Say goodnight, Caroline

Well, well, well. Joss Whedon, you old son of a gun. You’ve done it again. You’ve thoroughly engaged me in a series that is thought-provoking, action-packed and awesomely-empowered (well, as empowered as a brainwashed, reprogrammed, self-enlisted slaves can get). In just 12 quick episodes, “Dolllhouse” has woven a convincing alternate universe while wrapping our mind grapes around some of real life’s biggest questions. What is free will? What is a soul? What is reality? What kind of workout does Eliza Dushku do to look that banging in all those tiny tight outfits?

I won’t lie; I wasn’t completely sold at first. Certainly, I was intrigued. But it wasn’t quite clicking, the leap of faith was too great. Still I will always, always give Joss the benefit of the doubt when it comes to good TV. So then in the middle – exact middle, episode 6 to be precise – I felt like at last it all came together. That’s when the pathos became palpable and I started to care about what happened to Echo and the Dollhouse. It’s also when that old Joss magic returned and we finally got the blend of poignancy, hilarity and ass-kickery.

So, now, the finale. [Spoilers ahead, so if you haven’t watched the episode yet – damn, what are you waiting for?] Not too many shows can surprise me, but I was genuinely shocked several times this season. And the Dr. Claire Saunders/Whiskey Tango Foxtrot situation was the biggest. Holy mind fuck, Batman. So the good doctor was first an active named Whiskey who used to be the Dollhouse’s No. 1 until Alpha took a pair of scissors to her face so that his obsessive crush Echo could be No. 1 instead and after the attack gets imprinted with the memories of the house’s real Dr. Saunders, who just happened to be one of Alpha’s other victims during that same murderous spree, and now she has become aware of the fact that she is not really who she thought she was but a doll, like the people she considers her charges. Whew, say that sentence all in one breath, I dare you.

And, while we’re on the topic, can we get a “Hell, yeah!” for Amy Acker? While meek and adorable were her calling cards as Fred on “Angel,” she has brought a beautiful melancholy and seething disgust to her portrayal of the damaged (and now we realize totally unreal) Dr. Saunders. One of my great disappointments (and there will be many) if “Dollhouse” isn’t given a second season is that we’ll never get to see how Claire handles her new, totally fucked-up self awareness. Also, it would mean we’d never get to see Amy Acker in leather pants on the show again. That would be wrong, Fox, very wrong.

Really, all of the supporting cast has been excellent. Olivia Williams as DeWitt showed vulnerability under the steel. Dichen Lachman as Sierra has given Eliza a run for her money in the kicking ass and taking names department. And Miracle Laurie as Mellie/November kept breaking my heart. As happy and (once again) shocked as I was to see that Agent Ballard bartered her freedom from the Dollhouse, I’m also sad because it means the no more Miracle if the show continues. It also means the last person who isn’t a size 0 has left the series.

And on a somewhat similar note, while some have grumbled about the skimpiness of the outfits (particularly Eliza’s) in promos and throughout the season, it’s still as feminist a show as you’ll find out there filled with strong, complex, interesting and essential female characters. And it’s a show that delivers lines like, “To ascend to anything, at minimum, you don’t cut up women,” with unparalleled conviction.

Seriously, Fox, save Dollhouse. Don’t make me do the equivalent of a Save Chuck campaign because a chair that wipes away all of your memories and implants you with entirely new ones is a lot harder to buy than a Subway sandwich. So, thoughts ladies and discerning gentlemen? Did you feel welcomed to this Dollhouse?

My Weekend Crush

Children love to hug Michelle Obama. They run up, heads raised, eyes sparkling and just grab hold. They’re in awe and also maybe a little bit in love. Really, we all are. I mean, gosh, wouldn’t you just love to hug her, too? In her less than five months as First Lady, Michelle has confirmed everything we already knew about her. Smart. Passionate. Dedicated. Inspiring. She has also proven herself to be something many of her detractors once wickedly whispered that she wasn’t – warm. Hence all the hugging. Michelle Obama is the kind of First Lady who both makes us feel better about and brings out the best in ourselves. While she happily and eloquently speaks out about the causes she champions – from education to national service – what she has really done best is that old writer’s trick: show, don’t tell. We are moved by Michelle because of what we see. A Harvard-educated lawyer. A dedicated community activist. A loving mother of two wonderfully well-adjusted daughters. And the supportive yet seldom sycophantic spouse of the leader of the free world.

Through the years we have had many amazing First ladies from Abigail Adams to Eleanor Roosevelt and Hillary Clinton. What Michelle has been able to do in her short period of time in the spotlight is the seemingly-impossible task of being both glamorous and grounded. We can relate to her, but we also aspire to be like her. She seems as at ease chatting up the queen as she is palling around with Elmo. She is real, she works hard and something tells me she still makes the President pick up his own dirty socks. I like that, I like that a lot. And, at the same time, you know his heart probably races whenever she enters the room. It’s awesome to have a First Couple who totally have the hots for each other. Heck, and we haven’t even started to talk about her arms. Sweet mercy, her arms (you’re going to want to click that, seriously, trust me). Happy Mother’s Day, ladies. Happy weekend, all.

p.s. Sarah Haskins totally agrees with me.

p.p.s. Well now Michelle is just teasing us with them.

SGALGG: Amy Adams Edition

So, I’ve decided that I heart Amy Adams. I know, schmuck, what took you so long? The thing is, I’ve always liked Amy. I mean, come on, she was cousin Beth (Remember? Tara’s tightly-wound cousin on Buffy). But it wasn’t until “Junebug” when I realized she was something special. And in each subsequent role I’ve grown more and more “Enchanted.” (See what I did there? Oh, puns.) She picks smart roles with even smarter co-stars. Emily Blunt in “Sunshine Cleaning.” Frances McDormand in “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day.” Meryl fucking Streep twice, in “Doubt” and now “Julie & Julia.” I think, really, it was the trailer for “Julie & Julia” that put me over the edge. Man, how fun does that movie look? While my adoration for Amy is new-found, I’m clearly the last one to the party given her co-stars blatant SGALGG-y affection towards her. Or maybe it’s just that everyone loves a ginger.

Amy & EmilyCloser to fine, indeed.

Amy & FrancesDo they make a cute couple? You betcha.

Amy & Anne HathawayThey are comparing notes on Meryl, if you know what I mean.

Amy & Elizabeth BanksThey are so about to kiss.

Amy & Sarah LancasterOh my God, she watches “Chuck,” too.

Amy & MerylPossessive……much?

EDIT: p.s. How could I forget her ultimate SGALGG moment from Standing Still? [Hat tip, Natasha Condensada!]

Couch potatoes

Some days, well, you just feel like lounging. And if you feel like lounging with little or no clothes on, heck, even better. Blame Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres or blame the intoxicating combination of soft fabric against softer skin, but photographers sure seem to love the couch surfing shots. And, really, can you blame them? Being a couch potato never looked so good. [Click any to enlarge, though be forewarned – what follows is tastefully NSFW]

Dita Von TeeseDrew BarrymoreJulianne MooreKate WinsletKeri RussellMary-Louise ParkerPortia de RossiAnd the original: La Grande Odalisque

Not-so-strange bedfellows

So, you know how sometimes you get this image in your head and no matter what you do, you just can't shake it? Well, I've been having one of those, but thankfully in a good way. Wait, check that, make that a very, very good way. It all started when super smart, super snarky journalist and frequent "The Rachel Maddow Show" contributor Ana Marie Cox started posting her series of bedhead pictures.

Ever since then I've had naughty, nerdy thoughts about her and Rachel...together...possibly naked...definitely talking about politics. Hello, nerdgasm. Look, I know Ana Marie is straight and married (despite her seriously lesbian hair). And I know that Rachel is partnered and happy (heck, they even just bought a TV). But, seriously, how hot would that be?

Not quite getting the picture? Maybe this'll help. Ana Marie even made Rachel blush. Just imagine they both have bedhead. And instead of teabagging, they're talking about something two gals might be able to do together. I can't quite think of the term, but you all are such cunning linguists (ahem) I'm sure you'll think of something appropriate.

Smart girls are hot, pass it on.

Can I get a witness

So, fine, this is sort of old news. But, sheesh people, I was on vacation. And, given how long it took for Kelly to officially declare herself one of the family, I think I deserve a grace period. Right, so Kelly McGillis – lesbian crush for anyone old enough to remember the 80s and/or has ever rented “Top Gun” (or, better yet, “Witness”) – came out last week saying she was “done with the man thing” and that she was looking for “definitely a woman” for her next relationship. Aren't we all, honey.

Now this is one of those worst-kept secrets in Hollywood. So while it's not a surprise it is a confirmation. And, it also gives me warm, nostalgic thoughts to one of the greatest rumored lesbian affairs of quite possibly all time. I speak, of course, of the great Jodie Foster-Kelly McGillis fling on the set of “The Accused.” Now, depending on what version you've heard, Whitney Houston may have completed this triangle. But, quite frankly, that's too much gay for me to process at this moment. So instead I'd like to expound on the ramifications of Kelly's recent revelations in light of the past rumors of a relationship vis-à-vis Jodie's sort-of-basically-almost-all-the-way outing of herself.

In short, to summarize, for review: Dude, they totally hooked up!

I'd also like to take this opportunity to mourn what might have been had both been more out at the time. We could have had this, world. Talk about taking your breath away for real.

Also, as an added side benefit, that crazy couch jumper may never have been able to kidnap Katie Holmes. To quote the 80s once more: could've been so beautiful, could've been so right...

Vacation Vixen: Sarah Shahi

Finally, a watersport I fully approve of for Sarah. No, seriously.

[Follow my loafing @dorothysnarker.]

Vacation Vixen: Christina Hendricks

Fuck the stupid mint, I want this on my hotel pillow.

[Follow my loafing @dorothysnarker]

Vacation Vixen: Mary-Louise Parker

In the immortal words of The Go-Go’s, vacation – all I ever wanted; vacation – had to get away. Yes, kittens, I’m embarking on a mini-vacation. How mini? Well, I’ll be back with fresh, full posts on Monday. Short as it may be, I’m still greatly looking forward to my wee break. As poor, inadequately-proportioned men like to say, size doesn’t matter, honey. While I’m away I will continue posting Vacation Vixens. Just because I’m lounging around sipping from drinks with tiny umbrellas doesn’t mean you have to be deprived of The Hot. (You can even click any of the images to enlarge The Hot.) So please join me and the luscious Ms. Parker in kicking off your shoes. It’s vacation, after all.

p.s. If you just can’t get enough (heavens, you want more?), I will still be tweeting throughout my break. Can’t…cut…cord. Must…still…communicate. See, I do need a vacation. Follow my (I can’t promise it’ll be creative) loafing at @dorothysnarker.

Doctor in the “House”

Have I mentioned that I love France? First French Elle gives us some of the world's most beautiful women au naturelle. Now French FHM gives us Lisa Edelstein au hottness. Now normally me and my women's studies minor would frown in righteous scowly disapproval at all things FHM. The lad mags are just so damn laddy. But I will happily make an exception in this case. I've always had a thing for Lisa. Maybe it was that she was involved in the first real, non-experimenting lesbian kiss on American primetime television. Or maybe it's those snug little skirts Cuddy always wears on “House.” Or maybe it's that she knows how to work a stripper pole like a pro. Regardless, she's all kinds of sexy.

Did I mention Lisa is almost 43? Yeah, France, check your mailbox. My thank you fruit basket should be arriving any day now.

[Click any to enlarge the hot. Scans via Cuddlestein]

And then there's Bea

Oh, Bea. Where would we be without you? Where would all the big, bold, brassy broads of the world be without Bea? From “Mame” to “Maude” to Dorothy, Bea Arthur was funny, feminist and fantastic. Whether with a simple look, a perfectly-timed zinger or full-on verbal machete attack, Bea did not suffer fools, but rather sliced and diced them down to size. That she was hilarious was one thing, that she was inspiring was altogether another. She gave countless girls permission to be smart and opinionated, funny and brash. Her shows, “Maude” and “The Golden Girls,” touched on everything from abortion to homosexuality, divorce to ageism, sexuality and – most important of all – female friendship. Which is also why so many of us took her passing this weekend so personally. We grew up with her, we looked up to her. She was always there to help show us the way. Bea knew who she was and was comfortable in her own skin. As she once told an interviewer: “Look – I'm 5-feet-9, I have a deep voice and I have a way with a line. What can I do about it? I can't stay home waiting for something different. I think it's a total waste of energy worrying about typecasting.” So thank you, Bea. Thank you for being yourself and – of course – a friend.

The Best of Dorothy


The Most Feminist Theme Song of All Time


What'll We Do Without Her?

My Weekend Crush

Given recent revelation about my penchant for no-nonsense blondes with guns, it’s only natural that my obsession would culminate with a nice, steamy slow dance to the tune of Agent Sarah Walker. Stoic, yet caring. Kick-ass, yet conscientious. Sweet, yet steely. She is the reason I finally gave in to the allure of “Chuck” and found myself forever converted to the Nerd Herd. I won’t lie, it also helps that Yvonne Strahovski is quite possibly the dictionary definition of a hottie. And if you think she is good when she is portraying an undercover American CIA agent, for the love of all that is good please listen to her as she unleashes her native Australia accent. Oh, and did I mention while hearing her Australian accent you can also see Yvonne in hotpants and a bikini? Yeah, you’re going to want to click play immediately.

[Hat tip, Ingrid!]

That “Chuck” is on the bubble for renewal or cancellation is one of those great injustices of television. A show this fun and smart, action-packed and laugh-heavy deserves to fight on for another season. Plus any show that keeps The StraHOTski coming into my living room every week is a very, very good thing. So, please, won’t you join me on Monday in watching the season finale with your Subway footlong. Save Chuck, TV gods. Happy weekend, all.

White hot

I wish for many things. World peace. The cure for cancer. An end to global warming. To age like Helen Mirren. What? That last one is altruistic if you consider beauty to be a public service. I mean it, hubba hubba. Seeing the spectacularly saucy dame in all her unPhotoshopped, unairbrushed, unaltered 63-year-old glory at the “State of Play” London premiere this week reminded me that you are only as old as you feel. Hell, and as long as we’re wishing for things here, can my – um – girls look that fantastic when I’m 60, too? Pretty please?

Seriously, one look at those and you know Russell Crowe had something absolutely filthy to whisper in Helen’s ear. You know, like this.

See, I told you, absolutely filthy.

p.s. Never mind Russell, is it physically possible to be jealous of a coat?

Fringe on top

So, I've decided to start watching “Fringe” again. Yes, I know, there are only three more episode left. Yes, I know, I've got about half a dozen to catch up on. Yes, I know, the show isn't guaranteed renewal for a second season. Basically, I really dig Anna Torv. Oh, and the weird science. But mostly Anna Torv. Yes, I've Weekend Crushed her before. Yes, my reasons were multi-fold. Yes, she looks like Cate Blanchett's little sister. Basically, I really dig when Anna Torv kisses other chicks.

Case in point, last night's episode. [Oh, right, spoilers if you haven't watched yet. p.s. Edited to add clip at the end.]

Hello, hottie stripper hook-up. OK, sure, so her rendezvous with the Mila Kunis look-alike really only showed us one kiss. OK, sure, it ended with a very unfortunate case of Lesbian After-Sex Bed Death. OK, sure, it wasn't really her, but her dreaming herself into the emotions of her former child scientific guinea pig partner. It was still pretty freaking hot for about 1 minute. If you just stop when the girl breaks the glass, you can live a happy life thinking they ended up together with Anna walking around the house in a black tank top and her lady friend in hotpants. I'm also totally ignoring the fact that Anna married co-star Mark Valley (Agent John Scott) in real life. What? It's my fantasy and I can do what I want. I'm a blogging reverse empath, you know, in my mind.

Of course, the episode wasn't just about the kiss (or the lovely happy moment Olivia had in her head – “Oh.” “Oh.” “Oh.”) It had quite the twisty, turny reveal. Olivia was experimented on as a child by Walter? Holy, X-Files, someone tell Mulder. Wait, crap, wrong show. What I enjoy most about “Fringe” is, well, duh Anna and her tough yet thoughtful, calm yet open portrayal of Agent Dunham. (What is it with pretty blonde agents with a penchant for ponytails? Oh, hi, Agent Sarah Walker.) I really like Walter (John Noble) and all his eccentricisms, too. Pacey Joshua Jackson is still not my favorite. But, hey, the show also employs a real, live, totally out lesbian in assistant Astrid (Jasika Nicole).

Dream lesbians. Real lesbians. Mad scientists. Hot Australians. Seriously, why did I stop watching again?

EDIT: Good God, watch (rewatch, rewatch, rewatch) the clip! [Hat tip, Anna!]