There will be blood

I’m, basically, a wuss. I own more than one nightlight. And I can’t watch scary movies without a big, big pillow. So then the new remake of “Carrie” leaves me conflicted. On the one hand, awesome cast of Chloë Moretz, Julianne Moore, Judy Greer and more. On the other hand, so much scary. On the one hand, queer filmmaker and “Boys Don’t Cry” director Kimberly Peirce is at the helm. On the other hand, so much blood. On the one hand, classic story of bullying, power and vengeance. On the other hand, they already told this classic story of bullying, power and vengeance pretty well already. Also, have I mentioned the scary? But, in the end, my curiosity will overcome – I think – my fear and I’ll venture to see what one picked on girl and a bucket of pigs blood can unleash on the world. Someone get me a really big pillow. Happy Halloween, gals and ghouls.

Zombies 2012

Right, so did everyone make it through the wrath of Sandy? I hope you stayed safe and warm and dry, my East Coast friends. My thoughts are with you all as you heal, rebuild and dry out. Between the apocalyptic storm coverage and post-apocalyptic media I’ve been watching lately (a steady diet of “The Walking Dead” with a light sprinkling of “Resident Evil” for taste), I’ve been thinking a lot about how to survive the end of the world. Note: Marathoning two seasons of “The Walking Dead” in a day will result in a restless night of mentally packing and repacking one’s zombie apocalypse survival kit. I’m sadly lacking a lot of things – like multi-gallon jugs of water and a machete. I enjoy post-apocalyptic entertainment, because it quite literally brings us back to our most base survival skills. But I also know in my heart of hearts I’d probably not be one of the rugged survivors. Not much use for a snarky writer type with terrible coordination and no idea how to hotwire a car. But, on the plus side, at least I know the kinds of things that will hasten our descent into total zombie apocalyptia. A week before the election and remember, there’s only one man running for president who calls funding for federal disaster relief “simply immoral.” So listen to our friend, Joss. Zombie Apocalypse 2012, anyone?

Kiss the future

If you’re gay or a lady or a human with a functioning sense of empathy, election season can really start to get you down. Our bodies, our loves, our lives get thrown round like a political football. We’re used as a wedge. We’re used as a divider. We’re used as a scare tactic. It can all get rather disheartening. I just want to live my life and be a decent person and watch too much TV, like everybody else. But, the good news is, no matter what happens this election, we’ll all wake up Nov. 7 and do just that. Sure, it may or may not be easier and fairer for us that next morning. But we’ll still be who we are and love and laugh and eat a Reese’s for breakfast because those free-loading kids shouldn’t get all the Halloween candy, right? And, whenever another idiot talking about what rape is or how our relationships are abominations or why corporations really are people, remember there are also lovely people – all over the world – who think the exact opposite. And those people will stand up with us against the tide of injustice with their voices and vote and, like our French friends above are doing in front of an anti-gay rally, their lips.

p.s. If you are still down, give my lovely friend Up Popped a Fox and her lovely post a read. Hope and perspective bring forth better days.

My Weekend Roar

You know what I like? Women. You know how I like ‘em? Roaring. This election season has been hard on us and our lady bits. There’s been a lot – too much – talk of what we can and cannot do with them. There’s been a lot – too much – talk of what is legitimate and not legitimate when it happens to them. And there’s been a lot – too much – talk of what should happen when someone violates them and whether the unwanted result is something God intended to happen. Enough, old white men. ENOUGH. So this weekend my crush is not on any one woman, but all women – and discerning men folk – who are tired of more than half of the population being told what they can and cannot with our lives and bodies. So here are a lot of smart, talented, funny and fierce ladies saying enough is enough. My vote is my roar. Happy weekend, all.

Out in the clouds

I loved “The Matrix.” Who didn’t? It’s two sequels, well. But “The Matrix” was one of those universal cinematic moments where we all let out a collective Keanu “whoa.” And then I was impressed by “V for Vendetta.” And, come on, if you don’t get a little hot just thinking about “Bound” I’m not sure you have a pulse. So the Wachowskis have always been filmmakers on my radar who make me sit up and pay attention. In the past decade, the sibling duo has made headlines themselves, but not just for what they’ve put on screen. Lana Wachowski came out as transgender and transitioned in the past decade, and during promotion for her new movie “Cloud Atlas” discussed her experiences for the first time publically. Over the weekend she was honored with the Human Rights Campaign Visibility Award at its annual gala. Her acceptance speech is funny and thoughtful and well worth a listen. I haven’t written much about transgender issues here, not necessarily out of disinterest but because of the lack of mainstream discussion, period, of transgender issues. It is, admittedly, a lame excuse. Sadly we still live in a world that is wary of the other. We love our boxes and our binaries and those who stray outside get branded with the freak flag (and worse) with frightening speed and frequency. So to have such a well-respected and high-profile advocate, albeit a reluctant one, is wonderful. It’s also wonderful to listen for 30 minutes to someone’s experiences that may be outside your own and realize we humans aren’t so different despite out so-called differences. We all want to be loved, accepted, respected and able to feel comfortable in our own skin. I honestly can’t tell you what “Cloud Atlas” is about from watching the trailers. Something about identity and interconnectedness and space and time and love, always love. But, man, it sure looks fascinating. And knowing it comes from the minds of those wondrous Wachowskis makes me ready to take that ride.

The New Leisha

Lady, are you a sight for sore eyes. In case you blinked for one minute and 42 seconds last night, you missed the very welcome return of Leisha Hailey to television. The artist formerly known as Alice appeared as half of the “wonderful, eloquent” lesbian couple Ryan Murphy had promised us on “The New Normal.” The jury is still out on whether they are indeed truly wonderful and eloquent. But they certainly were childless and bitter about it. Also a little frowny. But, hey, Leisha looked great. Of course, it’s unfair to judge them just one very short appearance. The true proof of their wonderful and eloquentness will be on how much the couple reappears and reveals. Though I will say Leisha and Constance Zimmer managed to have more chemistry in one minute and 42 seconds than Justin Bartha and Andrew Rannells have had in their 420 minutes so far.

I know Leisha has the whole being a rock star thing going already, but I sure so miss her lovely face and impeccable comic delivery on my teevee. In fact, seeing her reminded me of how many wonderful (and eloquent) actresses I’d love to see more often in my living room. Actresses like Emma Caulfield and Rachel Shelley (both had guest Actresses like Lauren Ambrose and Shelley Conn. And so many, many more. Well, here’s hoping we’ll get a lot more than one minute and 42 seconds from Leisha in the future.

p.s. Love the hair, Leisha. Very power lesbian chic.

Monster lane

You know what I miss? So many things. My ability to do a handstand. My ability to remember where I parked my car at the end of the day. My ability to eat half a pizza and an order of breadsticks with cheese sauce at 2 a.m. and not gain 30 pounds and extreme hearth burn overnight. But I digress. What I’m missing today is the zany magic wonder that is a Brian Fuller series on my TV screen. You know, the man behind “Wonderfalls” and “Pushing Daisies” and “Dead Like Me.” His style is as signature as that “chung-chung” sound from “Law & Order.” So imagine my delight when I heard that his modern-day Munsters reboot “Mocking Bird Lane” was on. Then on off. Then maybe on again. Then a one-shot Halloween special to air on NBC. Confusing, I know. Look, I was never a huge Munsters fan. I was more of an Addams Family girl myself. But I’ll gladly tune in, even if only for a night, to get a little of that old Fuller magic again. Plus, if enough of us watch, it might actually start airing on our TV screens on the regular. And then I could cross if off my list of things I miss. Which, as we’re all aware, is the real priority here.

p.s. I can’t decide whether Portia with the dark hair makes me purr or pause. A little of both, I think.

At last, an update

Right, so I owe you fine folks an update on my Indiegogo perks distribution. And that update is that they are still coming. And I am extremely sorry because I have not gotten them out sooner. When my laptop crashed and burned I lost a bunch of the files I’d been working on the get your perks sent out. I am currently using my tiny, slow backup netbook, which is limited to say the least. I haven’t bought my new laptop yet (I know, I KNOW, stop yelling at me Mac people.) But once I finally buy my oh-so-terribly needed new laptop, I will resume work on getting the perks out to you and promise to have them delivered to every single last one of you before the end of the year. Have I mentioned already that I am sorry? My lack of a good laptop is also the reason, among others, many of my posts have been a little later than normal. Like, you know, this one.

Also, as long as we’re discussing things I feel guilty about, I am working on making a dent in my inbox. It’s ugly in there, but I am trying. If I haven’t written you back it is not because I don’t care. It’s because I suck at writing back.

So. To recap. I am sorry. I haven’t forgotten about you. Thank you for your patience. Have I mentioned how pretty you look today? No. Well, you do.

A few other quick reminders about me, blah blah, narcissism, blah:

You can always find me on Twitter @dorothysnarker
You can sometimes fine me on Tumblr @ Ms. Snarker Regrets
You can read my slightly more professional thoughts every week @ AfterEllen.com

Thank you, as always, for reading. And now as thanks please enjoy this picture of Lena Headey gently brushing her hair behind her ear. It’s the least I can do.

My Weekend Spirit

In honor of Spirit Day, here is teen activist and inspiration Brittany McMillan explaining the day she founded in 2010. I met her earlier this year at the GLAAD Awards and she was a smart, articulate and compassionate young woman. Her anti-bullying message rings true any day, not just today. Also, who doesn't like a splash of purple? Happy weekend, all.

Lesbian Horror Story

WARNING: Scary-ass spoilers for the Season 2 premiere of “American Horror Story” ahead. Especially the scary part.

First, it was like a lesbian dream. Sarah Paulson and Clea Duvall playing lesbian partners in 1964. One is an eager cub reporter wanting to prove herself (that’s be Sarah’s Lana). The other is a third-grade science teacher. They’re in love, living together and – yes – even get to kiss.

Then, just like that, it’s a lesbian nightmare. Sarah gets discovered lurking around the mental asylum and then, horror or horrors, institutionalized because of her homosexuality when her partner is blackmailed into signing the papers with the threat of exposure.

Of course, the nightmare part is sort of the point. The whole show is like a waking nightmare. Truth be told I stopped watching the first season after a few episode because ZOMGSCARY. But now I’m torn about this season. I’m pretty much a wuss, so scary movies/shows/whathaveyou make me hide a pillow. But, I do greatly appreciate that this is a show with actual gay ladies playing gay ladies on screen. But then on the other hand, how terrifying is it to be thrown into an insane asylum for being gay. Worst still, it actually used to happen.

There’s also the matter of this being a Ryan Murphy/Brad Falchuk production. So, their track records with the lesbians is a mixed bag. On the one hand, they gave us Brittana. On the other hand, everything else. So I’m not sure if I should be afraid or really, really afraid for the lesbians in the show.

All this boils down to one big question: Will I keep watching? Well, not alone and definitely not with the lights out.

Lady binders

We live in interesting times indeed. Life no longer moves at the speed of light. It moves at the speed of meme. So now for all of you political watchers, here is my favorite insta-meme from last night's presidential debate. Mitt Romney and his "Binders Full of Women." I mean, if we can't laugh at this shit we just end up crying uncontrollably.

For those who didn't watch Barry v. Mittens Take 2, the quote came out of a question about women's pay equity. Romney waxed on about an anecdote from when he was elected governor in Massachusetts. And, gosh darn, if all the candidates for his candidate positions weren't men. So he damned they bring him some women and sought them out himself.

And he said he: "went to a number of women's groups and said, "Can you help us find folks," and they brought us whole binders full of women."

Ladies belong in the kitchen – er, I mean in binders, amirite fellas?

The funny thing is, according to the Boston Phoenix, that's not even true. The women's groups had already compiled those "binders full of women" and presented them to him without being implored when he came into office. Also, in case you didn't notice, Mitt never actually answered how he fell about pay equity for women - just binders filled with them.

Anyway, #bindersfullofwomen trended on Twitter and spawned an immediate Tumblr and in general caused much merriment among political watchers because, come on, who says they have binders full of women? In the first debate, zero mention of women. In the second debate, we're all in binders. Oh, Series of Tubes, thanks for making me not have to cry alone in a corner. Good thing nobody puts baby in a binder.

Bitches get hosting done

SWEET LESBIAN JESUS, YOU HAVE ANSWERED MY PRAYERS AT LAST. Tina Fey and Amy Poehler are going to co-host the Golden Globe Awards. Let me repeat that one more time for emphasis. TINA FEY AND AMY POEHLER ARE MAKING MY DREAMS COME TRUE. With all due respect to Chris Traeger, this is LITERALLY the best news ever. I am LITERALLY overcome with joy. The world is LITERALLY in for a treat. Yes, Joe Biden, I know I’m using literally wrong.

This news is great/amazing/wonderful for so many reasons. One, Tina Fey and Amy Poehler are both smart, talented, funny women on their own. Two, together they are like the ultimate dynamic duo of female empowerment and hilarity. Three, awards shows rarely have female hosts, let alone two of them. Four, they’re a refreshing antidote to the Academy Awards’s choice of dude-centric host Seth MacFarlane. Four, this is the perfect excuse to watch old clips of Tina and Amy together on Weekend Update. Five, they'll further fuel our feverish fantasies as Tina and Amy gaze lovingly at each other (see above). Six, bitches get stuff done – mic drop.

Screw Christmas. I’ll have all the presents I’ll ever need come Jan. 13. I mean, if them just chatting together for 10 minutes is this entertaining, imagine how amazing 3 hours of them together will be. Please, hold me – I’m lizzing.

Twelve!

Had a bout of nostalgia this weekend which led me down a YouTube rabbit hole and ended up with me humming this nonstop for two days. If you’re a gay lady (or straight lady or fella, I don’t judge) of a certain age I invite you to relive the grooviness with me this fine Monday. Just don’t blame me for the epic earworm that will ensue.

My Weekend Crush

So last weekend I went to see my previously confessed guilty pleasure and it turned out to be a total pleasure with only the smallest twinge of guilt. The guilt had nothing to do with “Pitch Perfect,” which turned out to be loads of fun and elicited more than a few snorts of laugher. No, instead the guilt was that it took me this long to fall hopelessly in love with Rebel Wilson. Some might remember the Australian comedian as the horrifying roommate from “Bridesmaids.” But in “Pitch Perfect” she sets herself up as a true scene stealer. She projects a mix of bravado and sweetness with a sense of humor that manages to be both understated and hyperbolic. All in all she catches you off guard with her charm and her hilarity.

And in a series of talk show appearances to promote the film, she has only proved more charming and more hilarious. Like when she told Leno that during her audition for “Pitch Perfect” the producers must have thought, “Well, she kind of looks like Adele, but can she sing?” Or when she told Kimmel that, having come from a family of professional dog showers, she thought “Best in Show” was “such a good documentary.” Or when she told Conan that using the proper term for a female dog got her in trouble her first day of kindergarten. I now want to watch everything she’s ever been in and all the things she is going to be in. Also, did you know girlfriend can straight-up rap? Word. Happy weekend, all.

SGALGG: Secretary of Ogles

Two days of serious political discourse and then this. Hey, Hill. Her eyes are - oh, who are we kidding. We'd stare, too. Esteemed Secretary of State Hillary Clinton met esteemed singer/reality show dream crusher Christina Aguilera last week and had a little, shall we say, focus problems. Nice to know that even the most accomplished and intelligent l women in the world can succumb to a Straight Gals Acting Like Gay Gals moment. But then, Christina does have a lot to offer and it would almost be rude not to notice. Get it, girl. Hill for Ogler in Chief, 2016.

Thunder Down Under

I talk a lot about United States politics because, well, it’s where I live. But I know there’s a big wide world out there. And there are amazing people in it. So today, please take 15 minutes out of your day to enjoy the righteous roaring of an even more righteous woman. This is Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard giving what can only accurately be called an epic smackdown of sexism to opposition leader Tony Abbott. It’s extraordinary for so many reasons. But for us U.S. politics watchers, it’ll probably be most extraordinary for her unabashed willingness to call a spade a spade. All too often we tiptoe around sexism and brush it off as business as usual. But Not Julia. She calls a misogynist a misogynist. And right to his face. Now that is what I call some thunder Down Under.

Vote Love

In four weeks we will go to the ballot box to decide who will get to live in the White House for the next four years. But, just like every election, this is about more than just the big game of musical chairs in the halls of power. Four states across this vast nation of ours are voting on marriage equality referendums. Maine, Maryland, Minnesota and Washington will all have gay marriage on their ballots. Now, back in 2008 when California did the same thing, I was filled with the righteous political passion of a true believer. Educate, inform, get out the vote. I feel those same things now, four years later. But I also feel weary and more than a little angry that we’re still doing this. Not that same-sex marriage is still being debated necessarily. Debate is fine, we have this thing called free speech. But it’s that we still, as a country, think our love – my love – is something to be voted on. In fact, the more I think about it the more furious I become. Rights aren’t a popularity contest. Rights aren’t a campaign. Rights are rights. I shouldn’t have to convince anyone I deserve them, I should just have them. It’s that whole inalienable thing. Alas, we aren’t there yet, as a nation. We’re still tiptoeing on the edges of equality, letting the majority decide for the minority. So, again, we education, inform, and get out the vote. This won’t be the last time. But let it be the beginning to history’s inevitable conclusion. We have the right to marry, and we will have the right one day from coast to coast. Let it be soon. And let no man or woman’s vote be allowed to tear our unions asunder.

On November 6:
In Maine, Vote YES on 1
In Maryland, Vote FOR Question 6
In Minnesota, Vote NO on the Constitutional Amendment
In Washington, Vote APPROVE Referendum 74

For more visit The Four 2012.

p.s. If you like the music that serenades you today, please send some much-deserved iTunes love to Macklemore & Ryan Lewis (featuring Mary Lambert).

The Break-Up

Right. So let’s talk about it. I mean really, really talk about it. Process, if you want to be all lesbian about it. Yep, I’m talking about “The Break-Up.” (Quit reading now if you haven’t watched last week’s episode of “Glee,” so you can still have some deluded semblance of mystery about what breakup I’m talking about.)

So, Brittana broke up. Santana broke it off with Brittany and we all cried – don’t lie, you cried. My very wise friend Heather Hogan astutely noted in her lovely AfterEllen recap:

For all of its missteps and flip-flops and bizarro misogyny, the one thing Glee has always done exceptionally well is hit us where it hurts. See, because this show isn’t really about what we experienced in our teenage lives; it's a show about how we experienced our teenage lives.

And that’s the thing about “Glee.” When it works, it’s magic. When it doesn’t, it’s a fucking mess. If the emotions aren’t right, there’s no fixing it with a flashy song or dance. You can’t fake The Feelings, especially The Big Gay Feelings. Those either ring true or they don’t. That’s why it was all wrong when Finn song assaulted Santana. That’s not how it would feel if your outer got all up in your grill and lectured you that girls just want to have fun. You’d punch him in the nose with rage, not hug him tight in thanks.

But when Santana sits Brittany down and sings “you are the best thing that’s ever been mine,” you know it’s real. Those emotions, what it feels like to look at the first person you ever loved and know you have to let go, those emotions are ones we’ve almost all felt. Maybe not that exact circumstance, definitely not with those amazing legs that go on forever crossed just so. But the how it felt part, heavens, yes.

Now, we can argue about whether Brittany and Santana had to break up. Why, Ryan Murphy, why? But you can’t argue about how it felt. You can’t argue with the soft, ravaged anguish on Santana’s face. You can’t argue with the raw, pulsing nerve of Brittany’s tears. Breaking up with someone you love, man, does it hurt. Like crumple up your heart into the tightest, hardest ball ever hurt. It’s knowing you are leaving someone you will always love “the most” kind of pain. I can’t say it’s a good hurt, but it’s a true hurt.

And, for all its ridiculousness, that’s what I want from my “Glee.” Not that everything makes sense or is even remotely possible given the laws of physics and constraints of public high school choir budgets. But that the emotions they sell me feel true. Whether it be joy or pain or fabulosity, I want my “Glee” to be honest with me where it counts – The Feelings.

Also, can we take more than a minute and talk about Naya Rivera’s performance? The way emotions wash gently over her face, the way her eyes speak and her voice transcends. Yeah. We have not seen the last of this woman. Not even close.

So am I happy that Santana and Brittany broke up? Fuck, no! I will go down as a proud and faithful crew member of the S.S. Brittana. Let the band play as the ship sinks. I will dance to their beautiful music until the very last millimeter of deck goes under the cold, icy water and descends to the floor of the deep, dark ocean. Too many shipping metaphors? Never! But at least the way they broke up, as much as I hate it, feels real.

In a little over three short seasons this silly show about an even sillier show choir has managed to spin an entirely unsilly story about a super snarky cheerleader and her super sweet best friend who somehow fell in love and made it connect with countless gay girls and straight girls and gay boys and maybe one or two straight boys and more than a few of us who are too old to be called either girls or boys anymore. So while we may complain loudly and passionately and righteously about how some of it was handled and keep a hetero v. homo kiss counter running nonstop in our heads, we cannot deny that in some things the writers and even Ryan Murphy have done some things just right. Even if it was accidental, even if it started as a joke, you can’t deny that Brittana mattered. They touched people, some of them the most vulnerable among us at the most vulnerable times in their lives.

Some people think caring about TV is silly or dumb of that word Brittany hates most, stupid. Sure, it can be. TV isn’t real life, of course. Real life can be so much more mundane and magnificent and everything in between. TV is just TV. But the thing about it, the thing that can make it magic when it works, TV can make us feel real things. Real, horrible, beautiful, heartbreaking things. Oh what “Glee.”

My Weekend Crush

Admit it, everyone has a thing for the bad girl. Good girls, they’re all nice and, um, good. But a little evil goes a long way. Also, who doesn’t look gorgeous draped in black? Lana Parrilla’s Evil Queen on “Once Upon a Time” is many things, obviously. Evil, duh. But also smart, powerful, cunning and in her own way quite tragic. Thanks to Lana, she’s not just a cartoony vision of evil, extending a blood-red apple for all of us to eat. She’s a mix of so many things. We don’t want her crushed, because heavens that would be boring. We want to peel away her layers and find out if a heart still beats underneath or if it’s just an empty black hole.

And, sure, there’s the fun little subtext between Lana and Jennifer Morrison. The Swan Queen we all hope against hope will have a storybook ending (never mind the whole she’s her step-grandmother thing – this is a fairytale, anything is possible). But in real life, Lana is a big supporter of LGBT rights as well, and just posed for her own NOH8 photo. See, not so evil after all. Happy weekend, all.

End of Feys

Oh, please. Like I wasn't going to write about Tina Fey on the day of the premiere of the last season of "30 Rock" ever. It's like you don't even know me. Well, it is finally here. The beginning of the end. When it's all over we will have had seven seasons of eating night cheese and wanting to go to there. The thought of it all being over soon makes we want to go get business drunk. Liz Lemon is pretty much my spirit animal. And Tina, well, we all know Tina is my Fake TV Wife. So now that it's all coming to an end I feel so many things. Sad. Excited. Proud. Sad some more. I know "30 Rock" has never been a ratings blockbuster (neither in the Nielsen's or in my comment counts). But I won't stop talking about "30 Rock" or Tina, because they both, genuinely, make me happy. They inspire me. They make me laugh. They make me think. And they make me feel good that such a smart woman can have such success with such a smart show. And, lest you think you are off the hook, Tina recently signed a four-year development deal with NBCUniversal. So, looks like my Fake TV Wife might be back on my real TV even after "30 Rock" is gone. Until then, I shall continue to adulation unabated. And, if I ever feel a little blerg in a world without Lemon, I'll just put on my bi-curious shoes (I swear, I haven't worn them since college) and remember the founding tenets of Lizbeanism. See you, tonight, Tina.

Girl in the mirror

I’ve long since gotten over the expectation that what I see on my television will be an accurate reflection of what I see in the mirror each morning (and night, or really anytime of day I happen pass a mirror and feel vain). TV is by and large the domain of a bunch of impossibly heroic/dramatic/photogenic cops/doctors/lawyers and the occasional impossibly perceptive writers/mentalists/math geniuses who all dress really well and have uniformly blinding white teeth. After all these years of owning a remote, I’ve come to expect it. Just like, unfortunately, I’ve come to expect that a good 80 to 90 percent of those impossibly heroic/dramatic/photogenic cops/doctors/lawyers and occasional impossibly perceptive writers/mentalists/math geniuses with the impossibly white teeth will be white themselves. Sure, TV gives us a sassy black friend or wise brown coworker or whatever other ancillary character they deem OK to be a less white shade of pale.

So imagine my pleasure this season when a few more faces on my television – not a ton mind you, but an important few – look a little more like me. We have Lucy Liu in the CBS crime drama “Elementary,” Mindy Kaling on the FOX sitcom “The Mindy Project,” Suzy Nakamura in the “NBC comedy “Go On” and Jamie Chung on the returning ABC fable “Once Upon a Time” have all offered up major new female characters of East Asian or South Asian descent. Sure, a handful of characters may not seem like a lot. But it’s more than we get most years. Especially considering the number of major broadcast network shows with major female Asian/South Asian characters currently can be counted on only one hand – “Grey’s Anatomy,” “The Good Wife,” “Glee,” “Hawaii Five-O” and “Bones.” I might have missed a few here and there, but not many.

So why am I excited about Lucy, Mindy, Suzy and Jamie? Because as numbed to the status quo as we all become consuming media day in and day out, it’s always nice to be reminded that, yes, Virginia, there are other ethnicities out there. And there is still something unspeakably powerful about seeing someone who looks at least a little more like you on TV. In fact, I remember the very first show I saw that centered around a female Asian character. And I remember being ridiculously excited to watch it. That was back in 1994 when Margaret Cho’s “All American Girl” debuted. The show, it turns out, sucked. But by no fault of Margaret’s. But my thrill at finally seeing someone like myself on TV remained. It mattered then and it matters now.

Of course, this new mini-wave of Asian female characters is but a drop in the bucket when you consider that combined East and South Asian population is close to 3 billion people. That’s a big honking chunk of the world’s overall population of 7 billion folks. But, hey, we’ve got four new female faces on our TV this fall. So, you know, baby steps. Anytime TV looks a little more like all of our collective mirror, it’s something to smile about.

p.s. I totally already ship Mulan and Sleeping Beauty. Bring it, Sleeping Warrior.

Fuck you, Comcast

So, fun story. My Comcast wireless router just up and stopped working yesterday for no apparent reason. And when I called customer support - after more than an hour of "help" and failed transfers and more "help" - they said they do not provide free support for wireless anymore, so it would cost me $80 to get help. Neat-O! So instead of paying their ransom, I am going to trade in my old router and get a new router/modem combo from them tomorrow. And then use their 30-day free tech support with new equipment to get my wireless router working again. Circumventing the highway robbery? YOU BETCHA.

This, of course, means I am with very limited internet until I get the switch made. So until then please enjoy Lily Allen expressing my sentiments exactly.

Monday music

Let's be frank, Mondays hold very little charm on their own. You know it, I know it, we all know it. But there are ways to make Mondays more palatable. To make the mundane start of another weary work week just a smidge more sublime. And one of them is music. But not just any music. Because why have any old music when you can have excellent cover music. And what's more excellent than some of your favorite ladies singing some of your favorite (and guilty favorite) songs. Starting with your friend and mine kelly Clarkson singing Sia's "Breathe Me."

Tegan & Sara, "Umbrella"

Admit it, this version makes it sound mighty, might gay.

Ingrid Michaelson, "Toxic"

This version makes me feel a little better about dancing to this song until nearly dawn in my younger days.

Zooey Deschanel, "Wouldn't It Be Nice"

Manic pixie dream surfer girl.

Brandi Carlile, "Crazy"

Brandi could sing me the phone book, but Patsy is better.