Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Happy Turkey Day

I hope you all have a lovely holiday...I'm traveling, but should have time to put up a new post by Monday. In the meantime, enjoy clips from some of my favorite Thanksgiving movies. They're all worth renting while you're in a food coma this weekend!

Hannah and Her Sisters:

Home for the Holidays:

The House of Yes:

The Ice Storm:

Planes, Trains and Automobiles:

Finally, I'll include Clue, which is not a Thanksgiving movie per se, just one of my personal favorites to watch while I'm curled up on the couch nursing my food baby.

Happy Holidays!

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Wednesday, November 19, 2008

I feel cheap.

I was thinking ten grand, at least...apparently I have too high an opinion of myself.
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Tuesday, November 18, 2008

The Onion is The Awesome.

Attractive Girls Union Refuses To Enter Into Talks With Mike Greenman
Hat tip: Pandagon.

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Monday, November 17, 2008

How was your Saturday?

Mine was productive:

Yes readers, I was in that crowd of 12,000 on a very hot (95 degrees!) California day, marching to protest the passing of Prop 8. It was amazing, actually. The crowd was very diverse, people brought their children, the speeches were moving and the whole mood of the day was just...really good. I was proud to have been there, heatstroke and all.

Sadly, the march was slightly overshadowed by our yearly natural disaster, otherwise known as fire season:

Can you believe it? I could smell the fires in my home with the windows and doors shut. A friend of mine, who lives in Culver City, had ash raining down on him as he ran errands Sunday morning. Los Angeles has been a wild place to live lately.

I know I owe you all some freak stories; I've been very political (and lazy) lately. They're coming; sadly, I've still got plenty left. Till then, enjoy Wanda Sykes pontificating on gay marriage:

March image courtesy of Gay Socialites.
Fire image by Getty Images.

UPDATE: Hey, Catholics? Coming from someone who was raised Catholic, feel free to join the 21st century. You will not burst into flames, I swear to god!

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Friday, November 14, 2008

"Hey kids, get out of the garage. Mom needs some time alone with the S-80."

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Tuesday, November 11, 2008


In less warm and fuzzy news, more female vets are homeless than ever.
Hat tip: Ginmar.


No further comment needed.

Hat tip: Jezebel.

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Friday, November 07, 2008

Damn, I'm tougher than I thought!



Friday funny (and true)

I just love Pajiba, the movie review and pop culture website. It features a very funny series called Pajiba's Guide to Getting You Laid, which is frankly hysterical. The latest installment, I Am The Clit Commander!, is written by the Pajibettes and geared towards bepenised readers who would like new tips on how to approach women. The entry begins thusly:
We know better than anyone that all women are different, so we are going to introduce to you different species of the most intriguing creatures of humanity and guide you through what works for us - when aunt Flo isn’t in town.

A very good start, no question. This particular section had me in stitches:
Species: The Mid-to-Late 30s Career Woman
Where you can find her: The Grocery Store, Sur Le Table, Your Office
How to approach her: Side note, guys — before doing anything, check for a ring. I repeatedly hear men my age and younger say they don’t even think to look for a ring. Baffling. Unless you’re just practicing hitting on a woman, scope out the left hand first.

She’s probably heard all the lines before, so you’re going to have to get creative. Humor usually works and depending on the woman, the helpless act can get you some attention. What doesn’t work? Obvious flattery or overt innuendo. Originality and Subtly are your friends.

Ask for her opinion on wine, spices, cheese, or baking items. Don’t ask opinions on vegetables (yes, we’ve all heard how big your cucumber/zucchini/jalapeno is. Please see above for originality) and avoid making small talk about stomach remedies or feminine products you’re buying for your mom. Offering to carry a heavy box for us will get you bonus points. Yes, equal opportunity is great, but we still like having a man carry heavy stuff for us.

This chick’s unlikely to hook up with you after your first encounter, but you’re probably a shoe-in to get digits and arrange a date. We’re liable to think you’re just a nice guy and aren’t really hitting on us unless you make the first overture toward a date. Don’t be fooled by the “unwed by choice” older woman. We’re not all in a race to sink our claws in to get us a husband and Baby-On-Board sign for our mini-vans. We’ve been around the block and are quite comfortable being on our own, but sometimes we want a little sump’n, sump’n, too. Know what I’m sayin’?

If you’re lucky enough to get the call to the Majors - hang on tight. Women in their 30s and 40s tend to be more comfortable with their bodies and their sexuality. We don’t mind telling you what we want and making sure that you’re getting what you need. When everyone’s done and satisfied, you don’t need to spend the night, but don’t trip over your pants running out the door. We enjoy basking in the afterglow, light cuddling and talking a bit. If you’re good at this part too, you can bet you’ll be added to the speed dial in her cell phone.

My name is Ginger, and I approve this message. Read the whole thing if you'd also like to learn how to hit on other female species, such as the 22-year old intellectual disguised with sparkly makeup, the emotional ugly duckling, and the punk chick. It's all very entertaining and well written.

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The Cutness is coming to get you. Resistance is futile.

Behold, The Godson. How cute is he??

I know, I'm hardly objective. I have to give him big props for choosing the coolest character in the entire Star Wars lexicon for his Halloween costume. He's also very happy that Obama won the election.

Cool, gorgeous, funny and politically savvy! He takes after his godmother.

His mom emailed me to let me know that he has a girlfriend. He might have more than one; apparently he came home with two love notes this week. Naturally, this does not surprise me. I'm mostly just happy that he's friends with, and hangs out with, both girls and boys, still innocent of the deeper intrigues that overshadow and influence modern gender relations. That won't last much longer, of course. I jokingly emailed back that it's almost time for a "birds and bees talk," and inquired as to which parent would be handling that job. Suzi is adamant that it won't be her.

I remember having that talk with my mother when I was nine years old (if it were up to my father, I would probably still be ignorant about the bump and grind). Mom was an early developer who found blood in her panties at age nine, passing out in a Catholic school bathroom stall immediately after. She wanted to spare her own daughters the frightening experience of mysterious panty blood. She gave me one of those illustrated paperback books - you know, the ones with titles like "Your Growing Body," and had me read it. Then she explained the act of sex to me in very simple terms, making it very clear that what she had just described was, in fact, the reason for my existence, and hers, and everybody else's. Then we had a question and answer session, which was both horrifying and fascinating to my nine year old self. Thinking back, she was really very progressive. I have a feeling that it was more difficult for her to tell me that there was no Santa.

I remember my first love note, too; I got it in the first grade, when I was two years younger than my godson is now. It was left on my desk by Chris, a cute blond boy from my neighborhood that I was friendly with. We took the same bus to school. He was more of a jock; I was one of those weird kids who had learned to read by age three and used words like "asphalt," "landscaper" and "realm" in everyday speech. I taught myself to write in script by tracing my mother's handwritten letters, so I was able to read my fellow students' report cards aloud to them. First Grade Teacher was a battle-axe who had started her career in a one-room schoolhouse at the age of nineteen, and she was particularly hard on Chris for some reason. He was not a bad kid, but he was an overactive, fidgety type, which I could sympathize with, being antsy myself. When report cards came around, Chris appreciated knowing what his parents were going to be reading ahead of time.

One day, I got to my desk after lunch to find a sheet of looseleaf folded into a small square. Chris had scrawled "I Love You" inside, in black crayon. I took the note home and kept it in the drawer of my night table. I think I kissed him on the cheek once before the end of the school year. We were nice to each other. It was simple. Of course, second grade rolled around soon enough, and all was forgotten.

Years later, though, we got to talking in high school and he said, "You know, you were my first girlfriend." We laughed about it. Later on, I related the story to my mother, who went through her hope chest and pulled out Chris' love note, which she had saved. Being a teenager, I was embarrassed, of course.

But it really was sweet. And simple.

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Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Here's hoping that change really has come to America.

Click for a larger view.

A have a bit of a post-election hangover today. I'm thrilled, but I can't talk about it any more, so this will be a short post.

It wasn't a complete victory last night; Proposition 8 was passed. There are plenty of bigots in my so-called liberal state. Proposition 4 was defeated, which is no small victory for women's rights. Also, in an underreported development, record numbers of women will be serving in the next Congress. We're moving in the right direction slowly, but we are moving!
ANOTHER UPDATE: (again, click for larger view)

Hat tip: Slate.
YET ANOTHER UPDATE: the future of America:

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Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Election Day

Artist: Gil Elvgren
Title: "It's Up To You" (1958)
Hat tip: Vintage Ads

SoCal turns out to vote.
UPDATE: What if it's a tie? This is fascinating. I've learned so much about my government and its processes this year, I feel like I'm a better American as a result, no matter what happens.
ANOTHER UPDATE: Single women are this election's holy grail.


Monday, November 03, 2008

So much for Joan.

Here's Rita.

Here's a close up of the hair.

Didn't my hairdresser do an amazing job? She used the photo from my previous post. I actually had a few people ask me if my hair was a wig. It was bulletproof, and took me forever to wash out, but lasted all night through humidity and dancing. I was amazed at how much shorter my hair was after all that curling and sculpting. It looked like four inches had been trimmed off.

Joan will have to wait until next year, assuming that Mad Men remains as kick-ass as it is right now. Otherwise, I'll have to find a new redhead for Halloween 2009. A friend joked that I should aim for Red Sonja:

Kick ass woman? Check.

Red hair? Check.

Costume?! Ummmm. I'd have to work out every day until next Halloween. I like bagels too much.

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