My Weekend Crush

The Internet is many things. Time waster. Wondrous revelation. Complete wanker. But at its best what it can be is a window into our common humanity. It can, in the words of that British TV show about teenagers who fight and fuck and fall in love, make us a better person – happier, less alone, less lonely. People enter our lives through this flickering screen who, while we may never meet face to face, change us. They make us happier, less alone. And then there are the extraordinary people who try to make the world happier, less alone.

Heather Hogan is that kind of person.

Sometimes all you have in common with another person is words. OK, there is also the liking girls thing. But mostly it is words and a mutual respect for them that led me to meet Heather Hogan. We share a reverence for those who put them together properly. And a belief in the magic of that happens when they’re put together perfectly. I’ve never met Heather Hogan, not in person. I’ve never shook her hand or given her a hug. But I know Heather Hogan, or at least the best bits. I feel lucky enough to call her a friend. Still the true magic of Heather Hogan is that she makes everyone feel like a friend, like they know her.

Heather is without a doubt the nicest person on the Internet, possibly the universe. She writes from a place beyond her heart. It’s at the core of who she is. It shows with every syllable. While we are very different – I’m not sporty, I’m not religious, I don’t have Carrie Underwood on my iPod – when Heather writes I can always relate. Take her beautiful new AfterEllen column, Beyond Visibility, where she examines the push-pull that comes from loving God and loving boobs . Take her sublime Skins recaps, which are as much an intimate dissection of her love for the stories as they are recaps.

Earlier this week I tweeted that it was Heather Hogan Day, and I meant it. That day her radio interview with the Aussie show Diff’rent Strokes aired, her first AE column ran and she launched her new website, theheatherhogan.com. I really couldn’t be more proud. I think what I love best is the way people respond to Heather. She is the consummate fan and her excitement and joy, thoughtfulness and caring can be infectious. It can actually make other people better. Like I was saying – a world that is happier, less alone.

I have made many friends through these series of tubes, people I will respect forever. People who have made me smarter, people who have made me laugh, people who have made me turn positively green with writer’s envy. But I’ve only met one Heather Hogan. You can’t not root for her. I think it’s a sin. Happy weekend, all.

Gender Fuck Thursday: Mind the Gap

I wasn’t going to have a Gender Fuck Thursday this week. But then Padma showed up in a suit and tie on “Top Chef” and I had no choice. I am powerless against such hotness. Crippled, even. But Padma’s suiting up also presents an excellent opportunity to talk about fit. In particular, I want to talk about how suits fit if you are, say, a tad busty. Now the thing about suits and menswear in general is, well, they were made originally for men. And men, by and large, don’t have great racks. So when a woman with the aforementioned fantastic phenomena puts on a suit, something happens. Tailoring, therefore, is key. One doesn’t want it to be too loose or too tight. Improperly tailored menswear creates too much unfortunate gapping. Though, admittedly, sometimes gapping is a good thing – a very, very good thing.

Padma LakshmiShe looked like a fancy maître d’. A hot, fancy fancy maître d’.
[SPOILER: Total bullshit about [PKYAGed person] going home, total.]
p.s. In all fairness, I did use SPOILER in the post, people. And I do not have "cuts" on this blog.

Angelina JolieRemember when I said gapping was good? I was not wrong.

Scarlett JohanssonChoice of proper under suit shirt is essential. Well done, Scarlett.

Dita Von TeeseHer tailor deserves a raise, possibly a medal.

Janet JacksonThe double-breasted suit takes on a whole new meaning on ladies.

Maggie GyllenhaalSometimes perfectly avoidable gapping should not be avoided. This is one of those times.

Salma HayekButtoning all the buttons is, admittedly, tricky.

Christina HendricksSpeaking of buttons, I fear for this one’s life. And ours, if we’re standing directly in front of Christina. But, oh, what sweet death.

Benson v. Rizzoli: The Butch Off

So yesterday in my Rizzoli & Isles Subtext Recap for AfterEllen, someone in comments made the very bold statement that Jane Rizzoli was more gay than Olivia Benson. Hey, don’t blame the messenger. But it is quite a question. Which super-gay, non-gay fictional police detective out butches the other? Olivia, of course, has the head start. Still Jane has the fresh momentum. It’s kind of one of life’s unanswerable chicken or egg conundrums. But that doesn’t keep us from trying. So with that I give you a point-by-point breakdown of Benson v. Rizzoli: The Butch Off. Never let it be said that I’m afraid to ask life’s big questions.

Olivia Benson

Hands: On hips
Hair: Short
Belt: Chunky
Jacket: So many buttons

Jane Rizzoli

Hands: In pockets
Hair: Lustrous
Belt: Chunkier
Jacket: So Miami Vice

Her Gun

Benson: Points for aim.
Rizzoli: Points for forearms.

Her Girlfriend

Benson: Alex Cabot

Pros: Looks great in a suit, looks great in glasses, would make out with Tina Fey on request.
Cons: Will probably bail on date night by faking her own death.

Rizzoli: Maura Isles

Pros: Looks great in a dress, looks great in a bodysuit, would tell you the Latin root to every word in the dictionary on request.
Cons: Will probably offer you food from the dead fridge.

So, ladies (and discerning gentlemen), who takes it? Who is television’s gayest lady cop? And remember, this is so posterity, so be honest.

SGALGG & GGALGG: Emmys Edition

Wow, thems were some gay Emmys. Yes, indeedy. From Jane Lynch to “Modern Family” to that all-singing, all-spectacular Gleetastic opening number, the show was a merry and gay affair. Now, digesting the full magnitude of a major award show always takes me two days. The first day is to go over the nuts and bolts of who won this and who said that. Then the second day I can just sit back and devour the pretty. And, kittens, there was so much pretty. Let’s start with the gay gals and their lady loves (sorry, I can’t say lovers – to quote my favorite Emmy loser Tina Fey, “that word bums me out unless it’s between the words ‘meat’ and ‘pizza.’”) and then we’ll progress to the straight gals. But no matter where they stood on the Kinsey Scale, a whole lotta ladies were acting like gay gals at the Emmys. Can you blame them, I mean, we are pretty awesome.

GGALGG

Jane Lynch & Lara EmbryThe love, it burns! I love them together. I love that Jane kissed Lara when she won. I love that she also said “I love you my wife, Lara” on stage. You want to know why gay marriage matters? This is why gay marriage matters. Love.
Wanda & Alex SykesThey look like a fresco of Greek goddesses painted onto an ancient wall somewhere being uncovered by an archeologist who thrills with each brush stroke as she carefully reveals their beauty from underneath centuries of earth and time. Sorry, let me amend that, a smoking hot fresco of Greek goddesses. Hot damn, those girls – and Alex and Wanda look good, too.
SGALGG

Tina Fey & Mariska HargitayThis is becoming like a thing between these two. It is like the mere sight of each other in sleek, sparkly gowns is too much for them to take and then that hand goes from firmly around the waist to, well, firmly everywhere. Maybe Mariska and Tina are the real-life Alex and Olivia. Ship that, people.
[Hat tip, Allegra!]

Sofia Vergara & Julie BowenIf you thought Mariska had a firm grip on Tina, check out Julie’s grip on Sofia . You’d need the Jaws of Life to get her hand off of her. Plus dude in the back is totally, “Hell, yeah.”

Claire Danes & Julia Ormond

Claire looks like she has had a bit too much champagne and has just whispered “Take me home” into Julia’s ear. Also, shoot Julia, where have you been hiding all that gorgeous these last few years?

Christina Hendricks & January JonesI want to say something terribly witty about how they look together, but I’ve forgotten how to form words.

Toni Collette & Julia Louis DreyfusI like to think that the Emmy losers console each other backstage. And by “console,” I mean “make out.”

Padma Lakshmi & Gail SimmonsWhen people say food porn, this is what they’re picturing.

Heather Morris & Naya Rivera

Brittana, you’ve got me wrapped around whichever finger you want to use in whatever situation you feel like using it. Ahem.

Mariana Klaveno, Kristin Bauer & Anna PaquinThe Bill-Sookie-Eric sandwich isn’t the only threesome worth talking about on “True Blood.” Not by a long shot.

Amy Poehler, Aubrey Plaza & Tina FeySpeaking of threesomes, gay sexy vampires aren’t the only ones who look good having them. Let’s make this “30 Rock” meets “Parks and Recreation” very special crossover happen.

Archie Panjabi & the Emmy statuetteShe is going to take it behind the garage door and get it pregnant, Tracy Jordan style.

Bonus I: Best. Emmy. Picture. Ever.Tina Fey, Amy Poehler & Jon Hamm dancing their asses off. I’ll be honest, that’s a threesome I could totally get behind, too.

Bonus II: Best. Tina. Video. Ever.
After dancing her ass off with Amy and Jon while downing what I can only assume was copious amounts of champagne, Tina goes to find her limo. God, that giggle. That hair.

What it looks like when New York gets drunk, y’all. Suck it, nerds!

Grassroots lesbianism

I would officially like to declare this the launch of the “People In Support of Nancy Botwin Embracing Lesbianism” grassroots letter-writing campaign. Yep, the line forms here. Get your pens, get your paper, get your stamps. This is where it starts. We are all going to write into Showtime right this very second to make this happen because Mary-Louise Parker said so. I am very obedient when it comes to these matters. Obsequious, even.

But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself a tad. I can’t help it, what with the excitement. Mary-Louise Parker is talking about embracing lesbianism and I’m rushing the punchline. Let’s back up and talk about how this soon-to-be groundswell of public support began. You see, Mary-Louise did an interview with Vanity Fair. In said interview she talks about many things: never having smoked pot, once having sucked on a pot lollipop, why smart people want to fuck her, why dumb people also probably want to fuck her, why Nancy Botwin likes to fuck rough, how fame is fucked up and not knowing who the fuck Bill O’Reilly is but thinking he “probably comes from a nuclear family and didn’t get enough attention as a child.” God, I fucking love her.

Amid all of that, she also talked about the trailer for the sixth season which featured Mary-Louise offering Linda Hamilton a very personalized down payment, ahem, in exchange for some product. When the interviewer asks if Nancy would be getting any lady action this season, she responds:

MLP: Yeah, yeah, I hear you. But no, that’s not happening. It’s just something they put in the trailer because it’s funny, but it doesn’t actually happen. It’s not a bad idea though. I’ve always thought that Nancy should have sex with a woman. It’d be good for her.

VF: Would it help if we started a letter-writing campaign?

MLP: Like a grassroots sort of thing? Yeah, we should do it. “People In Support of Nancy Botwin Embracing Lesbianism.” Right on.

You heard the woman. Get writing.

My Weekend Crush

I’m not sure even if it is possible to be in love with a multimedia project, but I am. The New York Times, the staid national paper of record, ran an exhaustive special package on the women of professional tennis this week. It came with a fairly standard feature story talking about the state of the women’s game. But oh, kittens – the extras. Everything is in the extras. The project included an online photo essay and video gallery. That doesn’t sound like much until I tell you it’s a slo-mo video gallery of the incredibly fit, incredibly toned, incredibly strong women of tennis hitting balls really, really hard. I mentioned it was slo-motion, right? I am not even going to try to count the number of times I watched these videos back-to-back, on a loop, with the lights dimmed. This is porn, porn for muscles.

[See them all at the source.]

Now, I could get into a long-winded discussion about whether an article about the present state of women’s tennis really needs a blow-out multi-media package featuring some of the game’s biggest and most comely stars in flowing, spangly outfits and immaculate, full makeup hitting tennis balls. Objectification, glamorization, etc. etc., blah blah. But this is not the time or place for that. Instead I want to admire, with every fiber in my body, the dedication and drive, strength and sweat it takes to become a professional athlete. I want to appreciate how hard these women worked to be able to hit that hard. I want to leave small sacrificial offerings at the temples that they’ve transformed their bodies into. I want to marvel at the beauty that comes with strength. In short, I want to watch them play. Happy weekend, all.

Fog Warning

How do you make a raincoat sexy? Find a raincoat. Put it on Christina Hendricks. Any questions? The “Mad Men” star has signed on as the new face (and body, mostly – more on that later) of London Fog. Remember London Fog? We all had a boring old raincoat by them our moms made us take to school against our will on days it looked even the tiniest bit gray. Yeah, well, suddenly I’m praying for rain. Because if Christina shows up in said raincoat I will gladly bring protection – against the rain, people, the rain.

Also good? Christina in a trenchcoat. With a tie. With a button-down shirt that is insufficiently buttoned. Never before have I been so happy about someone’s inability to properly button one’s shirt.

Now, I’ve purposely used the behind-the-scenes pictures of Christina’s London Fog shoot instead of the official campaign photos. Because, as Jezebel has shown, those damn mad ad men and women have given her a ridiculous Photoshop treatment. But we’re going to ignore those altered atrocities. Because nothing you could ever create, manipulate, snip or clip in a computer could ever, ever, ever beat the real thing.

Am I right, ladies? Yeah, I know I’m right. Now bring on the rain.