My Weekend Crush

The first time I remember seeing Lauren Ambrose it was in the tepid teen comedy “Can’t Hardly Wait” -- you know, the movie that was supposed to launch Jennifer Love Hewitt into Meg Ryan territory. While the movie (my sister’s choice, grumble) was largely forgettable (oh, and I’m still steamed about the whole “fag” thing), I remember noticing Lauren for a couple of reasons. One, she seemed like a real teenager. And two, she seemed like a real teenager who, had I been a teenager, I would have loved to hang out with. In other words, a real smart ass.

But then came “Six Feet Under” and not only did I take notice, I took notes. As Claire, she was that teenager from before but amplified. She was nuance and contradiction. Confident and insecure. Rebellious and vulnerable. Sarcastic and loving. Smart and reckless. She was a girl learning how to become a woman, sometimes failing, sometimes succeeding, but always achingly real. I fucking loved her on that show. While I can’t necessarily say the same thing about her latest endeavor, “The Return of Jezebel James,” that’s hardly her fault. There’s plenty of blame to go around that laugh-free factory.

Lauren’s ability to convey the sense of questioning inherent in adolescence made her portrayal of young women exploring their sexuality both in “Six Feet Under” and the film “Swimming” that much more authentic. In such a superficial industry, it’s refreshing to see a young woman who has sought substance over style, a woman who defies the starlet trap and its inane beauty doctrine. Also, I just love the gingers. Happy weekend, all.

Let’s play ‘Gropeball’

Look, I knew Chris Matthews had some serious issues with women. But, I never suspected he would try to kill one. Live. On the air. Oh, wait, sorry. Apparently he wasn’t trying to choke Ellen DeGeneres to death; he was just dancing. Oh kids, just when you think you’ve seen it all, you see yet an other example of why old white men should never, under any circumstance, bust a move. Poor Ellen, she seemed at once terribly amused and genuinely frightened. Though, give the dude some credit, he may have just inadvertently invented the next dance craze to sweep the nation. Behold: The Gropeball.

p.s. If your stomach muscles can take more uncontrollable shaking, watch her day-after dissection of what went wrong.

South for Spashley

If “South of Nowhere” had existed while I was in junior high or high school, my how things would have been different. As is, the first show I saw about teenagers that dealt with gay issues was “My So-Called Life,” which started while I was in college. But a show with a lesbian teen couple that involved actual sexual tension and physical affection (even if we may grumble that it is too limited) was and continues to be a rarity. So I was saddened to hear late last month that the series is ending its run at the end of its third season this spring. The eight-episode second half to the season, which starts April 11*, will be it’s last.

Did I like everything (ugh, Glen, seriously ugh) about the show? Clearly, no. Did I sometimes fast-forward to the Spashley parts? Admittedly, yes. But regardless of its shortcomings, what the show helped do was normalize gay relationships. Gay teen couples flirt and fight and fawn over each other, just like straight teen couples. Gay teen couples face the same joys and pains, insecurities and desires, just like straight teen couples. And, most importantly, gay teen couples exist in practically every high school and deserve to be respected in the hallways and classrooms of America (and, of course, beyond). We’re here, we’re queer, can we copy your trig notes?

So, I’ll tune in to catch the final eight. And I’ll mourn the loss of the show even though it was so far out of my age demographic it bordered on embarrassing. And, heck, I’ll even sign a petition and send blog love to those troupers at the Save Spashley campaign. Hey, if peanuts worked for “ Jericho ” fans, maybe compasses can work for SoN fans. Though, if it were up to me, I’d send trench coats. Lots and lots of trench coats. Yeah. I am totally going to miss this show.

*UPDATE: Huh, well apparently The PTB and The N have decided to push back the final episodes premiere date to the fall because the network has “been absolutely overwhelmed” by the fan reaction to the cancellation and now want to “give South the proper send-off it deserves.” OK. So, delayed disappointment. I see. Very clever. Most people go for delayed gratification, but you just had to be different.

Tank Top Tuesday

Holy God. No, seriously, holy God. I know this picture is 20-plus years old, but still…damn. In fact, Anjelica Hustonn and her white tank top have inspired (well, that’s the polite word for it) me to create yet another semi-regular feature, Tank Top Tuesday. Yes, I know we already have Tina Fey Tuesday, but on the weeks when the Fey Fabulous is resting, I just might have to take solace in the simple splendor of the white-ribbed tank top. After all, it is the No. 2 lesbian fashion accessory for a reason.And, last but not least, an oldie but a goodie.UPDATE: Patience, patience, little kittens. I can’t blow all the tank toppy goodness in the first post, now can I? All your favorites are coming. And, oh yes, there will be Lena. Also, different tank top colors. Hell to the yeah.

Mmm, Padma, mmm

I came, I saw, I recapped. My first “Top Chef” recap is up at AfterEllen.com today. Not only is it my first recap of “Top Chef,” it’s my first recap ever. So, please, be gentle. As a fan of the show, recapping it is exhausting thrilling. The recaps will run the Monday after each episode at AfterEllen. Since the premiere was mostly just introductions, nothing too crazy in this one. I look forward to the culling of the herd so I don’t have to rely on nicknames and/or mnemonic devices to keep everyone straight. Wait, sorry, straight is the wrong word with our three chefbians, plus an honorary chefbian (cough, Richard, cough) or two sprinkled in here and there. Also, as those delightful Amuse-Biatchers so aptly pointed out, what the fuck is up with all the fucking cursing this season, motherfuckers? My new sister in culinary snarkitude The Big Shamu over at The Karmic Kitchen suggested we change the name from “Top Chef: Chicago” to “Top Chef: Motherfuckers!” I could not fucking agree more. With that, chow’s on.

Pre-L: Lunar Cycle

L511: “Lunar Cycle”
Hey, Big Mama C, why so serious? Is it, you know, that time? Look, we get it -- lunar cycle. Lady business. Female troubles. Aunt Flow. But did you really have to go and pack four references to PMS in the first eight minutes? I mean, it’s like I’m watching “There Will Be Blood: The Menstrual Edition.” Oh, and let’s not forget all the treachery, deceit, heartache and pain. Sheesh, no wonder they call it The Curse.

1) Gosh this seems familiar.2) A little awkward with your coffee?3) Hey, you think if we joined forces we’d get more lines?4) Bitchy Brunch, party of seven.5) Dawn Denbo and lover Cindi talk majority shares.6) OK, make that a lot of awkward.7) Lesbian Twinsies Syndrome in its last gasp.8) Who do you think wears the pants in this relationship?9) Christ, she cheated on you. Don’t apologize!10) Say it with flowers Blackberry.11) Thank you all for coming, now please bend over.12) Just wait, it gets better once the pizza girl arrives.13) Have we learned nothing from Paris Hilton, nothing?14) So much……for the……afterglow.15) Either you are with me, or you are with the terrorists.16) Terrorist!17) Shit, are pigs flying?18) There’s a new sheriff in town.19) All eyes on the lesbian.20) When really bad ideas happen to really good people.21) Flirt……much?22) The only way to respond to that “Let’s be friends” crap.23) Dude, does anyone else have the munchies?24) The many personalities of Jenny Schecter:
Suicidal.Crazy.Heartbreaking.25) Guilt in a box.26) Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!27) It’s OK, Angelica’s OK. Though throwing it out in the dumpster? Are you going for a bad idea record, Kit?28) The happy family.
New Guestbian Count: 1
[Melanie Lynskey as fashion designer/Alice flirter Clea Mason]
Best Line: “I’m so glad I don’t have to go through that anymore.“ -- Max to Kit while surveying the dyke drama.
Best Fake Line: “They’re like the best couple that ever lived.” -- Fake Alice about fake Bette and fake Tina.
Something I Would Never, Ever Say to a Girlfriend, Even If I Secretly Thought It: “I hope you bleed soon, I really do.” -- Alice to Tasha

My Weekend Crush

See, I was serious about bringing the funny. Margaret Cho has been one of my favorite comedians since I realized that people could stand in a room with a microphone and make you laugh for a living. My sister and I still quote one of her earliest bits about, well, a chicken head. Heck, I was even one of the dozens and dozens of people who watched her ill-fated 1994 sitcom “All-American Girl.” Of course, I’m predisposed to love the incomparable Ms. Cho because she is a fellow Asian-American sistah. Kimchi in the house, y’all.

Over the years Margaret has emerged as one of the most gay-friendly, gay-inclusive and just plain-old gay comics around. She identifies as queer and always used “us” or “we” when referring to the community. She is also a feminist, diversity advocate, stereotype stomper, sex-positive champion and – bottom line – fucking great comic. Hear her talk about GLBT issues and you hear the best way to tackle ignorance, with righteous indignation and a good laugh.

So I was particularly happy to hear that Margaret is getting another TV show, and this time on her terms. VH1 has greenlit the new reality show/sitcom “The Cho Show.” The series “chronicles her interactions with her friends AND her beloved parents.” I am so already there. And, if nothing else, I am forever indebted to the Notorious C.H.O. for giving me the best way to blow off unwanted attention. Sorry, no speak English! If you can’t beat the stereotypes, use them to your advantage. Happy weekend, all.

Jodie’s pride “Parade”

Oh, Jodie, how we’ve missed you. With another movie coming out, comes another reemergence of Jodie Foster from her cocoon of private domesticity. But, as always, she is a wary butterfly, cautious not to unfurl her wings too wide for fear being spotted by the prying eyes of predators. Jodie’s reemergence this time, which I believe is the first interview since her “my beautiful Cydney” heard around the lesboverse, is in the pages of Parade this Sunday. Yes, Parade. Wow, when did this free newspaper circular become the must-have magazine about all of my girl crushes? Last weekend Tina Fey. This weekend Jodie. Please, Parade, can next weekend be Kate Winslet? Pretty please? What can I say, gays love a Parade.

Since the feature is ostensibly to promotion for her new family flick, “Nim’s Island,” Jodie talks a lot about motherhood and her boys, Charles and Kit. The rest of her private life is, as ever, not up for discussion. Not that the Parade writer doesn’t try.

On her personal life:

She will not address long-standing rumors about her sexual orientation or name her sons’ father. When asked about her personal life, she fidgets and turns wary.
“I don’t think there is any good thing about fame,’ she asserts. ‘In this business, in order to care for yourself and the people you love, you have to separate your professional life from your personal life. I have a work life that is at times fulfilling, at times mind-numbingly boring and totally trivial, with the hair, makeup, red carpet -- but when it’s 7o’clock and I come home, that’s my life.”

On her love life:

Jodie has never admitted to any romantic involvements. When I ask why she has not yet fallen in love, she gets irritated and explains, perhaps disingenuously, “Oh my life is basically from the head up. I’m definitely not proud of that. I’m very analytical.”

Now, the latter is particularly interesting given that some news outlets are already trumpeting “Jodie Foster has never been in love!” headlines. Clearly, that is taken out of context. But the interviewer’s question was either incredibly boneheaded or incredibly sneaky. I suspect it’s a bit of both. First of all, just because you’re never admitted to any romantic involvements, or never been married (as the article makes sure to point out earlier), doesn’t mean you’ve never been in love.

But that’s where the sneaky stuff comes in. Perhaps this was a subversive way of getting Jodie to admit something, anything. Regardless, her answer is a tad on the flip and puzzling side. A simple no comment or even a finger wag would have sufficed. I mean, you call someone “my beautiful” and there had to be some love there somewhere. Now if she had said “my pretty,” that would be something else entirely. What a world, what a world.

But wait, there’s more! For further proof that Jodie’s simple thanking has opened the doors to mainstream speculation, Parade -- yes, Parade -- ran a photo of Cydney Bernard with Jodie. As the article asserts:

This past December, she opened the window slightly on her emotional commitments by publicly acknowledging her longtime friend, Cydney Bernard, at a Women in Entertainment breakfast in Los Angeles. Speaking about her, Jodie said: “My beautiful Cydney sticks with me through all the rotten and the bliss.” The middle name of both of Jodie’s sons is Bernard.

Sure they got the quote a smidge wrong (what can I say, I’m a stickler for accuracy; also, Bernard seems more like a second surname than a middle name to me). Still just reporting on this for an insert like Parade means it’s no longer an open secret among those in the know, it’s now anywhere a Sunday paper hits the doorstep. And in case there was any question still of what Parade really thought about Jodie, the headline says it all: “The Complicated Life of Jodie Foster.” Complicated, so that’s what they’re calling gay these days.

[Click ’em to enlarge ’em, the photos that is.]