There ain’t never enough time, never enough...

This is a blog about women, but if you’ll allow me I’d like to talk about a man for a moment. By now, everyone knows about Heath Ledger’s death yesterday. For days to come, if not longer, the speculation will swirl on the whys. But I’m not interested in any of that. Regardless the cause, the outcome remains tragically the same. Rumor and innuendo won’t help anyone find reason. Instead I’d like to focus on what we’ve lost.

Michael Jensen over at AfterElton wrote about how he felt Heath’s death like a body blow. I suspect a lot of gay men feel that way, and probably more than a few gay women as well. Heath’s role in “Brokeback Mountain” was so effortlessly iconic, so quietly devastating, that it has not only permanently become part of gay culture, but also pop culture. I still haven’t gotten over “Crash” beating “Brokeback” for the Oscar. Does anyone even remember how “Crash” ended? I can’t. But I sure as hell know how “Brokeback” did. Looking back years from now, cultural historians won’t point to “Crash” as having started a significant dialogue about race relations in America or how crappy Los Angelenos treat each other. No, instead they’ll look at “Brokeback Mountain” as another important stepping stone in our nation’s slow evolution toward full gay rights.

It’s a film that defied all odds with actors who beat all expectations. I mean on paper it’s almost ridiculous. A movie about gay cowboys? Put down the crack pipe, Winehouse. And it’s going to star two up-and-coming heartthrobs? Seriously, seek help now. But, despite its seeming impossibility, the movie was not only made, but triumphed. And that success was due in no small part to Heath’s transcendent performance. Raw and complex, simmering and understated, he made Ennis Del Mar a character for the ages. He was beautiful and broken. While I cringe at the use of the word “brave” when describing straight actors taking gay roles, Heath and Jake’s decision to play the doomed cowboys was at the very least risky. Many, many other actors ran from those roles. They made them their own.

I had looked forward to following Heath’s career. He was growing into the kind of actor who cherished substance over style. The kind of actor who looked for the complexities of characters, the sophistication of stories, the heaviness of the human heart. I still can’t wait to see how he transformed The Joker. Now, we’ll never get to see the rest. We won’t see all that he could have become. And that is -- just to be extremely selfish -- a very sad thing for a lover of movies like me.

Got tux?

So I can’t decide if this new Got Milk? ad featuring Glenn Close is really awesome or really scary. (’Cause, uh, is it just me or does she look kind of dead?) Still, I’m inclined to say awesome because girlfriend is filling out that tuxedo shirt like nobody’s business. What can I say, I’m a sucker for a woman in a suit. Particularly a tux. Particularly a well-tailored tux. All images of such are prone to cause sudden and acute weakening in the knee area. I think it’s safe to say there is sufficient empirical evidence to back up my claims. Just, make sure you’re sitting down before examining my research. I don’t want any lawsuits. [Click ’em to enlarge ’em.]

Bribes, what bribes?

Oh dear, the vicious cycle of ego stroking has started again. Seems some kind souls have nominated me for The Lesbian Lifestyle’s 2007 Lesbian Blog of the Year. I was up for the same honor last year and lost quite soundly and very rightfully. But, since I’m a sucker for punishment, let’s hop on this merry-go-round of potential embarrassment again. Nominating and voting are done in two parts. This is still the nominating process and the top five nominated blogs then move onto the finals. So, if you’re so inclined, type Dorothy Surrenders and its URL into the comments section to nominate yours truly. While you’re at it, go ahead and nominate a bunch of other great blogs. All the writers over in my Lovely Lady Links are a good start, and there are of course countless others. Nominations close Feb. 15. Full rules here.

p.s. Rest assured, I will in no way try to influence your vote. I mean, I would never do something so underhanded as to put up a gratuitous Naked Lady Monday post to curry favor. Oh, no. You can expect no such dirty campaigning here. I have high ethical standards to uphold. Sorry, what about these pictures below, you ask? Well, clearly, those are for informational purposes only. Know thy candidate, right?

Pre-L: Lady of the Lake

L503: “Lady of the Lake”
Good morning, Lesbians. Good morning, Chaiken. Yes, that’s right, it’s time for another fun-filled episode of Chaiken’s Lesbians. Their hair is bouncy, their gaydar is deadly…accurate, that is. I’m not entirely sure why we’re seeing this (oh, wait, a fan wrote it, that’s why) but, heck, who needs opening segments to be integral to the plot, anyway? [Click to enlarge, per usual.]

1. Slo-mo running + feathered 70s hair = lesbian hilarity2. I’ve heard some people workout as a substitute for sex. Sheesh, can’t they just eat cheesecake like the rest of us?3. Jenny. Ugh. Just ugh.4. Please remind them that two is company, three is a crowd.5. Wait, did I flip over to “Bad Girls” by accident?6. Welcome back to “Dirty Signing” with your hosts Jodi, Alice and Shane. Can you guess what today’s signs mean?7. A broad, and not a very classy one, is back. Even her hair looks indignant.8. Jodi’s friends, may I introduce you to Bette’s I-am-not-amused face?9. How’s that sex substitute thing working out for you, Shane? See, should of have went with the cheesecake.10. Who thinks……this won’t……end well?11. Seriously, cheesecake.12. So, Tina, is she a heart doctor or loooove doctor?13. Did Pam Grier do something very bad in another life to deserve these storylines?14. And so……ends Tina’s……dry spell……can we get……a hallelujah!15. I mean it, was she like an evil warlord or kitten killer in a past life, because this is too much.16. Tasha and Alice. Awww. Just awww.17. Fare thee well, Helena Peabody. We hardly knew ya.
New Guestbian Count: 1
[Lenka Stolar as Brenda the love heart doctor]
Best Line: “That? That is not sexy..” -- Alice reacting to the sideways “Loser” sign that means “Lesbian.”
Best Reaction: “Wow.” -- Tina to Brenda’s enhanced funbags.Best Vocab Word: “Salubrious.” Shane, you’re looking very saluuubrious today.
EDIT: Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Sometimes, my brain isn’t properly plugged in. Like, say, always.

My Weekend Crush

If you missed Julie Christie last year in “Away From Her,” you missed the most beautiful woman in film of 2007. This is a proclamation not made lightly. After all, this was a year that also saw movies by Jodie Foster and Angelina Jolie, Cate Blanchett and Lena Headey. But Julie Christie, beside making me go misty, blew them all away with a beauty that is a tableau of life’s rich pageant. At 66, the 60s icon is still sexy yet refined, brash yet delicate. But now her hair is streaked with gray, her faced is lined with time. This is how a woman should age. Her body should bear witness to all that she has seen, not try to smooth it away like hiding rubbish under a rug.

It took me a long time to see “Away From Her,” despite the glowing reviews. And even when I did finally submit, it was somewhat begrudgingly. Go see a film about Alzheimer’s for fun? Geez, let’s find some puppies to kick while we’re at it. Still once I started watching, my pre-conceived gloominess slipped away and what was left was the brilliance of Christie and co-star Gordon Pinsent’s heartbreaking portrayal of a couple’s whose 40-years of love together is vanishing. With astounding assurance first-time director Sarah Polley (yes, that Sarah Polley), has shown the quiet brutality of Alzheimer’s. In Julie she has found an actress who can embody the poignancy of the disease while at the same time showing us the stakes for those who remain behind left with only their now solitary memories. I mean, just imagine having shared a life with Julie Christie only to have it vanish, little by little, into the mind’s cruel ether. It is a performance that is both beautiful and devastating, just like life. Happy weekend, all.

p.s. You didn’t think I’d let a post about Julie Christie pass without posting this little gem from “Better Than Chocolate,” did you? And, as if to reciprocate the lesbian adoration, Julie dropped this tantalizing nugget in an LA Weekly interview recently: “I hope Sarah (Polley) doesn’t mind me saying this, but I think you might say we developed a crush on each other.” Ahhhhh, indeed.

Tina Fey Thursday

Sniffle… Whimper… Sob! This is the first Thursday without even the prospect of a fresh, funny new “30 Rock.” Why? Because the show ran out of pre-writers strike episodes last week. (Though, wasn’t that kooky “Midnight Train to Georgia” sing-along a perfectly absurd way to end the season, albeit unintentionally?) I could lament for pages and pages (well, technically, screens and screen) about why this makes me sad and how I will miss my weekly 30-minute dose of all things Tina Fey. But, instead, I am going to be a brave little toaster and keep my chin held high. This faux courageous chin elevating has been made considerably easier by the release yesterday of the trailer for Tina’s new comedy, “Baby Mama.” I won’t spoil the fun for you, I’ll just let you watch. [See it in hi-def here.]

Oh my God, right? I mean, I was trying so hard not to laugh out loud at work yesterday, my whole body shook. Violently. The chocolate or poop test? I think I almost peed my pants! And the childproof toilet? Well, I think might have actually peed my pants on that one.

Suffice it to say, this thing looks funny and you can’t beat the cast: Tina, Amy Poehler, Sigourney Weaver and Maura Tierney? Am I a little worried they might have shown all the funniest bits in the trailer? Perhaps, but this is Tina Fey we’re talking about. I trust there is plenty of hilarious left in the tank.

OK, now you’re probably thinking, “Why so confident, Ms. Snarker?” Or, possibly, “I’m still hungry, I wonder if any of last night’s Cheetos feel in between the couch cushions?” Either way, my faith in Tina and Amy’s ability to bring the funny can be summed up in two words: sexy tennis.

[Hat tip, Jules!]

Come April 25, I’m going to strap on some Depends and run to the theater. Come to think of it, they should sell those things at the concessions stand. I mean, no one can hold it long enough to finish a movie after drinking one of their ocean-sized sodas. OK, this post has gone to a weird place. But, you get my drift. “Baby Mama” or bust! You get the popcorn, I’ll get the rubber pants.

Let’s play ‘Doucheball’

Sweet Jesus, I Hate Chris Matthews. Amen, sister, amen. If you’ll indulge me for a minute, I’d like to get all political up in here. You see, a funny thing happened between the Iowa caucuses and New Hampshire primaries. That funny thing being the long-standing misogyny that exists within the good ol’ boys club of political reporting showed its true, women-should-be-seen-and-not-heard colors. And at the head of the class in this frat boy school of journalism is extreme douche and muppet head (seriously, doesn’t his big gaping scar of a mouth look exactly like a muppet’s when open?) Chris Matthews .

Now, I watch MSNBC pretty regularly. Whenever big news breaks or election results come in, I flip back and forth between MSNBC and CNN, so I’m pretty familiar with the kind of stuff Matthews is made of. Suffice it to say, it’s not pretty. But after the atrocious coverage of the first two primaries, I flat-out can’t take it anymore.

Matthews’s long dislike for the Clintons is well-documented, but his unabashed hatred of Hillary is beyond reason. He has called her everything from “uppity” to “witchy,” from “Nurse Ratched” to “Madame Defarge” and, believe it or not, a “She Devil” complete with horns. He has labeled those who support her “castratos in the eunuch chorus” and even posed the questions “Is she a convincing mom?”

And the morning after all the pundits and pollsters got it so spectacularly wrong in New Hampshire, the morning after he himself said he would “never underestimate Hillary Clinton again,” he went and said this:

“I think the Hillary appeal has always been somewhat about her mix of toughness and sympathy for her. Let’s not forget, and I’ll be brutal, the reason she’s a US Senator, the reason she’s a candidate for President, the reason she may be a front runner, is that her husband messed around. That’s how she got to be a Senator from New York. We keep forgetting it. She didn’t win it on her merit, she won because everybody felt, my God, this woman stood up under humiliation, right? That’s what happened! That’s how it happened.”

Wow, Chris, way to never underestimate Hillary Clinton again. I mean, how could she have won on her merits? She is just a woman, right? That’s so outrageous I’m going to let you watch the clip lest you think I’m taking it out of context.

Right, so if you think your blood is boiling now, then watch how with one simple gesture, he both belittles and negates Hillary’s power.

Oh no, your eyes did not deceive you. He PINCHED HER CHEEK. A woman who could be leader of the free world and he pulled a move reserved only for your grandma and Great Aunt Ida. The fine folks at Wonkette called the gesture a way to assert dominance over a powerful woman and double dog dared Matthews to pinch the cheek of every candidate he talked to from now on. “Otherwise, I will be forced to think that you believe we’re all totally ‘cute,’ like babies and kitties and puppies are, and that you believe we’re likely to be equally effective in positions of power.”

But, his hatred of all women and the dismissive of objectifying manner with which he treats them, even his coworkers, is beyond the realm of decency, not to mention professionalism. The Daily Kos has compiled a rundown of some of his most outrageous remarks. A sampling, please be sure your blood pressure medication is nearby before reading:

During the potential First Ladies debate, he said most people watching Michelle Obama “stopped listening a half-hour in, and they noticed how pretty she is -- Michelle -- and they said, ‘I like the fact he’s got this pretty wife. He’s happily married. I like that.’” Wow, he made it a whole half hour listening to a woman speak? Someone give that man a medal.

To conservative radio host Laura Ingraham: “I get in trouble for this, but you’re great looking, obviously. You’re one of the Gods’ gifts to men in this country. But also, you are a hell of a writer.” Because, of course, all pretty women were put on Earth as a gift to men.

And, one more thing, after getting stock market news from his colleague, CNBC anchor Erin Burnett, he asked her to lean into the camera:

Words. I have no words.

Look, I don’t want to get into a debate about Hillary Clinton’s virtues or perceived lack thereof. Personally, I like the woman. Granted I haven’t completely decided between Hillary and Barack, but whoever wins the nomination will happily and heartily receive my support. But what I will not stand for is this insidious, inescapable and unchecked misogyny that runs through the press coverage of her. It is not OK. We are not amused. And no amount of cheek pinching will make it better.

p.s. Since I know you’re all mad as hell and not going to take it anymore, why not fire off an email to MSNBC and let them know where exactly Chris Matthews can stick it?

Presenting Miss Pettigrew

The beginning of the year is -- as you’re all probably already painfully aware -- traditionally the dead zone when it comes to new movies. Sure, a couple late Oscar hopeful holdovers might come trickling into the cineplex. But for the most part it’s bottom-of-the-barrel stuff like “Rambo,” “Meet the Spartans” and the preposterously lengthy-titled “In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale.” Oh, Kristanna Loken, really?

So imagine my delight while perusing new movie posters when “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” popped up. First of all, ladies looking at other ladies in their knickers is always a good thing. Amy Adams, terrific. Frances McDormand, divine. And then I watched the trailer. English accents, prat falls, 30s glamour and a love four-angle? Sign me up.


Seriously, how fun does that look? Plus Frances’s crazy hair? Sheer genius, I tell you, genius.

Not so Golden

So the Golden Globes: The Press Conference pretty much -- how can I put this delicately? -- sucked. Huge suckage. Major suckage. Epic suckage. I watched the Access Hollywood-ified version with -- shudder -- Billy Bush and Nancy O’Dell. Or, more accurately, I had the TV muted and just peeked up as each winner’s name flashed onscreen. With no stars or acceptance speeches, this was really the best and only way to watch and not feel the sudden urge to bang your head repeatedly against the nearest solid, heavy object. Like, say, a door. Or the wall. Or you’re your brand-new copy of season one of “30 Rock.” (Yes, Amanda, I will shamelessly shill this DVD until everyone on the planet finally clues in and decides to WATCH THIS SHOW. Not that I have strong feelings about it or anything…)

Right, sorry, tangent. The glam-less Globes were the biggest, blaring reminder to date that we need a swift (but fair) end to the writers strike. Like now. Like yesterday. As if the dwindling and disappearance of new episodes of all of our favorite shows wasn’t enough incentive, this joy-free anti-ceremony means we were deprived of the most entertaining (thanks largely to the free and free-flowing booze) award show of the year.

Top three things we were deprived of seeing because of the roll-call Globes:
3. Johnny Depp’s acceptance speech. He’d never won one before in seven tries. Also, he’s dreamy. What? I can have a mancrush.
2. Glenn Close’s acceptance speech. Wouldn’t it have been fantastic if she’d done it in character as Patty Hewes? Perhaps whipped out a dog collar and then said, “Good thing I won. Sorry about Fido, Edie Falco, I was just covering my bases.”
1. Tina Fey’s acceptance speech. Curse you, producers, curse you.

Other winners who made me happy: Cate Blanchett, Marion Cotillard and Julie Christie. See the full list here and dream about what they coulda/shoulda/woulda worn in your head. But David Duchovny over Alec Bladwin and zero love for “Juno,” what the fuck Hollywood Foreign Press?