My Weekend Crush

Do you believe in miracles? (Not on ice, I’m not that gay — though I am that old…) The miracle in question is the third season renewal of one of my favorite shows. After the wonderful season two finale last weekend, I had resigned myself to that being the end (given HBO Max new Max’s slash/burn ways). But, thanks to Big Gay TV Gods, it was given another season. As I was saying, miraculous.

Now, I’ve sung the praises of “Somebody Somewhere” since its first season became my sleeper show of the year. It’s so rare to encounter a series with such a big heart that showcases small town life nearly perfectly. Set in its star Bridget Everett’s real-life hometown of Manhattan, Kansas, this unassuming series finds its joy, pain and everything in between in the entirely ordinary.

Yet focusing on the everyday doesn’t make it mundane — far from it. And it’s a reminder that good storytelling doesn’t need crazy concepts or special effects to still be deeply affecting. The world of Sam, her gay best friend Joel, sister Tricia and the rest may seem small from the outside. But the process of supporting your family, making new friends and just living your life is always, infinitely complex. And it’s in those moments, “Somebody Somewhere” triumphs in its loveliness.

I cannot overstate what an ABSOLUTE PLEASURE this show is to watch. Honestly, I can’t think of a single reason not to watch this show. If you like flawed yet deeply relatable characters (I mean, who amongst us isn’t one?), watch this show. If you like show choir, watch this show. If you like the Will & Grace dynamic without an annoying Just Jack, watch this show. If you like fully integrated queer and trans characters who are not treated like Very Special Episode additions, watch this show. If you like earnest discussions of christianity and spirituality, watch this show. If you like earnest, funny-as-hell Midwestern people, WATCH THIS SHOW.

Honestly, I think that’s what I love most about “Somebody Somewhere” — its midwestern soul. I mean, even the name is unassuming. Yeah, this is a show about somebody somewhere but it could really be anybody anywhere. Because it’s really about life, it’s messiness, and how we each find our happiness amid the quiet mayhem of simply existing.

Typically, depictions of small town life fall heavily on the rural rube stereotypes — just a bunch of backwoods hillbillies doing hillbilly shit or whatever. Or they’re fish-out-of-water comedies à la “Schitt’s Creek,” where the big city sophisticates learn from the podunk townsfolk. But “Somebody Somewhere” doesn’t have time for that nonsense. Instead of filling the screen with prenaturally precious or impossibly charming characters, these somebodies feel like they 100% could be your next door neighbors — if only you take the time to get to know them.

And, in its own understated way, this show is also radical. I mean (SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON FINALE), the show ends with a trans wedding. If that’s not a radical act, then you haven’t been reading the news lately. The best stories about our chosen families have often been queer stories, and “Somebody Somewhere” is no exception. While Sam is straight, she is surrounded by queer characters who feel very of the moment and their location. If you’ve ever lived in a conservative area, you’ll instinctively understand the push-pull it takes to be out in that environment. Us Blue State gays (or transplanted Blue State gays like me) are largely preaching to the choir. But Kansas gays? Yeah, that’s where it matters the most.

I can’t wait for another season of this show. I can’t wait to spend more time with these people. I want as many people as possible to meet them and fall in love with these lovely and genuinely genuine people. Happy Weekend, all.

Happy Pride

The thing the bigots will never understand is that pride is never about the party. Yeah, we party. We have a parade. We dress up. And we dance. Oh, how we dance. But pride, pride is always a revolution. Pride is a fight. Pride is a statement. Pride is about saying, “I’m here! I’m queer! Get used to it!” to the universe, and looking fabulous while doing it. Pride is finding your joy, your people and, yes, your pride in yourself.

Perhaps one of the most inspired things queer people have done (besides being our inspiring selves, that is) is choosing the word “Pride” for our celebration. We are proud of ourselves, and we should be. We’re magnificent survivors, and not an era has gone by were we haven’t made immeasurable cultural contributions. The small-minded hatemongers can’t change that – try as they might. I think, truly, that’s what drives them mad the most. That so-called freaks like us could be proud of their differences, and embrace differences in others. How boring if we were all the same. How dull to demand total conformity when the universe offers endless multitudes.

So in this year, when LGBTQ+ rights are under attack and trans people are being erased from public life, let us use this June to walk through our lives with purpose. I never thought the same tired (and of course deeply untrue) pedophile, groomer smears would resurface in our national discourse. Silly me, I thought we were past that shit. But I guess our visibility and the wider world’s increasing acceptance and inclusion of us homosexual and transgender weirdos was just too threatening. Or maybe they’re just out of ideas. The wave of anti-LGBTQ+ and specifically anti-trans laws has hit Satanic-panic level hysteria among Red State Statehouses.

But instead of backing down (hey, Bud Light and Target – go fuck yourself with your fair-weather Rainbow Capitalism), we should be even louder this pride. March longer. Dance harder. Stand taller. Be prouder. We’re proud because we’re a part of this world, and the world in turn is better from all the beautiful, beautiful color we bring with us. The sky looks better with rainbows, and the world does too. Happy Pride, kittens.

Happy (Two) Hump(s) Day

Look, I’m just a simple queer lady blogger. And when a nice pair of boobs floats my way, well, I’m not mad about it. Especially if they’re as an empowered and impressive and impeccable a set as Janelle Monae has. Indeed, the superstar has entered their Naked Era, and I’m extremely not mad about it. Yes, I know I already wrote about their super gay new music video. But, uh, then they posed for the cover of Rolling Stone. Again, I’m just a simple country blogger. So I am powerless to resist such magnificence.

What a Doll

Fine, OK. I had a Barbie. One. I had ONE Barbie. And one Ken – the kind eternally in the swim trunks. But I was always more of an action figure girlie and/or “tomboy” as they called us back then or future gay as I call my past self now. So, I didn’t really know what to expect from the Barbie movie. I knew I liked Greta Gerwig’s work. And I knew the cast was ridiculously stacked. And I knew it would be some kind of send-up.

But “Closer to Fine,” Crazy Seer Lesbian Barbie Kate McKinnon, and Birkenstocks? Yeah, more like, “Portrait of Plastic Lady on Fire” – >amirite? But, seriously, this looks all sorts of fun and funny and feminist (I mean, the bad guys are literally trying to keep a woman in a box! They’re practically Republican congressmen!) Come on, Barbie, let’s go to the movies.

Music Monday: Tina, Just Tina

Please, you thought I’d let the magnificent Tina freaking Turner pass with only one post? Pshah. Soak it in, because we won’t soon see another performer like her for a while. Honestly, we most likely never will. At least not in our lifetimes. Also, she is 70 in this performance. 7-0. Age means whatever we will it to. Thanks again, Tina. Like I said – simply, always, eternally The Best. Happy Monday, kittens.

My Weekend Crush

So, that’s what it feels like when a force of nature passes. Tina Turner was so many, many things. Peerless performer. Searing singer. Dancing diva. Inspirational icon. Stirring survivor. But in the end she was just the one and only Tina Turner. I was lucky enough to find her on her own terms, when she released her so-called comeback album “Private Dancer” in 1984. I was, of course, too young to be listening to all that. (Hello, “dancer for money, I'll do what you want me to do…”) But then, the other thing Tina Turner always was was sexy. So endlessly sexy, regardless of age, space and time. While I of course heard some of her earlier hits, it was once she became the Queen of Rock ‘n’ Roll that I truly fell in love.

So much ink rightful ink has already been spilled trying to explain what made Tina Turner so great. She remains perhaps the most dynamic entertainers of our lifetime. Yeah, there’s James Brown. But Tina Turner did it all – and in heels. Sure, there’s Prince, too. But he only sometimes did it in heels. It seems like a cruel cosmic joke that someone with such pure, raw kinetic energy should suddenly be gone. As if someday lightning may cease to exist.

Of course what else drew us to Tina Turner, besides her magnetic onstage persona, was the deeply personal hurt she had overcome. By being one of the very first celebrities to speak openly about surviving domestic violence, Tina Turner helped change the world. She shed light on the once taboo, hush-hush shame loop of intimate partner violence. And she was proof that you could get out and thrive, despite the worst efforts of small, violent, failed men like her ex-husband.

Having read about and watched her documentaries, including the 2021 doc “Tina,” it’s evident that she remained deeply traumatized by her abuse. Which, honestly, who wouldn’t be? To have the same questions, and the same horrible man, brought up in every interview and every conversation – that’s no way to heal. That she became a symbol of something she wanted to desperately forget remains one of the bittersweet truths of her life. So, yeah, I get it why she fled this country. I mean, I want to flee now. But, you know, different circumstances.

Which is another one of the revelations of Tina Turner. She spent the majority of her adult life – and certainly the majority since her skyrocketing solo success – in Europe. Since 1994 she had been a resident of Switzerland with her second (and younger, get it girl) husband. In Europe and Australia and Brazil she found equally adoring fans. The sun does not revolve around America, Americans. The world is bigger and wider and more beautiful than our small bubbles. So it only seems fitting a talent as momentous as Tina Turner should share herself completely with every last corner of it.

When she divorced her first husband, all Tina Turner took with her was her name. Now, no one could ever forget it. Simply, always, eternally The Best. Thank you for everything, Queen. Happy weekend, all.

Gender Fuck Thursday: THEE Sisters Edition

If you don’t know The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, well, you truly haven’t been blessed yet. I first found out about the group it seemed like the moment I moved to California over two decades ago. They went hand-in-hand with learning about the queer community in San Francisco, the Bay Area and this Golden State. They struck me, and still strike me, as the ultimate San Francisco charity. Flamboyant. Irreverent. Deeply important.

The non-profit raises funds for LGBTQ+ people and others in need, and has done so since its founding in 1979. The group was critical during the AIDS crisis of the 80s and 90s. They've been a leader behind Pride and other events. And, generally, these Sisters just do good works while raising awareness and looking funky fabulous. They’re part of the essential fabric of Queer California, period.

So last week when the Dodgers disinvited them from their Pride Night celebration and revoked their Community Hero Award, well, that was some bad shit. It also shows the limitations of Rainbow Capitalism. The major league team’s willingness to throw out a group it said it supported because of some minor conservative grousings (Marco Rubio, go home this isn’t Florida you dummy) is telling. Just as telling is the immediate reaction from Pride LA (which rightly pulled out of the event in solidarity with the Sisters because they know what’s up) and the inevitable backtracking by the Dodgers (who have now reinvited the Sisters). I also enjoyed the Anaheim Angels righteous trolling, but maybe that’s because I’m no Dodgers fan (Go, Giants! Or A’s! I’m happily poly when it comes to sportsball.)

The event is now back on with all parties invited and attending. But this is a reminder that the fights we thought we’d already won aren’t nearly as over as we think they are. I thought the days of conservatives clutching their pearls about men (and other queer, trans folks) with beards dressing as nuns was well behind us. But here we are, fighting the same fights. No, we’re not groomers. No, we’re not pedophiles. No, we aren’t going to sexually assault you in the bathroom. You’re thinking about men. Straight white men, in particular — you know, if we’re being statistically accurate about things. Anyway, as I was saying.

When your support doesn’t come from genuine convictions, it can easily bend and break when political winds seemingly change. But if you really believe that the Sisters and queer advocacy and charity organizations are doing good works, you honor them. And it doesn’t matter what a weasely little senator for 3,000 miles away or idiots who like to shoot up cases of Bud Light say about it. Because that’s what’s right. And amen to that, Sisters.

Banned in the USA

America, America. What the actual fuck are you doing? Book banning is not a new atrocity. But it’s turning out to be an unfortunately persistent one. And, lately, an increasingly frequent one. While some neoliberals can’t stop wringing their hands in the pages of the NYT about the so-called scourge of cancel culture on college campuses, they remain demonstratively silent about real canceling happening in our culture.

So as Florida Gov. DeSantis preps today to announce his presidential run (I know, gross), know that his state has just BANNED the poem read at President Joe Biden’s inauguration in 2021 from an elementary school in Miami-Dade County. Poet Amanda Gorman’s beautiful words of hope and democracy were banned because of one parent’s objection, which is a thing that now happens in Florida, The U.S.A. So, as voters gear up to mark their ballots, think hard about what Making America Florida (like, I cannot shudder hard enough) really means.

Books. Banned. Abortion. Banned. Drag. Banned. Saying Gay. Banned. Teaching about race. Banned. Trans health care, youth sports, bathroom access and general existence. Banned.

Now, guns on the other hand? Well, Florida Man signed an open carry law and the state is already Stand Your Ground heaven.

Look, everyone who loves guns more than books, LGBTQ+ people, drag queens, people of color, reproductive health care and the accurate teaching of history is welcome to have the Sunshine State. Everyone else, let’s help start a great migration to states that don’t have fascist wannabe presidential contenders doing everything in their power to make life worse for the rest of us. Climate change is gonna turn that state into an archipelago (if it's lucky...) soon enough.

That's a (Mat)Lock

Oh no, I really am getting old. I think I might watch the new “Matlock” reboot. I know, I know. Watching that show about the simple country lawyer used go hand-in-hand with AARP membership. But, hear me out – what if that simple country lawyer was a lady instead of Andy Griffith? And what if that lady was Kathy Bates? And what if the reboot played against the stereotypical portrayal of the doddering, invisible older woman? Fine, I’m still old.

p.s. Also I’m all for Kathy Bates sexually harassing Jason Ritter in the cast, or as I like to call him Mr. Melanie Lynskey.

p.p.s. My immediate affection for this show may also have something to do with my eternal affection for Kathy Bates’s Southern accent, circa “Fried Green Tomatoes.” Towanda!

Music Monday

One of the things I like is when song I know from TikTok start charting in the real world. (Well, realer – and hopefully slightly less algorithmically manipulated.) For a while now one of the songs on my feed signaling the righteous-est of indignations has been CHINCHILLA’s “Little Girl Gone.” (If you know it, it starts with the “Run little girl, run little girl, run!”) The nature of these musical memes is you only get a snippet. But having sought out the whole thing it’s just as righteous with a healthy dose of patriarchy smashing violence. TikTok really has changed how folks discover music. London-based indie artist CHINCHILLA (not to be confused with the small, pet rodents) self-released her music. And now she’s got a Billboard streaming charts hit. Happy patriarchy smashing Monday, kittens.

My Weekend (T-Shirt) Crush

When you get the very last Jenifer Prince Pride Edition T-Shirt at your local Target. Hope you’re having a great weekend, all.

p.s. If you're interested, I post the occasional photo of my life over at Instagram. If you're into that sort of thing.

Becoming Highsmith

Mark me down as intrigued, again, but in a gayer way. So Shailene Woodley, Cara Delevigne and Noémie Merlant will co-star in a biopic of queer novelist extraordinaire Patricia Highsmith of “The Talented Mr. Ripley” and “The Price of Salt” (you know, “Carol”) fame. Now, I love Noémie from “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” and “Tar,” of course. And I have varying degrees of affection for Cara and Shailene (like, not to get all in my 2016 feelings, but she was pretty anti-Hillary and dated Aaron “immunized” Rodgers forever so…).

Shailene will play Highsmith, and Cara and Noémie will play women she has relationships with. According to Deadline, the film will be fashioned like a horror movie which, what? Per Deadline:

“Titled The Murderous Miss Highsmith, the film will reimagine the author’s life as a horror movie, focusing on the formative period just before she wrote her most celebrated work, The Talented Mr. Ripley, which was partly inspired by her doomed relationships with two women.”

OK, well, I’m always here for more and better representation of LGBTQ+ people and queer women in particular (look, you have to root for the home team). The film is being produced by indie standouts Killer Films and be co-produced by queer indie producer extraordinaire Christine Vachon (of “Go Fish,” “Boys Don’t Cry,” “Carol” and many other great and very queer films fame). So I will definitely be watching. I’m still not sure about the horror angle, but as long as it’s super gay I will allow it. True of movies and, honestly, much of life. If it’s super gay, I’ll allow it.

Poor One Out

Mark me down as intrigued. I had not heard a peep about this movie before hitting play on the trailer for “Poor Things” and now I’m rather pleased I went in totally unprepared. If you’d like to take this moment to watch this under 50-second teaser equally unprepared, by all means please do and I will be here when you get back from your short trip. *whistles off key* Right, so intrigued, right?

It’s like Dr. Frankenstein meets gothic Pushing Daisies meets acid trip Wes Anderson. But this time Frankenstein’s monster is Emma Stone and the skies all look like the most beautiful snow cones you’ve ever seen. I have not read more about the plot because, clearly, this is an aesthetic endeavor with, if filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos’s past work is to be a guide, very sharp elbows. Lanthimos was behind my favorite film of 2018, “The Favourite.”

While that movie also had Emma Stone, I’m not as optimistic for lesbian overtones (or even undertones) in his latest work. But I do like to see Emma play against type. I like the absurdist chaos and magical weirdness of the trailer, and, well, who doesn’t root for Frankenstein’s Emma’s monster to slap the shit out of every man she sees? That’s the whole plot, and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Chasing Lesbian Movies

When I heard there was a documentary about the impact of “Chasing Amy” I was pretty meh about it at first. The 1997 film wasn’t exactly my favorite. Even way back then its problematic problems were pretty problematic — so that’s a problem. But I also understand the unshakeable connection we queer people have to the media that makes us first feel really seen. That movie or TV show or music or book or painting or whatever kind of art that made us say, even if only to ourselves, “That’s me. I’m like that.” So, yeah, I get why queer trans filmmaker Sav Rodgers wanted to make a documentary about his feelings about the Kevin Smith-Ben Affleck-Joey Lauren Adams movie. I only wish he’d seen and connected with better queer movies of that era in the first place.

But, look, I get it. I grew up in the Midwest too and totally understand the whole you get what you can find media landscape for LGBTQ+ representation in those years. I was at the indie video store renting a copy of “Claire of the Moon” back in the early 90s and getting traumatized. And don’t think I still feel a certain way about Guinevere Turner because of “Go Fish.” (I see you in this documentary, Guin, I see you. I also see you, Trish!)

Still, as the documentary appears to rightfully address, the film has, well, problems. And one of the biggest is that it’s a story about a queer woman told entirely by a bunch of straight white heterosexual dudes. But, again, I get it. Everyone’s journey toward figuring themselves out is different, and none are perfect because there is no perfect. So after watching the trailer I now feel a lot less meh about “Chasing Chasing Amy” because it is a queer story told by a queer filmmaker about the process of becoming a queer filmmaker and the unlikely queer(ish) film that helped him along the way.

Also, if you’re looking for a truly great queer film from the exact same year as “Chasing Amy,” might I direct you toward “All Over Me.” From sister filmmaking duo Alex and Sylvia Sichel, it was a searing look at what it felt like to fall in love with your best friends as a teenager growing up in Hell’s Kitchen New York. Like “Kids,” but less exploitative and shocking for shocking sake. Also, it featured a baby faced, pink-haired Leisha Hailey which is just the cutest. While writing this, I looked up what the Sichel Sisters had been up to recently and I regret to inform you (or reinform you if you’re more up to date than me), that lesbian filmmaker Alex Sichel passed away in 2014. Sylvia, meanwhile, looks like she teaches at NYU. Anyway, might make a good documentary. Just a suggestion.

Music Monday: Lipstick Lover Edition

So you won’t be able to watch the new Janelle Monae video here. It’s too spicy for the embed to work. So instead I’ll give you a few minutes to click the watch on Youtube link below, watch the video, drool uncontrollably, and come right back.…. Right, so you good? Oops, still got a little drool left there in the corner. And your jaw, have you regained control of it or is it still on the floor? Still on the floor. Well, understandable.

If you haven’t watched Janelle’s “Lipstick Lover” yet, OMG, what are you doing? If you haven’t watched it several times in a row I admire your willpower and self-denial. Wait, scratch that. Don’t deny yourself the joy and absolute PLEASURE of watching Janelle, well, pleasure themselves in all manner of ways.

I consider this video the official start of Hot Them Summer. The nonbinary superstar brings us the first single from their new album “The Age of Pleasure,” which will be their first new record in five years. And, based on this video, we’re in for what can only accurately be described as a good time. A very very, sexy sexy, hot hot, indistinguishable gurgling sounds indistinguishable gurgling sounds good time. How good you ask?

Let us count the ways:

Well, so many hands good.

Legs for days good.

Booty as a bookstand good.

Booty as a chinrest good.

Booty, in general, good.

Boobs, in particular, good.

And good old-fashioned rain of vibrators good.

Like I was saying. Hope this gets your week off to a good start. Or at least gets something off. Ahem. Happy Monday, kittens.

p.s. Someone should track down Lover Cindi to get her shot-by-shot reaction to the video. I mean, it only seems right, after all, as one of the O.G. Lipstick Lovers.

My Weekend Crush

When systems are fucked up, like the whole entertainment industry has been for too long about sexual assault and the crimes of its powerful “genius” men, drastic actions are needed. So I commend the continued bravery and determination of Adèle Haenel for removing herself from the problem area, so to speak. The French actress of “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” and “Water Lilies” fame announced this week she was retiring from the film industry because of her country’s “general complacency” about “sexual aggressors.”

The actress famously stormed off with some very choice and appropriate expletives in early 2020 after Roman Polanski won best director at the César Awards (France’s Oscars). And she was the first to speak up as part of France’s #MeToo Movement about abuse that started when she was 12 (TWELVE) on movie sets.

Sometimes it feels like getting older is just the gradual realization that the systems and institutions we have come to see as essential in our lives are fundamentally broken, and broken in ways that almost always favor the already powerful, the already rich, the already privileged. As much as I love the movies and filmmaking as an art, I know real human monsters can lurk within the system (and, really, all systems — ugh, am I starting to sound tinfoil hatty? I’m mostly sane, I promise.) Again, just because someone’s art is great, doesn’t make them a great or particularly good or even tolerable person.

What we can control, what we can do each one of us, is decide what we want to consume. Do we want to keep watching the works of the Roman Polanskis and the Gérard Depardieus and the Woody Allens of this world? (And, yes, to go back to an earlier point – the J.K. Rowlings of the world, too. Because while she’s not a sexual abuser like those men, her ongoing anti-trans rhetoric makes life immeasurably harder, more dangerous and less livable for trans and queer people of the world. And that should not be accepted in our society, just as we should not accept homophobes or rapists or racists or gross old men who marry their adopted daughters – and yet).

Or do we agree as a society to remove these sexual predators, the actual problem areas, and hold them accountable so that talented women and like Adèle and countless others can continue in the craft they love. Seems like a simple decision to me, but then I’m just a gal ranting about systems on a beautiful Friday morning. Vice la résistance, Adèle. Happy weekend, all.

Gender Fuck Thursday: Dianna Edition

Hey, hi. It’s Thursday. Would you like to see Dianna Agron in a suit — and her abs sorta in the suit? Oh, never mind. I know. You’re not even reading right now. Anyway, Dianna has a new interview up with Bustle about her new Hulu horror movie “Clock.” The photos that go with the interview include Dianna in this suit, bra, pants combo. I’m glad to see Quinn Fabray has kept up those cheerleader abs. For her physical and mental health! No other reasons.

But, admittedly, it’s a little less hot when they pull back and show the oversized parachute pants situation going on on her lower half. Like, why so much fabric? Is it to hide all the sweet lady kisses? Anyway, after making headlines recently for denying, sorta, the whole SwiftGron lore (that she and Taylor Swift were an item and that she’s the inspiration for “22”). Her response to Rolling Stone: “Me? Oh, if only!” She also seemed to play coy about what shipping is which what in the Faberry Fandom? But, anyway, I haven’t thought about Dianna in a while even though we’ve met and all that. So it’s nice to see her doing well and looking well and yes wearing this suit. We’ll pretend we don’t know about the pants. Just like Dianna pretended she doesn’t know about shipping.

Look Up, On the Table

Florence Pugh watching Janelle Monáe perform at the Met Gala after-party pic.twitter.com/ZxBrrbiyMc

— Florence Pugh Photos (@pughphotos) May 2, 2023

Sorry, it’s been a hectic week and the day got away from me. As an apology here’s Florence Pugh with a freshly shaved head watching Janelle Monae in a bedazzled bikini sing and dance on a tabletop. Am I forgiven?

Tank Top Tuesday: Swimsuit Edition

So, yeah, I don’t know how exactly to feel about the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue these says. It’s undeniably been A Big Thing over the years, but the thing it represents has thankfully become less and less of an outright thing. Objectification has grown to include more body types, stronger body types (not nearly as many as it should, of course). And, let’ be honest, I like a beautiful woman in a bikini as much as the next lesbian. So, anyway, here’s Padma Lakshmi at age 52 making me feel all kinds of things in this years Swimsuit Issue. I want to say something deep and profound about our expectations for women as we age, and how we must reclaim standards to encompass beauty at all ages. But, mostly, I just want to look at Padma and let out a low, but undeniable, “Hubba hubba.”

p.s. This post is topical, because bikinis are tank tops without any sense of decorum.

p.p.s. Also, you should watch the second season of “Taste the Nation” on Hulu which is as interesting as it is informative and, uh, inspiring in other ways to watch Padma eat her way across America.

Music Monday: Cyndi Cyndi Cyndi

Well all this talk of the movie reboot made me hanker for the real thing. In fact I think Cyndi Lauper might be the most weirdly wonderful star to come out of the 1980s. She was never as much concerned about being ultra cool or conventionally sexy, but about having pure unbridled, well, fun. She unapologetically celebrated being a woman who does what she wants (hello, “She Bop”) in this ridiculous world. Also, as you know, we’re practically BFFs. I mean, two personal shout outs? Yeah, two shout outs. Happy Monday, kittens.

p.s. I love how basically every woman’s hairstyle in this video would make an excellent Alternative Lifestyle Haircut in this year of our Lesbian Lord 2023.

My Weekend (Just Friends) Crush

Hey, so last week was Lesbian Visibility Week or something. How did it take me 17 years to realize I launched my blog at the start of Lesbian Visibility Week? Maybe because we aren’t visible enough and history will just keep on calling us Very Close Friends? Anyway, to all the Gal Pals who lived through the 90s, this one is for you. What can’t pairs of friends like these do? [H/T, Kate Terry for the retro “roommates” SNL clip] Happy weekend, all.

Girls Still Wanna Have Fun

I can’t remember if I’ve shared this before (I mean, it’s been SEVENTEEN YEARS after all — also I’m old), but “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” was one of my favorite 1980s movies. I was a child of the MTV Generation (shout out to my Gen X peeps — how those knees doing?). And this movie was so incredibly cool to my little grade school mind. I also remember it getting played what seems like endlessly on TV (or maybe that was just my family’s pirated HBO subscription).

I haven’t watched it in ages, obviously. But Sarah Jessica Parker, Helen Hunt and Shannen Doherty all in one movie? Please. Like this little future gay isn’t going to be obsessed with this movie. In fact, I think perhaps the only 80s movie I hold in even closer regard is “Just One of the Guys.” And, lesbians, we all know the reason(s) for that. Two of them in particularly. Like, raise your hand if that’s your root because hello.

Right, where was I? Proving you can’t keep a dancing queen down/there are no new ideas, Hollywood is planning a “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” reboot. And, hope of hopes, this one might actually be gay. The script is from “The L Word: Generation Q” showrunner Marja-Lewis Ryan and Executive Story Editor Allie Romano. Like, come on, if they don’t make it gay we riot, right?

One of the things I sincerely hope they do not bring back the Jonathan Silverman nerd character who is actually just a sexist horndog/future incel. Think any Anthony Michael Hall role in the 1980s that’s supposed to be dweeby cute but actually secretly misogynistic. Like, tune in Tokyo? That’s a Me Too nightmare.

Though, I do deeply appreciate that every single one of its female stars went on to be wildly famous while the John “Cougar” Mellencamp look-alike they cast as the lead apparently sells real estate in Solvang.

As I was saying, MAKE IT QUEER AND LET’S HAVE FUN. The end.

Like That Again

And just like that, I guess we’re doing this again. I kind of feel about “Sex and the City'' how I feel about “The L Word.” Both were revolutionary at the time. Both carry an enormous amount of cultural nostalgia. And both are very of their times. So now, honestly, I feel kinda the same about their reboots. Having followed these characters so long, might as well continue out of loyalty and curiosity. Granted, I also watched ”The L Word: Generation Q” because I want to see the lives of queer and other LGBTQ+ people reflected on screen. But Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte? Well, they’re like old college friends who I catch up with a couple times a year and still reminisce about all the hot goss of days gone by. Just don’t ask me about Che. Because I don’t wanna talk about Che. While I respect and enjoy Cynthia Nixon and Sara Ramirez, their work and their activism — suffering sappho do those two have negative chemistry together. Also, who fucks in the kitchen while their just out of hip surgery best friend pees the bed? Bad form. Such bad form. But, anyway, we’re getting more of their grand romance which, OK, I guess. Someone said that in the trailer all of the lead stars get their own “emotional support woman of color” this season and OMFG the accuracy. I have no comment on the return of Aidan other than I’ve met John Corbett before and he was very nice and ridiculously tall.

Great Gadsby

Now that’s my kind of rom-com. In exactly one week, Tasmania comic Hannah Gadsby of “Nanette” and “Douglas” and lesbianism and autism and neurodivergence and genderqueer fame will be back on Netflix with a new special next week. The opposite of yucky! I’m such a fan of Hannah’s endlessly smart, keenly observant and uniquely quirky comedy. And I learn new things about our ridiculous world and even more ridiculous society each time. Like the Pouch of Douglas! And more on Picasso’s general shittiness (I mean, I knew generally, but the detail and precision of her takedown was * chef’s kiss *)!

Music Monday: MUNA & boygenius Party

Did you see that MUNA and boygenius collab at Coachella? (I know, I know — I never thought I’d be writing about artist collabs at Coachella either. But these are QUEER ARTISTS collabing at Coachella, so it’s marginally less annoying. Also I guarantee you every single one of those artists have done more than just ‘kiss’ a girl circa Katy Perry ‘08, m’kay.) Anyway, as I was saying, my new favorite purveyor of Sad, Sensitive Lesbian Music (boygenius) and my newish favorite purveyor of Queer Pop Yumminess (MUNA) got together and sang “Silk Chiffon” and danced all sexy like together and frolicked on stage while generally having a gay old time. May you all manifest this kind of fierce, hot, unapologetically queer energy for May, and the rest of the year. Happy Monday, kittens.

My Weekend Crush

This month marks the 35 anniversary of Tracy Chapman’s landmark self-titled debut. “Fast Car,” “Baby Can I Hold You,” “Talkin’ Bout a Revolution.” These songs feel like the bedrock of a generation, at least my generation. I grew up after the era of protest songs, but something about Tracy’s music always felt like an intimate, personal protest. “Fast Car” transports you instantly to that car. To that moment. To that weightless feeling of possibility and then the crushing weight of real life. Damn, what a song. What a singer. It’s been 15 years since she has released new music. Who knows if we’ll get any more. But the gift she already gave us will continue to resonate when we’ve all shuttled off this mortal coil, and the sun swallows all of our known existence. Thanks for making us feel like we belonged, Tracy. Happy weekend, all.

So Sappy

I know Mae Martin’s “Feel Good” is good. Objectively, it’s well done. But, for me, it felt too claustrophobic given my proximity to addiction, mental health, toxicity and various neuroses in my romantic, familial and everyday relationships. Sometimes, their issues felt too present and decisions too frustrating to continue. So I didn’t watch Season 2. But I still enjoy Mae Martin’s work. And their new special, “Sap,” is directed by none other than Abbi “Give Her More Than Four Episodes of ALOTO” Jacobson. (Side Note: I’ve noticed that Mae appears to know all of the lesbian celebrities. Which, you know, good work if you can get it.) The nonbinary comic’s new special is also good, very good. Relatable in a way that somehow felt less intense than their show. You can see them puzzle out the world and themselves in real time, which is fascinating. They’re obviously an astute observer of the human condition, with fierce desire not to be categorized or corralled into the old, traditional way of thinking about ourselves and our systems. And, again, relatable. And funny, don’t forget funny. So if you want an hour of queer observation, both inward and outward, be that sap and find it on Netflix.

Stand & Deliver

Can you imagine looking this hot just standing still, in one place, without moving, and casually having your hand in your pocket? Right. Neither can I. Thank Lesbian Jesus for middle-aged actresses. * low whistle forever * Anyway, happy Hump Day. Carry on, if you can.

A Second Bite

I will openly admit one of my kinks is watching beautiful women cook and eat food. So these days the return of “Taste the Nation” is very high on my Things To Be Happy About list (look, sometimes you gotta keep a list because sometimes a person forgets). Padma Lakshmi eating her way through America again? Yeah, I’m suddenly famished. Also, did y’all watch Kristen Kish’s new show “Restaurants at the End of the World?” If not, make it a double-header and watch both. Second dinner sounds good to me right about now, and other stuff.

Music Monday: Happy Blogiversary To Me

Well, well, well. Seventeen years. Almost old enough to vote. But still too young for a cocktail. America, you weirdo about ages. Anyway, it’s my Blogiversary today. Seventeen years ago I decided, gosh, a blog might be fun to write. I can do that. And here we are. I want to thank everyone, as always, for coming back and reading day after day after week after month after year after years. I always want to thank everyone for your stunningly generous support through My Little Life Implosion and its subsequent Fund.

I won’t lie, things are still tough sometimes. More times than I’d like, obviously. And I am still working my way through my inbox and various thank yous because sometimes a seemingly simple task feels altogether impossible. I’ve always had the “impossible task” I’ve dreaded and procrastinated about throughout my life. During high school it was the AP summer school classes I took to get ahead (basically, it meant I felt guilty all summer long for not studying for the end-of-summer test). Like I was saying, I’m working on it.

Right, so, all that was probably too much information about my life. But I just wanted to again thank you for coming back and reading my takes on pop culture and politics and the universe et al. And, if by chance you feel like tipping your host again this blogiversary, well, I will always be thankful for your generosity in all of its forms. I might not get around to saying thank you explicitly like I should. But know, please, how deeply thankful I am for all of the community, support and warm wishes.

How to Donate:

Venmo: @Dorothy-Snarker
Paypal: idgie2@hotmail.com

p.s. Did I deliver on my month-long Music Monday 90s theme with some bookend Alanis or what? And Naked Alanis at that. Happy Monday, kittens.

My Weekend Crush

God, I’m so fucking excited for this big-hearted show to come back. It’s truly a minor miracle we got a second season at all, considering there are queers on this show and it’s on the streamer formerly known as HBO Max. But there’s a dead lesbian in the backstory already, so maybe they thought they’d give this one a mulligan this once. I just can’t say enough about this sweet, quirky, entirely Midwestern look at the oddballs and everyday people among us. The delicious weirdness of family and friendships as adults is treated with an eye for the absurdity — and if we’re lucky, rare ecstasy — of daily life. I just, I just love this show. Catch the second season starting this Sunday and who knows we might even get a third season. Happy Weekend, all.

Get Into My Car

Kittens, should I be watching the new Perry Mason show? Like I had heard the HBO Max (sorry, totally just MAX) series had a lesbian couple in its second season. But, um, I somehow was not expecting the 1930s lavish luxury of it all. The soft, sensual saxophonic score. The gorgeous Auburn convertible (yes, I researched it). The epic golden hour light. I half expect Katharine Hepburn to saunter in in a sensible pair of pants carrying a tray filled with Tom Collins cocktails. But I’ll take this beautifully lit kiss instead. So, yeah, I should maybe start watching this show, no?

p.s. Seriously this is now the sexiest lesbian car committed to screen. Definitely sexier than Carol’s Packard.

Regime Change

Oooh, are you ready for Kate Winslet to be bad again? Like authoritarian fascist regime bad? (Kinda like her character in the Divergent series, but with some European aristocracy attached). “The Regime” (formerly “The Palace”) is a satire that follows “one year within the walls of the palace of a modern European regime as it begins to unravel.” Kate plays what appears to be the country’s ruthless chancellor thus giving her seemingly endless opportunities to twitch her eye to signal something like this one goes to the firing squad or scream into an endless forrest. You know, normal regime stuff. I’d watch Kate chew almost any scenery, so I’m hopeful this Stephen Fears-helmed Max (shudder) series will make the most of their very talented cast. Also more Martha Plimpton, because always give me more Martha Plimpton.

Foster The Night

Welcome to MAX week where I continue to complain about one of the best networks/streamers (HBO/HBO Max) now just being Max and adding a bunch of dumb Discovery shit and unwanted Harry Potter content to our lives. But, because exceptions prove the rule, there are some new shows coming up that certainly pique my very lesbian interest. Like, hello, Jodie Foster. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in a police uniform before and, welp. I know ACAB, but how about fictional cops? Those iceberg-blue eyes and that deep queer lady catnip voice. Oops, did I just do a crime? My bad, arrest me.

Now, I was going to watch “True Detective: Night Country” anyway because it’s a crime drama with co-female leads in Jodie as Chief of Police Liz Danvers and boxer-turned-actress Kali Reis as Detective Evangeline Navarro. But I know (thanks, Autostraddle) that I’m not the only one who raised a bit of an eyebrow at the enemies-plus-benefits potential of Jodie and Kali’s characters. Like that first look Det. Navarro gives Danvers in the trailer? Like, you could singe toast on that. And Jodie rasping, “We’re just going to do this one thing, work together to close this case and that’s it for the two of us.” Like, backstory. We DEMAND backstory. Is this a “Vigil” situation? Please may my wishful gay thinking be right this time. Like they couldn’t have included this maybe they’re cuddling for warmth, maybe they’re born with The Gay shot in the teaser trailer just to pull the old Are They Lesbianing Together Sweeps Week gag, would they? Guess we’ll find out sometime later this year.

Music Monday: Jill Sobule Edition

Yes, the 90s nostalgia continues and I’m not even a little sorry about it. Remember Jill Sobule? Remember that other “I Kissed a Girl” song from 1995 (not the aughts song over a decade later about cherry Chapstick from that reformed Christian singer)? I sure do. The difference was one was about exploration and the other about exploitation, and of course the presence of THE Fabio. Jill Sobule is among that plucky class of female singer-songwriters with guitars trying to be heard above the synthesized din of that era’s reigning boy and girl bands of the late 90s and early 00s. She always had such a joyful, winsome way about her. Her biggest hits, “I Kissed a Girl” and “Supermodel,” were wonderful little windows into womanhood (well, I mean not so wonderful in the case of “Supermodel,” but real). Earlier this year Jill celebrated the two-year anniversary of her successful brain surgery. Yes, brain surgery. She had been diagnosed with essential tremors, making performing difficult near impossible. She posted a clip of herself, in the operating room, with her guitar. With sensitive brain surgeries like this, they often want the subject to be awake to test their faculties and in Jill’s case her hands. So, she played ”Supermodel” while they operated on her brain which is so rock star I can’t even stand it. Like Mick, Bono and Bruce could never. Keep on strumming, Jill, Happy Monday, kittens.

My Weekend Crush

Fine, omg, I’m a freaking lesbian cliché. I love Boygenius and their sad, sensitive lesbian music. I spent all last Sunday gardening in the beautiful sunshine to their new album “The Record.” And I am now a complete mess/emotionally exhausted and also completely hooked. OK, I get it, Youths. You were right. The supergroup of Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and Lucy Dacus are amazing together.

Yes, they sing about being 27. But something about the crystalline emotions of our younger selves continues to resonate through the ages. Nothing stings like the first heartbreak, but every heartbreak will always hurt anew like the first time somehow. If you’re a gal who loves the lyrics like me, shit, you’re going to awaken so many ghosts, old and new, to gently haunt your heart.

Like, have you ever wept while pulling weeds and listening to the aching specificity of “Cool About It?” Because I have. And have you longed for the chance to be devastated by the same soul through space and time and rebirth like “We’re In Love?” That sure hits different while potting your tomatoes for the season.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve listened less to music. Mostly, honestly, I listen in the car. But sometimes, like last weekend, I remember how it feels to immerse myself and let the sonic feelings just wash over me again. I haven’t stopped listening all week. Maybe you’ll like a sensory dip into the girl geniuses of Boygenius too, if you haven’t already. Happy weekend, all.

p.s. Also Kristen Stewart directed this and the film (and three music videos) for “The Record” in case you needed even MORE lesbo street cred.

Pottermore? Please, Potterless

You know that gif of Michael Scott where he is just like, “Noooooooo!” Yeah, that’s how I feel about the new Harry Potter series coming to Max (not HBO Max, because the fucking Discovery Channel bought one the best TV brands - and film brands with Warner Brothers - in existence only to destroy it from within, but I digress). Yesterday the multi-billion dollar multi-media conglomerate announced they’d inked a new deal with none other than THE Transphobe Supreme JK Rowling for a new exhaustive (and exhaustingly gross, honestly) new “Harry Potter” TV series. She who I wish we didn’t have to keep naming will serve as executive producer and nicely pad her existing billions. Wonderful, thrilling, no notes whatsoever! Just kidding, let’s Avada Kedavra that news with fire!

Making this deal even more gross is its scope and cost. The books will become a “decade-long series” with an entirely new cast. To make it they’re forking over a “Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon”-sized budget, or even higher. So that’s $125 million and up, folks. Gosh, what good in the world could $125 million a year accomplish other than continuing to enrich a billionaire transphobe? Probably nothing, so might as well give it to Joanne.

An executive at the streamer formerly known as HBO Max told The Hollywood Reporter: “[It] will be that scale or higher. Whatever it takes to make a quality show.”

Well, here’s a thought. To make a quality show please start with quality people, and Rowling is definitely not that — not anymore and not for a long time. The thing is, people change. She has changed. And the person she is now is blinkered by her staggering wealth, siloed thinking and misguided attempt at so-called feminist advocacy. (Also, if she was such an ardent feminist, why create an elaborate fantasy universe with a cis white straight boy as its ultimate namesake hero? Like, you have the entire universe and that’s as far as your imagination extends? Weakest of sauce.)

I enjoyed the Harry Potter film series (I’m a tad old for the books, to be honest). And I really enjoyed their casts. But I have no reason to return to that world of wizarding as is because it contains nothing new and instead comes from someone who now harbors hateful ideologies. The best stories, the ones we hold dearest, root for the underdog. But when the champion of the underdogs becomes a bully instead, we all lose.

Right now, trans people are among the most maligned, the most discriminated against, the most vulnerable among us. This year already some 417 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced in state legislatures across the country, according to American Civil Liberties Union. Most of these focus on education and health care and public access — basically just trying to ban trans people out of public existence. Now, remind me again, what kind of people like to eradicate entire groups of marginalized people from the planet? Not good ones, that’s for sure.

I think the bare minimum we can do as consumers is to be judicious about what we give our money and attention to. Sure, some conflicts are unavoidable because phrases like “multi-billion dollar multi-media conglomerate” exist and so much is owned by so few. But there’s no reason to get back on the Hogwart’s Express at this time. Just like I won’t be watching or rewatching the works of Woody Allen or Roman Polanski (and, truly, a host of other gross men) anymore, I won’t be revisiting Joanne’s Potterverse. New times demand new stories. Let’s go find and support those instead in this for the next decade and beyond.

Marvels-ous!

Well, now, doesn’t this look fun? I enjoyed “Captain Marvel” because female superhero badassery, duh. And I enjoyed Monica Rambeau in “WandaVision” and briefly “She-Hulk.” And, yes, I enjoyed “Ms. Marvel” because isn’t it great when more young, diverse characters enter a cinematic universe. So, all three? And they kind Freaky Friday around each other? Yes, three times YES. I still don’t understand why Disney decided to push this back from the summer to November, typically when award season prestige pieces get trotted into the autumnal light. But I am just excited to be excited for another female-led superhero movie that looks like a lot of fun instead of super, deadly serious. And colorful! Amd KITTENS! (Well, I mean, they look like kittens and that’s good enough for me.) Go team!

Tank Top Tuesday: Our Favorite Florist

Would you like to see Lena Headey in a tank top and pork pie hat and leather suspenders? Stupid question, here you go. The occasion for Lena’s arrival in said tanky porky leathery goodness is her signing on to a new TV series, which could turn into another epic series. She will star as the matriarch in the new 1850s Oregon frontier show “The Abandons.” Sounds like super serious Oregon Trail to me, but what do I know. I’m not a showrunner who was unceremoniously fired from his own series for being, in his own words, an “abrasive dick” on set. But then I’m also not Kurt Sutter, who made “Sons of Anarchy” and “Mayans MC” so I guess is allowed an extravagant third chance despite the being a dick stuff. Now, full disclosure, I’ve never watched any of Sutter’s work because I’m not a dude biker and don’t care. But his stuff has been critically lauded, so I guess that makes it all good. I don’t know if this is another Cersei role for Lena — the mad matriarch who would do anything for her children. I hope it’s a good working environment for her and she continues to thrive. Because, as we all know, she’s not a wanker. Or No. 9. I wonder how her new character feels about flowers.

Music Monday: Oughta Edition

Well, as long as we’re in our 90s feels this month, how about THE Angry Breakup Song of the 90s this fine Monday? Why, yes, last weekend did mark six months since My Little Life Implosion. Why do you ask? Happy Monday, kittens.

My Weekend Crush

I believe we have reached the age of the Drew Barrymore Renaissance. If you are a person in my Gen X age bracket, then you basically grew up alongside Drew Barrymore. She was in commercials before she was out of diapers, and by the ripe old ages of 5 already in the pictures (thanks to her debut in “Altered States”) and then by the decrepit age of 7 she was a bona fide movie star (hello, “E.T.”). Now, some may call her one of the O.G. nepo babies (I mean, that Barrymore name). But a family business is a family business. What Drew really stands for is the incredible perseverance and power it takes to overcome everyone’s worst assumptions in a dehumanizing system that sees beautiful, talented young women as nothing more than commodities.

And, if we didn’t all live through it with her, you’d hardly think her feat possible. The way Hollywood chews up and spits out its stars. The way Drew went from childhood darling to teenage Lolita to twentysomething wild thing to thirtysomething rom-com queen is a testament to her staying power, sure. But also an indictment of the boxes we shove young women into. The whiplash-inducing characterization of Drew from adorable child sprite to “hide your fully grown men, here comes a slutty teenager” was stunning in the worst way. Honestly, dissertations could — and should — be written about it.

But now, here Drew is in her late 40s beaming into people’s living rooms every afternoon as her daytime talk show continues to grow in popularity because, let’s face it, she’s wildly charismatic, likable and — most important of all — real. How can she not be, we’ve all watched her grow up. We’ve all watched her make mistakes. We’ve all watched her be herself. And, best of all, we’ve all watched her endure, survive and — thankfully — thrive. Honestly, Drew should have “The Tonight Show” or a “Late Show” or any of the other prestige talk show slots instead of daytime (not that there’s anything wrong with daytime, but we all know the menfolk think it’s below them). Like will her career ever escape sexism? Will we all? Sigh, forever.

And, on a shallow note, omfg do I love her long hair, drapey suit looks of late. Respectfully, of course. Anyway, cast more middle-aged women in things because we are fucking amazing and have no more fucks to give.

Like here is Drew experiencing her first hot flash, on air.

And here is Drew talking about alcoholism with Melanie Lynskey and husband Jason Ritter (which, what an extraordinarily honest moment for everyone involved).

On her show, we’ve seen Drew talk about her addictions, talk about her past, talk about her perimenopause, talk about feeling worthy of someone else’s love and not just the “bad girl” everyone made her out to be. It’s wonderful to see someone express their authentic self, and it’s a gift to let the world into that journey as well. I hope for nothing but the best for Drew going forward. I can’t wait to watch her little sideways way of talking until we’re all gray and wrinkly together. I hope Hollywood stops grinding young women down to almost nothing for its own enjoyment. But I know not to hold my breath. So just be kind to yourself, we’re all just works in progress — no matter what the world says about us. Happy weekend, all.

Mother May They

Can you believe, as much as us gays rightfully love her, Anne Hathaway has never played gay? Sure she was in “Brokeback Mountain” and being in “The Devil Wears Prada” gets her free drinks at the gay bar for life. But on screen? Yeah, everyone’s favorite grown-up Theater Kid has never — at least that I can recall — made out with a lady for our pleasure on the large or small screen. Until, that is, now.

Anne has signed on to the new A24 film (that’s the studio behind “Everything Everywhere All At Once” and “Moonlight”) alongside Michaela Coel of “I May Destroy You” and “Chewing Gum” fame. In it, the two women play lovers (but is either named Cindi — I know, that’s a deep cut) where “a fictional musician” (Anne) is in a relationship with an “iconic fashion designer” (Michaela). The film called “Mother Mary” is being described as an “epic pop melodrama,” and will have original music by Charli XCX and Jack Antonoff.

I’m pretty excited to see what this movie is all about, honestly. I think Anne and Michaela will make a stunning on screen pair. I am visualizing it now. I am happy about visualizing it now. I’ll be in my bunk until this comes out, I guess.

Double Trouble

Hey, remember when I said the new Rachel Weisz Prime Video series “Dead Ringers” looked crazysexycool and alsogay? Well, now we’ve got a full trailer to confirm our hopes, dreams and unhealthy delusions. It does indeed look crazy and sexy and cool and bloody and probably unethical and definitely gay. Weirdly enough, I get a little Fleabag vibe from the trailer, what with all the camera asides. But with the themes of mad science and apparently capitalism instead of grief and love. I’m intrigued, I’m ready for the glorious gayness and I’m not all that hopeful that any of the queers or non-queers will make it out alive. But two Rachel Weiszs chewing up and spitting out the scenery and everything for the price of one, well, who can turn that down? I sure can’t.

Brie on Lesbian Toast

So, here’s a question. Did Harper's Bazaar dress Brie Larson specifically to appeal to lesbians and queer women or did the Harper's Bazaar dress Brie Larson specifically to appeal to lesbians and queer women for their for their Reinvention Issue? Because, truly, there is no other way to interpret this styling. For instance, on the cover she’s giving early 90s Marky Mark. All she needs is Kate Moss glued to her side.

And then here, well, the tank top and cowboy boots require no explanation to lesbians. (I mean it is a Tuesday.)

Not to mention the inability to sit in a chair as it was intended.

In conclusion, thank you whatever stylist was looking out for us queer ladies and made us feel loved and seen with this photoshoot.

Music Monday: Cannonball Edition

Thirty years later, and “Cannonball” is still one of the coolest songs to ever. Period. End of sentence. Why am I still writing? Oh yeah, because The Breeders remain my seminal indie alt-rock band. The band that helped me leap from my Top 40 love (which, no disrespect, I still love me some pop effervescence). But The Breeders was probably the first true indie alt-rock band I adored back back back in the day. (Sure, I loved the Indigo Girls and Ani DiFranco in those days too, but they weren’t really a band, you know?) I saw them during college and it felt like rock and roll should feel. All raw energy and disheveled charisma. It probably also helped that my first girlfriend/first love was totally in love with Kim Deal. And while The Breeders weren’t necessarily part of the Riot Grrrl aesthetic (they’re from Ohio, not the Pacific Northwest, after all), they always felt like some of the most authentic girl alt-rock bands around. Also, Kim and Kelley Deal were hot sisters who played guitar and screamed into microphones (and don’t sleep on Josephine Wiggs, who is the one apparently out lesbian member of the band). So, you know, guess it’s time to dig out my “Last Splash” CD and crank up the volume. Welcome to April, little libertines. Happy Monday, kittens.