Sunday, January 06, 2008

Daughter of "The Happy Baker"

Alexis Stewart (daughter of Martha) and I probably have a negligible amount in common, except for one thing: we are the first (and in her case only) daughters of Happy Bakers. It seems so right that Martha is a mother of an only child, doesn't it? The PERFECT child, right? Well, as I said I am a daughter of a Happy Baker for what good it has done me (and my bod.) I mean for Pete's sake, the other day my mom showed me a recipe for apple cider that included brown sugar and BUTTER! The dream of brown sugar addicts everywhere has finally been realized: a way to wrap our guiltiest of pleasures in something wholesome and ostensibly healthy (well, fruit-related.) I was having a hard enough time getting to the gym as it was. I did not need to stumble upon these:
...The PERFECT baked goods packaging. It doesn't just stop at the cookie boxes above, we've got cupcake boxes with holes for individual cupcakes, cellophane bags with ribbon closures for caramel corn and the like, and ye olde petit four boxes as well. Each box also includes wrapping tissue and matching labels. Thanks alot Martha. It's bad enough when your own mother doesn't have your best interests at heart, but what has the world come to when every mother is out to get ya?

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Try it, you'll like it!

Back in October 2005, or as I refer to it, the happiest time of my life, l was living in London. Part of what made me so happy in that most fabulous of cities was my discovery of Wensleydale cheese with cranberries. The Green Park subway stop had a two-floored Marks & Spencer's, which was like if Whole Foods was a 7-11, fresh food for people on the go. They sold sticks of this cheese and I would buy fistfulls of them. I have never personally experienced death by mini-bar, but I have experienced nigh unto it thanks to M&S Simply Food. Ok, maybe it only induced a hotel nap or two. So to celebrate finally getting my new ATM card after 23 days without (DURING THE XMAS SEASON!), I christened it by ordering a pound of Wensleydale. I might have paid for it in pounds sterling for as much as it cost me, but what the heck. If I can't watch dogs romp around Primrose Hill on a chilly fall Saturday while nursing a hot cocoa, at least I can close my eyes and remember, eh?

A review of "X-Special Edition"


Oh please, we all know this isn’t going to be an objective review. A lot would have had to go wrong with this CD for me to dislike it and honey, nothing did. It’s perfect new Kylie. It’s harder-edged than Fever, the lush, dreamy dance disc that re-ignited our dormant passion for Kylie, but hey, she’s been through some stuff alright? It took her a long time to convince me to come back, that's for sure. Wearing out my tape single of "Locomotion" on the annual family ski trip in 1988 to my grudging first listen to Fever in 2004 is a long freaking time to be out in the cold.

On X, the standouts for me are “Like A Drug” and "Heart Beat Rock" but I have a feeling with further listenings, I will find other faves. I only listened to the album 4 times all the way through today, so… Apparently it’s been out in America for a while and hasn’t done well at all. I get that. Sometimes we Americans are too cool for school. That’s ok. All I know is I have no more excuses not to go back to the gym now. I’ve got the trainer sessions, the engraved shuffle, and the 2nd best (behind Fever) workout CD EVER!

Honestly with that cover art, how was I not going to love it? It reminds me of the mural in Jules' (Demi Moore) room in St. Elmo's Fire. And the black tulle masque? It's the one accessory, above even the poncho and hotpants, that has such a high degree of difficulty for wearing it well, that only a select few, really a handfull, can pull it off with
élan. The rest of us can just dream. MVLC watch your back! Just kidding Madge, but you know you've got to step up your game with this year's release. I have yet to watch the DVD included, and don't really know if I can, as it's an import and I'm pretty sure doesn't have Region-1 encoding, but if I work that out, I will update this review.

I am totally confused.


Visit page on mun2


What do quinceaneras and wrestling have to do with eachother? It's not a joke, it's a promotion. A contest for which only girls that turn 15 this year can apply, so Peter Pan, dry your tears, you're not eligble to be flung around the ring by all those big naughty boys that dress their age. It's really only when you're a female over 30 that you drag your siblings and only surviving grandparent (grandma) to stand in line for hours to watch tapings of shows like NBC's American Gladiators revival, sheesh. WWE Raw, you're wasting your time on the wrong demographic.

La Bruni

I've been following the French President Nicolas Sarkozy during his tenure and find him to be one of the more fascinating leaders on the world stage in recent years. Have you seen tape of him during that school hostage situation in Neuilly, back when he was the mayor? Or storming out of an interview with 60 Minutes*? Or possibly drunk at the G8 sumit? This guy is nothing if not interesting. And now I think he's topped himself.

Since his divorce in the fall of last year, he recently began dating heiress, folk singer, erstwhile model and maneating all-star, Carla Bruni. And according to some of the most venerable press outlets, he's announced his intentions are serious. As in marriage. The couple are currently in the midst of a mid-winter Middle Eastern romp, with whistle stops in Luxor, Egypt, Petra, Jordan and...oops, no Saudi Arabia for Carla (apparently their delicto is too flagrante for the Saudi powers that be.) Anyway, I think it's all kind of fabulous, but I just want to be the first to warn Super Sarko...you better watch out, cause she will eat you for breakfast. Says so, right here.

See, I happened to have read Justine Lévy's roman à clef Nothing Serious which is subtitled How Carla Bruni Dated My Father-in-Law then Stole My Husband and Had His Baby. She's a serial girlfriend with really bizarre taste in men that can swing from exotic gorgeousness (Vincent Perez) to frumpy blowhards (Donald Trump...seriously). She broke up Mick and Jerry, and you have to know fidelity wasn't exactly part of the agreement there, so the situation must have been extraordinarily egregious. If Sarkozy thinks he can tame her, I'd like to see him try.

*I think it's kind of funny that he got all pissy when Leslie Stahl asked him about his marital situation a couple of weeks before his divorce was announced, and his reaction was like HOW DARE YOU even broach the topic, but now he's pulling a Bennifer.

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Perfect Timing

I just watched Tommy for the first time ever this week--an event many years in the making. I sheepishly admit that, but am consoled by an article extoling the glory of Tommy wherein the author said he hadn't seen it before 2007, despite having been a long-standing fan who had actually reviewed the band for The Village Voice in the 60s. But I seriously doubt that he has as good an excuse as I do for avoiding it this long: I was frightened by it, and for good reason. My dad used to play "Boris the Spider" to my sister and I when I couldn't have been much more than 5 and she, like 3, as he recently reminded me. As if I could ever forget!

Actually it was the cover art for The Who Sell Out that made the indelible impression of a lifetime on my sib and I. To this day all I have to say to her is "remember that album cover"...to which she certainly will reply, "The one with the baked beans? Oh yeah." At that age, I had a hair ribbon wardrobe to die for and was immersed in a world of triumphant pink OshKosh corduroy overalls. I spent my days practicing the piano with a Rogers and Hammerstein songbook and doing barre exercises in ballet classes after school. During one of my forays exploring the cover art in my dad's album collection, my pastel purple universe was irretreivably altered when I was confronted by an angry guy sitting in a bathtub of baked beans ("Why would someone DO THAT?" my young mind wondered), his hawkish eyes threatening that any second he would jump out of that tub and grab me. Or not. Maybe he liked it there in that tub; more than he liked scaring little private school ballerinas, one could only hope. The several faces of the proto-Where's Waldo? group photo on Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band (bought the week it was released in London, I would later learn) attracted nothing more than summary curiosity, even with a gatefold, after I was introduced to the scariest image I had ever beheld. Well, not as scary as the Skeksis in the Dark Crystal, or Dragonslayer. But those were yet to enter my purview.

Much to the amusement of certain persons in my life, I've recently re-discovered how much I really do love a lot of The Who's music. Let me be clear though, my taste only extends to the EARLY oeuvre, the amphetamine-driven snarling white boy R&B married to the avant garde pop arty stuff. NOT their over-synthed stadium rock of the 70s. Pete Townshend would snarl that that early stuff is juvenile, and so be it, I can live with that.

Tommy
is the bridge between those eras. Back in 1993 when Tommy came to Broadway, being the good drama geek that I was, I knew the complete "libretto" (if I may be so bold) and had the Broadway cast recording. I watched Ken Russell's Women in Love via Netflix in December and thought it terrific. So when I saw Tommy was going to be on TCM recently, I thought, why not? Who couldn't do with a little more Oliver Reed and Ann-Margret in their life? After reading the aforementioned article, I was especially amped to see Tina Turner's turn as The Acid Queen and the much vaunted "Champagne" sequence. And now, my thoughts:

  1. Thank goodness they really didn't "go there" with the creepy Uncle Ernie sequence. That was a big concern for me. I just didn't want to watch that.
  2. Oliver Reed à la Danny Zuko who can't sing? GENIUS!
  3. How does Tina Turner do that thing with her lip? And the mirrored robot thing she put Tommy in? Who else was thinking "PUT THEM IN THE IRON MAIDEN!"?
  4. "Champagne" lived up to my expectations. My STARS, Ann-Margaret was robbed of the Oscar! Her best performance ever. What a trooper, that was serious commitment to a character. I hope being the Dame of the Month here on the blog eases the pain of being denied recognition a little.
  5. Wha? Tommy was only a pinball wizard for like 5 minutes! More pinball wizardry, fewer cults, please.
  6. Eric Clapton segment=zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Question: When you are God, why would you agree to a demotion to priest?
  7. Mixed emotions re: Sally Simpson's Tommy wallpaper. Cool effect, but could you live with it year round? Also, Sally was way younger than I envisioned her to be.
  8. Pete Townshend, 10 years on then, more than 40 now, isn't the whole "birdman" strum/guitar destruction thing a little played? How can it be an organic expression of feeling when it's progressed into an "insert trademark move here" type thing? And the corollary: Roger, you had that haircut for at least 8 years (1967-1975). I'm glad it wasn't the world's first straight perm that you were sporting before that, but my goodness, evolve already. You just wanted people to confuse you with Robert Plant, admit it.
  9. There is no way Roger and Ann-Margret didn't have an affair.
  10. Bring on Lisztomania!
The vein of Who-related arcana runs deep in my life, or better said, the lives of my parents. When I told my mom I'd watched Tommy, she said (predictably), "Oh, that movie's dis-GUSTING!" When I asked what was so disgusting about it, she said,"Didn't he have zits?" Now I am sorry but that is funny. Of all the things she could have taken exception with in that film she picks non-existent zits and says nothing about chocolate-doused silk bolster pillows. Then she went on to reveal that she and my dad walked out of Tommy and went to see Antonioni's The Passenger...and hated that too! In her defense though, she was pregnant with me at the time. That accounts for the memory loss re: the zits and the impatience with experimental filmmaking....and probably, quite a lot about me as well.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Vitalic - Birds

This is how I started 2008. À tous mes chiens de diamant, Bonne Année!

Thursday, December 06, 2007

The return of "WORK!"

Even in my wildest dreams I wouldn't have dared to believe that she would go THERE...Love the fake celly, VB. TMZ's version is better because it's shot from the front.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

West Side Story versión Zombie

I ran across this the other day. I thought it was very clever.

40 years ago this month, Bardot rocked Deauville.

Let's lamé!

So this morning my youngest sister asked me if I wanted to participate in the Las Vegas half-marathon this December. Let me think about it, ah no. Then while breakfasting on my Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds, I ran across an editorial in the September Harper's Bazaar that had Chloë Sevigny in MYLAR (looking) leggings from American Apparel. I went to the site and they come in 6 colors including the original silver, a divine Studio 54 lamé purple and a Claudette Colbert lamé gold. I think this means I have to buy them and wear them in the half-marathon. Or wear them as inspiration while I work out. Unfortunately, the site warns "This garment can dull or scratch with repeated wearing; handle with care." Ah crap, you know I'd wear them every day if I could, but alas they won't retain the look. Do they come in fatass size? Secret message to my other sister. If you buy these after reading this I will personally murder you.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

A Bucket of French and Saunders

Man I love me some French & Saunders (here shown in a sketch from their currently running BBC special A Bucket of French and Saunders as Amy Winehouse and Brit-brit.

Monday, September 10, 2007

I'm not your mate, mate.

I am not a Nicole Kidman fan. I don't think she is interesting as an actress or as a fashion plate. But even fans of hers have to wonder what exactly she and the editorial team at Vanity Fair were trying to achieve with this cover, although we get a hint from the title of the article, "The Lady is Yar." (I am so smart I know what yar means without having to look it up. It means we are going to be subjected to a photo portfolio of fisherman's sweaters and hearty nautical attire, but unfortunately no piratical eye patches.) Ok, I lied. I have no idea what they're doing here. My only guess is they want to push pea coats on us and they forgot to ask Tim Gunn's advice about how to go about doing that. I am not philosophically opposed to them, pea coats, I mean. I have owned quite a few in my time. I just think she looks like she's begging to get in the jacuzzi in the back of a Van Halen limousine circa 1986. Subtract the brassiere from the cover shot, and she's wearing exactly what my great-uncle Dick (LAPD, ret.) would wear to clean the leaves out of his pool before we kids jumped in on a hot summer day that same year. Wouldn't you feel ridiculous wearing that getup in combination with such a pose? Aren't you proud of me that I have completely restrained myself thus far from making any reference to Gilligan or The Skipper?

I'm a little bit country...A VERY LITTLE BIT!

Sometimes we need to be reminded of who we are and where we come from. Me, I'm really just a rodeo queen at heart, and I watch the tv show to prove it: Ty Murray's Celebrity Bull Riding Challenge. Two weekends ago my sister and best bud and I were bored out of our gourds. We'd already done the dinner and a movie thing, and the tv thing was looking so bleak we actually ventured above BBC America, channel 223. Little did we know on CMT (channel 234...eek!) we were about to discover a late night marathon of d-list celebrities (including musical has-beens from two decades, celebuspawn, various athletes and a Baldwin brother) actually acquiring a skill set and...maybe even some character. We stayed up until 1:30 am the next day watching them learn the ropes, try to out-macho bluster each other and actually last 8 seconds on the back of massive steers.

For those that don't know, Ty Murray is the Roger Federer of Bull Riding who has somehow managed to not propose to Jewel Kilcher for 9 years. Watching him coach the celebs in these episodes was like learning at the foot of the barnyard Buddha. With each plain-spoken tough guy cowboy koan, I could feel the marrow cells in my bones triple in production. If all 535 members of the senate and congress were just replaced by genetic replicas of Ty Murray, our country would have no more problems. I'm totally there for another season of this show, should one be ordered. I will not however, be watching Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team 2.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Dave and Steve's Gay Vacation

This was one of my favorite Letterman skits from back in the day. Thank goodness for you tube.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

When Worlds Collide

Ok, I know I've dropped the ball on the blogging for the past while. But it's because I wasn't aware that glorious convergences like THIS were afoot. My favorite is that as of this moment, post-encounter, neither of them could tell you who the hell the other is.

Fancy Pants

If I had to choose just one autobiography between the two, I'd definitely pick Anita's. But it'd have to be illustrated.

Dear Michaelangelo,

Thank you for introducing me to Monica Vitti...

RIP ANTONIONI

Is it ok if I prefer this version of events (woot for narrative!)?