Or really, video flashback. We were listening to LL Cool J’s “Going Back to Cali” and someone started talking about the Colin Quinn parody. Whoa, crazy flashback Batman. All she could remember was the Richie Sambora line, but thankfully, YouTube cures your curiosity before it can kill the cat.
Nails filed, clothes wild –
She said her name was Laura
She gave me a pear,
Started spraying her hair,
and showed me a photo of Richie Sambora
I have a weakness. Okay, I have many weaknesses, but the one I’m most concerned with now is about school supplies. In general, I have to limit my trips to Staples and such because I tend to walk out with $40 worth of pens, markers, notebooks and other such things that I do not need. I flip through the supply catalog at work at end up ordering finger gripper-protectors to use when going through many papers. Mine looks like a red fish and I only use it when going through the supply catalog.
The months I most worry about are school supply months — when you can’t escape the aisles and aisles of cute notebooks, book covers, locker mirrors and magnets. Normally, I prepare myself for these to hit early August, and adjust my blinders accordingly. Because, I don’t go to school. I work in a fairly paperless office. I write directly into my laptop. I have no need for all the notebooks I’ve already acquired and yet I want more. I want them all. I want to have an entire office of cute notebooks and lunch bags and pens ready at my disposal, whether I need them or not. (I can probably put all my Buffy dolls and figures up in there too, and then you know, I should probably follow those up with Doctor Who toys… but I digress.)
This weekend, however, I was blindsided by my beloved Target which has already rolled out the deliciously adorable school preparations. I was so not prepared! I felt weak in the knees amid the Hello Kitty and Domo Kun notebooks…
the cute fruit-themed backpacks and lunchbags…
look — pink skull and crossbones! RAWR!
There were packages of markers and pens, and the most adorable pencil cases. I did give in and pick up one black/red/silver vinyl one that looks like a mini-clutch. And then there’s the camo lockable one which I might just nab as a makeup case.
Luckily I had my camera with me, so the urge to lighten my wallet was a little lessened, and I can spend time all glossy-eyed over the cuteness before making impulse purchases. But I know I’ll be back, I know I’ll be slave to the school supplies god very soon.
The pilot (or “Pie-Lott”) of Pushing Daisies featured the supercute Kristin Chenoweth as Olive. She was sassy and sported retro dresses that showed off her covetous curves. But when the second episode rolled around, I was completely confused by her new ‘do. Her long locks were suddenly chopped off — with no explanation — and I actually checked to see if Kristin had been replaced by Amy Sedaris.
Because, really:
Can’t you see it? Does it confuse you as much as it does me? In fact, in each episode — I keep waiting to hear Amy’s voice come out whenever Olive speaks. But what frustrates me more is that they’ve NEVER explained why she suddenly chopped off her long locks. The short hair totally suits Kristin and makes her eyes pop, but I just want a reason as to why she started one way in the pilot and ended up an Amy Sedaris clone the following week.
Was she trying to get Ned’s [Lee Pace*] attention away from long-haired Chuck? Maybe she tried cooking him something and there were flames, flames on the sides of her face? Did she have a flat-iron incident go terribly wrong?
I realize that this is a rather random thing to be concerned about when the show asks you to accept the premise of a man who can bring things back from the dead, but only for a minute lest someone else loses their life. It’s like being annoyed with Chris Tucker’s outfit in <i>The Fifth Element</i>. Alas, it is an itch that I need scratched — so, answers please!
(* And honestly, who wouldn’t want Ned’s attention. As per Caroline Dhavernas: [Lee Pace] doesn’t have to say a word and he just oozes sexiness. The other day he called me over the phone because we were supposed to meet up to go see a movie and he says (affects a raspy, sexy voice) “Hi, how are you?” and he was just being normal. And I [thought] “Oh my god, why am I feeling like someone is seducing me right now?” (laughs) He’s just that way, he’s a lucky man.
As such, here are some other classic children’s and YA book authors who obviously failed the gay community by not outing their characters in the text…
Frances Hodgson Burnett for The Secret Garden and A Little Princess. Bitch please, the kid’s name was DICKON and he liked weak, sissy boy Colin flowers and plants. And did you really think Sara Crewe was the “little princess” in question? Clearly Burnett meant the Indian Gentleman who was such a “close friend” of Sara’s father. Plus, Sara and Becky…? Totally gay.
Shame on you, Frances. SHAME.
Then we have Madeleine L’Engle, who clearly should have outed Charles Wallace Murray. The closest we got was him fondling that unicorn, Gaudior (a BOY unicorn, I might add) in A Swiftly Tilting Planet. Like we all didn’t know what was actually “tilting.” Wink, wink. And, of course, savvy slashers have already caught on to the fact that Joshua Archer in The Arm of the Starfish was totally Adam’s big, gay boyfriend. It’s too bad she didn’t put in a five page gay sex scene in between all that talk of limb regeneration. ‘Cause you know *something* was regenerating. Nudge, nudge.
Bonnie in Joan Aiken’s The Wolves of Willoughby Chase. Total dyke now that I’ve read it as an adult. She knows how to shoot, she wears boys’ clothes, and enjoys her short hair cut. Why couldn’t Aiken have revealed her true love for her sweet cousin Sylvia? I mean, geez, then she would have had the double pay-off of it being gay AND incest-y!
Everybody in Ellen Raskin’s The Westing Game. Who wasn’t gay in that book, right? Judge Ford, the Power Dyke; Turtle the Baby Dyke; Angela the Lipstick Lesbian…Doug Hoo and Theo Theodorakis totally the OTP! If only Raskin had them all mention their sexuality on those slips they filled out during the meetings for the game… the book would have been perfect!
Preston Fielding in Ellen Emerson White’s The President’s Daughter? GAY. I mean, come on, he’s a fabulous dresser who is not afraid to wear magenta. Total label queen. I can’t believe White didn’t have him become the first gay and out White House press secretary. She’s a terrible role model for not playing into the stereotype of the well-dressed gay man.
The Berenstain Bears. Please, they’re BEARS. Duh.
(Yes, it’s sad when “my side” annoys me more than the ‘phobes.)
-Mala
*Title comes from one of the best bad-bad Dawson’s Creek slash stories, and a personal favorite here at PopGurls. — Amy
So, it’s official. Despite the best efforts of fans and their hopeful campaign — Jorja Fox is definitely leaving CSI this season.
According to EW.com, Jorja’s reasons for leaving: “There are all these things I want to do. Some are personal. Some are professional. And I really need to do some of them before I get too old… If I thought the show were on its last legs, I would have tried harder to stay the course. But I feel like its going to be around for a while, so if I don’t want some of those dreams to pass me by. I have to get off the ride for a while.”
I’m certainly disappointed. While I’ve sampled from each of the CSI franchises, it’s the original that has kept me hooked. It’s the main characters and their relationships that grab me more than anything else — from the beginning, I’ve been taken by the fact that they’re all flawed. Flawed in their own ways, which makes them so much more tangible. (I don’t think the Miami and New York spin-offs get that.)
Sara has always been my favorite character and, while I’m not a hardcore ’shipper, I do enjoy the ins and outs, the subtle flirtations of the Sara/Grissom relationship. I can’t say that I’ll give up on the show, and I’ll give it a chance with the new characters, but some of the light will have definitely dimmed once Sara’s gone.
* While indulging in my newest addiction — Scrabulous on Facebook — this ad popped up in the corner:
My question is — how does one get certified?
Do you think God has a test?
Is it Scantron?
Requiring No. 2 pencils?
And do all Certified Christians look like porn stars? Because, you know, it could be a big selling point.
Or, really, Kristen Bell. But she’ll always be Veronica to me. While we may not get to see her delightful smirk, it’s certainly present in her voice as she recants the Upper East Side’s goings-on in the blog of the allknowing albeit ultra-secretive Gossip Girl.
GossipGirl premiered last night on TheCW and while I managed to avoid the books — I figured I’d try out the pilot. The clips on YouTube were certainly intriguing and they made the brilliant marketing move of airing it right after the season premiere of America’s Next Top Model — how could I resist?
I couldn’t, and I’m so glad I didn’t. I liked it a lot — a few pegs from loving it (reserved for pilots like My So-Called Life and Freaks and Geeks) — and the casting was fantastic. Blake Lively, known for her role as Bee in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, stars as Serena — back in town after a sudden and unexplained jettison off to Connecticut. Her best friend Blair (Leighton Meester) seems none too happy that she’s back — which is more of a facade until she finds out a reason to solidify her anger. Ed Westwick is fantastically evil as snarky and presumptuous Chuck, and gets to deliver some of the best one-liners of the show. Then there’s cute boy Penn Badgley who might possibly be the one to whisk Serena away from the drama of the life she used to lead.
It’s delicious candy — both eye and ear. Josh Schwartz’s musical choices are utterly brilliant and there’s no denying the cast is pretty. And can act! Which sometimes is a rarity on teen soaps these days. It’s been a while since I’ve been sucked into a teen drama and I can’t think of a better way to delve back in than with Gossip Girl.
But she’s certainly not the first chick to go batshit in a big way, and she won’t be the last. Maybe Britney just needs to take a page from another spectacle of sorts, Miss Tyra Banks of America’s Next Top Model. Just let it all out, baby, and embrace the madness. I came across this little gem and I can tell you, I won’t be missing:
When I was little, I loved Wonder Woman. Sure, I love her now but back then, I’d force my cousins — at least 8 years my senior — to play Wonder Woman with me. They’d shoot at me and I’d, of course, reflect their invisible bullets away by the mightyness of my bracelets of power. Then I’d take off my golden tiara and throw it at them to bind their wrists and haul them off to jail.
She created her own pattern out of a vintage sweater pattern and studiously studying Wonder Woman’s outfit. It took her over a year to finish — yet as soon as I saw it, I wanted to beg every knitting friend I have to somehow immediately figure out how to replicate it for MEEEEE. It’s like big-girl underoos, but better because everyone can see it all the time!
If there’s anyone out there who’s up for the challenge — my birthday is in November, but Christmas is good too…
Lately, I’ve been somewhat obsessive about scanning in old pics from high school and college. Some are longtime favorites, some I haven’t seen in years. It’s been like a bizarre 8-Track flashback — seeing faces of old friends, some I haven’t talked to since I graduated 15 years ago. And it’s amazing how quickly memories pour in, flooding my vision and my emotions.
Some of my favorites are from my going-away to college party. The Shag Party. A few days earlier, J and I had come across the movie Shagand became strangely enthralled. That night, I found “Stagger Lee” in my mom’s record collection — the song featured the big dance competition number. So of course, we needed to learn the dance and perform it at my going-away party. Because, really, what else would you do in that situation?
We tracked down the movie and to the amusement and horror of my boyfriend, made him watch us and the film until we got the dance as close as possible (including our own flourishes). We then forced our most glorious performance on the well-wishers. And it was glorious, we were brilliant. I wish I had it on tape somewhere but these pictures suffice.
However, the most interesting thing I’ve found in this whole exercise of memory lane meandering? It’s changing my perception of myself from then — no longer am I convinced that I was hideously ugly. (Which is something that I held as indisputable fact from junior high through, say, four years after college. That mental change in perception is something for which I’ll always thank PopGurl Amanda.)
In fact, I was kind of cute. I wish I could go back and tell myself that, and then hit high schools now and let awkward boys and girls of today know that the perceptions of themselves they have right now are not necessarily the right ones, and given some distance and perspective — the mirror they hold up is definitely more flattering and a whole lot more true.
You know, I totally understand why there’s so much outcry about 
