So, Cary Grant
Let’s talk about Cary Grant. Actually, first go read Anne Helen Peterson’s take because she’s amazing, and you get to read about Grant’s LSD use, and that his last wife was Dyan Cannon! (Dyan Cannon starred in Bob Ted Carol and Alice (1969) and in Ally McBeal, and she had a cameo in She’s Having a Baby, which I can’t believe
We are in the Middle of Things
Plaid on Plaid has been dormant for a tad too long, and is demanding an overhaul. While that happens, listen to me on the radio! I’m so very happy to be talking about books for KPFK’s (90.7 if you’re in LA) Feminist Magazine. Here was our holiday book special. Even though I had a rough
Go See For A Good Time Call
I saw For a Good Time Call in January–here’s what I wrote about it then: It sounds not funny. It sounds like another flop like What’s Your Number, or even Bride Wars. The premise is an uptight girl moves in with a wacky girl, and they start a phone sex company. But, what it turns out to be
The Grown Ass Woman
I was washing my bras today, pleased with the task, pleased with the smell of the soap, pleased with my ability to care for expensive lingerie that was sensible yet pretty, and I found myself fully suckered by the myth of the grown-ass woman. At 31, on paper, I am a grown-ass woman. Two lobes
Aloha Agatha
It’s Agatha Christie surfing, y’all. I’ve been reading Christie’s autobiography, along with her unauthorized biographies. Now have a complete theory about her that she doesn’t deserve, but that is the joy of biographies: pop-analysis of the no-longer living. How terrible is it to smoosh up a complicated human being into a quick idea about
Girls and the Insecurity Defense
So, Girls. Maybe it is not the mess that I feared it was. Maybe it has been a true slowbuild, making us as irate with the characters as we should have been. Last time I wrote about the show, I worried about whether it was something blind, or something officially on purpose. Last night’s episode
The Backup Singer
I went to see Spiritualized at the Wiltern a few nights ago, and it was great. Because I am cranky now, I really like sitting down at shows, and the Wiltern has great balcony seats where you can sit and sit and never feel like the old nerd that you are (when I was a
Dark Shadows, oof.
My assumption about Dark Shadows was that it would be fun. The Seventies! Bonham-Carter with fuschia hair! Vampires! Soap Opera! But the one great thing that soaps and really fun over-the-top entertainment have in common is that they are either delighting your eye or your storybone. The costumes amaze (Strictly Ballroom), or the plot whips
Love Letter to Lindy West
First read this. Because it is why I am writing a love letter today. Dear Lindy, You are on my list of admirables. Thank you for not being afraid to offend. I get so stymied anytime I try to write about privilege, fearing that my own privilege will fuck it all up and make everything
21 Jump Street, vagina jokes, and nostalgia all around
It’s been awhile since I’ve blogged because, well, the spirit hasn’t moved me. I’ve had a month of houseguests (all lovely), and then trips, and the internet was like another room in my house that was easier to close the door to than clean. But clutterances aside, I want to talk about boys and film.