Entertainment Weekly #1348/1349:
I have subscribed to Entertainment Weekly since I was a fat and pimply youth. To me, it was always an escape into a world that I wanted part of. I was never cut out to be an actor, even though Nathan Lane has said differently, and I never really could do more than pleasantly butcher a show tune, so the life of a star was sadly not in the cards. I’m only a quarter of the way through life, so who knows? Other jobs beside main talent exist; there are writers and directors and agents and people who get to lunch at the Chateau Marmont everyday in Saint Laurent sunglasses. I don’t remember where I was going with this, just that I love Hollywood and that this glossy magazine represents it to me. The content has been decidedly uninteresting of late. How many covers are they going to give to yet another Marvel comic or some horrible youth fiction adaptation? Finally, though, they have redeemed themselves with their annual Oscar special. There was an article about Mr. Blackwell, for god’s sake! I thought everybody had forgotten about him. He singlehandedly created the red carpet fashion critiques! If it wasn’t for him, Joan Rivers may have just been a legendary comic and not a legendary comic and fashionista! There is a fantastic line where Mr. Blackwell talks about seeing Joan Crawford talking to herself in the mirror saying, “I am Joan Crawford. I am Joan Crawford. I am.” Isn’t that fabulous? Just as wonderful as this article was an interview with Olivia de Havilland! I got a bit teary-eyed remembering the death of her sister, my friend, Joan Fontaine. Remember when Joan bummed five bucks off of me? Of course you do! The interview with Olivia was perfection, and she spoke eloquently of how she hopes to live to one hundred years old — only two more years — and, most excitingly, about how she is hard at work on her memoirs. That will be an amazing read. She is the last of the stars of the Golden Era, the time that inspires me more than any other in cinema history. I wrote effusive feedback to the magazine — hopefully they’ll publish it, they’ve done it several times before! Get the issue, readers. Weep openly over it.
Zayn’s New Hair:
Zayn Malik’s hair is more important to me than everything else. World politics matter nothing when it comes to a discussion of Zayn’s perfect locks. I care nothing for global warming or war when we start talking about Zayn’s latest hairstyle. He is an amazing young man — so beautiful and so talented and with such excellent follicles. I have been watching it grow to bun stage with great joy and rapture and a nearly religious fervor. This will forever be my favorite hairstyle and I repeat it on the regular: SO, imagine my absolute horror when he posted a selfie with the sides of his head shaved quite nearly next to his scalp, as seen above! I was agape. I was agog! I was in agony. It was far too much for me. I nearly leapt from this mortal coil. Depression overwhelmed me. Finally, though, he shared another picture where we could see the full extent of the style. It’s hella short on the sides and hella long on top and I hella love it. He can still put it in a bun. #blessed. It took a lot of restraint to keep myself from speed walking to my hair people. It’s fabulous.
Madonna and I know what’s up. I wish Madonna was my friend. I feel we would get along really great. We’d post tons of pictures of ourselves sweating at her gym on Instagram and use foul language and curse the people that leaked our new duet. I wouldn’t join her frequent skiing excursions, but horseback riding trips with the children would be loads of fun. Anyway, Madonna loves Miley Cyrus. And so do I. I’m not totally crazy about her current public persona, but I feel that she is going to be around for decades. I would probably enjoy it more if what she was doing made any sense. But, if I have learned anything from the art appreciation class that I’m taking, it’s that art does not have to make sense and we, unfortunately, don’t have to force the artists to explain themselves. Anyway, beyond her look, her music is flawless, and BANGERZ should surely win the Grammy for best album. I listened to it on repeat last night whilst doing some chores and it really motivated me, especially, “On My Own.” Don’t even get me started on “Party in the USA. I feel, with the entirety of my soul and from the depths of my heart, that this song is the greatest achievement of mankind. No song ever written better understands me. It’s not about just the Hollywood sign or cardigans or a Britney song, it’s the spirit of adventure and fun and dreams coming true. Miley is a queen and delight, and I love her.
California Trip this Summer:
I am four thousand shades of turnt up for my upcoming trip to California. I don’t think I’ve written about this, yet, but if I have, oh well. Jessica and I are staying in North America this year, which is really awkward for us. We are much more accustomed to holidaying abroad in Europe in the summer months. How strange this will be. We will begin our excursion in San Francisco and it’s going to be wonderful! I’ll drag Jessica up and down the Golden Gate Bridge, we will go to Green’s restaurant, we will beat our feet up and down Union Street — uh oh, it’s happening:
We will go to the bakeries and eat soup out of bread bowls. We will go to ghost tours on Alcatraz. We will worship at the altar of MUJI. And then we will see the boys! We have good tickets to the One Direction concert and it’ll be perfection. From San Francisco, we’ll head south and maybe see my cousin for a bit. I hope so. Then off to my darling, beloved Los Angeles. It’s going to be hella emotional for me to return to that city I love so much. It’s odd how my passion for it has grown. We’ll pretend we’re celebrities at the Chateau Marmont, eat all the food at the Veggie Grill, eat all the food at Potato Chips Deli, hike through Runyon Canyon and live off of Jamba Juice and Sprinkles cupcakes. It’s going to be fabulous.
Skinny Girl Monk Fruit Sweetener:
Many years ago, I took myself on a little trip to the south of France to get out of the cold Parisian winter and reinvigorate myself after stressful testing at Le Cordon Bleu. That is a very pretentious opener. My apologies. Anyway, while I was there, sunbathing on my balcony in the Hôtel Welcome, I passed away an afternoon sipping on white wine and reading the autobiography of Gloria Swanson. That’s a remarkable read, and I became very intrigued by her last husband, who started a crusade against sugar. He wrote a book, an excellent one, too, called Sugar Blues, which is about all the detrimental things sugar does to you. This really influenced me, and for a while I completely removed refined sugar from my diet. This became impractical. I’m a baker and sugar is kind of important. So I explored things like Stevia and other artificial sweeteners, and several years later discovered these squeezable sweeteners by Skinny Girl. They come in a variety of compounds and my favorite is made of monk fruit. It makes me tea taste the best — especially Moroccan mint tea. It’s like being back at the mosque in Paris. No calories and so very sweet. I love it.
I am awfully fond of Giuliana Rancic. This began two years ago when I attended a special showing of her reality series at the Grove in Los Angeles. She and her husband were there, and I was absolutely charmed by her sense of humor. Such sass and sarcasm! She is also, of course, on Fashion Police, which is one of my favorite shows. Then, Joan died, and I thought that the show might not continue on, and if it didn’t continue on, I thought that it may be for the best. At first, I was right, but as the show has progressed over the course of a few episodes, it finally found its groove. And that groove is Giuliana. She is now the sass master of the program and is consistently making me laugh more than anybody else. I tweeted this last night and she responded!
It was tremendously sweet of her, and I’m now her biggest fan. Everybody bow down to the QUEEN of E!
My Coke Rewards Redesign:
I get, probably, a dozen magazines each month. I don’t pay for any of them. Well, in a roundabout kind of way, I pay for them. I use the little codes underneath Coke bottles. They add up reasonably quickly, so suddenly you’ve got 250 points worth and a new magazine in the mail. I have been doing this for over half a decade. All of a sudden, the website, which has remained the same (and perfectly manageable, mind you) since I began, changed FOR THE WORST. Now it is clunky and slow and they beg you to link your social media accounts. I don’t need everybody on Facebook to know that I’m putting in Coke points. I don’t need them to know anything about that. I hate all these businesses in social media. It’s creepy and uninteresting. So, I was hella pissed about the website, which didn’t work at all for a few days. Now it functions, albeit barely. I will still enter points. Free magazines are too good a deal to pass up because I’m irked. Still. UGH.
Nonexistent Time Management:
I have tried a million different ways to manage my time, and everything I do seems to go up in flames. Most successful is a weekly agenda that I print off and fill in with all the tasks I need to accomplish each day. This goes great for the first two or three days, but then by the end of the week, I just cannot be bothered. Irksomely, my disdain for achievement reached new heights last night. All I had to do to finish my list for the day was wash the dishes. I couldn’t bring myself to it. Instead, I read my book and cleaned the house and brushed the cats and took a nap and looked up the personal lives of famous detective novelists. It was a productive evening, but I didn’t get everything I needed done. I feel like I write this every week. Le sigh…I just need to retrain my brain.
I keep trying to enjoy fitness and convince myself that stepping up on the treadmill is a good idea. I wrote about pushups a while ago in such a positive light that I believed I liked doing them for quite a while. I think I might have, but that is just further evidence that the mind is more powerful than the body. I am going to keep doing it, but I have realized that it’s just not fun at all and I hate everything about it. Can’t I just get surgery for all of this? I’d rather work at a second job for a decade to pay off my plastic surgery bills than work out. It’s just not fun.