Happy (almost) Brittana Day

WARNING: “Glee” spoilers ahead. All those wishing to be in the blissful dark, be gone. Everyone else, grab a flashlight.

I feel like tomorrow should be a national holiday, or at least a national gay holiday. And in a way, it is. For fans of “Glee,” tomorrow is when Brittana is on. Lots of folks thought this day would never come. Heck, I wasn’t even so sure. But I always hoped. And hoping out lout, really, that’s what made it happen. OK, hope is perhaps a nice way to put it – demanding is probably more accurate. Fans made this happen; I’ve said it once and I’ll never stop saying it. If it wasn’t for Brittana fans urging, pushing, threatening violence, Brittany and Santana’s relationship would have happily stayed a running joke on “Glee” without any real consequences. Instead here we are, nearly two years after we first learned that “sex is not dating,” and Brittany and Santana will officially be dating by the end of tomorrow night. Group hug, fandom, group fucking hug.

So now, once more before it is officially on, a look back in wonder.

I can’t think of a better birthday present tomorrow than Brittana being on, I really can’t.*

p.s. Though, as far as pre-birthday presents go, Doccubus being on last night was pretty fucking awesome as well. Be sure to read my SnapCap over at AfterEllen tomorrow.

*Vimeo took down my shorter Brittana moments video, so please enjoy this very comprehensive video instead.

My Weekend Crush

I feel like I’ve been watching Martha Plimpton my whole life. Probably because I pretty much have. I mean she was in “Goonies” – “Goonies,” people. Then there were her River Phoenix years where unfortunately her relationship sometimes overshadowed her great work in movies like “Running on Empty” and “Parenthood.” Heck, she even gayed it up for us (with Ally Sheedy no less) in “Chantilly Lace.” Granted, I can’t recommend the film – it was one of those forgettable rentals during my Watch All The Lezzie Movies phase. But still, it’s always a nice gesture, regardless. And through the years she just kept popping up again and again. She went from mainstream movies to indie flicks, TV to Broadway. Working steadily and just doing what she does best. She is a master at playing not your average pretty girl. She was the smart girl, the funny girl, the interesting girl, the different girl.

And now, well now she’s found a home playing the hilarious mom (and grandma – don’t worry, a young grandma) on “Raising Hope.” I can’t say enough about how much I enjoy this show. I had less than zero expectations about and only started watching because I was too lazy to turn the channel after “Glee.”. But week after week it just continues to impress and make me smile. What’s great about it, and Martha’s character, isn’t just the zaniness. But while lots of shows can be zany, this one does it with real heart. These characters, who could easily just be tired stereotypes of hapless poor folks, are fleshed out. We really like them, warts and all. They’re endearing and charming and just an all-around hoot. And it’s Martha’s uncanny ability to be both over-the-top and totally relatable that holds the show together. She’s crazy, but in a believable way. Like, you know, family. Which is why having her back on my TV again week after week just feels right, like coming home. Happy Halloween weekend, all.

Fuckin Barkin

Ellen Barkin is a broad in the truest sense. Some women are ladies, some gals, some chicks. But it takes a special kind of lady to be a broad. And Ellen, she is a real broad. She is also the world’s latest unlikely Twitter phenomenon. Part of this is due to her salty language, which falls somewhere between trucker and “Deadwood.” But part is also because she, like the true broad that she is, simply does not hold back for anyone’s sake – even her own. And that makes for some pretty entertaining tweeting. Take, for example, this small representative sampling:

She loves to say “fuck” and she hates the mornings. Truly a broad after my own heart.

Now if you’re familiar with Ellen’s work, her saucy language and saucy everything else should be no surprise. She’s famous for playing tough, and hot, broads. It’s something about that delightfully crooked smile. The right side of her lips Cheshire cats up with mischief while the left plays it cool through whatever comes. Plus there’s that delicious squint. And I’m really not kidding about the hot. Remember That Scene in “The Big Easy.” Then there’s That Scene from “Mercy.” Now, warning, this scene will leave you both hot and bothered – as the whole movie will. Though sadly more on the bothered side because let’s just say it does not end well for all parties involved. Nor does this clip. But heavens it’s fun while it lasts.

Like I was saying, one tough, hot broad. Now, Twitter being Twitter, everything isn’t exactly perfect on Ellen’s feed. She is a serial crazy abbreviator, especially recently (I’m not big on crazy abbreviations, frenz). And she is also a serial retweeter. Just because the RT button exists, doesn’t mean one should go abusing it. But Ms. Barkin’s droll 140s still have enough zing in them to keep me coming back. I mean, fuk ‘em if they can’t take a joke – right?

Gosh, doesn’t she seem liked she’d be a hoot to be friends with. And not just Twitter friends either.

p.s. Just so you don’t have to leave it to your imagination, this is how Peta Wilson picked up that woman with the beautiful gold necklace.

Solo sexy

Where does this insane notion that Hope Solo is not sexy come from? I mean it, how has this happened? What bizarro universe have we stepped into when a strong, accomplished, hard-working woman at the top of her profession is constantly, cruelly being told she just isn’t the right kind of feminine. And the key here is “the right kind” of feminine. Which, as we all know, is totally fucking bullshit. Women are beautiful, period. This is just a fact. And what makes them so beautiful isn’t their uniformity but their differences.

When it comes to Hope, what makes her beautiful (besides her ridiculously good-looking face and body that should be sculpted in marble) is her power. Yet week after week these fucknuts on “Dancing with the Stars” keep forcing her to be something else. I mean, I know “Mad Men” and retro shows are having a moment, but let’s not take the trend too far and transfer those rigid gender norms on this century. I can’t believe I have to repeat this, but apparently I do. Hey, universe, there is more than one way to be “sexy.” There is more than one way to be “feminine.” Instead of squeezing everyone into the same box, why not appreciate the magnificent variety of boxes available in the world.

Also, if you didn’t think Hope getting lessons from those females dancers was just zomgsexy then you need some sort of eye transplant because yours are clearly not working. Also abs, abs forever.

The more I think about it, the more furious I become. It’s not that I have anything against constructive criticism of her dancing. Better footwork, more fluidity and the like – things that actually make you a better dancer. But I am incensed by this seeming attack of who she is. They seem to be saying that this strong woman can’t be sexy, can’t be feminine, is inherently manlike. This idea, again, that there is one way to be sexy and that’s the “Dancing with the Stars” way. So they’re just going to keep insulting her until she conforms. And that, that’s exactly the wrong way to make someone sexy. Shaming someone into sexiness? Yeah, that totally works. You know what works? Building up someone’s confidence. Playing to someone’s strength. Also, not being a fucknut.

And what’s even more infuriating about this whole unfortunate episode is Hope is the so-called “sexy” one on the U.S. Women’s National Soccer Team. She’s the one on the cover of ESPN’s The Body Issue and the one with the big endorsement deals. Are there other superstars on that team? Of course. Damn hot ones, too. Abby Wambach, Megan Rapinoe and many others. But Hope is the most stereotypically sexy of the bunch, and even she’s not sexy enough for these fucknuts on DWTS.

There’s a reason I don’t watch most reality TV, and this is it.

p.s. While my distaste for reality TV is very real (except for tasty, tasty cooking shows), I will give DWTS at least some credit this season for Chaz Bono. Lovable, huggable Chaz. The only reasons I tuned in (admittedly intermittently) to DWTS at all were 1) Hope and 2) Chaz. And I cheered both on, unabashedly. But my cheering for Chaz was purposeful, a middle finger to the hordes of hate. And, even though he left last night, I think he did a great service to folks watching at home who have never met anyone who fits the T in GLBT. Good job, man, very good job.

Slip you some Skins

I love this news more than cheese. In fact, I’ve loved it since I was 12 – metaphorically. That’s right muff monkeys, you can now watch the entire first four season of “Skins” UK on Hulu. For free. Right now. This second. Did you not hear me? WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?

But, for those able to restrain themselves from ending all of their productivity for the foreseeable future and are still reading, let us discuss why this is such great news. First of all, whenever I write about “Skins,” at least half the comments are: “Where can I watch Skins?!? How can I watch Skins?!?! Will you help me watch Skins immediately so I don’t combust from my all-consuming desire for all things Naomily?!?!?” So here we have the answer. Hulu, my fans of intricately told intense British teen dramas with sophisticated same-sex storylines, Hulu.

Now, at this point I realize some of you are probably like, what is this bollocky wank shite? Why isn’t resident Skins Scholar and esteemed Naomily expert Heather Hogan telling me this news? You’re just a student with a crush. All true. Fear not, I make no claims to the levels of character understanding or narrative analysis as our beloved Heather. And you should definitely pop over to AfterEllen today to get her perspective on this news. (As an aside about the power of The Big Lesbian Phonetree, I actually discovered this news from a tweet from big gay supastar Hannah Hart.)

Right, but back to “Skins” (the UK one, not that American one we’ve all made a unspoken pact never to mention again) and why you should love it like it’s your lobster. The very best thing about Skins is that it’s messy. It’s gloriously, unapologetically, unabashedly messy. It veers from high camp to high drama, sometimes in the same breath. It thrashes about madly, showing off its sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll to anyone within earshot. But like many teenagers, that loud, obnoxious outside hides a raw, hungry inside. Growing up, falling in love, finding ourselves – these are the stories we all understand. We try and we fail and we do the wrong things for the right reason and the right things for the wrong reasons. These stories – for all their brash obnoxiousness – are only human. And we humans are a fucking mess.

All this and I haven’t even mentioned Naomily. Seasons 3 and 4 brought us the singularly amazing and universally relatable characters of Naomi Campbell and Emily Fitch. To be honest, I’m a little jealous of all the people who will now get to fall in love with them for the first time. Because you will. It’s the unstoppable force. Their storyline is one of the most heart-wrenching, most heart-warming, most heartfelt portrayals of gay teen love I have ever seen. And, really, not just gay teen love – but all love. Love is being scared. Love is being brave. Love is fucking up. Love is saying you’re sorry – no matter what that stupid movie says. Naomily is all those things. With oils, and stuff.

In fact, the best and only way to show those who do not know Naomily what Naomily is is just to show you what Naomily is. Now, I realize it’s probably a sin to skip ahead like this. In fact, I advise you to not skip ahead if you already intend to start watching the series. But, if showing you one of my favorite hours of television ever is the only way to get the doubters to watch from the beginning, then so be it. You’ll lose the delicious, complicated, hilarious, harrowing build up. (And, like with any new relationship, isn’t the anticipation almost the best thing?) In fact, this almost seems unfair. Because after watching this you’re sure to be a goner. A goner, I say.

There. Welcome to being in love. Now go forth and enjoy the phase where you drink in everything and anything you can about the other person – and need to see each other every second. Just lock yourself in your room with your Naomily and your Hulu. I’ll see you in about a month.

p.s. Apologies to my non-US friends. Geoblocking is a bitch, I tell ya. Also a bitch? Musical license fees. But Naomily with new music is better than no Naomily at all.

Hello, 60 percent

So last week, this splashy headline came out that said “More than half of women are attracted to other women!” Hallelujah! Praise lesbian Jesus! All our dry spells are over. We have a better than 50-50 change of scoring with that cute brunette at the bar. Go get ‘em, tigers.

I mean, who wouldn’t be attracted to other women?

Women look like this.

And like this.

Also this.

Or this.

Other times that.

And even a little of this and that.

Of course, the reality is this news probably will not improve our ability to pick up hot straight chicks. The original report came from the UK’s Daily Mail, a publication notorious for loving sensational headlines and fuzzy math. That article about a Boise State study by a professor Elizabeth Morgan that was published in the Journal of Sex Research said that “60 percent (of heterosexual women) were sexually attracted to other women; 45 percent had kissed a woman and 50 per cent had fantasies about the same sex.” But, again, it’s the Daily Mail. So, you know, please feel free to chug your salt shaker.

Doing a little research of my own, I did indeed find a real study published in the Journal of Sex Research by a Elizabeth M. Morgan, a Boise State psychology professor, that looks at sexual orientation questioning among heterosexual women ages 18 to 23. The number of women in the study was different than the Daily Mail’s numbers (study: 333, Daily Mail: 484) and findings seem a little different. The real study found that “67 percent of exclusively heterosexual respondents indicated having thought about and/or questioned their sexual orientation.” Of those who have questioned their orientation, the questioning behavior broke down as “unelaborated questioning (19 percent), other-sex experiences (16 percent), exposure to sexual minorities (26 percent), assessment of same-sex attraction (48 percent) and evaluations of same-sex behavior (26 percent).”

Now I can’t be 100 percent sure these are the same studies, because of the differences in sample sizes and report percentages. (Prof. Morgan’s full article is only available for purchase and while I want to prove a point, and I don’t really care so much that I feel like shelling out $34.) And, even if it is the same study, the fairly small participant pool means I wouldn’t go making a bunch of universal proclamations based on it alone.

But, still, it adds research to that long-assumed truth that women are more sexually fluid than men. Or, at the very least, women are more willing and comfortable with being honest about their sexual fluidity. Or maybe we should just chalk it up to college. Besides learning how to shotgun a beer and sleep with your eyes open, students pretty much major in sexual experimentation during those years of academic excellence. This is also where that beer shotgunning thing can come in handy.

In the end, we don’t really need a study (or a fake study) to tell us that while we may not be able to hook up with all these some 60 percent of straight gal, we know they’re at least taking a look at us ladies. How could they not? I mean, look at us.

UPDATE: Wow, ask the universe and it delivers. I now am in possession of seven (SEVEN) copies of Prof. Morgan’s report. So looks like I’ll have some light reading to do this week. Thank you, thank you, kittens. You are, continually, the best.

My Weekend Crush

Julie Benz is like milk and honey, with a shot of bourbon slipped in when no one is looking. That’s why 14 years ago Joss Whedon picked her to be the first thing we saw on screen to show us not to judge that proverbial book by its proverbial cover. That a show called “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” wasn’t as silly as its name. And that a blond-haired, blue-eyed, innocent in a schoolgirl uniform could turn into bumpy foreheaded, big-fanged undead killer. There’s more than meets the eye here. Since then Julie has continued to defy our at-first-glance expectations. She’s not just the pretty, wholesome blond. She’s also wickedly sexy. You can see it with a cock of her eyebrow – that delicious flash. Whether she’s the stripper with a heart-of-gold and an unexpected eye for the ladies on “Desperate Housewives” or the damaged, fragile single mom who turn into the humanizing force in the life of a cold, calculated psychopath on “Dexter,” she manages to surprise. Yet there is one thing about her that I think would be exactly as you’d expect. When she laughs, you just know she’d be a lot of fun to have a cocktail with, or several. Happy weekend, all.

p.s. You know, not that you asked, but I wanted to offer corroborating evidence on that whole wickedly sexy thing. What can I say, I’m thorough. French toast, anyone?

Making up for Lost time

On Tumblr, those delightful kids have this meme where they compare expectation to reality. Expectation is always something amazinglyawesomekickasssexy. Reality is decidedly more disappointing. And, in a way, the same meme could be applied to this season of “Lost Girl.” Expectation and reality have clashed a bit. Many fans have grumbled, myself included, about the prolonged mopey teenage pining Bo has done over the end of her relationship with Dyson. I did not tune in to see a heartsick emo succubus. I tuned in to see an amazinglyawesomekickasssexy succubus going all badass and blue-eyed on the baddies (and sometimes also the goodies). I did not tune in for Dawson’s Fae.

Some of you have worried that the lovesick, less sexy Bo is because SyFy has picked up the series for U.S. air. Producers swore at Comic-Con over the summer that SyFy hadn’t asked for any naughty scene cuts (just a few naughty word bleeps). But, indeed, it could be a case of self censoring. The show has been tamer. It could also be a function of story. A lot of her sexytimes last season were with wolfboy and now they’re no longer together. Access problems can be a real thing, people.

But I think some of the problem may also just be growing pains. The series had a considerable growth spurt between its first and second seasons, expanding from 13 episodes to 22 episodes. So perhaps that extension has slowed down the storytelling. At this point last year we would have been almost half way through the season. Now we’re barely a fourth of the way in. They’d never have been able to stretch out a breakup like this last season, that’s for sure.

Still I am keeping the faith that our expectation and reality when it comes to “Lost Girl” will meet not just in the middle, but nearer the amazinglyawesomekickasssexy side very, very soon. If the last episode and its excruciation sexual tension between Lauren and Bo are any indication, we could be in for something good. Really, really good. That boob graze is a perfect surrogate for all of our lust. We want our Doccubus and we want it now. And if we don’t get some, well, then I will be the first to call unfair Docc Block on the show and its frustrating of our fangirl fantasies.

Look, “Lost Girl,” we can be patient. But we won’t wait forever. Give us the good stuff. And by good stuff, I mean some Dr. Hotpants pants dropping. Preferably this Sunday. Preferably every Sunday.

p.s. Don’t forget to check in every Tuesday on AfterEllen for your friendly neighborhood Lost Girl SnapCaps.

Hello, Mr. Nobbs

Glenn Close, handsome woman and, interesting, also a pretty handsome man. The trailer for the new film “Albert Nobbs” has me all kind of excited. Not just because Glenn is passing as a man to work in Victorian England. Not just because it looks like a cross between “Upstairs Downstairs” and “Tipping the Velvet.” Not just because Glenn romances Mia Wasikowska (actually, that weirds me out just a little – hello, 42-year age difference).

But because, well, it looks good. And Glenn looks terrific. And the whole thing could just be really, really interesting. Heck, I was excited when I first heard about the film, period. But now that there’s a trailer, well, sign me up for some complicated Victorian-era gender politics with a love triangle to boot.

Right? I just hope poor Albert doesn’t get his (her?) heart broken. I already have a soft spot for that strange, kind little man. Though if Mia won’t have him, something tells me Albert just might have a date in the future with another funny little man, a man named Oscar.

Death become her, unfortunately

TV shows need to stop killing Jaime Murray. I mean it. Cut that shit out. Immediately. And, no, I’m still not over the Warehouse 13 finale yet. But, seriously, this is more than a trend. This is an epidemic. It’s gotten so when I see her on screen my emotions go to DEFCON 1. Impending death ahead. Take cover, take cover. This will all end in tears.

Think I’m kidding? Let’s review. (p.s. If you haven’t watched “Dexter,” “Spartacus: Gods of the Arena” or “Warehouse 13,” there be major spoilers ahead…)

DexterShe plays NA sponsor/pyromaniac Lila, who meets a grisly end.

SpartacusShe plays Lucretia’s friend and sometimes lover Gaia, who meets a grisly end.

Warehouse 13She plays former Warehouse 12 agent, would-be world ender and Myka eye sex partner H.G. Wells, who meets what appears to be a grisly (or at the very least explosive) end.

And those are just he shows she had recurring roles on. She even dies when she guest stars. “Eli Stone” – she dies. “The Mentalist” – she dies. “Agatha Christie’s Poirot” – she dies. Are we getting the picture?

SERIOUSLY, TV, CUT THAT SHIT OUT.

Jaime is currently on “Ringer” and I’m just counting the days until her character ends up dead. Well, actually I’m just counting the days until she shows up again (maybe tonight – pretty, pretty please). Still when she does will Sarah Michelle Gellar have to kill her to save her Bridget/Siobhan secret? Will Jaime construct a protective force field to save Bridget/Siobhan so the lies they’ve spun don’t blow up in their face, but in the process gets blown up herself leaving fangirls everywhere crying onto the Tumblr dashboards. Am I projecting wildly? Possibly. But if past is precedent I wouldn’t get too attached.

Oh, Jaime. If only your ability to bring The Gay to my television wasn’t followed shortly by your ability to bring The Grim Reaper.

Castle Katic

Do you know who I’ve recently discovered? Stana Katic. I know I put her on my “Unsnubbed” list earlier this year. But truth be told I just never watched “Castle.” This makes no sense because I love crime procedurals and I love Captain Tightpants. But I think the concept always bugged me a bit. A mystery writer who works for the police? I’m a writer and even I am like, um, hey now what now? (Also, don’t get me started on the concept for “The Mentalist.”)

But last week as I was finishing up my mandatory Team Hope and Team Chaz DVR fast forwarding of DWTS, I left the channel on and caught the beginning of “Castle.” Or, let’s say, I tried to catch the beginning of “Castle.” Mostly I just stared open-mouthed at the screen and thought, JESUS STANA KATIC IS FUCKING GORGEOUS. I have no idea what the plot of the show was. I have no idea whether I liked the show or not. I have no idea about anything other than razor cheekbones and flowing hair and leather jackets.

Now I understand after doing some research (it’s for science, people, for science), that Stana wasn’t always allowed to shine quite as much. She had more of a regulation lady cop haircut and sense of style. I mean compare her early publicity photos to her current publicity photos for the show. It’s like the showrunners finally gave up and said, “Fuck it, our star is ridiculously beautiful. Go with it.”

And last week, well – low whistle. Of course, it does stretch the realm of credulity a bit to have this spectacular specimen of the female form walking around with perfectly wind-blown hair and glamour make-up pretending to catch bad guys. But you have to go with your strength. And here, with all due respect to Nathan Fillion and his extreme degree of hunkiness and likeability, your strength is Stana Katic. Seriously, guys, I would happily watch this show on mute. In fact, I just might tonight.

My Weekend Crush

Man, I missed Paget Brewster on “Criminal Minds.” We shall speak of that long, horrible, Prentiss and JJ less season no more. But now that the band’s all back together, you can really appreciate what Paget brought to the show. She has a wonderful empathy about her. And she looks fantastic wearing a bullet-proof FBI vest. Though as much as I love her on “Criminal Minds” – and I really, really do – the show has never been able to fully showcase her fantastically silly sense of humor. Those who remember her from her “Friends” days (Kathy, the gal both Joey and Chandler dated) and her “Huff” days (as Hank Azaria’s wife, Jesus how many shows has that guy had?), know she is a skilled comedian. In fact, all you need to do is watch one of her visits to Conan to know she’s a pure delight. And you won’t find a more joyfully dorky dancer. Plus, did I ever tell you about that one time she kissed a girl? Oh, Paget. Welcome back to my TV, honey. Man, we missed you. Happy weekend, all.

A week without gay

All my gay or should-be-gay shows are on break or on mini-hiatus this week. It’s very distressing. “Warehouse 13,” “Lost Girl,” “Rizzoli & Isles,” “Pretty Little Liars,” “Glee.” Where has the gay gone? Instead I’ve been forced to sit through a long, dry week without their gay charms. Thank heavens for the budding subtext on “2 Broke Girls” or I’d be totally awash in heterosexuality. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my best friends are heterosexual. But I wish they wouldn’t, you know, flaunt it on the TV and everything. I mean, they can be whoever they want in private, I don’t know why they have to be so out there. Sheesh. Though, in times like these, I turn to the light for salvation. And by “light,” I of course mean fanvids on YouTube. They are like a lighthouse guiding all our missing ships back to safety.

Bless you, fangirls. Bless you and your Final Cut Pro very much for getting me through these terribly dull waters.

Warehouse 13

Even Hitler isn’t over the finale yet, people. Hitler.

Lost Girl

I swear to faeking God, if Bo and Lauren don’t at least kiss next episode I am going to explode from the sexual tension and then send the “Lost Girl” writers the clean-up bill.

Rizzoli & Isles

Nov. 28 still feels a million years away. Someone please kiss my nose with a giant stuffed teddy bear and make it all better.

Pretty Little Liars

I’ve decided I don’t ship Emily with Maya or Paige or Samara. I ship Emily with Hanna. Because those two, those two actually have chemistry together – onscreen and off.

Glee

It feels naughty to ship a threesome. The good kind of naughty.

In fandom we trust. You’re always there for us, always.

Serial swearer

Sweet Mary mother of fuck, I’m totally addicted to “Dexter.” Like I am a metric fuck-ton in love with that show. I know, I know – I’m terribly late. I just never thought I’d get sucked into a show with a serial killer as the hero. Still I gorged myself on its homicidal charms all weekend and have been catching up chronologically when I can all week. And why, might you ask, have I fallen so severed head over heels for this show? Deb fucking Morgan, that’s fucking why.

Seriously, where the fuck has she been all of my life? Why did nobody fucking tell me? Wait, you probably did fucking tell me and I just didn’t bother to fucking listen. Well fuck me twice on Sunday, I was a goddamned idiot. She is TV’s most deliciously foul-mouthed badass. And a totally hottie to boot. There’s just something about the combination of her trucker vocabulary combined with her intellect, instinct and a incredibly smoking physique that have me melt. I mean, fuck balls, those abs.

Come on, that’s like Lesbian Dreamboat Material 101. But, really, why isn’t Deb a lesbian? She’s not had super great luck with the fellas. Like, for instance, she has earned her “I dated a serial killer, ask me how” button. And her other mannerisms are tomboyish, to say the least. So, when will Deb figure it out? Of course, she may not be quite as good at mastering the obvious as we thought – I mean, her brother is Dexter. But, come fucking on, you know her entire closet must just be man boots and plaid fitted button-ups – the whole damn thing.

I will confess to cheating a little with this show. I got the screeners for the first three episodes of season 6 and, on whim over the weekend, popped them in. Now, I’m hooked and am going back to watch from the beginning (mid-way through Season 2 now - hello, Jaime Murray, hello very much). I know a few of the big spoilers through the seasons already (like Rita, poor Rita). But it is quite interesting to begin with where Deb is now and then go backwards to where she started. Now that’s an evolution. She’s always been good, but never quite so confident. And, shit, I think she has even surpassed the unsurpassable cursing goddess Better Porter in creative uses of the word fuck.

Fucking marry me, Deb Morgan. I could not be more fucking serious.

Tank Top Tuesday

Oh, basic white tank top. How simple you are. Yet how undeniably effective. Sure, other colors are also nice. Your blacks. Your blues. Heck, even your reds. But the white tank top, well, it’s just a classic. What it does is really focus our attention on what’s in the tank top, as opposed to the tank itself. The way it hugs the form is almost workmanlike, yet exposes a natural womanliness. It’s the perfect conduit for unadulterated sexiness. Sheer yet still a statement. Right, so are you buying any of this? Have I prattled on for a sufficient amount of time to justify just showing you the hot ladies in white tank tops now? Or have you not heard a single word I’ve said because for the last five minutes you’ve been staring at Naya Rivera with your mouth open and a thin line of drool forming on your chin? I know, two days in a row with the drool on your screens. So perhaps before proceeding today, might I suggest a bib?

Lena HeadeyI’m pretty sure Lena is laughing at my attempt to wax eloquent about the white tank top. I am totally OK with that as long as she keeps wearing one.

Yvonne StrahovskiWhat? I’m sorry. Have you been standing there long? My brain stopped working temporarily for some unknown reason and I had to do a full system reboot. Oh my God, is that Yvonne in a... Dammit, not again. Control-Alt-Delete.

Cote de PabloJust think, if things had gone differently on “NCIS” maybe Cote would be the one having eye sex and TGTGT with Angie Harmon on “Rizzoli & Isles” instead of Sasha Alexander. Man, just thinking about what those subtext recaps would be like is tripping me out.

Minka KellyDoes it make me a very bad lady if I tell you I’ve decided to skip the new “Charlie’s Angels,” or a very good one?

Jordana BrewsterI probably won’t watch Jordana’s new remake, “Dallas,” either. But I will search the network press site for pictures of her in a tank top. So, you know, win-win.

Zoe KravitzOf course the daughter of Lisa Bonet and Lenny Kravitz is gorgeous. Of course.

WARNING: The last picture is NSFW. Thank the technology gods for smartphones, eh?

Karina LombardThis is like Tank Top Tuesday and Naked Lady Monday had a love child, make that twins.