I cannot tell you how many hours I spent watching “The Golden Girls" while growing up. I can't tell you because I'm not sure I can count that high. There was a period years ago where that – and “The Wizard of Oz” – was all all my little sister would watch. She watched them 24-hours a day, 7-days a week. I'm sure had she been able to somehow bend the space-time continuum, she'd have happily watched them even more.
So, like it or not, I watched along. And most of the time I liked it. I really, really liked it. Never mind that the women were generations older than me. They were saucy and smart, brash and beyond taking any bullshit. Dorothy, Blanche, Rose and Sophia were like everyone's dream grandmothers, and great-grandmothers. They were the queens of snark before everyone was snarky. And the smallest but the snarkiest was always Sophia.
Later, in college and as an adult, I came to appreciate the Girls on a whole other level. Who among us has not had that conversation with their gay boyfriends about who was which “Girl?” No big surprise, I was always pegged a Dorothy. But it took someone very special to be a Sophia. It took a tiny force of nature. And, to be perfectly honest, no one could ever compare to the amazing Ms. Estelle Getty. The woman could sling the one-liners with the best of them. So the news yesterday of her passing at age 84 left a hole as big as she was tiny in my heart. I'm going to sit down and have a slice of cheesecake in her honor today. Grab a fork and join me around the kitchen table, won't you.
Who is hungry? You are, you say. Well, then, you're in luck. Sarah Haskins is back with another meaty topic and this time the meatiness isn't figurative. My imaginary girlfriend favorite iReporter is back to take that all-important motherhood task of feeding one's family. Do it right and your loved ones turns reggae dance party happy. Do it wrong and, well, let Sarah explain. Though, a quick warning: you may want to have your favorite Thai place on speed dial before you press play.
p.s. Yes, I noticed. She is wearing a vest as a top and is smug about being childless. Set gaydar to “stun,” everyone.
I love words. Duh, I know. I like stringing them together and pulling them apart. I use as many dirty ones as I can get away with. But I tend to not use too many big ones. I shy away from most of those 10-cents and pricier varieties like the wallflower at a dance, always skirting around the edges and looking in with longing. Like many would-be writers before me, I spent the youth I should have been misspending poring over my Merriam-Webster and Roget's each time I found a new word while reading. But the writing I came to specialize in as an adult frowned on those grab-for-a-dictionary words. And being a practical gal by nature, I usually go for the simple and sturdy instead of fancy and foreign.
Things were going along jovially, with a bit of Emma's trademark wit and good-natured self deprecation. (She called her “dimply thighs” the thing she liked least about her appearance and “cleanliness” the most overrated virtue.). And then, holy Shakespeare, out came the big one.
What is the quality you most like in a man? Uxoriousness.
Time to break out the Merriam-Webster again:
Uxoriousness: adj. “excessively fond of or submissive to a wife”
How could you not swoon? How could you not absolutely swoon?
Last weekend Wall•E and Eve, this weekend Cameron. All three, interestingly enough, are Tin Men – machines in search of their hearts. Back away from me with your Psych 101 armchair analysis, lady. I don't have issues. And even if I did I would just bury them deep in the backyard where no one could ever find them. What? It is so healthy. Wait, dammit, what was I talking about again?
You can see why producers picked Summer Glau to play Cameron on “Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles.” There is something at once smooth and possibly too perfect about her, yet also searching and sensitive. Oh, right, and she can totally kick ass. As a sucker for almost any show featuring strong women, my watching T:SCC is a no-brainer. Heck it's practically a dream come true: Lena and Summer? I've got the vapors.
Sure, the first season had its flaws. But Cameron kept what could have been a one-note role (blast, smash, terminate) into about as layered as a robot can get. If her role as River Tam in the short-lived “Firefly” and its film “Serenity” weren't enough to permanently cement our collective geek-girl crushes on her, her take on Cameron should seal the deal. The bendy doesn't hurt either. Also, dude, she's wearing a tank top and suspenders. Any woman wearing a tank top and suspenders automatically goes to the front of the crush line. Happy weekend, all.
Holy tea and crumpets! Now that's what I call a properly buttered scone. Her majesty Helen Mirren showed off her slammin' bikini body while vacationing in Italy this week. I'm pretty sure when I first saw these pictures all my higher brain function stopped and I was reduced to pointing at the screen and going “Hum-ah-nah, hum-ah-nah, hum-ah-nah...” Now, I can't say entirely for sure because I also blacked out. But when I woke up I was both grinning and drooling. Oh, sorry, did I forget to mention that Helen celebrates her 63rd birthday next week?
[For the love of all that is right and good, click the above picture to enlarge. It would be positively criminal not to.]
Oh, Helen, you've always been the sauciest of minxes. But what is possibly even more impressive than her (enviable/rocking/stomach so flat you could serve flapjacks on it) body is the confidence she shows by getting out there with her bad self in that bright red bikini. Apparently the shots have caused quite a stir in Britishpress. Though, really, we shouldn't be that shocked. Sixty isn't ancient. And Helen has always been sexy. Put that together and it only makes sense that she's sexy at 60. In our overly Botoxed age of silicon and collagen, it's beyond refreshing to see a woman who embraces her age and says, “Damn right, and I look good.” She sure does. All hail the queen!
[Hat tip, Fletcher, Shannon and Marilyn!]
p.s. For those uninitiated, Helen could be considered the queen of getting her kit off. In fact this dame could have an entire Naked Lady Monday in her honor. Wait, now there's an idea...
Oh Joss, if only you were a woman. Then, I'd wager, you'd be perfect. Still, Mr. Whedon, even as is you're pretty darn close. And now, well, now this. “Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog” Act I came out yesterday. It is so many things. But mostly, it's just fun. So. Very. Fun. And, really, isn't that what this whole crazy Interwebs is supposed to be all about? Quite simply, just the sharing of wonderful things. Well, that and porn. (Just kidding. Porn is bad. Very, very bad. It needs to be punished. Wait...where was I?)
For those unfamiliar, Dr. Horrible (HIMYM's Neil Patrick Harris) is an inept supervillain who dreams of being accepted into the Evil League of Evil on his video blog. His nemesis is the narcissistic superhero Captain Hammer (Firefly's Nathan Fillion) who cares more about his hair than innocent bystanders. They both want the same adorable red-head (Willow Felicia Day, a potential from Buffy Season 7). There Joss goes again, twisting clichéd formulas and making them into something refreshing and new. The bad guy is good. The good guy is bad. Um, did I mention the singing?
Go check it out immediately, if not sooner. Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog also has a blog. Gosh, ain't The Internets meta. (My international friends will need to be a little patient and/orInternational problem fixed, yay! You can also fork over a couple bucks to download the video from iTunes.) Get a taste of it here from the teaser. Yummy, no?
Part II comes out Thursday and the finale Part III comes out Saturday. Move, second hand, move! The wait, it burns!!
I know I was all solidarity now! during the Writers Strike, but if stuff like this is the result I say bring on the picket lines. (Just kidding. Strikes are bad. Very, very bad. They need to be punished. And not in the good porn way. Wait...where was I?)
Go watch! Mwah-ha-ha-ha! Ah-ha-ah-ah! Or something.
Look, I know Steve Jobs nearly played this song to death. And I know even Feist has to be a tad tired of singing it every night. But just try to watch her and her fluffy friends put a new spin on “1234” and not feel like a giggly little kid again. Muppets are adorable. Feist is adorable. Monsters! Penguins! Chickens! The No. 4! Seriously, what’s not to like? The Canadian songstress will appear on the season premiere of the long-running PBS children’s series “Sesame Street” Aug. 11. But, as this leaked clip shows, kiddies aren't the only ones who will love learning to count.
p.s. Poor No. 5, she must feel so left out. There, there, dear. Feist still loves you.
Nothing classes up a joint like a top hat. It's Monday, heaven only knows how many cups of coffee you've had. Parts of your body (and I'm not saying which parts, I'm classy like that) are still sore from the weekend. So watch these ladies pull something soothing out of their hats for you. Now if only they were all wearing tuxes and tails, too.
Reese WitherspoonNaomi WattsDita Von TeeseNicole KidmanLiv TylerHilary Swank
So, got a favorite? I must admit, no one wears a top hat like Marlene wears a top hat. Le Sigh.
So this is my first couple crush, and it’s a tad unconventional one at that. I know I try to keep things as gay as possible here at Surrenders, but if you’ll allow me I’d like to sneak in a straight-but-not-narrow pair – just this once. Actually, I’m not really sure if they are straight. I don’t think they have any gender at all given that they are – you know – robots. But I saw “Wall•E” last weekend and fell instantly, totally, unabashedly in love. And it’s all thanks to our mechanical lovebirds, Wall•E and Eve.
The film works on so many levels: a romance, an adventure, an eco-warning and a metaphor for the human condition. It’s that last bit that takes “Wall•E” from merely insanely adorable to out-and-out genius. Like the Tin Man before him, Wall•E is every man (or woman) in search of a heart. What Wall•E wants from Eve is so simple – to hold her hand and have it held back. No, I’m not crying. I’ve got something in my eye. I swear. Really.
Bundle in the brilliant animation, limited dialogue, gentle humor and wondrous story and you have a movie that anyone from 5 to 95 could enjoy. The film’s scope is sweet and satisfying, yet not without something important to say. While laughing along with Wall•E and Eve, we see clearly through their outsider eyes the best and worst in all of us. It’s more than a tad bit ironic that a movie about machines might help us find more of our own humanity. Also, good God, they’re cute. Happy weekend, all.
Hey, honey. I just wanted to write you a quick note to check in just in case you'd been feeling a tad ignored lately. Let me assure you, you are still my No. 1 gal. You're the tops. You're the best. You're the one.
OK, sure, there might have been other ones, too. It's not that I've been unfaithful, it's just that the world is filled with so many smart, amazing and hilarious women. So, yeah, I've thought about it. And maybe I've even flirted a little. Fine, a lot. I am only human, after all.
Look, it's not like you made things easy for me either. All those other women shamelessly lusting after you. They're practically throwing themselves at your feet. But do you rebuff their worship? Noooooo. Plus, it's not like you've returned any of my calls. Or replied to any of my letters. And, really, was that restraining order absolutely necessary?
But, you know I can't stay mad at you. Not when you give me one of your geeky little grins. All that other stuff just becomes so much water under the bridge when you have a love like ours. I know you only call the cops on me because you care. I want you to know that you have nothing to fear. My eyes may wander, but my heart will never stray. Though, maybe you should keep the glasses on – just in case.
Your always, Ms. Snarker
p.s. Seriously sweetie, glasses or not, any gal with a badonkadonk like this, well, she's a keeper. My baby's got back. DAY-YUM!
If you watch a lot of network news, you probably already know Lara Logan. The 37-year-old South African native is an Emmy, Overseas Press Club and Edward R. Murrow award-winning journalist. She was recently named Chief Foreign Affairs Correspondent at CBS. She has reported for the “CBS Evening News,” “60 Minutes” and “The Early Show.” She has been embedded in the frontlines in Iraq and Afghanistan as a war correspondent almost non-stop since 2001. She is smart, tough, funny and a vocal critic of the press coverage of the war. She is also beautiful.
That last bit tends to get in the way with some folks. Like, say, The Washington Post’s Howard Kurtz. His column yesterday wasn’t about her new promotion. It wasn’t about her perspective on the war. It wasn’t about her many accomplishments. No, instead it was about her sex life. You see, while stationed in Iraq for the last four years, Lara had the audacity to have a personal life. And now, she is unexpectedly pregnant. Her partner and father of her child is a married, but separated, American contractor she met while in Iraq. Alert the press! Quelle scandal! Where are those Scarlet Letters when you need them!
The tabloids latched onto this “story” first. But Kurtz’s column reads more like the National Enquirer than the paper of Woodward and Bernstein. Before he gets to anything more than her cursory job title, I know the names of and circumstances surrounding her last three relationships. First there was her husband, though they had long-ago separated. Then she had an “intense relationship” with another journalist in Baghdad that ended in November. And then her new partner, a federal contractor she had been friends with before.
Kurtz makes sure to assure us that they “plan to get married eventually” and then, only then, does he bother to list any of her actual credentials. His column dissolves further into the kind of tawdry he said/she said ugly divorce trash normally relegated to the pages of supermarket rags. We even get a quote from her partner’s estranged wife who called Lara’s promotion “a slap in the face to everyone who believes in marriage.”
The thing is, would they ever run a story like this on a male correspondent’s personal life? Would the specter of “homewrecker” come up with a male reporter? Would an “unplanned” pregnancy be an issue for a male journalist? Would any of this even be on The Washington Post’s radar if Lara wasn’t beautiful?
I’ve never read any mainstream press coverage of the fact that Keith Olbermann has a 24-year-old live-in girlfriend. He is 49, by the way, which means the age difference between them is older than she is. No mainstream media has had the nerve to poke through Anderson Cooper’s closet to see exactly what he has hiding in there. (My guess, chaps and a harness – who’s your daddy, Coop?) And the sundry details of Bill O’Reilly and his loofah fetish are, well – OK, actually I’m glad those never got more widely publicized. Shudder.
What makes Lara’s story different? Because she is a woman? Because she is unwed and pregnant? Because she is beautiful? What fucking century is this, again?
The only good news out of this is that Lara, clearly, has bigger and more important things on her mind than the salacious selling of her private life. Her appearance last month on The Daily Show showed that she is the kind of woman who has, what my grandma used to call, “a good head on her shoulders.” Sure, my grandma might not like all the cussing, but I fucking love it. I think I might also love her, just a little. OK, a lot.
Seriously, how fantastic is she? So fantastic I’m going to have to start watching CBS News again. No wonder the good ’ol boys media club is up in arms about her. She is smarter than them. She is stronger than them. And she is a hell of a lot sexier than them.
I am decidedly not blonde. This isn’t the beginning of a bad blonde joke or any such hair color-based disparagement; it’s just a fact. I’ve also never dated a blonde. Not that I have anything against blondes. Hello, Jodie Foster. Sit a little closer, Kate Winslet. Don’t be shy, Leisha Hailey. I’ve heard that blondes have more fun. Also, gentlemen prefer them. But what I know for sure is that whenever I see blonde locks and tank tops, I automatically think summer. And, gosh, who doesn’t like summer?
Mary McCormack
Naomi WattsKristen BellKristen WiigUma ThurmanKristin ChenowethElisha CuthbertScarlett JohanssonElisabeth RohmPortia de Rossi[Click each to embiggen...hey, no blonde jokes!]
Um, damn. No, I mean it, DAMN. If you don’t know who the physical specimen is above, then I suggest you sit down before proceeding. Seriously, sit down. Because what I’m about to tell you next just might knock you on your ass. Please say hello to Dara Torres. Please say hello to 41-year-old Dara Torres. Please say hello to 41-year-old, mother of a two-year-old Dara Torres. Please say hello to 41-year-old, mother of a two-year-old and soon-to-be five-time Olympian Dara Torres.
Um, did I mention damn?
Dara made her fifth U.S. Olympic team over the weekend, qualifying in both the 50-meter and 100-meter freestyle races. Both times, she beat a field of 20-something. Dara competed in her first Olympics in 1984 where she took home a gold medal at age 17. For those counting at home, 24 years have passed since then. That means her first Olympic medal is older than some of you reading right now. Already it’s a good year older than fellow Olympian Michael Phelps. Her last Olympics were in Sydney in 2000. Her accomplishment at this weekend’s trials make her the first American swimmer to compete in five games and the oldest female swimmer in the history of the Olympics.
Right about now, I have the feeling you’re with me on the damn.
The New York Times Magazine ran a feature on Torres before the U.S. Olympic Trials. [Hat tip, Lola!] The story called her 41-year-old body “breathtaking” and I really can’t think of a better word. It’s staggering, really. The article also explains how she keeps it that way with a team that includes “a head coach, a sprint coach, a strength coach, two stretchers, two masseuses, a chiropractor and a nanny, at the cost of at least $100,000 per year.” It even addresses the inevitable doping questions (she has never tested positive and recently even volunteered to be in a new, much more strenuous anti-doping pilot program.)
Over the weekend Dara won both her races, beating out competitors 16 and 20 years younger than her. On the way to winning the 50-meter freestyle she set a new American record. After winning the latter, she told reporters: “I think I’ve shown that you don’t want to put an age limit on your dreams.”
Like I was saying, damn.
p.s. Just in case her physique, haircut or uber hotness pinged any of your collective gaydars, she is apparently straight. That’s a whole different kind of damn.
One of the many things I like about Maria Bello is that she seems like a woman who could change her own flat tire, if the need should arise. It’s not a butch thing or a brute strength thing. It’s a capable thing. She is a woman who seems infinitely capable. She doesn’t need your rescuing. She doesn’t need your approval. She doesn’t even need your hand when balancing on one heel. (Seriously, it’s impressive, you should really click.) Nothing simpers about her. She can, without question, take care of herself. And that is just damn sexy. It is, of course, also damn sexy that she likes to get all handsy with Mariska Hargitay. And Carrie-Anne Moss. And Felicity Huffman. And Emily Blunt. And, well, you get the picture. I love a gal who gives good SGALGG.
I think a lot of Maria’s appeal comes from her working-class Pennsylvania roots. They show not in just a general girl-next-door-all-grown-up quality, but a roll-up-your-sleeves aesthetic that signals she’s not afraid to get dirty from a hard day’s work, or anything else that might work up a healthy sweat. It also helps that she didn’t find fame until her 30s. Girls who get famous in their 20s or, heaven forbid, even earlier take so much for granted. Now in her 40s, she has an earned beauty that is so much more interesting than the smooth perfection of youth. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather get a flat tire with. And, on the off chance that she couldn’t change the tire herself, you’d better believe that that sly grin of hers says she knows exactly how to pass the time until the tow truck arrives. Happy Fourth of July weekend, all.
I love this video so much. And, really, I’m not even entirely sure why. As a rule, I hate most reality programming (Bravo shows excluded, naturally). But, well, there’s just something about Kathreya from UK’s “Big Brother” that kind of makes my heart melt. I think that in some strange way this silly little clip of her perfectly encapsulates the human condition. Wait, wait – bear with me. I have not gone completely crazy, not yet at least. No, if you think about it for a second this actually makes sense.
You can substitute whatever it is you want most in the world for her simple cry of “Cookie!” and, voila, it becomes a universal plea. Give it a try at home: “Happinessssssssss!” “Respectttttttttt!” “Loooooooooove!” “Baconnnnnnnnnn!” Though, I think from now on whenever I’m feeling particularly frustrated with the universe, I’m just going to look up at the sky and belt out an enormous “Cookieeeeeeeeee!” I’m pretty sure if we all did it, the world would be a better place.
Ahhh, Sarah Haskins. Where was she during Pride Weekend? (Yes, I got a tiny bit of that vibe too, ladies.) Her latest “Target Women” segment takes on Botox. Look, I know no one is particularly thrilled about aging. Heck, old Ponce de León died searching for that elusive Fountain of Youth. But now, thanks to modern medicine and centuries-old poisonous neurotoxins, you too can paralyze tiny muscles in your face in an attempt to look young and totally expressionless. Yay for botulism! Let’s let Sarah explain.
My favorite line: “They want them boners back!” My second favorite line: “Don’t listen to me, I’m a form of punctuation that signifies an aside.” Grammatically correct and hilarious. Be still my heart.
True story, I have a beautiful 28 year-old-friend who uses Botox. She is twenty-freaking-eight! And she is beautiful! And she lets a doctor inject botulism into her forehead! What the fuck? It borders on evil how the cosmetic and pharmaceutical industries prey on the one thing that is guaranteed to happen to every single one of us. How’s that song go?
But time makes you bolder Children get older I’m getting older too...
We all are, so stop making us feel so fucking bad about it. Being healthy and trying to look your best is one thing. Intentionally paralyzing parts of your face is entirely another. For God’s sake, if you wouldn’t eat it when it’s festering in a can, why the hell would you willingly shoot it into your face?
Wow, what a weekend. My nose is sunburned. My body aches in muscles I didn’t even know I had. And I think at one point in the night my shoes could have been wrung out to make a cocktail or two. Now that’s what I call a Pride. To round out the two days of debauchery fun I caught Cyndi & Co. at the True Colors Tour, which was fantastic. If you are anywhere near one of the tour’s three remaining shows (that means you Seattle, Vancouver and Denver areas) get thee there. But the best part of Pride, as always, was spending time with wonderful friends and just being so damn gay together. I’m not gonna lie, I still need to rest a bit to get back into full form. So in lieu of tank tops today, please enjoy this musical interlude. Cyndi totally rocked, as did the B-52s (We came late so that’s all we caught. So this video isn’t mine, nor is most of the audio live. But you get a feel for the night’s homotasticness.)
Unless I’m horribly mistaken, I think part of me is actually in this picture somewhere. It’s like Where’s Waldo, but so much gayer.
So, got any of your own pride stories to share from this year? Or is your pride still coming up. Please share, because I’m exhausted. Who else needs a disco nap?
I cannot tell you how many hours I spent watching “The Golden Girls" while growing up. I can't tell you because I'm not sure I can count that high. There was a period years ago where that – and “The Wizard of Oz” – was all all my little sister would watch. She watched them 24-hours a day, 7-days a week. I'm sure had she been able to somehow bend the space-time continuum, she'd have happily watched them even more.
