1. On a report regarding Obama’s recent tour through the country touting the need to balance the budget fairly and encouraging development of green energy technologies, an energy student comments to the NPR reporter:
“Gas prices just keep going up and up and up; when’s it going to stop?”
Okay, first of all, there are those who believe that these little spikes aren’t really all that significant unless we panic about them, and that the biggest reason they cause such widespread reaction is because these signs are big and lit up and we watch the numbers spin while we gas up our car. Do you know if the milk you bought last week is more expensive than it was the week before? How much do you think a gallon of beer costs? And which do you think is easier to produce and deliver?
While consistently and dramatically elevated gas prices do hit us harder — affecting the profit margins of energy-dependent manufacturers, for example, or causing airlines to raise their rates by 50% and charge astronomical fees for luggage (adjustments which were not seen in reverse when gas prices went back down ~ 25% a year or more ago) — this little spike is probably not one of them.
Secondly, it’s a finite resource, and we pay the least for gas of any developed country, and probably less than some less-developed countries, so yes, the law of supply and demand would probably dictate that, as it becomes more scarce and harder to get to, it’s going to get more expensive. Stop whining and take a bus.
Which reminds me, why doesn’t this country do more about creating and using reliable public transportation? Millions of Europeans rarely drive their cars, and they all get where they need to go. They are also probably more healthy because they walk more, and less stressed because they have time to read a book or the paper, play Spider Solitaire on their iPhones, or post pithy insightful observations on Twitter while taking the train to work.
BUT — when the consumer is duped into paying more for gas because oil speculators and companies like Exxon want to take advantage of Middle-East unrest, that’s a different matter. When’s somebody going to do something about THAT?
Commenting on the same story is a young woman bemoaning the fact that gas prices are different in one state than they are in another, followed by a statement that the President should do something about that. Does she really not realize that states are allowed to tax gas at THEIR OWN RATES?
2. Regarding the upcoming, IN TWO YEARS (criminy), presidential election: Donald Trump is everywhere, and Sarah Palin has half a million Twitter followers.
He’s everywhere? With the hair? How can a man with this much money have this bad of hair? And if he either doesn’t have the sense to listen to people who tell him otherwise or is so intimidating no one dares, how good of a president could this man be, really?
Half a million? That’s 499,992 too many (I’m allowing for her immediate family, because they have to). Maybe she sounds less stupid when she Tweets, but I doubt it. The only positive outcome of Sarah Palin’s running for president is it gives Tina Fey more material.
Maestro Levine is a paragon of conducting in the United States, with extended tenures at such notable institutions as Tanglewood, the Metropolitan Opera in New York, and the Boston Symphony.
His contribution to the canon is remarkable, as his longevity. He has reputedly not been up to his usual standard since around 2003, a result of various illnesses and resulting physical infirmities.
I have nothing but respect for his intellect, musicianship, and accomplishments.
But whenever I see a picture of him, I notice an uncanny resemblance. Maybe it’s just me.
I mean, it’s not like this surprises me or anything, but seriously? It’s no wonder we have such a hard time dealing with all of our political and civic problems; we’re still waiting for someone Perfect to come along and fix everything!
Elizabeth Edwards was a smart, capable, strong woman who loved her children and her family, someone who apparently thought it was more important to stay married to a man she obviously cared about, and to stay focused on the objectives upon which their lives and their marriage was built, than to avoid “betraying her following.”
What following is that, that she would have so woefully betrayed? The one who idealized her? Who thought it was appropriate to advise her to “focus on her children” or for her and John to “take care of each other”? How condescending! How about those who found her to be “domineering, aggressive and opinionated,” but still worthy of their admiration? Do any of these feel they are worthy of her consideration?
How dare these people, who know virtually nothing of this woman, her personal pains and joys and triumphs, the intricacies and cohesion of her marriage, feel they have a right to judge or criticize? Even the tone of the article, written in apparent tribute, condescends, with its referrals to her substantial hips and frumpiness, to this “hearty woman of substance.”
Can this article not be written without buying in/selling out to the culture of lookism and female-body-criticism-masked-as-praise we are so saddled with everywhere we look? Does the size of her hips have anything to do with the contribution she may have tried to make to better this country? Are we supposed to imagine John to be that much more noble because he stood by her, despite her frumpiness and the fact that she had the nerve to get cancer, twice?
“We all have very firm opinions about marriage. . .What it consists of, how far it stretches, what kind of deal it entails, and a woman whose husband humiliates her publicly just invites us to dilate on the subject, for our own sakes.”. (Stacy Schiff)
John didn’t humiliate Elizabeth publicly. John betrayed her, yes. But he didn’t broadcast it around the world — others did that. Why do the American people of the 21st century take it so personally when a public figure has an affair? What can we POSSIBLY know of their lives, their marriage, their choices, their struggles? What can it possibly have to do with us?
Jan Hoffman, the writer of the article, redeems him/her self a bit with the final paragraph, although the gist of it comes from Elizabeth herself:
“With her messy, tarnished life, Mrs. Edwards could never become the idealized role model that supporters from so many corners needed her to be. But did that mean she failed them?. . . Fallible, three-dimensional. On the day before she died, she wrote on Facebook: ‘There are certainly times when we aren’t able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It’s called being human.’”
Kate Gosselin has a new body.
I suppose we should be happy for her, but I can’t help but wonder what she did with the old one? Is it in a dumpster somewhere? I guess at least there’s the “fact” that she got it through jogging instead of through those gol-darn cosmetic surgery procedures everybody keeps talking about. Not sure why we care though, but apparently we do.
In the process of looking for the cover, I discovered this challenging question: Who wears the look better?
I would venture to say neither, and that dress needs to be taken off of the racks immediately. Not sure “none of the above” was one of the options though. I like how they’ve spliced these two pictures together to give us the illusion that they’re holding hands and smiling about this sartorial nightmare — haven’t we all been in high school and been mortified when someone else shows up wearing the exact same thing? Even worse if what we’re wearing is hideous. Remember the old adage: two wrongs don’t make a right, but three lefts do.
I’m looking and looking online to post a picture of Jamie Bochert in Marc Jacobs sunglasses in the newest edition of Vogue. No luck.
Needless to say, I just don’t get it.
She looks okay here:
but in almost every other picture I find of her she looks like a man
or like she wants to be in Kiss
or like the Wicked Witch of the West.
Forget about looking for women with normal bodies, shouldn’t models at least be attractive? She frightens me.
Maybe it’s just me.
There is now apparently a garment, labeled “Shapewear,” available to help men “streamline their appearance.” At first I thought this was some kind of a joke, a theory which wasn’t threatened in any way by the fact that one of the spokesman for the item is named Nickelson Wooster and that much of the article sounded like an advertisement “[Although Mr. Viscusi is 39, he wears Spanx* T-shirts routinely. He recently wore them to see executives from Bravo and VH1. 'It gave me pecs, gave me definition, it gave me confidence,' he said. . ."].
And maybe it could only be a good thing for the world if men felt a little bit more of the pressure women feel to look a particular way. A little shared pain in the interests of empathy and all that.
One problem is that the men who really need this particular item are most likely the men who are walking around without any shirt on at all.
The other is that I think most women would just appreciate a little less pressure.
Instead we have created yet another market to appease yet another set of insecurities people feel about their bodies. Instead of learning more about how to eat healthfully, taking actions against the salts, sugars, and chemicals hidden in our foods, getting more exercise, and developing self-esteem which includes acceptance of ourselves and our imperfections, we have managed to devise yet another way to improve our “appearance” without actually changing anything.
To paraphrase the woman who has looked in a mirror after having removed her Spanx “foundation garment” (now THERE’S a eumphemism), “I look like a blob, an amoeba.” Or how about the man realizing that the “shapewear” garment he wears routinely has only served to mislead his date, and can only cause her to wonder how he has managed to gain 45 lbs between the restaurant and the bedroom.
The thing that really cracks me up is the myriad ways men justify wearing these garments. Rather than just admitting that they weigh a little bit more than they should, they emphasize the fact that it improves their posture, eases their back pain, and/or masks their man boobs nipples. One man complains about the tendency of undershirts to bunch up, causing it to look like you are wearing “. . .a tire around your waist.” It’s not the shirt, dear, it’s the tire around your waist. They don’t even call it what it is — a girdle foundation garment — it’s “Shapewear.” But no, actually: it’s spandex and rubber made into a garment that’s one-to-two sizes too small for you and hides the fact that you eat ice cream every night when you really shouldn’t.
Apparently there is also such a thing as “profile-enhancing underwear,”
which seems to act as, and I quote, “the equivalent of a ‘push-up bra’ for men.” Seriously? Do we really want need to see more of That?
Supposedly these garments have not been designed to “take off” pounds. The woman who designed them points out that stars as lean as Gwyneth Paltrow wear Spanx, and that she herself designed them when she was a size 2. Maybe it’s just me, but what exactly is the spanx holding in if you’re a size 2? Your kneecaps? Your spine? And if Gwyneth feels the need to wear it
I’m thinking that maybe the rest of us should just stop going out in public altogether.
Maybe we should all just wear Spanx/Shapewear and never take them off.
*Why “Spanx”? Why?
Just trying to figure out how all this time has passed, and this is the first I’ve heard of/seen Billy Crudup.
Has someone been keeping this from me deliberately?
It’s all of us.
Why does this matter? Lisa Marie’s fat, Shiloh’s hair is short, Angelina’s pregnant again, Jon and Kate are fighting as they divorce (you’re kidding! how odd!), Jennifer has lost out on yet another relationship (and I’m not talking about the one with Brad that never seems to end), and we can all have our bikini bodies by June.
Blah blah blah.
So I noticed on the cover of one of those magazines that none of us “buy” but which we all read with great speed (so as not to be “caught”) and interest in the supermarket checkout line that Tiger has returned from rehab, hired a publicist, and is out to make his comeback in an upcoming golf tournament.
As I already mentioned about Kirstie Alley and her chronic weight problem, I do think it’s too bad when celebrities have to live out all of their vulnerabilities in the public eye. Perhaps Tiger did have a responsibility to the public that extended beyond his responsibility to his wife and family. And yes, I think if you’re in a position that benefits from your celebrity, perhaps you should hold yourself to a higher standard. Maybe that would be a good thing for all of us — I remember a very helpful point made in Dr. Spock’s Baby and Child Care: when you’re having a really bad day with this baby/toddler/adolescent, and you feel yourself losing your grip on the kind of parent you want to be, pretend that someone whose opinion really matters to you is in the room with you. (You know, like God, or Santa Claus, or maybe Dr. Spock himself.)
We know all of the stories about early stardom and consequent self-destruction; Drew Barrymore comes to mind, as does Lindsay Lohan and Gary Coleman. But do we really understand what causes it?
So much of the Tiger Woods persona hinged on his youthful prowess of an adult-man’s game — prowess built on a certain innate gift combined with years of disciplined training and supervision by a hyper-involved and motivated father. A little like Mozart, one might say. The problem with this that I see is that he never had a chance to be a teenage fuck-up. If the world, and your DAD, is watching your every move from the age of 14 you never have the chance to crash the car, flunk geometry, sleep through your ACTs or spend your last 2 years of high school broke, bored, and unemployed.
Maybe those lessons are too important not to be learned, so they have to be learned some time, the hard way, even if the whole world is watching.
I’ll try to keep that in mind as I watch my 16 year old look halfheartedly for work in the worst economy in 100 years while he spends most of his time playing XBox, “networking” on facebook, and playing guitar.
I wish everyone would stop picking on Jessica Simpson for being fat. Yes, she’s gained some weight, no, she doesn’t look like the stick-shaped ideal held by everyone in the entertainment industry (and apparently practically everyone else). But she just looks like a woman, and not that badly-shaped of one at that. Before she looked like Barbie, and I don’t mean that in a good way.
Of course, she’s dumb as a sack of hair, and we’d all be grateful if she could just find a way to keep that to herself.
Kristie Alley, on the other hand, is fat. But rather than make fun of her, I feel sorry for her. Obviously there are some serious emotional issues involved, and she has to have them all played out in front of everyone.
I, on the other other hand, am free to gain and lose and gain and lose the same 20 lbs over and over again, and hardly anyone even seems to notice. (Except probably for my bff’s husband Paul, but he’s usually nice enough not to say anything. My grandma used to feel inclined to comment on such things, but she died a few years ago, and it’s really hard to find that kind of honesty in anyone else.)
In any case, let’s stop picking on the fat girls, and talk about things that really matter, like health care reform, what to do about terrorism and violence in countries around the world, and what Anne Hathaway was thinking when she decided to wear this.
I don’t get this dress. It looks like a cross between a shower curtain from the 70s and bubble wrap. I do love that it shows off her curves. Real women of the world, unite!
(I didn’t get the catsuit NYEve either — where was her butt that night, not to mention a friend to say, umm, J? got anything else?)
For reasons not to be disclosed here, I just watched a video of Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance on YouTube.
I’m not sure what just happened, but I’m pretty sure that some natural laws have been violated. While it’s impressive that she can actually move in those heels without causing permanent and severe skeletal or muscular damage, and I’m mildly curious about the shaving/waxing/electrolysis procedures that must have been involved, something must be done.
And now the song is stuck in my head. Sheesh.
*Disclaimer: I am posting the video for the convenience of those of you who are unable to resist watching it; I am neither encouraging nor condoning said viewing. Please proceed with caution.
Apolo Ohno is an amazing skater, and I love the drama and speed and excitement of short-track speed skating. But someone needs to hold this otherwise-really-attractive young man down and shave off the soul patch. Is someone telling him this looks good? It looks like a little bit of Donald Trump’s toupée found its way onto his chin. [A choupée?]
I mean look – isn’t that soooo much better?