Archive | May, 2009

Dear Lindsay Lohan

18 May

Dear Lindsay Lohan,

All right, love, it’s past time.

The Fug Girls have said it well here, here, here, and here.

But now it’s time for my two cents: it’s business time. Buckle down, eat some doughnuts, wash them down with a milkshake, hand anybody some twenties to buy you some clothes (trust me, it’ll be an improvement), and show up on time, every day for your next role.

Maybe give Tina Fey a call and see if she’ll give you a hug.

And that guy from Man v. Food– he’ll give you some restaurant recommendations– and maybe Stacy and Clinton too.

In short, it’s time to give yourself just a little love and respect. You were so loooovely in Mean Girls.

All the best- really!- it’s time to start!



Dear Dancing With The Stars

13 May

Dear Dancing With The Stars,

I’ll admit it, I was reluctant at first to join your fans. I stand by the fact that I don’t like reality TV. (Oh, except for Project Runway. And Top Chef. And What Not To Wear. And Say Yes to the Dress. And Ace of Cakes, and Iron Chef… And DWTS. But those don’t count, right?)

But I watched one episode this season and fell madly in love. First off, as a child who grew up watching musicals and thinks it’s near criminal that my boyfriend G has never seen The Sound of Music (Come on! He know the songs but not where they’re from??? Or the immensity of their emotional impact. According to wikipedia, “During the Cold War, the BBC planned to broadcast The Sound of Music on radio in the event of a nuclear strike on the United Kingdom. The broadcast would be part of an emergency timetable of programs designed to “reassure” the public in the aftermath of the attack” Now that’s a musical that’s part of the zeitgeist). Like I was saying, as someone who cannot not watch a musical when it airs on TV, DWTS has a few crucial things that make me pre-programmed to love it: music and dance. Combined. And people who have dreams…don’t we all…and a lot of glitter and not very much actual dress.

Which, in a way, made me sad to see Edyta go. Even though it was high time Lawrence Taylor high-tailed it out of there. And after Julianne and Chuck’s repeated attempts to get down and dirty on the dance floor (some more successful than others, some more…distasteful than others), I was ready for him to take his pretty face back on tour. Eventually, my point being, I believe, that I think the right person has gone home throughout the season. Way to be, America.

Until last week, when as much as I’m glad Ty Murray made it through until then, it was time he hit the trail. Lil’ Kim really deserved to go to the semi-finals. And yes, yes, Ty gets Most Improved and Hardest Worker and yada yada yada. But he sucks! He’s endearing, and man he can hold a frame– but as he’s said and others, That’s what he does! Hold on! And it’s all he does. He’s still chasing Chelsie around the dance floor like– well, like she’s the bull and he fell off and is trying to get back on. But as Ty himself said in one of his greatest moments of dirty-straightface-campfire talk, “If more bulls looked like that, there’d be more bullriders.” You can almost believe he doesn’t know what he just said…

But Lil’ Kim! As my sister said, perhaps correctly, “I was thinking about it, and maybe Lil’ Kim doesn’t actually have that many fans anymore.” …Fair. But she was fabulous on DWTS. She was fun to watch and fun on the dance floor and it was really fun to try to guess each week why her torso looks so out of proportion to the rest of her. (Has she had ribs taken out? Is it really just her exercise ball butt and boobs? Maybe she no longer has a stomach…) And she inspired fabulous moments from uptight Lynn as even he couldn’t resist commenting on her “bionic booty.” (A phrase DWTS now needs to put to rest. Overuse, people! It kills things!) Plus, Derek Hough is a joy to watch and I hope he gets the part in Footloose, which I totally saw mentioned in an above-website banner that I refused to click on because I refuse to click on those things.

Anyway, my favorites throughout the season remain Gilles Mirini’s Argentine Tango (so hot my sister and her boyfriend immediately signed up for dance class and by golly, I did my best to join them but ultimately failed to convince my dance partner) and Shawn Johnson’s Cha Cha to P.Y.T. And lest we forget, nice choreography from the professionals. I keep those two episodes on my DVR and watch them occasionally. I mean…I love football. And G can protest all he wants, I can’t turn on DWTS without him sitting down on the couch. Usually with a newspaper in his hand, but it’s quickly forgotten. That’s right. I said it.

And Melissa, I admit the way you handle yourself, and good on you for behaving well in a bad situation. And how many women have been told after a bad break-up, throughout the entire history of modern society and possibly back into cave-time I just don’t have the proof, go take a class?  (I still don’t really want you to win.  Then again, I don’t like The Bachelor, and all this girl next door stuff is nonsense.  You do have a great smile though, and I want your stomach for beach season.  Though not enough to start doing sit-ups.)

At any rate, Melissa, Gilles and Shawn were the final three from the get-go, and this is now an embarrassingly long letter to DWTS. What can I say?

Best of luck,


Dear Expatriates

7 May

Dear Expatriates,

I hope your travels are going well.

I wish that you are baking good bread and eating it slowly; buying your meat, cheese, and produce at different stores along the same street on your way home; living in old building with windows that open outwards.  I wish that you are learning new curse words and listening anew to old ones spoken with funny accents; that you hear church bells ring each hour; or birdcalls sound each morning.  I wish for you new kinds of soft cheeses and a voice for yelling at futbol games and a willingness to drink your coffee black.

Learn your new country’s language and system of government and computer keyboards and twisty or straightforward streets.  Learn one neighborhood well and the feel of your bed and the sound of night, morning, and midday.

Then forgive us, reclaim us, remember how you loved American authors and holidays as a child.

Come home.  Teach us what you know.



Dear Craigslist

7 May

Dear Craigslist,

I appreciate the valuable service you provide for our community.  For the most part, you are organized very well, and I find you convenient and easy to use.

But– and this is a big but– man, there are some wackjobs out there!  People who want places to live for $1, somebody looking for a place to live with her “Outlawed breed” of dog– what is that, an actual wolf???  People airing all their personal problems– in the housing wanted section?  “My wife divorced me because I gambled all our money, can’t pay a deposit up front but will totally teach you how to roll ‘cigarettes’ in exchange for your couch I’m a 60 year old  man with a potbelly down past my personal areas and if you want to experiment I’m up for that too if you know what I mean oh and I play the drums hope that’s ok.”

To which I say– Thanks for letting me know, I’ll definitely be emailing you to see if something can work out.

If ever I didn’t wonder about the people in line next to me at the grocery store…

And yet– yet!– everyone I know really loves you, Craigslist, and I do too.  The success stories of roommates and furniture and vacation homes and pets!  The fairytales of help that appears after a fire has destroyed a wedding dress, or you know, when you really need a $15 ping pong table by this weekend.

But also, CL (may I call you that?  I feel like we’ve spent enough hours together to take this next step) the font of information you are!  I am overwhelmed.  The sheer volume of posts, the amazing number of participants.  The people willing to spend their precious, precious time flagging other people’s posts for no good reason and blocking them from being able to post innocuous ads about extra houseplants they’re willing to give away.  The lack or abundance of images!  The terrible, terrible pictures of corners that show you nothing about a house you are committing you, your furniture, and your houseplants to for nothing less than your first baseball mitt and half of your savings!  And still, when I need a place to go…right back into your wide, wide arms, that catch everything, but unfortunately that includes…

the crazies.  Let’s go back to the crazies.  I’m not talking about the personals, people, I’m talking about the ones who want to “sleep on your couch with my boyfriend while we go to a concert in Seattle– oh yes and I’m vegetarian so please throw out any meat in your house.”

And the spelling errors!   The spine-shuddering grammar!  Oh, I could go on.

But I spent hours today combing you looking for somebody to be my new best friend for $3 and lots of hugs, soooo…I’m going to sit back and let the emails roll in.  (I anonymized mine of course, I don’t want the nutters to know my interwebs info! Duh.) (I tried the jobs wanted section.  That seems good, right?)

Thanks, Craigslist!  Talk to you soon!



Dear Swine Flu

2 May

Dear Swine Flu,

Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not a hypochondriac.  I get legitimately sick.  A lot.

Kind of an absurd amount, actually, and sometimes doctors prove themselves incapable of figuring out what’s wrong.  Like the time I had stomach pain for about eight going on fortyeleven months and they said, “Well, sometimes all we can do is rule out the bad stuff.  The good news is, you don’t have cancer.  Let me know if it gets worse and until then we’ll just have to wait it out.”

We’ll just have to wait it out??? Excuse me, I will just have to wait out.  And wait it out I did, and I had a drink two months ago and didn’t immediately throw up or double over in pain and it was glorious.

The point is– well, let’s see, this year I had:

  • whooping cough (yes.  the whoop.)
  • five colds
  • three of which turned into sinus infections
  • unexplained waves of nausea
  • among other things

I’ve been on antibiotics five times in the last four months.  I catch everything and I almost always get the worse-case symptoms, and it almost always turns into something bacterial rather than just viral.

So swine flu?  I see you!  And I’m not scared of you.

Ha!  The flu?  After having the whooping cough, I scoff at you.

35,000 people a year die of the flu.  (My neighbor just told me so and I’m sure she got it from a reliable source and if you’re interested, look it up yourself.  I’m not in school so I don’t have to cite.)

Honestly, most people who have died of the swine flu live in rural Mexico and are the elderly or the very young, and those are the people who die of flu every year– which is tragic and terrible and we really should do something about it.

STOP THE PANIC, PEOPLE.  Swine flu, get gone.

This whole “swine” label is really a nice piece of Global Panic Inducing marketing.

Mostly, though, it’s validating my germaphobe side.  Swine flu, in and of itself, is not making me wash my hands a lot and want to avoid touching people.  I always should have done those things, considering the state of my immune system, and now I have a continual reminder to– and the best part– now it’s socially acceptable!

In (somewhat poor but unrelated) health,


PS– A nice commentary on the spreading panic:


how the swine flu spread...

how the swine flu spread...

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