Hallelujah! My DSL is back! After 14 long, frustrating, internet-free days, my DSL is finally back. I actually said “hallelujah” to the tech guy when he finally located the problem and I was able to open up my browser without the Orange Page of Death (trademark pending) foiling my every effort. Things had gotten so bad, I was reduced to dial up over the weekend. Thanks to all for your well wishes about my THNGVBW, and your condolences. They were much appreciated. Now, I saw we celebrate. And look, even Jodie is in the mood to par-tay! Actually, Jodie has good reason to celebrate. Yesterday was her 45th birthday. Holy crap, she looks great. I actually think she looks better now than she did 10, maybe even 15 years ago. So in honor of the milestone, let’s take a walk down memory lane with some of my favorite shots of Ms. Foster. Belated birthday wishes, Jodie. You look mah-velous, babe.
So remember way back when when I got all excited about the prospect of Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson getting their period piece on to play the Boleyn sisters? Oh, the hotness, right? Well, uh, sort of. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but the hot is kind of muted in the new trailer for “The Other Boleyn Girl.” They’re both pretty, of course, but in their 16th Century garb they look so very young, almost adolescent. Also those headpieces are pretty much hotness shields. I’m not even sure it’s possible to rock one of those and look sexy. Still, the movie looks promising, even if the ending is a fait accompli. And is that Kristin Scott Thomas I spy as the Boleyn girls’ mother? The imaginary gene pool in that family is, well, wow.Check out the trailer (catch it in hi-def here) and let me know what you think. Period perfection or costumed craziness? And more importantly, which Boleyn girl is hotter? Let it never be said that I don’t ask the tough questions here at Surrenders.
I’m going to miss seeing Jorja Fox and her skeptical scowl as she squints sternly at whatever tiny piece of fiber or random chip of paint holds the key to cracking the case. When Sara Sidle left Las Vegas this week, Jorja exited the cast of “CSI.” What I’ve enjoyed most about watching Jorja is the no-fuss, no-nonsense, no-bullshit competence she brought to Sara Sidle week after week. It was refreshing to see a woman who was respected for her intellect and her ability, not just how well she filled out a tank top. Not that there’s anything wrong with filling out a tank top well, which Jorja can also do. But, in my mind, Jorja gave Sara a very gay aesthetic. (We’ll just ignore the whole Grissom thing.) The way she walked, the way she carried her shoulders, the way she wore her pants -- it was all so, well, dykey. While Jorja was never out while on the show, it doesn’t take military-grade gaydar to figure it out. Oh, and then there was her song “Satellite” where she kept singing about “she.” So, now that Jorja is free of the TV grind, maybe she’ll feel freer with her personal life as well. So long, Sara. Let’s hope it’s not the last we hear of Jorja as well. Happy weekend, all.
Do you remember Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? Well, It’s been like Ms. Snarker and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week here these last few days. I’m not looking for sympathy, just to bitch since it’s pretty much my only recourse. In fact, I’ve gotten so good at bitching, I’m thinking about turning pro. A recap of my THNGVBW: my grandmother died (she was 93, it was expected and very peaceful, but still – of course – very sad); my DSL is still down and won’t be back until Monday at the earliest (hence all the posting irregularity of late); my car wouldn’t start and had to be towed to the shop (luckily it just needed a new battery) and my company’s new health insurance plan will cost me an extra $200 a month (and the coverage is crappier, too – of course). Gosh, I feel fantastic. I think I deserve a little Cate Blanchett today, don’t you? (Click any and all to enlarge.)She is almost exquisite enough to make me forget that I hate the world. Almost.p.s. I don’t care what that magazine cover says, I am not over the F-word. In fact, I’ve been using it liberally all week. That and shaking my fists at the sky.
Technology continues to confound me this week, though to be more accurate I should say AT&T continues to confound me. I could rant on, but to be honest I’m just weary of the whole mess. But you know what I’m not weary of? Promo shots of “Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles.” Looks like we’re finally getting to see some of the finished product from that photo shoot. (Click any and all to enlarge.) Now that, that is what I call better living through technology.
You know when you read a plot description and something in the back of your head goes off, kind of like gay Spidey sense? Well, I have that quite a bit and most of the time it’s just my own wishful lesbian thinking. (Ahh, wishful lesbian thinking, it’s the reason I still tune in to watch Bionic Woman each week. Come on Sarah and Jamie, you know you want to…) But sometimes, sometimes I think I might be onto something. Take, for instance, the recent casting news that Robin Wright Penn, Winona Ryder and Julianne Moore had signed on to star in “The Private Lives of Pippa Lee.”
Now I can’t tell you for sure, either way, if this film has any gay content or gay subtext or even a wacky gay neighbor who loves show tunes and has a poodle named Precious. I’ve Googled and Googled and all I can tell right now is that it is based on a yet-to-be-published novel by Rebecca Miller by the same name. According to Variety, its plot description is such:
“The story centers on a dutiful wife whose husband falls for a younger woman, freeing her to explore her buried sensuality and leading to a very quiet nervous breakdown.”
So, I can’t be the only one whose gaydar got a blip from that, right? Freeing? Exploring? Buried sensuality? And, of course, nervous breakdowns? So. Totally. Gay.
Robin will play Pippa and my best guess is that Winona is the younger woman. But then, well, then there is Julianne. Why such star wattage if she is only going to be a friend? I wonder. Rebecca Miller has directed a handful of films, including “Personal Velocity” and “The Ballad of Jack and Rose” and I’ve always thought her work could easily include, and benefit from, some lesbian subtext. What I do know is that even the faintest prospect of Robin and Julianne uncovering their buried sensuality together makes me happy in ways it’s not polite to talk about in public.
They’re better, faster, stronger, lesbianer. Two Bionic Women enter, one leaves. And, fight!
G4 “Attack of the Show” with Olivia Munn
“Where the hell is my Subaru?”
Mad TV’s skit with Crista Flanagan
“Fighting? I’m not fighting.”
So, which Lesbionic Woman is better? I give the edge to G4, partly because they came up with the idea first and partly because besides the initial flannel and work boots they didn’t make her look like a reject from the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival. And, you know, the kissing.
My phone is still dead. My internet is still dead (and could be out until at least Friday). My anger is still very much alive. To assuage it, how about a little Naked Lady Monday action? Classy nakedness, of course. Classy. And you know who does classy nakedness? Playboy. Wait, wait. Sorry, I misspoke. Playboy France. Not that I’ve ever seen one. And even if I had, I would only read it for the articles. Classing up the whole affair even more is cover girl Juliette Binoche. But before you get all, “Oh my God, La Binoche naked!” please remember that I said classy nakedness. Classy. So please enjoy these shots of La Binoche in all her blurry, au naturelle glory. I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of relieved they made everything abstract and out of focus. In this expose age, it’s nice to preserve a little mystery. N’est pas? [NSFW-ish action below. Click to enlarge, but don’t squint too hard. It won’t help them get any clearer, trust me...]
I believe in unions. I really do. Which is good, since I also belong to a union. And while the Writers Guild of America strike is not my union or my fight, I feel unbelievably invested in its outcome. All this week I’ve read the coverage obsessively. Maybe it’s because it involves writers, and that happens to be an occupational hazard of mine. Or maybe it’s because it involves the people who make the shows and movies I watch/enjoy/ marvel at every single day. Or maybe it’s because I’ve sat in on contract negotiations and know the kind of money-grubbing, mind-boggling, flat-out-evil crap that companies will put on the table.But I think I feel most invested because it’s an example of solidarity at work. A union’s sole power is the strength of its support. Strength in numbers isn’t just a saying, it’s a fact. So I’ve been greatly heartened and down-right moved by the solidarity I’ve seen so far on the lines. Writers, actors, showrunners -- they’ve all turned out. They’ve all carried signs, brought food and generally rabble roused. I get a sense that there is an organic groundswell of support in the creative community. This may not be an actors issue or a directors issue or showrunners issue per se, but they all believe that to be unfair to one segment of the creative process is to be unfair to the entire creative process. And they know what is at stake is the future of the industry and the future of who its future profits will go to. Isn’t it better to share success fairly? (And when I say fair, I mean fair; the writers only want a bump from about 4 cents to 8 cents on DVDs and from 0 cents to any cents, period, on internet downloads.) Who would you rather a piece of the profits go to? The people who come up with the ideas in the first place or the people in the nice suits with the big offices? It’s a no-brainer in my book.And while some may argue that it’s easy (and, dare I say, hip) to be all rah-rah now, I would argue that now – more than ever – is the time to get all Norma Rae. The stronger the solidarity now, the more quickly all production grinds to a halt. The more quickly all production grinds to a haul, the more quickly the people in the posh offices feel the pinch. The more quickly the people in the posh offices feel the pinch, the more quickly this thing gets resolved. For the suits, it’s all about the bottom line and the sooner the strike touches it, the better. This does not discount, in any way, the very real financial and professional suffering this strike will have on countless other worker bees in the entertainment industry (the grips, the assistants, the makeup artists, the caterers, etc. etc. etc.) But it’s a question of long-term thinking versus short-term survival. Once a company feels it can ride rough-shod over one segment of its workforce, how long do you think it will take for it to come after the rest? Yes, strikes suck. But if everyone shows a united front now, it will hopefully make it a much less painful process. It’s like ripping off a bandage – either way, it’s going to hurt like hell. But do you do it fast and all at once or slow and piecemeal?So with that, this week’s crush is all the amazing writers, actors, actresses, directors, showrunners and the like who have put on red shirts, picked up placards, chanted slogans and pounded the pavement for writers everywhere. While I can’t post all their pictures, I can thank them all from the bottom of my heart. As a writer, a union supporter and a entertainment junkie, this outpouring of support has inspired me and reminded me that even in a town as cynical as L.A., our better angels can still win out if we work together. Thanks for helping to restore my faith in the power and the purpose of unions. Solidarity, scribes. Happy weekend, all.p.s. For further inspiration read strike blog United Hollywood and for further reporting read Deadline Hollywood Daily. Fans can chime in at Fans4Writers or sign the WGA Online Petition. And in case you’re still fuzzy on the issues, this is why they’re fighting:
Well, it’s official. The technology gods hate me. Earlier this week I came home to no dial tone. I called my phone company and lo and behold they told me my service had been switched to Verizon. Never mind that Verizon only provides wireless service in my area and this is a land line. Oh, and the tiny little fact that I never asked or authorized anyone to switch me to Verizon in the first place. Details, details. Now I have no service whatsoever. And it only gets worse. My internet service provider is also my phone company (freaking corporations, always merging; now AT&T owns my ass for every damn thing…). My home network is officially deader than a doornail. Pour a little out for my DSL, hommies.
After one, two, three very long, very frustrating conversations with customer service, the very long, very frustrating answer is that it will take 3-5 business days for my service to be reconnected. I am, as I type, doing that fun sitting-in-the-corner-of-my-living-room thing to get a weak and tenuous wireless signal. Fucking-A, why do all my neighbors have to be old and/or crazy and therefore without wi-fi? Oh, and I now reflexively scream every time one of those fucking “It’s the Network”-ads comes on TV. I swear if that “Can You Hear Me Now”-dude could hear me now, he’d be hearing some very choice words and seeing some creative hand gestures. Anyhew, what this means for you, my friends, is that all this weekend I will be without web access and, more than likely, very grumpy. I will still try to keep posting regularly but at this point I’m just lucky to connected at all. On the plus side, maybe I can catch up on some of my sleep. Sadly, it won’t help the teeth gnashing since I seem to be a pro at that waking or sleeping. This is, clearly, not my week.
p.s. I still plan on having a Weekend Crush... They can take my DSL, but they can’t take my crushes!
UPDATE: I don’t know why I never learn, but I called again today and, OF COURSE, something was wrong with the order and it had not gone through and it would be another 3-4 business days and another couple days after that for internet until my home network returns to normal... I called Tuesday and Wednesday and then they told me not to call again until Friday. Which I did and, of course, SNAFU. Today’s terror level is at RED. My blood, it boils.
Wait, Jenny didn’t drown on that dingy? Inconceivable! And now Vizzini is joining “The L Word?” Inconceivable-er! Adorably lispy, squinty actor Wallace Shawn (of “The Princess Bride” fame) will appear in four episodes of Season 5 as a financier of Jenny’s new film, “Lez Girl,” which apparently is moving forward. Hey, isn’t there a writers strike? Well, perhaps he can teach Ms. Schecter a thing or two. Like, you know, never get involved in a land war in Asia. And if not, well, there is always iocane powder.
Well, folks, I don’t mind telling you that I’m kind of tired this week. Actually, make that fucking exhausted. For whatever reason blogging has been taking a lot more time than usual, particularly the AfterEllen posts (more words/pictures, less swear words/naked pictures) and it’s ridiculous the number of times recently I’ve hit send on a post as the sun was waking up to coffee and a doughnut. So today please just enjoy this short, yet quite sweet, video of Angelina Jolie being good to her fans.
Apparently at the “Beowulf” premiere Monday she spotted a crazy fan with an “ADOPT ME ANGELINA” T-shirt and, as you can see, hilarity ensued. I’m just a tad bit jealous of where Angelina put her hand on the aforementioned crazy fan while signing her T-shirt. Also, check out where she signed her shirt. Brad, schmad. The woman’s still got a little bisexual left in here. Recent evidence to the contrary, I try not to blog too much about Angie here because it’s almost cliché, plus every other site on The Internets writes too much about her anyway. But, you know what, I really do like her. I know some people are turned off by her aggressive doo-goodery and United Colors of Benetton approach to adoption. And, yes, I know (and she knows) that she is too skinny these days. But at her core she seems like a truly good person and, dear sweet jesus, her bone structure. I could stare at her until the sun comes up.
Say hello to the first casualty of the writers strike. ABC has bumped midseason replacement “Cashmere Mafia” from its original Nov. 27 premiere date to an indefinite TBA. Presumably, they’re saving the show in case the strike goes long. But what this means right now is that we’ll have to wait until who-the-hell-knows when to see some Bonnie Somerville girlie action. And that also leaves us in lesbian limbo with one fewer gay woman character on TV to root for this season.Dammit, producers. Pay your fucking writers fairly and let’s be done with this thing. We want to see women kissing on primetime television! In fact, we demand it! Trust me, the last thing you want is a mob of pissed gay women descending on your posh Hollywood offices. We know how to use power tools and can wield a mean softball bat. Believe me, the teamsters got nothing on us.
A peek at what we’ll be missing. Now, where did I put that bat?
The Writers Guild of America went on strike today, which to the casual consumer will mean mild TV watching disruption now and, depending on how long it drags on, repeat/reality hell later. But what it means for the writers is so much more. Now, I believe in unions. In fact, I belong to a guild so I support the striking workers unequivocally. And you know I’m always going to have another writer’s back. Solidarity now, scribes! While the negotiation details are complicated they essentially boil down to giving the writers a bigger, fairer slice of the profits pie.
So, what does this mean to the average couch potato? Starting today, all the late night talkers (Dave, Conan, Jay and the rest) and-- sniff, sniff, sob -- Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert will have their shows go dark. Expect repeats and the sound of millions of Americans flipping through the dials in frustration come 11 p.m. As for the primetime lineup, most of the scripted dramas and comedies have about two months worth of shows already in the can. So we shouldn’t see too much of a difference, unless things get ugly. And then -- oh, the horror -- networks may start filling the airwaves with even more unscripted reality programs. Kind of makes Tina Fey’s joking on “30 Rock” earlier this season about “MILF Island,” “America’s Next Top Pirate” and “Are you Stronger Than a Dog?” less funny and more foreboding. Bottom line, writing matters. Imagine turning on your TV and seeing nothing but “Keeping Up with the Kardashians” on every dial. Shudder. Pay up, Hollywood. Pay up now.
Thank you all so much for the birthday wishes this week. I wasn’t fishing for presents, I swear. Honest. My treat this week was going to see Gwen Stefani. There is so much to like about Gwen. She is sexy without being skanky. She is smart without being sanctimonious. She is glamorous without being gaudy. She is fun without being fluffy. She is perky without being pesky. And she works hard without making it seem like hard work. Sure, I’m a little tired of her shilling her L.A.M.B. brand at me, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to pay the bills.
I think the best thing about Gwen is that she is a pop star who owns her own image. No one is silently pulling the strings above her head. Her songs are her own, her style is her own, her success is her own. For a superstar, she seems refreshingly grounded. So much so that when she says that she is just an Orange County girl living in an extraordinary world, we actually believe her. Plus the woman just puts on a damn good show. And at age 38 (not to mention as the mother of a 1-year-old), she still has abs that could make a grown woman weep. Gwen is the kind of pop star you can feel good about liking. And, sadly, there aren’t too many of those around these days. Happy weekend, all.
America Ferrera is kind of pretty, no? These gorgeous shots of Ms. Not-At-All Ugly are for the Dec. issue of Marie Claire U.K. These photos serve two purposes for me today. One, they’re beautiful and by Friday the best my brain can manage is to stare at something beautiful and go, “Look, pretty.” And two, they help assuage my guilt about being four episodes behind in my “Ugly Betty” watching. Don’t worry, I plan to repent this weekend with a nice, long marathon. But for now, please sit back and enjoy the eye candy. [Click any to enlarge.] Look, pretty.
You know what, this ain’t too shabby a birthday present either. Angelina Jolie from her new action flick “Wanted.” Well, after looking at that, I’m pretty sure I want something. Ahem.
Joss Whedon is coming back to TV! Joss Whedon is coming back to TV!! Joss Whedon is coming back to TV!!! OK, I’m done hyperventilating. OK, no, I’m not. Read my somewhat less hysterical ravings about Joss’s new sci-fi drama over at AfterEllen.com today. Oh, and did I mention he is bringing Eliza Dushku with him? This is like the best birthday present ever.
Hallelujah! My DSL is back! After 14 long, frustrating, internet-free days, my DSL is finally back. I actually said “hallelujah” to the tech guy when he finally located the problem and I was able to open up my browser without the Orange Page of Death (trademark pending) foiling my every effort. Things had gotten so bad, I was reduced to dial up over the weekend. Thanks to all for your well wishes about my THNGVBW, and your condolences. They were much appreciated. Now, I saw we celebrate. And look, even Jodie is in the mood to par-tay! Actually, Jodie has good reason to celebrate. Yesterday was her 45th birthday. Holy crap, she looks great. I actually think she looks better now than she did 10, maybe even 15 years ago. So in honor of the milestone, let’s take a walk down memory lane with some of my favorite shots of Ms. Foster. 
Belated birthday wishes, Jodie. You look mah-velous, babe.
