Sauced Silverscreen: Gypsy (1962) & the other half-bottle of Lulu B. Pinot Noir

I started watching Gypsy on Sunday evening a week ago and the first half hour just dragged. But I knew Natalie Wood made an appearance in this film and I was determined to tough it out and see her part. I told Buddy Holly if she showed up and it still dragged, we'd just drop it. So on we went through some more plot exposition and singing, and then Natalie Wood appeared and it was still boring and then, just when I was about to give up hope, she started singing to a lamb wearing a diaper.

Me: You know what's weird about this movie? All the songs are really specific. Rather than a song about love or a person, it's about what's happening right at that moment. It's like a Taylor Swift song.

Buddy Holly: You know what's weird about this movie? She's singing to a lamb wearing a diaper.
Me: ...Yeah...turn it off, I'm going to have to start it over and blog about it. This is too ridiculous to not have its own entry.

So, here we are. I knew I'd need alcohol to get through this one, so grab something to drink and come hear the tale of Gypsy Rose Lee.

Sauced Silverscreen: Girl Vs. Monster (2012) & Lulu B. Pinot Noir

Buddy Holly's youngest brother (he's 12) is spending the night with us and plead a desperate case to watch a movie he'd seen promos for all week. He was very excited about this movie and assured us that it was a "mature, Halloween film." Girl Vs. Monster, a Disney Channel Monstober special. Obviously, a mature film. But, being the loving siblings we are, Buddy Holly and I agreed to watch. And I immediately went out and bought an emergency bottle of wine.

Book Haul!

So, our local used book store had a tent sale this week. Buddy Holly and I didn't have time to go until yesterday, so pickings were kind of slim. There was a lot of Danielle Steel, Tom Clancy, Star Trek, and *shudder* the Left Behind series. But I did find some great books! We had car problems at the beginning of the month, so I had to leave a few behind *weeps* but am delighted with my bounty.

Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
This was on my to-read list. I've never read Patchett but it was recommended by Christina of Reader of Fictions, so I bought it.


The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver
I love The Poisonwood Bible, so I was on the lookout for any of Kingsolver's works. So glad I found one!


Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
On my to-read list. I've wanted to watch the movie for a long time but have been waiting to read the book first. I'm uber-excited to have gotten a 1945 Little, Brown and Company edition! U.S. First Edition for a dollar SCORE!


Wobegon Boy by Garrison Keillor
Garrison Keillor and The Prairie Home Companion make me happy but I had no idea he wrote books. I'm hoping this turns out funny ha-ha.


September by Rosamunde Pilcher
I totally chose this book because of it's name. September is my favorite month. I was born in September. September ushers in Autumn, the best of all seasons. As it turns out, this novel is set in Scotland, which is also in its favor. Let's hope it lives up to its name!


I had been hoping to find a copy of L.M. Montgomery's The Blue Castle; I've been searching for that book for quite some time. I think eventually I will give up and just order it online but not yet. I have it in my head that there will be this wonderful, meet-cute moment in a little antique shop or quiet, out of the way book store where I'll happen upon the perfect edition for the perfect price. I'm strange.

I Hate My Job

I work for a church and, for the most part, it's pretty great. I work with and for wonderful people. I can listen to Pandora or old time radio all day. I can check my facebook, email, twitter, and news feeds anytime I want. But I hate my job when:

Top Ten "I can't believe I'm listening to this drivel"

There are some terrible songs out there. Insipid songs, boring songs, songs with no musicality. But there are some songs that are terrible on principle, whose lyrics suggest some pretty awful things. And I hate myself when I sing along because, damnit, they're catchy too.

10. S&M (Rhianna):
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but chains and whips excite me
For someone with domestic abuse in their past, I feel like this was a bad choice. I mean, it's a bad choice no matter what, songs about fetishes rank high on the TMI scale, but, particularly if you've suffered physical abuse, it seems to be in bad taste.

9. Tonight (Enrique Inglesias):
I'm not even going to put the lyrics for this one. If you haven't heard the song, you can find it. Essentially, it goes something like "I'm [profanity for intercourse]-ing you tonight." Buddy Holly and I have a theory that as we lose all modesty or skill for innuendo, music will eventually just describe the sex act in scientific detail. To be fair, it won't just be in music. There is a distinct regression in the sexual innuendo used in James Bond films. In the twenty-two Broccoli franchise films we've gone from such delightfully clever repartee as "That's a nice little bit of nothing your almost wearing" or "I won't be needing these" (said of oysters on the half-shell) to "I don't like cock fights." *facepalm*

8. Don't Trust Me (3oh3):
Shush girl, shut your lips,
do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips
I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. Not only a slander at Helen Keller but pretty much all women. This is right up there with Dr. Pepper 10's great 'not for women' advertising campaign.

7. Peacock (Katy Perry):
Katy Perry took a lot of flack for I Kissed a Girl, another catchy tune that many find questionable, but that song has never bothered me overly much. She isn't my favorite artist but I also wouldn't call her the worst, I enjoyed Friday Night and Hot N Cold. But this song was inexcusable. A terribly flimsy innuendo without a hint of wit. I'm also not really sure what the song is supposed to achieve, except for the wild panting of fanboys everywhere, of course.

6. California Girls (Katy Perry):
We'll melt your Popsicle
Yeah, I know, two strikes against her. I also dislike Fireworks but only because it's trite and overplayed. This one is not to be confused with the California Girls of the Beach Boys. The lyrics here are not the worst though the tone of the song seems to suggest the loose ways of the feminine population in California. It's really the music video that is so offensive - the disturbing fantasies of a Candy Land fetishist.

5. Just a Toy (Tommy Sands & Annette Funicello):
In this movie, Mary Quite Contrary and Tom Thumb make a visit to Toyland (amongst other things). Whilst helping the Toymaker make toys for Christmas. As they clean up the toyshop for the evening, Mary begins to sing about a doll and what her life must be like, waiting for the joy of being found on Christmas morning and finally belonging. Then Tom begins singing:
I love to see 'neath my Christmas tree
one special doll meant for me.
Smiling eyes, silken hair
you'll need such loving care,
you're just a toy.
You were planned and designed
with one person in mind,
to hold you and keep you forever,
and you'll live for the love
and the happiness of
this lonely boy
and each night he will say
in a whimsical way,
you're just a toy.
Yes, you, my beloved, are an inanimate, immobile object that can neither think nor speak. You will "live for the love and the happiness of" your predetermined mate. Each evening he will whimsically mock your static circumstance.

4. Bobby's Girl (Marcie Blane):
When people ask of me
what would you like to be
now that you're not a kid anymore
I know just what to say,
I answer right away,
there's just one thing
I've been wishing for...


I want to be Bobby's girl,
I want to be Bobby's girl
that's the most important thing to me
and if I was Bobby's girl,
if I was Bobby's girl,
what a faithful, thankful girl I'd be.
Aspiring, from a young age, to be the girl of a particular guy seems like aiming low. No other aspirations? No desire to see the world? Or make the perfect souffle? No bucket list? Just Bobby's girl, huh? Mk, then.

3. Baby It's Cold Outside (various artists):
Widely recognized as the Christmas date-rape song, owing much to a single line, "Say what's in this drink?", though "The answer is 'no'" is a nice follow up too. But, despite it's questionable lyrics, it remains one of the most popular Christmas duets in existence. The most upsetting of these is the She & Him version with a role reversal.

2. Wishin' & Hopin' (Dusty Springfield):
You gotta show him that you care just for him,
do the things he likes to do,
wear your hair just for me,
'cause you won't get him,
thinkin' and a prayin',
wishin' and a hopin'
I love this song, I do. It's so much fun, especially as the credits for My Best Friend's Wedding. But it is a truth universally acknowledged that the only way to get your man is to change everything about yourself for him. Hide your personality, forget everything that you enjoy, mold yourself to your love.

1. Standing on the Corner (Dean Martin):
This hurts the most because I love Dean Martin so very much. I sing along to this every time I listen to my Dino album, it can't be helped. But it is so creepifying and awful:
Standing on a corner watching all the girls go by,
standing on a corner watching all the girls go by.
Brother, you don't know a nicer occupation,
matter of fact, neither do I,
than standing on a corner watching all the girls,
watching all the girls, watching all the girls go by.


I'm the cat that got the cream.
Haven't got a girl but I can dream.
Haven't got a girl but I can wish,
so I'll take me down to Main Street
and that's where I select my imaginary dish.


Standing on a corner watching all the girls go by,
standing on a corner giving all the girls the eye.
Brother, if you've got a rich imagination,
give it a whirl, give it a try,
try standing on a corner watching all the girls,
watching all the girls, watching all the girls go by.


Brother, you can't go to jail for what you're thinking
or for that woo look in your eye,
standing on the corner watching all the girls
watching all the girls, watching all the girls go by.


Okay, folks, what songs have I missed. What awful song can you not help singing along to?

Conversations with my husband, text edition

Status update seen on Facebook: Never, ever apologize for anything that makes you happy.
I immediately text Buddy Holly.

Me: I wish I knew [Facebook acquaintance] better. Her status says, "Never, ever apologize for anything that makes you happy." And I REALLY want to respond, "Except maybe rape. Or Necrophilia."
Buddy Holly: lol. Ya.
Buddy Holly: Or if you're addicted to said thing.
Buddy Holly: Or if what makes you happy is infidelity.
Me: Or incest.
Me: Or genocide.

Conversations with my husband, Sunday edition

Our church has beautiful modern stained glass windows. By modern, I mean they don't have people. The subjects of the windows are Christian symbols, like a baptismal shell, crosses, communion chalice, rather than Biblical scenes. Which I appreciate because I always think stained glass window people look kind of silly, unless they're iconized (no, that is not a word) or made to look more like cartoons. Anyway, during service on Sunday, Buddy Holly was trying to decipher the meanings of the symbols and running them by me.
Buddy Holly: Okay, that one has a crown and INRI was the plaque nailed to the top of the cross. I get that. And the one next to it has a PX, which has something do with peace.
Me: Yes, "pax" means peace in Latin.
Buddy Holly: And then there's the dove, which is a symbol of peace throughout the Bible. And, what the hell is the last one? An albatross descending into hell?
Me: An albatross? Really?
Buddy Holly: Yeah, you just can't see the guy.
Me: The guy?
Buddy Holly: Yeah, the guy killed the albatross and is wearing it on the end of a necklace around his neck, and the albatross is dragging the guy into hell.
Me: That's a phoenix. You know, rising from the flames. Resurrection.
Buddy Holly: Well that's not Christian. I mean, resurrection is but the phoenix is not a Christian symbol. Obviously, that's an albatross dragging a guy into hell.
Me: I think you need to reread the Bible and The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner.
Buddy Holly: I'm pretty sure The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner is a book of the Bible.

I love a husband who mixes his literature and theology.

Conversations with my husband, Saturday edition

I just finished reading The Hunger Games this weekend, because who isn't reading The Hunger Games? I don't normally go for things when they're at their height. I waited years to read Harry Potter and, if you've seen my King's Speech post, you know that I'm not always on the edge of incoming media. I probably wouldn't have gotten to Hunger Games for a while were it not that my book club is reading them. But I am glad that I have read them and I'm desperate for Buddy Holly to read them so that I can talk to him about them.

He's all like: "Well, talk to me about it anyway and then I'll read them."
And I'm all like: "No! That's spoils it. I don't want to ruin it because so much of this book is about following the flow of the story and wanting to know more."
And then I'm like: "Well, okay, so there's a love triangle and I was really worried they'd make the decision for the main character, make it easy. Which they kind of did but not in the way I thought. Like, I thought one of them was going to die, which didn't happen but there were substantial reasons given to take one of them out of the running. And the choice she made was the one she would have made anyway but it was just made so much easier for her and I'm kind of disappointed in that."
And he's like: "Okay."

If you've read the books, I think you know what I mean. Buddy Holly obviously didn't. Now, I just need to wait about a decade or so to see the movies.

I've got nothing

Not really. I've got lots. I've got rhythm. I've got music. I've got my man. Who could ask for anything more? Okay, Gershwin aside, I'm quite content. Home, family, puppies, writing when I've got the time. A church member donated a new computer and I didn't lose everything in the crash. It's the quiet before the Lenten storm. I'm attempting to show Buddy Holly all of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of the James Bond movies at the same time.

Buddy Holly turns twenty-five this week but we're waiting to celebrate his birthday and having a SuperBowl party. I'm making fancy (in the most manly way possible) cupcakes. I'll try to remember to take pictures of my success (or failure).

I get my Christmas present this Friday! We're going to the theatre. We'll be dressing up and I'll be wearing opera length gloves that are in the mail. I have a blue gown, a bridesmaid dress, and will be styling myself after Anastasia. I'll try to remember to take a picture of that too. Perhaps even with my music box. It's the hair I'll have trouble with. My hair is quite fine (in the thinnest sense of the word) and does not take to fancy styling, or curling, or volume, or doing much of anything.

So, when I say I've got nothing, it's more that I don't have anything to rant about just now. How boring.

I just finished Gilda Radner's autobiography It's Always Something. The biography, originally meant to describe the humor of her life. took a different turn when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 1986. She battled it, it went into remission, and then claimed her life in 1989. It was not at all what I expected it to be. I think I was expecting Tina Fey (Bossypants is also a very good autobiography) but, of course, it wasn't because I got Gilda.  She writes about having to find herself, her Gilda-ness, over and over. In the midst of the pain and despair, she talks about losing the clown, the Roseanne Roseannadanna, and having to discover it all over again. It's inspiring and bittersweet. She died of cancer in the end but, I imagine, Gilda would never say she lost or that she wasn't a victor because she learned to live life when she had it and to fight the cancer and the depression it inspires.

Next up is The Great Gatsby because I've never read it.

Tour: The Niche

Welcome to The Niche. The new writing room. To make myself come up here and work I decided to gather around me all the things that inspire me. 

The desk is an antique. It belonged to my great-great-grandmother and matches a dresser in our bedroom. It's quite beat up and does not have the width for a normal office chair but I love it. Buddy Holly keeps threatening to replace it with a proper computer desk and I won't let him. I will chain myself to this desk if I have to.

The oriental rug I got from Church. 

My Japanese calligraphy set and dishes.
There's a second dish off to the left.  

My Chinese tea cup.
This was bought from the tea house at the Summer Palace in Beijing.

I have no idea how to justify these trinkets. They were given to me and I love them.
The dog is carved from wood, my grandmother made it for my dollhouse,
styled after our family's golden retriever.

My Anastasia music box.

My parents gave us this frame.

I've never changed the original paper advertisement out of it.

My Japanese prints. A friend from Kobe gave them to me.

Fountains Abbey, Ripon, England - my favorite spot in the world.

My motto.

I set up two cork-boards to pin ideas too. But they were pretty bland, so I made them pretty.

The postcard is from the Opera Populaire,
better known as the opera belonging to one Phantom.

 Snur collected X-Men cards when we were kids. I don't know where they are now but, before they disappeared, I pilfered two cards. One is Domino and, of course, my idol, Shadowcat. 

All that's missing is a couch. And then the writing...of course.

A few of my favorite things

I had to be at work at 6:15 this morning and I have a half-hour commute. Consequently, I've had quite a bit of coffee. Caffeine and I do not mix well. Or perhaps we mix very well because it is very effective. I am typing like a manaic right now. How do maniacs type?

Anyway, since I got to work so early, I chilled out and watched the Pilot of Once Upon a Time for the first 45 minutes while I ate coffee cake and drank hot cocoa laced with coffee and cinnamon creamer. Delicious. The drink and the show. Belle and I were discussing how surprised we've been at the number of splendid television shows this Fall. For the past while my main TV entertainment has been in disc format from Netflix (Tudors, Scrubs, 30Rock etc.), shows that are complete or nearing completion. The only show I have kept up with that is still active is Castle, which is dear to me. But this season I have found new favorites! Pan Am, Up All Night, New Girl, and now Once Upon a Time. Well done predominantly ABC! Particularly Pan Am and Once Upon a Time have captured my attention and I encourage you to give them a look-see on Hulu - if you're into history in the case of Pan Am or fairytales retold in the case of Once Upon a Time. That's where I watch them because both air on Sundays, which in our household is devoted to football and Buddy Holly's Fantasty Football writing. So, there's that.

You know what else I love? Norwegian Fjord horses. Really, I love all horses. Morgans, Freisians, etc. Horses with pep, get-up-and-go. I'd rather have to rein in a horse than coax it along with a nudge every five seconds. But Norwegian Fjord's are delightful. They are small but strong and steady. They also resemble prehistoric horses, which had toes, which is cool.

I also love feeds, Google reader, and blogs. Blogs that make me want to accomplish more, write more often, really work on making something out of Fabled Orxata, finish my short stories (or my, shh, novel), bake, photograph, read, go for a hike. There's a link roll on the right but of honorable mention are:
A Beautiful Mess - these ladies always make me want to put on make-up, put my hair up, and pull out a cute vintage dress. I don't usually have the energy for that but they make me want to.
Joy the Baker - Joy is a recent discovery courtesy of StumpleUpon (we'll get back to that in a moment) but, just in the little I've been able to read, she is a marvel in the kitchen and a great photographer.
Ms. Snarky's Awesometastic Comics Blog - I love comics, graphic novels, and manga and Ms. Snarky makes that okay. Also, as the name suggests, she's my favorite kind of snark.
Occupation: Girl - I've been following Cleolinda for many a year. And so should you.
Reader of Fictions - I have the distinct pleasure of being personally acquainted with this blogger. I love trying to keep up with her library and have a growing list of books to lend from the library on her recommendation.
The Bloggess - There aren't words. I was introduced to The Bloggess through Beyonce the Giant Metal Chicken but have since made room in my heart for Copernicus the homicidal monkey, a haunted doll house, and the myriad of delightful and snarky things Jenny brings to her blog.

I have a Gmail label devoted to Cooking, I also have one for Shopping (things I want to own), Travel (places I need to go and tips on how to get there), and Writing (my list of resources). I email, text, and leave voicemails for myself constantly updating these. My Cooking label is an archive of delicious recipies I want to try. Collected from everywhere. Mostly baked goods because I am addicted to such things but there's some healthy stuff with avocadoes and chicken pot pie in there too. I love tucking away recipes.

I love the StumbleUpon app on my smartphone. This is the greatest time spender when waiting in line. It is great finding new things - wacky, serious, educational, edible, a plethora of undiscovered items. I StumbledUpon Joy the Baker, a recipe for Butterbeer, a picture of a spaniel with wheels instead of back legs going crazy in some leaves, and, just recently...

Drinkify. Input to whom you're listening and Drinkify will tell you the perfect accompanying libation. I have yet to stump this device and I listen to some ecclectic stuff. Fantastic. P.S. a bottle (as opposed to a glass) of red wine is the suggested drink for listening to Dean Martin. Right on.

Fighting Evil by Moonlight...

Buddy Holly and I decided on Halloween costumes today. Obviously the year's most important decision. I went through a number of ideas. Let's look at whatever ones I can recall, shall we?

Aplomb

I'm getting older. It's attacking me from all sides. I decided long ago to accept age with grace and aplomb (haha, yeah right), to not fight wrinkles at the age of thirty and, depending how soon it kicks in, not dye my hair. We'll see, I'm only twenty-four just now, but it is humorous to see how quickly age is catching me up. Time is often depicted as a relentless creep, something that stalks you with slow steps. But it seems to me (at the moment, at least) that age pounced upon me. I went from a college gal, pulling all-nighters and making 3:00am doughnut runs, to a stodgy spinster, who also happens to be ironically married, in a matter of months. Really, if I weren't allergic to them, we'd probably have ten cats (please don't mention that two dogs is roughly the size equivalent of ten cats). Now, there are a few things that I choose to do (or not do) which aid in my aging process:
1. Lack of exercise. Gosh, I'd love to be someone who enjoys exercise but frankly, walking the dogs and some light yoga is about as active as I get. With Winter coming on, my chances of waking early enough to get my heart rate going is drastically decreasing. I've noticed I'm not as flexible as I once was, even in normal stretches, and my knees make a definitive cracking sound when I crouch. Maybe I should work on that.
2. As before stated, I love anything vintage. My particular eras are the 1920's-1950's. If I had been my age in 1947, I would have been born in 1923 which would make me roughly 88 about now. And, let's face it, somewhere inside, I am 88. We watch the Wheel of Fortune, daily. Also, I'm cold, so go put on a sweater.
3. I have the taste palate of an old person. Dried apricots? Yummy. Stew? Tasty! Hot cup of tea? Daily necessity.

In a few years, when Buddy Holly and I have children, I will quickly devolve into a Mom-Jeans wearing, Mom-translator needing, Honda Odyssey driving, out of touch, suburbanite. I am proud to say that I currently do not drink coffee. Caffeine dramatically affects me and I've managed to maintain a normal lifestyle without it. I recognize that will change the instant I have a newborn.

What really brought the aging process home for me today was that I spent about 20 minutes of my lunch break compiling a list of weekly TV shows I'd like to keep up on. Because I can't remember what night Up All Night is on (Wednesday) and I sure as hell don't know which channel New Girl belongs to (FOX). Next thing you know, I'll have that little slip of paper taped to the back of the remote which tells me what number each channel is. I actually don't know what number each channel is. I let Buddy Holly figure that out.

Anyway, bedtime is ten latest in our house. I love Werther's and hard peppermint candies. I'm worried about seeing the Beach Boys in concert because the show doesn't start till 8 and how will I stay awake? And I do have a grey hair, just the one though and I keep plucking it. But I think I'm okay with getting older, remember aplomb. Now that age has made a significant leap into my life, I'm hoping to plateau for the next thirty years or so. Anyway, if you really want to feel old ask an eleven-year old if they know who the guy from the Hanes commercial is. If you don't have an eleven-year old handy, just visit this XKCD.

Modern Woman 2

You may or may not be aware of the DC Comics reboot. If you are not aware, DC Comics is issuing a reboot of their comics, all of them. In this reboot they have stated a desire to broaden their target markets and provide comics for more minorities. In an attempt to broaden the comic market to women they have rebooted the Catwoman and Red Hood and the Outlaws comics (among others I'm assuming, but these are the ones in the press). For more on this situation please check out these blogs:
Comics Alliance: the review getting the media attention, not particularly safe for work
Ms. Snarky: a slightly less vitriolic response but none the less powerful
Michele Lee: perhaps the most meaningful response DC could choose to listen to

In any event, Buddy Holly and I have been discussing this situation since 9:30 this evening (it's 1:00). He is now zonked out asleep because men seem to have the ability to go from 60mph to 0 in a few seconds flat. I meanwhile am wide awake. We discussed a lot of things both directly related to the DC reboot and wild, unrelated tangents but the reason I'm typing to you in a dark living room now is because one facet of this situation goes back to my previous post.

In this strange, transitional period where equality between the genders is, at once, a "Well, duh" situation and yet not widely practiced, I am bothered that equality for women has really just led to more work for us*. We are expected to not only be "chefs in the kitchen, ladies in the living room, and whores in the bedroom" but also well-adjusted, ball-busting, go-getting workforce powerhouses. Who has the time? I'd be delighted to make my living as wife/mother/mistress but give me the space to do so. Let's get one thing straight, being a homemaker is a career and being a mother is a full-time job. So if you want me to keep the house clean, rear the children, and have a nutritional supper on the table by six, then let me quit my day job. If you expect me to be woman enough to manage a household then be man enough to afford it. Because there is no way in hell you can expect me to work the same hours you do and come home to manage all the chores you are too tired to do.

Also, as a side note, Gentlemen, women generally have a running list of things that need to be done going in their heads. It is often distracting. If you helped check a few items off that list, we'd have more time to think about sex. It's hard to get your engine revving when you just remembered the towels need to be folded. And I'm sure you'd say that the towels could wait and they probably can but it will still be in the back of a woman's mind, niggling and distracting her from the pleasure at hand. Just something to think about.

As a final note, I would like to ensure the readers that Buddy Holly is not a chauvinistic prig. He felt the Comics Alliance article was a bit too harsh, especially in light that the artists/writers are at the whim of corporate marketing and marketing dictates that sex sells, especially to a predominantly male audience. We agree that the broader issue underlying this symptom is a problem (one not easily remedied) and that, while the execution of "sexually liberated" female characters was not well done, it is not fair to kill the artistic messengers (they don't know any better).

In the end, I am glad that articles and posts like the above-stated are being made. They are small steps in bringing equality to realization. Now is not the time to be quiet and compliant and I hope that DC will take these responses into consideration. There is already a female fan base and we have asked for strong, powerful, sexual heroines. Don't give us prudes, that's not what we're asking for, but don't feed us male fantasies and then tell us they should be our own. I don't need to see a Batman butt-shot but I also don't need to see Catwoman (or Starfire) shagging anything that moves. Give me a woman who is aware of her sexual prowess (and uses it to her advantage) but not one who is defined by it.

*I am also bothered that sexual liberation means that women can now be sluts without the previous shame consequences. Why didn't we instead raise the bar and expect male sexuality to be beholden to higher standards? An example, in Iron Man 2, Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) and Natalie Rushman (Scarlett Johansson) are entering the expo center. Rather than viewing this from above or beside, we watch from behind and below. It is a deliberate cinematic choice to watch their tight, pencil-skirt clad asses ascend a set of stairs. Brief, entirely unnecessary, and it drives me crazy. To make this situation right, I do not want to see a towel-clad Robert Downey Jr. or his butt in a nice tuxedo. I don't need to be stooped to a lower sexual level to even the playing field. I'd rather they removed these altogether. I don't need to see any one's butt whatsoever and frankly, neither does anybody else.

A hot cuppa

When it comes to cooking, Betty Crocker is my go-to gal. Just this evening she gave me a fantastic recipe for sage potatoes. Many Christmases ago my brother, Snur, and wife gave me the vintage Betty Crocker cookbook, circa 1950. This is the coup of cookbooks, the climax of culinary compendiums! This is the Betty Crocker that provides not only recipes and a guide to setting your table but tips on how to maintain personal outlook  ("While children are napping, do something refreshing. Write, knit, or listen to pleasant music"), how to maintain health and posture during chores ("Alternate sitting down tasks and stranding up tasks. Don't be on your feet too long at one time"), and how to refresh your spirit ("Notice humorous and interesting incidents to relate at dinnertime") (pg. 431). It is only missing a page on how to mix hubby a cocktail before he gets home ("Remember Ladies, no man wants a slothful wife!") (the cookbook doesn't actually say that) (I kind of wish it did). This is my absolute favorite cookbook and I use it any chance I get, simply because it's vintage. I love anything old-fashioned. Buddy Holly would say that I'm actually just a hater, particularly of anything newer than 1965, which is factually incorrect because I love Back to the Future and have a deep affinity for Grooveshark, thank you very much.