Desperate Holidays

I'm twenty minutes through Desperate Housewives and having Gale-Harold-withdrawal shakes. He's "getting stitches" which is code for we-have-no-idea-when-he'll-be-back. How will I endure the long months until his return? My holiday wishes have been answered in that he'll recover. His health is more important than the show (but why is he on Earth if not to entertain me?).

Thanksgiving is over and Dish will arm herself for the next two hurdles--Christmas and New Year's Eve. Holidays are a trifecta of madness. The pretending everything is perfect, just the way you planned, the toasty hearth/home celebrations, overeating, and someone usually has an uncomfortable public moment (okay, that's me). After so many years, I am getting used to the roller coaster. I love my family, I enjoy egg nog, and Superman keeps talking about a present for me. That is close enough to perfect.

Love in the Time of Ego Waffles

Dish is so proud to have spent yesterday watching literary movies. The message of Elizabeth: The Golden Age: being a virgin queen sucks so bad they had to make two movies about her. You can survive spinstertown if you have a good career, fake wings, and white makeup. The message of Love in the Time of Cholera: If you wait for a woman for 53 years, 11 months and 7 days--even after she makes you cry and vomit, then ditches you for the less sexy Benjamin Bratt--you need a hobby. Also, I learned that Liev Schreiber can do everything—except a Spanish accent.

Time to fly. Superman is taking me to the oh-so glamorous Foxwoods where I can totally be like Eva Green to his James Bond while he plays poker. I had to do some Black Friday shopping in my desperate efforts to be prettier than Superman. This is a relationship of substance and maturity.

Ps. A reliable Dish source reports that opera goddess Marilyn Horne is in town.

Dish: The Golden Age

Instead of cholera, I tuned in to Elizabeth: The Golden Age. Some drunk person once told me I had the potential to resemble Cate Blanchett if I tried really hard to lose 100 pounds, go through years of vocal training, then minor plastic surgery. Poor Virgin Queen (yeah, me too). Clive Owen always appears to eff up those celibacy vows. Elizabeth was like: Don't sail away, I forbid you. And Clive was like: I belong on the water and not untying your untried corsette (though I'll totally bonk your lady-in-waiting). Elizabeth got piiisssseeedddd and threw herself even more at Clive (who was just not that into her). That's the problem with Clive. He could have easily gotten a 2-for-1 deal, receiving even more barf-wagons for the high seas and twice the sex. Even if you are queen, you have to play by The Rules (or find someone much younger). Okay, there was a bit more to this movie, but as Virgin Queen of my universe, I fear my memory is selective.

In other news: Duran Duran had to cancel show dates because Nick Rhodes has an ear infection. Flying would rupture our little lamby's ear drum. Stars always provide good lessons for the little people. I am so developing an ear infection the next time I have to fly.

Madonna and A-Rod

2gether 4ever? I don't think so. Madonna still hasn't met her match in terms of superstardom (though Sean Penn was oh-so-close). Now if Jesus were alive... Because M's divorcing, this fling with a mortal is understandable. After bad breakups, you need someone really good-looking to reinflate the ego and tell you you're pretty (Thank you, Superman). So, everyone should ignore the secret meetings between Mad-Rod. Not True Blue.

Covert Thanksgiving Posting

Dish just snuck out of dinner to post. Dishmama, Dishbrother, and Dishbrotherfriend are toiling in the kitchen and I'm here being sneaky. Tee hee! Dish not helping! Despite minor avoidance of family, I am thankful for mine. They make all the difference.

Did everyone watch the Barbara Walters Obama interview last night? I heart Michelle and am looking forward to wearing fun bright dresses to emulate her style. Thought Barbara's showing of her dog Chacha made her seem a little insane. But some people are crazy when it comes to their pets. I made mine wear a bra once.

Tonight, it's all about Lifetime or Love in the Time of Cholera -- an uplifting feel-good epic that tugs at the heartstrings (or rather Javier Bardem is a candidate for sexiest creepy guy alive). I hear Javier and Penelope might be on shaky ground.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Imagine...

It's too exciting. SVU is full of squeaky voices tonight with Brenda Blethyn and Didi Conn as guest stars. Throw in Captain Honeycutt from M*A*S*H and I'm on Cloud Nine (Major Frank Burns was my fave, tho). Tonight's television more than meets my escapist needs.

In the vein of discovering things way after the fact (Dexter, The Bedazzler, Pearl Jam), I just started watching Mad Men and I'm hooked. My fave is Don Draper's wife, January Jones, who's been cool since Love Actually where she played an easy American ho--a role most of us have played on visits to Europe. While the show is so sexist as to be progressive, the female roles are excellent. We know what Dish is doing with her Thanksgiving week -- wearing scarves and pointy bras (drinking in the afternoon)!

People's Sexiest Man Alive is...

FAAAAAAAABULOUS! Dish endorses Hugh Jackman as King of the Universe. I won't admit it publicly but I bought my mother Kate & Leopold (which lives on my bookshelf). It involves history, another reason I love Hugh. For his smarts (he wears too much clothing). He cherishes the past and has done several period pieces. Not only can he wear Regency clothing, he sings on Broadway. Is there anyone more suited (campaign for GH begins now)?

Life can't get any better. Can it? It CAN! Steven Seagal is doing a reality show about being a cop in New Orleans. I'm so running down to Bourbon Street to break a window and steal me some pastries. I want to get collared by Steven Seagal!!!!

Despite all attempts to eff up my holidays, I'm giddy. Superman is taking me away on our first mini-break. We all know how that helped Bridget and Hugh Grant, but Dish will wear long scarf that flaps out window as Superman whisks us across buccolic Connecticut. V. romantic.

Twilight

I'm trying to sport a middle-aged maternal/inappropriate crush on the teen vampire in Twilight but I kinda think someone stepped on his face. Unlike everyone, I couldn't get into the book (or any of the Harry Potters) but I smell mania. Maybe I'll pretend I'm into it! Dish will do anything to be hip. Okay, that's not true.