Sunday, March 20, 2016

Star-Sighting--Bobby Flay Strolling on the Highline

Foodies everywhere rejoice! In celebration of the Vernal Equinox, Dish took a nature-focused stroll on that overrated amazing walkway called the Highline. The only thing that would truly amaze me about this site is if you could get high while walking it...or see a celeb!

As hubby and I were navigating the slow pokes, I spied chef Bobby Flay with a younger model. Some may call the new one an upgrade given her sleepy-eyed youthfulness, how she didn't need makeup to temper that morning after, um, glow. Dish calls this a downgrade, for Stephanie March has an impressive body of work and is no typical blond starlet. Her voice sets her apart, so that you believe she's a prosecutor on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. At the same time, she's beautiful enough so that she can almost (but not quite) share a screen with the spectacular Gale Harold in Falling for Grace. Lastly, Steph did a nice job with Liev Schreiber in the Broadway revival of Talk Radio.

So many thoughts about this sighting. They did look blissful and, in the end, I have to support gingers in their success. Well, except one running for president.

Saturday, March 19, 2016

This Is What the Truth Feels Like

There comes a time in everyone's life when a question is asked: What do I do now?

I've met the man of my dreams. We're married.
I've written a book. I'm working on another one. Okay, three.
I work.
I don't really clean or cook.
I do my best.
We watch TV after work.
I go to the gym.
There are no pets, but I wish I had one.
I am managing my "issues."

So what else?  Is this the time when I go through my diaries and remember golden periods of my life? I could do a podcast or more snapchats, instead of following others. Gardening. Volunteer work.

There are no real problems here, just that pre-old age musing about my place in the world or if it is all just this staring out of these eyes, cataloging what I see, reacting, then refueling the vessel. 

Screw that. Depth is not my thing. Let's talk celebs!

Since November 2015, I've been all about Gwen and Blake. That hasn't changed. Maybe I drifted for a few weeks, but then The Voice came back. Begone, Christina, and bring back that other blonde minx who is my age and still rocking it, even though she uses "literally" incorrectly and literally says it in every other sentence. I diss her because I love her.

With friendship, especially imaginary friendship, it's all about transparency.

This is why Julia is no longer on my radar. She seems to be leading a "private life" with her "family" and doing "serious roles." Gwen can multi-task, she's a giver. Not only does she crank out this cool album, This Is What the Truth Feels Like, but she also uploads a new snapchat video every few hours. I know she takes milk in her tea (or is it almond milk). Her Grammy live video rocked, showing us what an amazing roller-skater she is (me too, GS!). Her three boys are precious, thereby giving me a snippet of that motherhood experience (not really, but the cuteness is appreciated). A testament to her fierceness, she traveled to Japan with a flu-like illness, then did a concert! She attended at least four weddings this year. One minute she's doing an interview--and telling us how it went--the next, she's getting her makeup done by her entourage or flirting with Blake on Twitter. She chews gum too--though I'm an Altoid girl.  I barely have time to register the nuances of our relationship before she's packing up for another trip.

What can I say, her schedule exhausts me, but it also has me thinking, "I really don't do anything close to how much Gwen does." If you know me, you understand that this actually is going through my head.

So here I am again. Dreaming bigger.

Oh, and Hulk Hogan just won a $115 suit against Gawker, which means, either my husband or I will be proposing marriage to the Hulkster very soon. Step aside, ladies.

Thursday, January 14, 2016

Celebrities Must Stay Inside for the Time Being

This week hasn't been kind to the stars. Losing David Bowie was hard enough for Dish, but Alan Rickman, too? Then just this morning, Celine Dion's husband, René Angélil, who discovered her at age 12, also lost his battle with cancer. You know what? Fuck cancer.

How to lift one's spirits after these losses?

Google Gwen and Blake, which I've done. Do a few puzzles--also done. Eat a vanilla kreme donut, yes. Think about how these stars made our lives better. That's easy to do.

I'm insanely lucky that I got to see David Bowie in concert in 1990--the best artist I've ever seen. He created on a different plane from all the rest. Twice, I saw Alan Rickman turn a so-so play on Broadway into something captivating. He was hot, hot, hot as anything he wanted to be--Snape, Colonel Brandon, the crappy husband in Love Actually. And I'm thankful René Angélil found Celine Dion because in 1998, that freaking song "My Heart Will Go On," well, it coaxed a few tears from Dish during a potent Titanic phase (for which I'm ashamed since it is one of the shittiest movies of all time). Also "New Day" was one of my anthems after a particularly awful year.

Our hearts will go on, but they're a little heavier.

And now to watch the hot mess that is the Republican debate, where there are plenty of candidates I'd rather see vanish. I shouldn't say that, should I?  No apologies here. Life is short!

Wednesday, December 09, 2015

Gwen and Blake Are Better Than Reality

When Blake and Gwen became a couple, I threw down my book on Seneca, famous ancient Roman philosopher, and rushed to get the dirt. No need for stoicism when you have Gwen's outrageous outfits, Blake's gut-tickling humor, and three hours a week of sizzling chemistry on The Voice.

The pain I feel over next week's finale cuts deep, and I am hoping tabloids will keep me stocked with pics of their canoodling until next fall. Forget Kim and Kanye's baby deity or Trump's Hitleresque rantings (yes, I said that). You're okay if you focus on Gwake.

With constant Youtubing and TMZing and Googling--sending links to TG, friends and relatives--call me grateful that they've pulled me back into celebrity obsessiveness. Duran Duran just wasn't cutting it even with their excellent new album. After thirty-plus years, there is no hope beyond my usual nosebleed seats, which doesn't appeal to my almost-fifty lazy ass. Screw Seneca and delayed and expensive gratification.

Gwake is free*, immediate and middle-age sassy.

*Not free if you buy Gwen's collaboration with Urban Decay. It's 58$. Yes, I did.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Politicians Are Celebrities, Too

Now that the presidential campaign is in full circus, I'm putting forth ways to survive the next fifteen months.

1. Unfollow Facebook friends who post more than three times about their candidate. It's sort of like those Jenny Craig commercials. Sure, I want to lose weight, sure I wanna eat right. Don't tell me how you did it. Dish discovered that the most annoying are those within her own party. The other side of the aisle friends post far less because they just know.

2. Enjoy the crazy. Really, The Ginger Snap is hilarious, so offensive that I've stopped being offended because my skin is thicker than his (notice how I'm bragging--so like Ginger). We've had insane Presidents before. There are plenty out there ruling other lands. I don't take hyperbolist-misogynists seriously because ...

3. It's going to get a lot worse in a year. Patience is important for any campaign. I got plenty riled up in 2007 but come 2008, my vision of Utopia vanished, for many reasons. I don't believe in Utopia this time and just want someone who can navigate A-hole Waters and won't let my retirement fund go to hell.

4. If you're going to argue about politics, don't do it on social media. Remember the days of arguing over the dinner table? Sadly, my kind-hearted and knowledgeable husband "lost" a Facebook friend because of a political disagreement. In a rash of temper, that friend publicly ended their decades-old friendship, which prompted me to unfriend and permanently ban that person from our lives. It's all really, really stupid.

5. Though odious, put yourself in the shoes of someone whose beliefs are not yours. Isn't that American? I forget to do this, especially when I see posts that are anti-women, anti-LBGT, anti-choice, anti-religious freedom, just anti-everything and nasty. I stew, I rage, and then, after taking it out on my husband, I let the anger pass. Luckily, I live with/have lived with/am related to/love people who think differently. Isn't that nice? Maybe not, but whaddya gonna do, send non-Dish-thinkers to a slaughterhouse?

6.  Know that, the one who spouts fewer clichés will win. In this era of crap, a lot of crap just won't fly. Making America Great Again will sink like a wet cat fart. As will building the middle class and finally making Wall Street pay. I leave those promises to Wonder Woman -- maybe Batman if he runs as an Independent and shows us his breasts. Call me optimistic, but even a Prez needs an X factor these days. Rick Perry should have thought beyond the new glasses--though Dish likes the look.

7. Now is not the time to binge-watch news shows and browse Twitter feeds. Ginger Snap's nightly Town Halls and declarative Tweets have become a snore. Now if Jeb Bush posts swim-trunk shots on his Intagram, I'm there.

Tuesday, December 09, 2014

Which Sandra Bullock Character Are You?

If you want to take this important quiz, click here. Being slightly witchy (in an uptight, constipated way), Dish is Sally Owens from Practical Magic. Can I stir my coffee without using my hand? Only if you assume I put anything in it.

Joaquin Phoenix stunned us all--and by all, I mean me--by announcing his engagement here. My first thought was--and I'm ashamed because I should talk--who would marry this hot mess? TG is the answer.

Today's confession is that I've stopped running. I've stopped exercising and can say now with scientific certainty that not exercising has a terrible effect on the body. The only positive is that I'm very thin, but after reading this Post by Elizabeth Gilbert, I got back on the treadmill today without feeling the urge to flee. Tonight, I will eat carrot cake and every other fattening thing I can find.

Monday, December 08, 2014

Is Amal Pregnant?

After careful examination, Mrs. George Clooney might just be wearing a poofy dress in today's TMZ, but then, if I thought cameras were on me, I'd mess with them big-time and stick out my gut. I hope they keep everyone guessing.
I won't fall for pregnancy rumors since Julia came out in this a few years ago and Dishbrother told me she was preggo with amateur confirmation by Dishbrotherhusband. As it turns out, Julia had had a big lunch and maybe a soy vanilla protein smoothie (this gives Dish major saddlebags).

Still gaga over The Affair. I don't get it since the show is about a  seemingly mundane fling gone awry. Or is it just the godliness trifecta of Dominic West/Ruth Wilson/Pacey that keeps Dish enthralled?

There's nothing else. Except for True Tori (please get those implants taken out. No one cares about your t*ts. It's all about the butt now). Oh, and the Girlfriend's Guide to Divorce, which is surprisingly entertaining. There is much girly whininess, but Lisa Edelstein can make any shit-show shine.

Sunday, December 07, 2014

Catching Up on Reality

18 months ago, I updated this blog every day. What's happened? Though some may beg to differ (*cough*Mom, *cough* TG) am starting to believe that obsessing about the stars might be the key to my mental health.

So for starters, Real Housewives of Beverly Hills: Asslips is on fire, my new favorite character. Her hair is the same, lips the same as the last 25 years. Why mess with what works? She's bubbly, perky and I would like a Lisa Rinna IV in my veins.

Vanderpump Rules: Not so trashy as last season but Kristin is the train wreck that I need. I learned so much from Jax's nose job and Tom, as in how to hide bad-ish skin. Plus, I'm fascinated by how Stassi infiltrates despite having no purpose on the show. Goat cheese balls indeed.

Madam Secretary: Tea Leoni can do no wrong. The implausibility alone makes me bubble over with happiness, like she has time to spend so much time with her family, chat adorably with hubby and look unmussed yet mussed. As I avoid looking at Bebe Newirth's 90s frizz, I focus on Joan from Mad Men's husband who is carving out his own identity.

The Good Wife: Jumped the shark by killing Will. I continue watching because of David Hyde Pierce.

Grey's Anatomy: The show is dying, so returning to the original Meredith/McDreamy conflict. Karev is the only one I'd let operate on me. Praying Geena Davis lives through her brain tumor.

Nashville: Though I wish I were her, Rayna makes one stupid mistake after another--and looks amazing at the same time. Why would you ever choose Luke over Deacon (the alcoholism would be a deal-breaker for Dish)? I live for the ecstatic romantic reunion between either: Juliette and Avery and/or Gunther and the Airhead Who Gets Panic Attacks on Stage.

Because I've binged on every TV show imaginable, I'm rewatching Queer As Folk and understanding once again that in most crises, one must ask: What would Brian Kinney do?

Can't bring myself to discuss Bill Cosby.