Tag Archives: Complaints

Switching gears to another polemic

It was another big day for fraudulent memoirs.

I find it so interesting that authors keep lying about their real lives when they could just write fiction. Is there a huge difference between saying “I lived with a pack of wolves” or “I was a teenage drug pusher,” and “Jane Eyre lived with a pack of drug-addicted wolves”?

The fabricated memoir trend resembles the reality TV trend (can trends last a decade?). In reality TV, actual people become actors. The audience demands overweening drama. We* want reality to seem like the movies. And everything on the small screen is more compelling when it’s staged as “reality.” We are complicit in the lie, and yet we’re furious when we find out that the apparent spontaneity of reality TV is actually scripted.

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Funny hoo-ha

I realize that anybody who is anybody on the internet has already blogged today about the “Who Says Women Aren’t Funny?Vanity Fair article, itself a response to the VF article “Why Women Aren’t Funny” by Christopher Hitchens. [Full disclosure: Christopher Hitchens will always be a god to me because he devoted an entire book to putting down Mother Teresa. Who else would have the audacity to do that?] Nevertheless, I want to weigh in on this important debate contrived to sell magazines. Are women funny?

Let me start by saying that all those SNL hotties were ugly in high school. I lack the evidence to back up that statement, but I feel in my gut that it’s true. They were ugly and that’s why they cultivated their personalities. And I have to put that out there because a large portion of the latest Vanity Fair article, supposedly extolling the comedic talents of the fairer sex, is about how pretty these funny ladies are. Alessandra Stanley writes:

It used to be that women were not funny. Then they couldn’t be funny if they were pretty. Now a female comedian has to be pretty—even sexy—to get a laugh.

At least, that’s one way to view the trajectory from Phyllis Diller and Carol Burnett to Tina Fey. Some say it’s the natural evolution of the women’s movement; others argue it’s a devolution. But the funniest women on television are youthful, good-looking, and even, in a few cases, close to beautiful—the kind of women who in past decades might have been the butt of a stand-up comic’s jokes.

Of course female comedians are beautiful. Vanity Fair loves to take pictures of beautiful people. Vanity Fair gets to pick and choose who to put on its cover. Vanity Fair gets to slather the funny women in makeup and dress them in revealing “costumes” and Photoshop them into oblivion and then slap rubber chickens in their hands and pretend that their sexuality is not being exploited.

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I’m not cynical; I just hate your movie

Several friends have recently accused me and the bbf of being cynical. Cynical because we both hated the movies Little Miss Sunshine and Juno. I would like to point out that just because I rolled my eyes throughout Juno, that doesn’t mean those same eyes didn’t tear up when I read about Diablo Cody’s stripper friends watching the Oscars:

They burst into tears when they heard Cody’s name. “She proves that if you follow your dreams, anything can come true,” gushed Charlotte, a busty brunette. The girls have even made a plaque for Cody that reads in part: “Dedicated to Diablo Cody, who has taken our calling to new levels.”

Would a cynical person be so moved by the image of some pole dancers being inspired by a lousy screenwriter? No. And for the record, Darren and I don’t hate everything. We both enjoyed the animated penguin film Surf’s Up.

Dubai is like a spoiled rich girl whose 16th birthday is coming up

WELCOME TO DUBAI

Underwater hotels, artificial islands, amusement parks twice the size of Disney World, the world’s tallest buildings, indoor ski resorts, and a mall with “9,000 square feet of shopping.” Is this really what we’re doing with all our money? Is this really wise? Aren’t we earthlings just getting closer to becoming an alien super civilization? These pictures are going to give me nightmares. But the TutzTutz post was still worth reading because of the user comment “These people play Sim City WAY too much!!!”

Before:

 

Dubai in 1990

After:

 

Dubai in 2007

Working Full Time

I’m tired. I’m drained. I haven’t had any time to write. I think I’ll stay home today to recharge my batteries.

What do you mean work is every day?

Variety does not make up for bad taste

106.1 The Corner, you have been letting me down lately. I finally had to turn you off this afternoon when I heard the DJ say “acoustic Alice in Chains.”

Popularity

If I want someone to call me, all I have to do is go to the bathroom or lie down for a nap.

Maintenance I wish only had to be done once a year

1. Showering

2. Cooking dinner

3. Combing my hair

4. Cleaning the toilet

5. Putting gas in my car

6. Folding clean laundry

7. Fast-forwarding through the previews on a DVD

8. Brushing my teeth

I would make a really good medieval queen.

More mailbox

What is the point of having dental insurance if it doesn’t even cover having your teeth cleaned? I showed up early for my appointment, I was perfectly friendly to the hygienist, I didn’t steal anything, I provided an insurance card, and I still got a bill in the mail for a billion dollars. I probably have the kind of medical insurance that doesn’t cover being sick either.

The kids will be home from Georgia soon! I dressed up.

I need to call Christos, Keith, Tom, Duane, Jessie, Sena, Selvi, and Santa Claus. It would be so much easier if everyone would just communicate with me through the comments section of my blog like normal people.

I hate it here

I have spent the day in my hotel room in Williamsburg working on the book and eating junk food I bought from the gas station next door. That part was actually pretty cool. I can’t remember the last time I had a Pop-Tart. Now I’m watching Scary Movie 2, with Tori Spelling. I am looking forward to morning, when I can leave.

Selvi and her friend Sandy took me shopping today, which was really nice. I sampled a lot of different party dips at Le Gourmet Chef. That’s pretty much the most exciting thing that has happened at Homecoming. Basically I feel old and lonely and this place encourages former bad habits and regressive waves of self-pity. Diana decided not to come this weekend so I keep switching from one hotel bed to the other, just because I can.

I crashed a college house party last night. All the precocious young ladies with their cigarettes and their high GPAs were like “Why is this wisecracking older woman drinking all our Aristocrat Vodka? She probably didn’t even go here.” I was like “It’s 11 o’clock. Time for me to go watch cable.”

This will be my last Homecoming in Colonial Williamsburg. Next time the fife players and the beer tents can come to me.