On… a great article

This is brilliant. There is about to be a backlash on the deification of motherhood.

“No wonder so many of us have stopped listening to all those people trying to tell us to surrender, embrace our inner housewife, have it all, accept less than “it all,” be more French, be less attached, be more attached, lean in, lean out. Today’s absurdly conflicting notions of motherhood play far better as comedy. No matter what the script says, we don’t have to perform such a farcical, unrealistic role. We can rip the S off our chests. We’re still the same underneath it all.”


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On… TV shows you should watch

You should watch Orphan Black.

Really. You should. It’s so good. The last episode of Season Two, with Tatiana Maslany dancing with Tatiana Maslany dancing with Tatiana Maslany dancing with Tatiana Maslany, was just… I am speechless. I am without speech. Just… just watch it. SHH. (I am holding an imaginary finger to your lips.) Watch. It.

Selfie. Yes, this is a really good show. I think it might be my favorite new sitcom, which is to say, it’s no Cheers or Will and Grace or New Girl or Mindy, but I want to keep watching it to see what happens. New sitcoms are always worth watching for a couple of episodes, because they need to find their stride. I don’t love many sitcoms. I wanted to love Bad Judge, and it has moments where I do truly adore it. And I really wanted to love A to Z because I LOVE the leads, but somehow I am not addicted to it yet. But Selfie. Yeah, Selfie is pretty fucking good, man.

UPDATE: Selfie is cancelled. My God, it’s like sitcomocide out there. So is Bad Judge, so is A to Z. So is Manhattan Love Story, which I didn’t mention before, by the way, it had some very funny moments but there was a handful of very specific things I didn’t understand: 1. these 20-somethings were living in a gigantic fuck-off loft on Mercer Street in Soho, which is just RIDIC unless one of them is a Russian oligarch, 2. There was a weird thing with the dude and his (genetically disparate in every way) family running a trophy company, wtf? That’s not a thing. And 3. Every single dude had a fucking beard. Now there are a lot of beards in NYC, but seriously. Oh, and 4. the chick was allegedly Facebook incompetent, which is just… I mean, she’s about 23. She’s been on Facebook since before she got her first period. Come the fuck on. Okay, back to good TV.

Jane The Virgin. This show is so adorable and charming, I just love love love it. Actually, forget what I just said about Selfie, THIS is my favorite new sitcom.

In Treatment. Watching it again, because it is a masterclass in character writing, and um, I like me some learnin’. But I can’t find a decent trailer for it so just… go find it and watch it. It makes my brain spin, it’s so good.

That will do for now, but I have many more favorite shows, because I watch a lot of damn TV. I have a private theory that all TV shows are really only watched by people with very small children because all we do at night is watch TV and buy things on the internet and have lazy sex, and back when I was in my 20s I was having way too much fun getting drunk and agonizing over text messages to/from guys to watch much more than Firefly and Sex And The City, but that’s beside the point right now. The point is… I forget. What was the point? Oh! Yes. Right. Watch these TV shows. They’re great.


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On…. some music

I’ve been writing something set in the 1990s, and revisiting some of the music I LOVED then.

I have probably posted some of these before, but to hell with it, I’m posting them again. Turn the volume up, babycakes. Enjoy.


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I loved HOT TUB TIME MACHINE. (Except for all the damn boobs. COME ON. I am so over seeing boobs for no reason. Show me some damn scrotum.) (Kidding. Please do not show me any scrotum. No one wants to see that shit, they really only exist as portable stress toys for the owner to jiggle. If anything, show me a penis.) (But only a nice one.) (No, you know what, I don’t want to see a penis either. Let’s pretend this conversation never happened.)

ANYWAY. This trailer for HOT TUB TIME MACHINE 2  made me laugh like a fucking maniac.

Can’t wait.

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On… Life Partners

Well THIS looks interesting. A female-friendship comedy. You know how much that fries my burger by now.

This from IndieWire:

“In an interview with Women And Hollywood, Fogel expressed a fascination with female friendships. “They seem defined by a combination of codependent intimacy and subtle, constant passive-aggressiveness,” she said. “And more generally, as a director I was excited about telling a story where the women are layered protagonists: witty without being glib, emotional without being overly vulnerable, or letting a dude define their self-worth. On a related note, the idea of normalizing a best friendship between a lesbian and a straight girl without overly politicizing their sexualities felt exciting and true to the zeitgeist now.”



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On… a new lipstick

Every year it gets to this time and I think yay, can’t wait to wear boots and jeans and jackets every day. I lived in London for 11 years and became conditioned to be happiest when it’s grey and chilly. (But not snowing. This New York snow thing is seriously sartorially challenging.)

And I also think, yay, red lipstick.

Two years ago I was all about Lady Danger by MAC. It’s a perfect, Diane-Kruger-in-Inglourious-Basterds red, bright and matte and beautiful.


Last year I wanted a dark red, and discovered Bloodroses by Kevyn Aucoin. I think I even posted about it. I thought it was amazing. Rich, bloody, dramatic.


But then a few weeks ago, I tried on Bloodroses and, like seeing an old boyfriend, thought: how the fuck did I ever think that was good for me?

I wanted a lipstick that was red-BLACK, emphasis on the black, with – and this is important – no purple or berry in it. Something that I could wear without lipliner, without any other make up and still look like I’d made an effort, and something that really lasted and wasn’t too matte, shiny, slippery, or drying. And dark, dark, dark.

So last week I went to Bloomingdales and Sephora and swatched every single dark red they had. (If I’d been truly dedicated to the cause I would have gone to Saks and Barneys but only had an hour and didn’t want to venture beyond Soho. Also I am quite lazy.)

Anyway, I found it.


Bramble by Bite.

Knock yourselves out, ladies. (Sorry gents. Next post will be unisex. Pinkie swear.)


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On…. a Sunday morning song

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