Don’t Call My Daughter Boring
When Mindy Kaling’s book came out, I more or less wrote her a gushing love letter. Now that she has a show (with her name in the title) I’m overwhelmed. I mean, in the pilot Mindy talks to a doll at the bottom of a swimming pool while wearing teal sequins, and then gets arrested. Yes, it’s that good.
Please enjoy three of the best Mindy zingers, which you should imagine she delivers with raised eyebrows and a sigh that makes her bangs rustle.
“One time I left a flea market with a samurai sword.”
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“Oh great, we broke this model of the human pelvis.”
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“Maybe I’ll do one of those Eat, Pray, Love things…Ugh, no, I don’t want to pray. I’ll just die alone.”
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I would be extra happy if we could all decide to watch this show without remarking on Mindy’s gender, race, age, or funny female predecessors. Or, like the Onion says, Bridesmaids. Lofty goals.
The Fairest One of All
I started watching Once Upon A Time last weekend while it rained and rained and rained. The first pleasant, relaxing thought that comes into one’s head upon seeing Mary Margaret Blanchard’s apartment is “Yes, that’s just how I pictured Snow White’s home would look if she was unknowingly trapped in a small 21st century town, living as an elementary school teacher who favors cardigans and coma patients.” (Spoiler alert!) The second thought one has is “Oh, I see the set decorators raided Anthropologie.” I even own Mary Margaret’s monogram mug. Mmmm.
This is such an adorable studio space: exposed brick, lots of distressed white wood, vintage and painted housewares. There’s even a second bedroom loft area which Once Upon A Time is refusing to let me see, though the centrally-located stairs are a nifty touch.
These pictures would be better if the actors weren’t always annoyingly in the way. Side note: Jennifer Morrison wears the same pair of jeans in every episode. Also, this beautiful Irish creature is on the show.
I’m headed to Seattle this morning for about a week to earn the Seattleite Badge and listen to some music in heaven. Talk to you soon, and please have a wonderful Labor Day weekend!
Frozen Skinny Lovers Found on 10th Street
“You know of course you’re unbearably lovely. All indications point to my falling in love with you.”
“I feel like we’ve died and gone to heaven, only we had to climb up.”
“What do you need gloves for? It’s only 30 degrees.”
“It’s really very simple. All you have to do is give up a little bit of yourself for him. Don’t make everything a game; just late at night in that little room upstairs. Take care of him. Make him feel important. If you can do that you’ll have a happy and wonderful marriage, like two out of every ten couples.”
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My dad watches Barefoot in the Park whenever it airs on the classic film channels. This is especially surprising because I can list on less than one hand the movies for which I’ve seen him stay awake: The Last Samurai, The Bourne Identity, and Titanic, perhaps because we saw it in theaters.
Corie Bratter is so exhaustingly earnest about her husband and her marriage, like it really is the greatest calling in life to care for a tiny, powder blue walk-up in Greenwich Village, and she would gladly throw herself out the sixth-floor window if everything isn’t perfect always. In her defense, concessions must be made if Robert Redford is your husband. Especially if it’s a goofy, drunk Robert Redford who tries unsuccessfully to hide his booze from his new homeless friend. Well done, Neil Simon.
Maybe my dad sometimes wishes for a Mad Men, Norman Rockwell life. Maybe he appreciates Simon’s combination of comedic excellence and realism.
Or maybe he likes Jane Fonda in fitted turtlenecks. Well done, Edith Head.
Honey Badger Just Takes What It Wants
You guys, I have been living under a rock. (I didn’t know it. My rock has lots of natural light, and a Whole Foods.) I’d never seen a How It Should Have Ended video, unlike nearly 320 million other people. Oops. Sometimes, the cartoons point out absurd plot holes. Other times, they make iconic fictional characters talk like whiny teenagers. Win. Win.
The Avengers
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Harry Potter, with a brilliant Gandalf cameo
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LOST
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Twilight
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Honorable Mentions
Titanic: ”Now I’m gonna have to find some wreckage and let you float on it, or else I’m a huge douchebag.”
300: “And that is how Leonidus became president of the universe.”
Lord of the Rings: “Can you imagine what it would be like if we had walked the entire way? One of us might have died!”
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Have a fantastic weekend! I’ll be preparing for the hurricane that’s coming to destroy me, along with 45,000 journalists, tourists, and Republicans. Probably in divine retribution.
Gold At Both Ends
pleated dress • metal cuff • leather-inset earrings • studded belt • foldover clutch • pumps
New York Fashion Week approaches. I decided to plan a few outfits for the shows I would attend if my life was as glamorous and pampered as I pretend it is in the shower. BCBG appears early in the schedule, and this ensemble — tailored dress in a bright pattern, spiced with punky accessories — creates the right “feminine with a twist” aesthetic which BCBG commands. I’m unsure about the shoes; a black heeled sandal works. What do you think? Naturally, all shoes chosen for fashion week must be wildly inappropriate for walking more than three blocks.
“Dare to love yourself as if you were a rainbow with gold at both ends.” -Aberjhani
Time’s Uncertain Wing
If you were coming in the fall,
I ‘d brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.
If I could see you in a year,
I ‘d wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.
If only centuries delayed,
I ‘d count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen’s land.
If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I ‘d toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.
But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time’s uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.
-Emily Dickinson
Courier New, A Magical Font
I watched Hannibal Buress on John Oliver’s New York Stand-Up Show, a series which collects what I think is John Oliver and a bunch of his friends in a downtown New York theater for some awkward, ironic humor. (I’m trying to figure out how to become one of these people.) Hannibal, who wrote for Saturday Night Live and 30 Rock, creates veering, unexpected jokes that force — rather than suggest — laughter. With even, mellow voice and small presence, the calm demeanor with which Hannibal blunders along exposes thoughtful, accessible, and surprising humor.
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Conan: “That’s not your real phone. You’re just going to use that phone to make one call to get somebody murdered.”
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John Oliver’s New York Stand-Up Show: “You need to learn some customer service skills and get yourself a blue shirt.”
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The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson: ”I really want to be a firefighter, so I can drive the fire SUV.”
