Martha, Martha, Martha

BF and I don't disagree often, but when we do, it's usually about celebrities (Does the Oscar Curse exist--I say yes, he says no; Hugh Grant's career died after the prostitute bj--I say no, he says yes). The other day, on a street corner, we bickered about whether or not Martha Stewart was a good thing. She broke the law, she's mean, she makes people feel bad about their lack of housekeeping/cooking skills, contends BF. Who doesn't break the law (Dish once shoplifted four Duran Duran filled teen magazines by stuffing them down her pants) and she makes us aspire to beautify the little things, I assert. Lots of people are mean and "a good thing." Supposedly Bill Clinton flies into tantrums, yet is beloved. Barbra Streisand f*&ck-sh&ts her way through movie shoots and is revered for her brilliance. I don't want to be Martha, but I'm mesmerized by her gift. She inspired me to bake a coconut cream pie from scratch and I pride myself on knowing how to fold fitted sheets. Not sure I will glitterize Styrofoam skulls for Halloween, but I'll watch her do it.

And for an older broad, she's kind of hot. C'mon. You know you were thinking the same thing.