In Celebration of Women

Hello, I am still alive. Sorry it’s been so long since my last post. Now that the world is falling apart in a new and exciting way every single day, I’ve returned to write about my feelings.

Recently, I got broken up with in the kindest and gentlest way anyone has ever been broken up with. There was rosé involved. But despite the care used to deliver the final blow, or maybe because of it, I was devastated. I am devastated. So I find myself in a world where men in suits are working hard everyday to ignorantly or spitefully take away rights from women and minorities, struggling with the feelings I have for one man. The worst storyline in a dystopian novel.

The best storyline of course, is the women. The women I know, who I have angrily and tearfully turned to so many times in my life but especially since November 9, have kept me together this month. Each one urging me to take my time, feel my feelings, offering curses and ire that weren’t necessary except in their offering. Day drinking with me and reminding me that grief is human and normal and that even though I loathe being human and normal, it’s ok. They enveloped me in an estrogen-bound coven until I was ready to be a human on my own again.

There have of course been wonderful men too, but as someone very wise once told me, it’s ok for things to just be in celebration of women. A march can just be about reproductive rights and equal pay and the anger of men living their lives after committing atrocities against bodies they don’t value as human. A benefit can just be for women. We share a quiet rage that we struggle to express for fear of being called irrational or laughed at. We are bonded because we are not believed. But we believe each other. And today I am humbled and grateful for that belief and validation.

What is Optimism?

Taylor Swift is the living embodiment of Voltaire’s tragic hero, Candide, as surely as Selena Gomez is the incurably optimistic Pangloss[1]. Just as Candide begins his life in a castle so did Swift begin hers on a Christmas tree farm equally believing that this indeed was the “best of all possible worlds”. We know Swift was as brutally ejected from this paradise as Candide was conscripted by the Bulgars, evidenced by the painful journey she takes us on in “White Horse”.

Just as Candide loses everyone he loves in hellish, nightmarish ways (syphilis, war, enslavement, rape, shipwreck, etc.) so did Taylor Swift date John Mayer. Just as Candide had to murder, lie, steal, and starve to survive his tribulations, so did Taylor Swift endure Kanye at the 2009 VMAs.

We are going to a new world, and no doubt it is there that everything is for the best; for it must be admitted that one might lament a little over the physical and moral happenings of our own world.

We are going to a new world, and no doubt it is there that everything is for the best; for it must be admitted that one might lament a little over the physical and moral happenings of our own world.

Just as Candide had to journey to the lands of his enemies to pursue a love who had forsaken him, so did Taylor Swift survive that not super well-reviewed cameo in Valentine’s Day. Just as Candide finds pessimism-spewing, shade-throwing philosopher, Martin, so has Taylor Swift befriended Suri Cruise.

Man is bound to live either in convulsions of misery or in the lethargy of boredom.

Man is bound to live either in convulsions of misery or in the lethargy of boredom.

And now we find ourselves on the other side of Swift’s exhausting journey with the masterful “Shake It Off”. Because indeed, the “Haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate” for it is declared thusly in their name as it is with the players, heartbreakers, and the fakers. But at last with only the backbreaking work of her farm to occupy her time, Taylor has realized that she’s “lightening on [her] feet”, though others cannot see it. Just as Candide learns that toil is man’s only way to find true joy so has Taylor Swift declared that she “can’t stop, won’t stop grooving”. Worry not, people, that Taylor Swift stays out too late or goes on too many dates. Be not like, “oh my god”, Taylor Swift’s ex man’s new girlfriend. Think not about the liars and the dirty, dirty cheats of this world, person listening to “Shake It Off”. Taylor Swift has made it through countless trials and tribulations, recorded for posterity in the ballads born of her pain, but at last has learned, whether this is the best of all possible worlds or otherwise, it’s best that Taylor Swift cultivate her own garden.


[1] Just as Pangloss retains his optimism through syphilis, losing an eye, nose tip, and an ear, countless enslavements, a hanging, and boredom on a farm, so has Selena Gomez gotten back with Justin Bieber, like, a lot of times.

Troubles are just the shadows in a beautiful picture.

Troubles are just the shadows in a beautiful picture.

The Ultimate High Five


Guys, CBS’s once-great sitcom, How I Met Your Mother, is over. And I, who have been begging for the formerly hilarious, more recently hokey and lazy show to end, am devastated. I’m an easy crier, but I think I bruised something watching that episode. My heart.

The episode starts out with Ted being the absolute fucking worst, as is his wont, by making someone else’s wedding reception all about him. Ted is leaving tomorrow for Chicago, even though tonight is Barney and Robin’s wedding reception. Jesus. I have clutched many a friend’s hand over the year, fearfully asking, “What if I’m Ted?!”Now? I’m good.Ok Im Ok

Then Ted is annoyed by an older woman at a bus station. Go-ud, lady! Can’t you see Ted is trying to feel feelings about a moment he’s artificially infused with drama? Then there is romance (interspersed throughout many, many other scenes).

I knew I was going to need a bigger wine glass was when Robin, now divorced from Barney, reveals that she has to step away from the gang. The fissure is what makes this show great. Rarely does a group of friends have as dramatic a dynamic as these five, but the love they share is very relatable. And the idea that we can’t stay young and close forever is an omnipresent reality for those of us who were young and foolish at the same time as Robin, Barney, Lily, Marshall, and even fucking Ted. It’s the real thing from a show that gave up trying to give us a funny, honest reflection of reality a long time ago.Close

I realized there was no glass of wine big enough for this evening when Barney holds his daughter and tells her he’s fallen in love with her. Ugh, the same clichés I’ve been bitching about for two seasons had now turned on me like Wormtail’s artificial hand, ready to snatch the very breath from my lungs.

I cried so hard I choked on a carrot.

It only got uglier. “Even when she got sick…” referencing the mother (Tracy)’s tragic demise that leaves Ted, now somehow slightly less annoying, widowed and raising his two patient children.  I’m re-tearing realizing Ted, who wanted a wife so badly, really only had one for a few, very short cool

People will hate it, but Ted and Robin should end up together. The show should end with that stupid blue French horn. The show was a journey about love, a love so great that it survives two terrible seasons of a sitcom and comes out on the other end somehow still believable. I give it four and a half out of five Roseanne finales.

I hope all of you who loved, and maybe hated, How I Met Your Mother enjoy the rest of your evenings. Do not watch anything else serious on television. Someone in this studio apartment just told Once Upon a Time that she didn’t have room for it in her heart for it tonight.

Good luck gang.Kk

My Review of the Golden Globes

Y’all, I did not watch the Golden Globes tonight. I want so much to give a quarter of a fuck about them, especially because of the insane love I feel for Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, and for the insane love I feel for shading celebrity dress choices (but not bodies), but I just do not. For one thing, these Law and Order: SVU episodes aren’t going to re-watch themselves. Plus, I’ve seen like, two of the nominated movies and probably .015% of the nominated television shows so I can’t enjoy the sole joy of watching an awards show, which is to nod smugly as various movies and television programs I know are announced as if I somehow made them myself. Also, since anything besides Frozen  was nominated for any awards this whole production is a bull(?)shit sham and I won’t be a party to it.

I also did not watch the Golden Globes tonight because I was busy experiencing a major life milestone. In the interest of a little backstory, picture it: New York City, 2008, the Upper West Side….

A broke actor/server server/actor, I relied on my roommate Gigi to cut my hair for me; her qualifications being skill and patience. However, Gigi was working a similar gig with different hours, so I decided to take matters into my own hands, despite the fact that I possess neither skill nor patience. I cut my bangs so short and jagged that I couldn’t even pin them back. In a headband, I looked like a troll doll going through something. A drunk five-year old with one side of a pair of safety scissors could have done a better job. Since then, I have not been allowed to use simple tools to remove any of my hair.

Brenda Walsh and me: living parallel lives

Brenda Walsh and me: living parallel lives

But tonight, a mere six years later, I successful cut my own bangs. I sent a selfie to Gigi to make sure I had permission. Hey! 24 year old me, it really does get better.

Like a fine wine

Like a fine wine

Also, Sunday night treat. Lascivious Lemur, you will love it.

Also, fair disclaimer, I am not Shannen Doherty, only a respectful and not at all dangerous fan.

I Feel The Same Way As You Feel About Botox. Painful And Unnecessary.

Gang? Hey guys, everybody grab a piece of floor or sit backwards in a chair in a cool way; it’s time to rap. How was everyone’s day? Good? Good, me too. I bought new bras (Semi-Annual Sale! Run don’t walk!) so everything is good here.

I just wanted to check in and make sure we’re all on the same page about how we feel about Sarah Jessica Parker’s comment that there could possibly be a third Sex and the City movie. Did someone ask for this? Don’t hide in the back if you did. It’s ok. Someone let Russell Crowe be in Les Miserables; some people like Kelly better than Brenda. Sometimes people are wrong, but no one is mad, ok? So you can tell us if you said you wanted it.belding bro

Ok, so no one is going to speak up. That’s fine. Maybe no one did ask for this. I certainly didn’t. What the fuck could another Sex and the City movie do other than reinforce how vapid and unsubstantial the characters have become? How much harder can I wish every cast member of The Golden Girls was still alive and making magic together while watching four shadows of the legacy they left behind? Is there something getting privileged white women down in New York City in a way with which we are as yet unfamiliar? Is there a story about this not sufficiently being told but The Real Housewives of New York?

I have seen Sarah Jessica Parker play everything from the hot witch sister of Bette Midler to the hot social climber who stole Bette Midler’s husband but I have never seen her play any character other than Carrie Bradshaw. Maybe she could just keep doing that in other movies that aren’t Sex in the City and just leave the charred ashes of a once great show long ago destroyed by the flames of hubris to slowly recede into the sea?

Or maybe they’ll go back to Dubai or explore a whole other culture’s most superficial stereotypes! Life is crazy and even empty stories have more chapters!

Now We Don’t Have To Wait For Our Lives To Be Over

There is no group of strangers I care more about than the cast of Dawson’s Creek. There are shows I might be more loyal to (Happy Endings, 90210) but not casts. I care about each and every one of them, from Joshua Jackson to Marybeth Peil to Busy Phillipps. Did you know the world’s most perfect man (if appearances are to be believed) Ken Marino was on the Creek? I did. Did you know that your favorite bad boy, Michael Pitt was Jen’s serious boyfriend who she cradle-robbed from the freshman class? I did. Did you know that Busy Phillipps and Michelle Williams are each other’s’ rocks? I. Did. Thanks.

So, I am super thrilled second only to the time I saw Katie Holmes walking on the disgusting sidewalk next to the Duane Reade across the street from Madison Square Garden (she looked like a supermodel and walked like an angel finally given wings) to tell you guys about this website I stumbled upon while reading comments on a Saturday night like the hip urbanite I am. Featuring the member of the Creek cast most likely to fade into obscurity who instead flipped everything on its head and became the celebrity Luke Perry never had the courage to be (that’s right, I said it), James Van Der Beek proves that he’s more man than Chad Michael Murray will ever be and more internet hero than we’ll ever deserve. I give you, Van Der Memes.

Every moment you don’t click on the link is another moment you don’t understand what it is to truly be alive.



Without Even The Aid Of A Nice Chianti


I try to be cynical in this crazy, mixed up world we live in, especially when it comes to Hollywood. But the letter Sir Anthony Hopkins wrote to Bryan Cranston of Breaking Bad is the new kitten meme of the internet. It will warm your heart and help you believe that there might be another tomorrow now that you don’t have Jesse and Walt to help you feel morally superior any longer.