I’ve been fascinated by the reactions from friends, celebrities, and other coastal liberals to Paula Deen, ever since her announcement that she has Type 2 Diabetes and is endorsing a medication to treat it.
There seem to be two general responses to this:
1) That’s too bad—hope she uses her platform for good!
2) That fat fuck finally got what she deserved. How dare she make us sick and profit from it?
President Obama (via iwantcupcakes)
I love the idea of “nation-building” actually meaning ”nation-building.”
One of the most inspirational people I know is a professional triathlete named Hillary Biscay. This could sound surprising because I don’t do triathlons. Pretty much the only cardio I get is when I wake up in the morning and leap to check Rich and Chelsea’s blogs. The reason I know and adore Hillary is that we grew up together, carpooling to swimming, and she’s been one of my best friends since we were eight.
Normally I am skeptical of athletes and don’t find them inspirational when they talk about how worked hard or didn’t make the Varsity team on the first try, or whatnot. It’s like when models tell you how awkward they were in high school—because usually the truth is just that they are genetic wonders and maybe they realized it at age 14 instead of age 8, which is actually depressing. Also, most of us weren’t models in high school, so the implication is that we somehow failed by not growing up to be as hot as they are.
Obviously, this blog is NOTHING if not a forum for serious, intellectual discourse.
Recently I wrote a glowing review of the movie Young Adult, which I thought was fantastic. My Uncle Don (pictured above) disagreed, and even took the time to send me his take on the film.
Once I read his review, I knew had to share it with you, and he gave me the OK.
UNCLE DON’S REVIEW
“This movie was dreadful. Not believable (thank goodness for that) and just a total zero. Most, save one, of those in her hometown ignore her alcohol addiction, her crusade to destroy a marriage and other anti-social behavior. After less than ten minutes, I was hoping it would end. Awful.
I did see The Muppet Movie. Now this is a good movie.”
Wouldn’t it be a *trip* to be in South Carolina today? I’m kicking myself for not getting my act together in time to see three of my biggest American stereotypes in one place: Republicans, conservatives, and Southerners!
Lucky for me, South Carolina resident Jim stumbled upon my blog a few weeks ago while googling mall-walking. (“Don’t ask,” he said, but I did anyway. Turns out he was trying to make a joke on Facebook about going to the mall.) The good news is that we traded emails and he explained to me what it’s like in SC these days:
The Repulicans have descended upon our fair state. The primary is this weekend and I, for one—no, based on the Facebook comments I’ve been reading—I, for plenty, will be glad when it is over. I’m averaging 7 to 8 calls a day from various political camps. Lately I’ve been telling them that I’m keeping a log and that the person getting my vote is the one who calls me the least number of times. Then, I make an audible check mark on a scratch piece of paper.
He even dug up three days’ worth of fliers from the recycling bin to give you a sense of what it’s like:
THANK YOU JIM!
If you’d told me when I was a little kid that I’d grow up and be the kind of person who spends $6 on juice, I would’ve hated you. Of course, you would have been right. When you overthink juicing, which obviously I do, it can seem too precious and privileged. No food for me, thanks. I’m cleansing.
And I swear I was not looking for reasons to rationalize juicing when this weekend I watched Fat Sick, and Nearly Dead. It’s a documentary about two obese men who do a 60-day juice cleanse. They lose over 100 pounds and drastically reduce their cholesterol and blood pressure levels, as well as their dependency on prescription drugs (to treat an auto-immune disease).
GAWD I LOVE A GOOD TRANSFORMATION STORY!
I was a teensy bit nervous to see the movie Young Adult, especially with my mom. I knew it was about a young woman who writes books using a pseudonym, drinks a lot, and is generally very self-centered. This package describes me a few years ago, possibly describes me today, and I didn’t want Mom to worry or wonder. (Although, for the record, I’ve never tried to ruin a marriage nor have I driven drunk like our heroine Mavis.) Also, I was afraid the whole ghostwriting thing would be a joke, and that these cool Hollywood ladies would make me feel a giant Hello Kitty-fied punchline, and I didn’t want to feel crappy about myself.
- DOCTOR: So you're getting a blood test. Did you fast?
- ME: Yes. I didn't even have coffee!
- DOCTOR: Oh, that's not easy.
- ME: I know. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'm amazed I'm even here.
- DOCTOR: We can achieve so much when we push ourselves to the limit.
- ME: It might be harder than residency.
- DOCTOR: You're probably right.
I imagine men will hate that headline.
One of my goals for December was to not complain, and I wanted to give you an update: I failed. I knew I would, it’s very hard for me to be quiet about anything.
I did have a few small victories, moments when I stopped mid-sentence, took a breath, and was silent. However, the bummer about this kind of success is that friends and family have no way to appreciate what might have happened but didn’t.
In this way, I’m a lot like an NFL lineman.
Photo by One Jay at a Time
“Modern dance” is one of those things I thought I’d get by the time I turned 25, much like:
* How to cook Thanksgiving dinner
* Political primaries
* How to not kill indoor plants
* The joys of opera
* The ability to quote from The Godfather without consulting imdb.com
Growing up, I watched my parents grasp all these things, and assumed they’d come effortlessly with adulthood, like height or sarcasm.