Julie, Julia and K: A Recipe to Cure Pop Culture Ennui

As I have mentioned a few times in this blog, I sometimes get discouraged with pop culture. And, as you have seen, I can ignore my blog for months at a time. The death of Michael Jackson has left me decidedly un-entertained by the shennanigans of Heidi and Spencer, Lindsay Lohan or even my old throwback, Justin Timberlake, who seems content doing everything but making music (Congrats to him for snagging and Emmy for Best Actor in a Comedy Series—the first for an “SNL” host). I don’t care about Kourtney Kardashian’s baby or who’s bonin’ whom on the latest edition of “The Real World.” I’m not even excited for this year’s trainwreck award show, the VMAs. Yes, bloggers, I have been suffering from the worst case pop culture ennui I’ve ever had, and “G.I. Joe: The Rise of the Cobra” or “Patron Tequila” by the Paradiso Girls isn’t curing it.

But today, in a small theater in Nowhere, Midwest, my ennui was cured, the love of all things entertainment reborn after seeing the delicious little film called “Julie and Julia.” Starring the always scrumptious Meryl Strep (having a ball as always) and the adorable Amy Adams, the movie follows the lives of Julia Child and Julie Powell, two women, one in the 1950s, one in the new millenium, who found their joy and accomplishment in food.

In the first twenty minutes, I was rapt by Julie’s disgust at the daily drudgery of a job she hates, having little money (thankfully, I don’t live above a pizza joint) and edging closer to the big 3-0 miles away from the goals and successes you’d thought you’d have by that terrifying milestone.
My struggles have been briefly mentioned in this blog as well: finding a job that I can remotely enjoy, trying to get my book published, trying to make something of myself and not be jealous of my more successful friends. In college, I discovered a love of and a talent for cooking so much that I have contemplated enrolling in culinary school. Yes, while my peers were doing kegstands and playing beer pong, I was roasting chickens and saving a for a pasta maker. Watching the film felt like being rejuvenated, being heard, being understood just like Julie did when she cooked Juila’s recipes. While I don’t anticipate plowing through all 524 recipes in “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” I definitely search the book for inspriation of my own, and hopefully, it’s in the Boeuf Bourguignon or the Pear Tarte.

Conan O'Brien: The Comedic Supernova Takes Over "Tonight."

Last night, as the stars brightened the summer sky, a miracle occurred. It wasn’t Halley’s Comet or a rare meteor-shower. It was something far more entertaining and awe-inspiring. I, your lover of all things pop cult, full-on belly-laughed during “The Tonight Show…” now helmed by the brilliantly zany (and dare I say handsome and a little more buff) Conan O’Brien. And the most amazing thing is that it happened through-out the fantastically fun debut of “Tonight’s” new host and gorgeous new set. I had an assortment of laughs: a hearty chuckle in the beginning skit of the show as my beloved Conan, preparing for the debut of his show, forgot to move to Los Angeles and literally ran over the Brooklyn bridge, through Wrigley Field, past the St. Louis Arch, the Rocky Moutains, Las Vegas, Death Valley and crashed through the gates at the Universal lot. I giggled ‘til I nearly cried as Conan took over the tram tour at the movie lot, doing everything from critiquing the actor playing Norman Bates’ attire in a way that would make Tim Gunn smile to taking the tram out onto the streets of L.A. to buy the tourists gifts at the 99 Cent Store! I fell over, whooping, at Will Ferrell as he declared that his fellow Tony Award nominee, Liza Minelli, is a communist and a “red menance” and that Conan’s projected success on the show is a “crapshoot.”

If you're a fan, you already know that Conan didn't dumb-down or dilute his trademark screwball humor for the more mainstream timeslot. He is still the same, NBC-bashing, stupid, lunatic he was in New York at 12:35am, and that is a wholehearted compliment. There are certain stars that you want to shine brighter than the rest because of they are unique, intelligent and talented. And Conan O’Brien is definitely one that should supernova. I gladly admit I carried the transcript of his the speech he delivered at the Harvard Commencement in 2000 in my purse for years, because it was as inspiring as it was ridiculous. He is unabashedly self-deprecating and incredibly quick-witted, and most importantly, a hell-of-a lot funnier than Jay Leno (who is still airing before O'Brien in a bizarre programming move by NBC execs).Last night, Conan hit the ground running with his own brand of pompadour-flopping humor with guest Will Ferrill and music act, Pearl Jam. I can’t wait to see him sincerely flirt with Hollywood’s A-listers. Judging by the enthusiastic audience's cheers, screams and chants, and Conan's hilarious first show, it won’t take a miracle for Conan to thrive in his shiny new digs.

Bravo, Conan, bravo!

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Why Am I Hotter than All? Jessica Biel Bravely Shares Her Plight

While most people are embattled in horrific situations stemming from the recession, skyrockteing unemployment, foreclosure, swine flu, wildfires and even the casualties of war, one brave actress is speaking out, courageously sharing her personal pain for the betterment of others. No, I’m not referring to Farrah Fawcett’s sobering cancer documentary. Or even Brooke Shields’ struggle with thinning eyelashes (Thank God for Latisse!). It’s none other than the extremely healthy Jessica Biel. In the June issue of “Allure,” she details her frustration and pain about the tribulations of…hotness. Yes, you read that correctly. But it doesn’t end there, Ms. Biel if you’re nasty, thinks that her white-hot beauty hinders her career. Please grab your Kleenex (read: barf bag) and read on if you can:

Jessica Biel says her good looks are hurting her career.
"Yeah, it really is a problem."
The actress -- whose latest film, Powder Blue, (in which she plays a stripper) is going to straight to DVD -- isn't handed plum roles.
"I'm in there with everybody else, fighting for the good parts. Yes, The Illusionist has made a difference -- but a huge, massive difference, so I can pick and choose what I want? No."
Biel, 27, covets the careers of Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman.
"I just want an opportunity. If you don't like the audition, don't hire me!" she says. "But if you don't want to even see me -- that's hurtful. And why? You know nothing about me!"

If you aren’t emotional over that then you are DEAD INSIDE!

In all honesty, celebrities should understand that with half of the country in foreclosure, no one wants to hear about the difficulties of making millions of dollars. With CEOs working entry-level jobs to just make ends meet, the reading public and even the CASTING public doesn’t want to know how one’s perceived hotness is a detriment to one’s career, especially when it is a major job requirement. I guarantee the viewing public would not pay $10 per ticket to see Ron, the IT Supervisor, make whoopie with the Edna, a Wal-Mart salescleark, on a 20 foot screen.

Biel is not a terrible actress, but up until now, she has gleefully cashed in her wiles in the heinous action movie (co-starring Nic Cage) “Next,” the terrible “I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry,” and unforgivable fighter pilot crapfest, “Stealth.” If you depend on your looks for a paycheck—even if you’re paying your dues— you shouldn’t you be upset when Sorsese isn’t calling.

My mama taught me that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I’ll leave my faithful readers to debate Biel’s hotness or lackthereof. But countless other exquisite actresses have struggled to garner critical cred and have managed to do so by, yes, paying their dues, but working tirelessly to cultivate their talents by taking risks. For example, Ben Affleck and Matt Damon wrote “Good Will Hunting” to create starring roles for themselves and their friends—and won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. Charlize Theron, the South African stunner and former model, has her very own Oscar for her fantastic and chilling turn in “Monster.” The lovely Halle Berry became the first black woman to win the Best Actress Oscar in 2002. Now that is a career obstacle to complain about. She also has two Emmys for her work in “Introducing Dorothy Dandridge.”

I cannot sit here and condone Jessica’s use of a national magazine to complain about a seemingly trivial problem nor can I walk a mile in her Jimmy Choos. As I go to a job I don’t remotely like, I wish I could! I also wish that the beleaguered Ms. Biel will step away from the mirror, count her blessings, and work on her craft and maybe, just maybe, Sorsese will finally call.

Real World Hollywood: “Let’s Not Get Ghetto!”

The second episode of “RW: Hollywood” is upon us, and I was surprisingly excited about it! Even at work! Yes, I, the former Queen of Excel, am finally (almost) gainfully employed. I’m an Administrative Assistant at a marketing company here in the lovely Bumblefuck, Midwest. But I digress. The reason I was so eager to see the new season of the “RW” is because last week’s previews promised us they much-hyped “Let’s not get ghetto!” debacle, and because this cast actually seems better than casts for the last five years.

Admittedly, I thought that putting seven fame-whores in the Hollywood house was too sensational and obvious even for the show that created the reality star. But I was wrong, because not only are the castmates driven and determined to make some connections while they’re in LA, they seem even more determined to avoid the all too old reality show traps of drunken hookups, bar fights and lame arrests. Which I love. I’m all for the drunken spectacles and as this episode has proven, drama will be had, but hopefully it won’t be derived from petty arguments and drunken hookups. They do smart things that I wished other seasons would do: Dave made sure Sarah was sleeping on her side after her 21st birthday celebration when she was seriously wasted. Joey was actually cleaning up the house! I really hope they don’t let it get so nasty. It’s already ugly as sin. The girls busting on Dave for giving out their address to skanky LA chicks who wanted to be on camera. Yay for judgment and using the brain above your waistline!

My Favorite Moments of Ep. 2:

1. Sarah told her boyfriend that Ryan had a crush on her. Actually it was the sheer effort on Sarah’s part not to smile and pretend to be all embarrassed and confused about it. She loves the attention. Who wouldn’t?
   


2. Brianna’s confession that she thinks Will, who all but called her a dirty stripper mere days earlier, would do anything for her, so she agrees to help Will hook up with Sarah. What ever happened to Bros before Hos, Bri?
   


3. Greg actually tried to get along with other people in the house. The buzz around the ‘net was that Greg was either being an asshole for the cameras or secretly autistic. It looks like it all points to him being an asshole, and there’s a cure for that!
   


4. The girls being shocked and chagrined when the guys ditched them for the girls flashing their boobs. Um, they’re guys and it’s random boobage! I’d be curious to meet some peroxide-happy girl flashing her fake tits at me. And judging by how fast Dave flew over to those boobs, it’s pretty clear that he’s not gay. So he’s just Dave the Boring Jock. Boo!
   


5. This quote—“…things like that just help me to realize that Sarah’s definitely going to cheat on her boyfriend, so I definitely have hope”—is a soundbyte dipped in GOLD. It literally made me laugh out loud. The countdown is so on!
   


6. Sarah and Kim ganged up on Bri because of their narrow-minded opinions on stripping. Deep down, I think they have her best interest at heart, but it’s clear that they are incredibly sheltered and may not understand that some people don’t have a choice. While I don’t think stripping is the most respectable or safest profession, I do think that it is a job. With that being said, Bri stating that she doesn’t care if Joey respects her makes me sad. She seems to define herself as being a stripper and she’s definitely much more than that.
   


7. Not two minutes later, Kim approached Bri angry and cursing because Bri was mad that her friends can’t come into the house. And when Bri tries to defend herself she launches into the entire “Let’s not get ghetto!” tirade, which was imbued with much more racism, bigotry and prejudice than I thought it would be, and wasn’t remotely enjoyable to watch (“Let’s not get ghetto! Let’s not get ghetto, let’s just be…normal.” And later to Sarah, “I mean pull your skirt down and stop being a hooker. Are you going to get mad at that, get back on your fuckin’ pole, bitch…I mean, I love her…but I don’t care if you’re from the most inner city Blackville, I’m not going to tolerate that.) She wants Bri to respect herself, but the moment Bri vocalizes a problem, she uses her stripper-status as an insult. I don’t care how fucking sheltered you are, you don’t use the word “ghetto” like that ever. Especially when you’re the one screaming at the top of your lungs and flicking people off. Kim came off looking like the ig’nant racist redneck hillbilly bitch and no one bothered to explain to her why. Greg forced them to make up and how Bri could touch Kim in a non-violent way after that mess, I have no idea. She has more restraint than me.
   


8. Joey arm-wrestled Random Guy, and lost. With those giant biceps. His upper arms are as big as my head, so how did he lose? Was he juicing? And he did look like a very over-gelled version of The Hulk.
   


9. Dave defended Joey’s alarming behavior as “having fun and being a kid” and dismissed Joey’s desire to not drink in the house. I’ve loathed this rationalization of dangerous behavior for years, and about 64% of those fools have DUIs or seriously hurt themselves while having fun and being a kid!
   


10. Joey did a cleansing face mask with the stripper-hating girls! It was a cute moment that reminded me of an episode of “Friends.”
    

Up next week: Joey’s purported breakdown! On the previews, it looks like a really bad actor going for the drama scene in his acting class, but I am not judging based on that ten-second clip!

Proud to be a Prude: Gossip Girl's Racy Ads

Teenage girls are natural drama queens. It is encoded in their DNA. When I was fifteen, I ached to experience real, gritty drama: I wanted my high school crush to suddenly notice I existed (which would create some serious drama since he was dating a friend of mine); because messiness and intense emotion means you’re more adult. All of my friends and I wanted to live out a “Dawson’s Creek,” “Felicity”-ized version of adolescence.

But thankfully, I’m not Katie Holmes and my high school life, minus a couple of my friends’ suicide attempts, the death of my young cousin, was decidedly normal.

My 26-year-old self was a little taken aback when I got the latest issue of “Entertainment Weekly,” and found the newest photo promo for The CWs, “Gossip Girl.” It shows Blake Lively, blonde hair swept across her face, head thrown back and eyes closed in ecstasy, as a guy kisses her neck. With the cybertastic OMG splashed across them in white font (OMFG is used on the internet). The picture is grainy and a bit off center, which adds a voyeuristic, “One Night in Paris” feel to it. This ad sailed past Suggestive and right into Obvious Orgasm territory. The TV spots are even worse.

Admittedly, I’ve never actually watched an episode of “GG”—yet another show about rich, white high school kids—because it looks like “The Hills” with a script. But I think these ads have demolished the line between risqué art and softcore porn. We have to keep in mind that sex has saturated the market; and 1 in 4 teenage girls have or have had an STD (and that rate jumps when dealing with minorities). Therefore, “GG’s” campaign is irresponsibly romanticizing sexual encounters.

Does that make me a prude? Maybe. Do I care? Fuck no. Pun completely intended.

Sex isn’t a bad thing by any means. And I’m not a Dubbya wasting taxpayers’ money by preaching abstinence, but in an era, where celebrity babies are the new black, STDs are at a national high, and record numbers of kids are having sex before the age of 13, network television shows should use a bit more restraint, at least with its advertisements, which I’ve already seen on “E! News,” my Yahoo! Email page, four times tonight’s return of “Supernatural” and in my favorite magazine.

I understand that teenage girls want to live the dramatic, sexy life of Carrie Bradshaw, but I also understand that that need is driven more by an urge to feel like the adults they are becoming and not the children they are.

Source for STD Stats: CNN.com

Where’s Atreyu When You Need Him?

Almost all musicians will riff about the power of music; how their relationship with it magical and addictive and divine and their talent is a gift from God. And I’m inclined to agree with them seeing as music inspired me to write my first novel…which is about—wait for it—a musician!
Madonna and Justin Timberlake have finally commodified such a sentiment, crafting a much-hyped dance track called “4 Minutes”—the first single off Madonna’s new LP, “Hard Candy.” The song is a passable dance track with an irritatingly danceable beat, slick production—thanks to the in-demand duo of Timberlake and Timbaland—and flufftastic lyrics—thanks to co-writer, JT. All of those elements add up to a great dance track, especially after a two-drink special at your favorite club…or in your shower if you’re weird like me.

With two obvious forces in pop music, I expected the video to be a super-glam joint with rich colors, an uber-luxe club scene and the hottest choreography this side of “America’s Best Dance Crew.” Instead, Mr. JT and Madge delivered a muted world with decaying bodies, a grocery store a goth could love, and a cameo by Timbaland AND the Nothingness from The Neverending Story. That’s right, folks, the Nothingness is overtaking the world in a noiseless clump of geometric angles that dismantles as it encroaches on their bombastic world. There is a rather cool shot of it dispatching a kissing couple, giving the viewers a cross-section of their jaw bones, wiggling tongues, and buccinators.

I’m not all doom and gloom as far as this video is concerned. The two vignettes where JT and Madonna acrobatically leap and pose in a lot of cars is very impressive and kinetic eye candy. Apparently, when the world is ending, you don’t care about scuffing the hood of a pimped out ride. The two also pop-and-lock their way through the aforementioned grocery store with sparsely stocked shelves and black walls. The climax of the scene is a brilliantly blocked cluster of eight-counts where Madonna and JT hoof it up on the conveyor belts at the cashier-less checkout.

Unfortunately, these snippets of dance porn are spliced with Madonna—who looks rather muscular and washed out with her light blonde coif, pale skin and off-white corseted body leotard—trying to freestyle. This is when we the viewers are reminded that Madonna is not a young rebel with a cause, but that she’s pushin’ 50 and trying to stay ontop in a genre overwrought with younger, more rhythmically adept pop tarts who are just hitting their stride. There are also many other scenes they subtract more from the concept than add to it. The editors were obviously trying to create a frenetic pace, but the constant jumping to different vignettes is both distracting and downright annoying.

Luckily, a bearded Justin Timberlake looks delicious in his appointed black leather, rocker scarf and tight gray t-shirt, especially when during their mutual striptease of a dance break, which is a watered down continuation of Madonna’s weird yoga-esque b-girl moves we were introduced to in the “Me Against the Music” video with She Who Shall Not Be Named. Thankfully, the yoga dial was turned down and the cool factor was pumped up.

Inexplicably, Madonna and JT’s musically collaboration doesn’t save the world. In the closing seconds of existence in Soundstage Pop, the great Nothingness catches up on JT and Madonna, exposing the former’s ribcage and internal organs before the couple can kiss (THANK YOU!). So all of that dancing was all for not and left me wondering: isn’t it bad for business when your funk can’t save the world?

Bared and Pregnant

In the era of so many (scripted) reality shows, cell phone camcorders and paparazzi videos, privacy is virtually a thing of the past. So I was proud of Christina Aguilera when she refused to admit that she’s pregnant. It doesn’t involve her music, so she never had to comment about it. Granted, it was a bit pointless when she was toting around a huge, round belly. (I can’t imagine the pressure she was facing trying to finish a world tour in her first trimester.) The other part of me—that’s been a fan of the Diva for years—knew that she was waiting to do a huge magazine cover spread-eagle on a leopard print rug, showing off her big ole belly, because Mrs. Bratman loves an exclusive as much as Jenny from the Block.

So I definitely wasn’t surprised when I saw the January cover of Marie Claire magazine with Aggie on the cover in all her expectant glory. I just wasn’t all that thrilled with it. I will always respect Christina’s need to challenge the male-dominated business and be as comfortable with her sexuality and nudity, which can be two seperate things. And I don’t see anything wrong with posing nude while pregnant (or nude in general), but I’m not 100% behind the picture of her with child. And I’m not sure why. I know that part of me was dreading the inevitable Britney comparisons. But it’s not 1999 anymore, and it’s quite obvious that Britney is…in a league all her own right now, keeping company with Danny Bonaduce and Amy Winehouse.

I don’t believe that pregnant women need to shuffle about in moo-moos and housecoats, nesting and knitting. However, in a time where breakdowns and sextapes can launch a career, I have to wonder what drives her to share her (pregnant) body in all its airbrushed glory with the world when there is no movie, album, clothingline or fragrance to promote. (One could argue that Xtina is promoting her tour DVD and fragrance) I guess I just can’t wrap my mind around how that would feel. Maybe it's a good thing to want to share the birth of your child with the entire world. Congrats, Christina.

I haven’t read the article yet, and I look forward to doing so and seeing the rest of the pictures. I actually do love the cover, and I love the Divine Mrs. B, so I’m glad to get another shot of my favorite celebrity before she vanishes into the black hole of 3 A.M feedings and dirty diapers.

Source: http://i150.photobucket.com/albums/s83/lilacrose82/marieclaire.jpg

Here is a link to the picture in question.

Update: I read it, and it was a wonderful insight on a very happy woman who is about to become a mother. All is good.