My Weekend Crush

Extraordinary. Brave. Luminous. Real. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not talking about Cate Blanchett. I’m talking about Cate Blanchett’s face. You see, Cate Blanchett’s face made the headlines recently for being, well, Cate Blanchett’s face. Unadorned. Unaltered. Unphotoshopped. On the cover of a magazine. THE HORRORS. Cate Blanchett and Cate Blanchett’s actual face grace the newest over of Intelligent Life, a lifestyles magazine put out by The Economist. And in the post about the cover, the magazine’s editor made note of the intentionally unairbrushed image.

When other magazines photograph actresses, they routinely end up running heavily Photoshopped images, with every last wrinkle expunged. Their skin is rendered so improbably smooth that, with the biggest stars, you wonder why the photographer didn’t just do a shoot with their waxwork…..

Cate Blanchett, by contrast, appears on our cover in her working clothes, with the odd line on her face and faint bags under her eyes. She looks like what she is—a woman of 42, spending her days in an office, her evenings on stage and the rest of her time looking after three young children.

Granted, Cate Blanchett and her face are still more beautiful and radiant without the help of any digital wizardy than most of us would look after being given the full Pixar treatment. But it’s certainly a comment on our culture when someone actually looking like they actually look in real life actually makes the news. We’ve come to the point where we’re surprised when a photograph reflects the reality of it’s photographing. Call it a little art imitating life for a change. How incredibly refreshing. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Crush

Admit it, there was just always something extra special about Special Agent Dana Scully. It was her eternal skepticism, her always questioning scowl that made us believe – no, know – that she was different. And, of course, her intellect. My God, was Scully smart. She still stands as a singular female heroine in the pantheon of singular female heroines. She was entirely equal to her male counterpart. She never traded on her sex appeal, though she was undeniably sexy in an entirely cerebral way. She made men and women love her for her intellect and bravery, capability and rationality. And, yes, she made gay women love her because of that little something extra special.

News this week that her real-life portrayer Gillian Anderson revealed her past relationships with women was the “I knew it!”-moment heard around the lesboverse. If you saw gay ladies high fiving each other on the street, this is why. Because we’ve always felt a kinship with Scully, with Anderson. We’ve always just, well, believed. She was one of us. And now we’ve confirmed how operational our collective gaydars are on at least Anderson, we can go forth and make even more vivid fantasies about our very own Special Agent. Because believe me, the truth is out there. And that truth is stone cold gay. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Crush

I watch a lot of TV these days. A lot a lot. But I’ll freely admit that movies are my first love. Something about sitting in the dark with strangers makes for a singular experience that can never be replicated on the comfort of your couch. But the other thing I’ll freely admit is I’ve seen a lot better TV lately than I have movies. Last year in particular was a bit of a movie bust for me. I saw a handful I liked and everything else – meh.

Then, finally, I saw one that made me say wow. Granted, I saw it this year. But it came out last year. And I’ve wanted to see it for what seems like forever. And that movie is “Pariah.” You’ve probably heard about it too, and if you’re lucky you’ve had a chance to see it for yourself. It’s a lovely slice of filmmaking – really everything you want from a movie. Insightful. Emotional. Beautiful. Truthful.

This striking first feature from writer-director Dee Rees takes a small story and makes it universally felt. Because we have all felt like Alike. We have all felt like an outsider. We have all felt like a stranger in our own skin. We have all felt like we could not be our true selves – if only for a moment. But for Alike, played by the wonderfully expressive Adepero Oduye, that feeling is more than a moment. It is her home. And in her portrayal we can see, through unblinking eyes, how hard it can be to bit is to be rejected for just being who you are. Yet also the courage it takes to choose your own happiness.

We may not all come from the same background as Alike. We may all have different paths through life. But we all want to be ourselves, whatever that may be. And we hope that the wider world will not only allow it, but embrace who we are. We want to say yes our truth, because our truth is all we are. We are not broken, we are free. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Crush

My God, do I respect the hell out of Viola Davis. She’s smart. She’s articulate. She’s talented. She’s amazing. An enormous part of me hoped Viola and Meryl would tie for the best actress Oscar, as both women shone brighter than the sun in their roles this year. And while I, clearly, rejoiced in Meryl’s win I have nothing but glowing adjectives to say about Viola’s work in “The Help.” But it’s not just her acting that makes me respect her; it’s her integrity as an artist.

Because, let’s be honest, the Africa-American stars of “The Help” took a lot of crap from their own community for starring as maids. They did. There was a lot of controversy and ambivalence about the film, not only for the portrayal of domestics but also the idea that the white women essentially rescued the black women. And so they were in the precarious position of both defending their roles in the film to their own community while petitioning for more quality roles for black women with the wider community. It was a tight rope, that’s for sure. But one both Octavia Spencer and Viola handled with class and passion. In fact, if you haven’t already, watch their truly fascinating and illuminating conversation with Tavis Smiley from earlier this year. Go, I’ll still be here when you’re done.

And then when Viola said this, this really hit home:

“My whole thing is, do I always have to be noble? If I always have to be noble in order for the African American community to celebrate my work that is when I say that you are destroying me as an artist. As an artist, you’ve got to see the mess. That’s what we do. What we do as artists is we get a human being. And It’s like putting together a puzzle. The puzzle has to be multifaceted mixture of human emotions and not all of it is going to be pretty.”

This, this rings true for all minority groups. In the end, even as we continue the struggle to be truly equal and included and accepted, we are all just humans. And that, that is the ultimate struggle and goal – to reach a point where we aren’t just the noble black woman or the noble gay man or the noble Asian child, but just humans with all our flaws and all of our wonders. Like I was saying, mad, crazy, total respect.

Though, while we’re talking about her, holy crap is Viola hot. Back, front, arms – damn, girl. It is all working for her. Plus, come on, how awesome was it of her to rock her natural short ‘fro at the Oscars? So awesome. As I was saying, respect. Happy weekend, all.

UPDATE: Things you should know. 1) I am not a white woman. Though interesting some people should automatically assume that I am a white woman by default in the absence of standard visual cues. 2) I call anyone I think is articulate, articulate. Because I enjoy and admire articulate people – women, men, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, liberal, conservative, whathaveyou. 3) If you watch the entire interview with Tavis Smiley, which I linked to in this post, you will hear a very articulate, very smart conversation between three very articulate, very smart people talking about exactly the issues I bring up in this post. I suggest you do. It’s a lovely exercise for the mind.

My Weekend Crush

You guys! You guys, you guys, you guys. Wait. Stop. Make that, you gals! You gals, you gals, you gals! You know what’s making me super excited about this movie year? A shock of cascading red hair, a sure-tipped arrow and a badass display of self-bodice ripping. Yeah, I’m talking about the two minute and 30 second clip from “Brave” released this week. Pixar’s first film to feature a female lead isn’t in theaters until June 22. That’s four months away. But already the film looks to like it will add a rich, spunky, capable heroine to the cinematic pantheon. Also, who doesn’t love a good mooning gag? Now I love me some Pixar and, of course, I love the ladies, so this movie is aimed right at my bullseye, so to speak. Oh, and Scottish accents, I kind of can’t resist a Scottish accent. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Kiss

So let’s talk about The Kiss. Let’s really, really talk about The Kiss. The song may say a kiss is just a kiss, but the reality is often so much more complicated. A kiss, The Kiss, is always more when it comes to gay relationships both on screen and in real life. Something as simple as a smooch takes on complex cultural and socio-political ramifications when you’re gay. I know, and all you wanted to do was make out with your girlfriend.

So then, let’s talk about The Kiss. The thing is The Kiss wasn’t even the first kiss. That was the small peck shown earlier in the episode. The first kiss was the briefest of A-frames, a split-second lip touch we gives to our loved ones almost without thinking. A “I love you”-drive-by by way of your lips. But The Kiss, the one at the Sugar Shack, well, that’s different. And, as we all know, that kiss wasn’t really their first kiss either. But their first on-screen kiss. And in short, it was perfect. I could go on for a couple days about how perfect, but it was all there, the love, the tenderness, the passion. Granted, no tongue. But, hey, this isn’t Showtime.

But what I’m more interested in, besides the gorgeous aesthetics, is what led to them. Instead of just having them deliver their long-overdue first kiss – the one us faithful on the S.S. Brittana had been screaming for since the beginning – they made sure to make a point. Which is, why can’t gay couples kiss just like straight couples – on TV, in the street, at school, anywhere for public consumption? What’s with the insane double standard that lets Finn and Rachel suck face for several uncomfortable minutes but that takes nearly three seasons to let Santana and Brittany touch lips?

In short, to quote Santana, it’s bullcrap. Gay couples should get to kiss in public just like straight couples. We shouldn’t have to worry who a simple sign of love might offend. What someone might say. What someone might do. Yet, all too often, we do. Or, at the very least, we know and we don’t care. If I want to hold your hand when we go out, I’m going to hold your hand. If I want to give you a kiss on the cheek when we’re sitting together, I’ll give you a kiss on the cheek. If I want to kiss you at the Valentine’s Day dance, I will damn well kiss you at the Valentine’s Day dance. But there’s the thing, there’s always – even if only in the backs of our heads – the moment of recognition that someone might object. And it’s not there for straight couples, and that’s fucking bullcrap.

Granted, I’m not talking about some gratuitous make-out session here with hands up shirts and down pants and all over. Gay, straight, whathaveyou – that’s the “get a room” kind of stuff that should be private. But the everyday affections – the little kisses and big hugs and long lingers – those we should all share all the time because they make us more human. In the end, we’re really not that different. All I want to be able to do is kiss my girlfriend. And you should be able to kiss your boyfriend or your wife or your husband or your non-labeled, full-committed life partner whenever and wherever. Because kissing is awesome. And everyone should do it more. Happy weekend, all.

p.s. Oh ye of little faith who were impatiently waiting for me to get my Brittana on this week. Have I ever jumped ship, ladies? Our girls sure have come a long way. And what better way to seal it than with a kiss. Once more, from the beginning. Le sigh.

My Weekend Crush

Man, do I like a funny lady. I like a whip-smart, razor-sharp, lightening-quick funny lady who can cut a man twice her size down to a bloody stub with her precision word jujitsu. In fact, I particularly like it when the lady doing the dismantling one is a little lady. Because size truly doesn't matter, well, except maybe brain size. And one of my current favorite fierce, funny little ladies is Ksenia Solo. Her delightful Kenzi on “Lost Girl” is not only the Kenziest Kenzi, but she’s also a fantastic friend and foil to the big-hearted Bo. She’s the worldly grifter, the loyal friend, the practical survivor. And she’s just fucking funny. Much of this has to do with her comic timing, which is excellent. But also it’s how she throws her entire tiny frame into her work. As evidence of how much she brings to the role, by far the worst episode of the second season so far was the Kenzi-less one. Sure, there was no Dr. Hotpants either. But it was that very special Kenzi zing that was missing most. That sweet, sweet sass was sorely lacking. And, yes, you could also take the “s” off of “sass” and it would be true that that was missed last week, too. In short, Ksenia and her crystal-clear blue eyes helps put the guuuurl in “Lost Girl.” Too much? I can’t help it. I got temporarily hypnotized by those iceberg blues. Happy weekend, all.

p.s. Raise you hand if you also recognize Ksenia as Veronica, the real (not imagined, hysterical nervous breakdown hallucination) rival dancer to Natalie Portman’s Nina in “Black Swan.” Looks different without bangs, eh?

My Weekend Crush

I’ve never understood the forces against choice. Not just the choice over when and how and whether we as women have a child or not. Though that does baffle me to my very core. But the forces against choice, freedom, access and rights in general. Why limit and restrict when you can free and grant? Yet here we are, in the year 2012, and we are still fighting a basic fight to be in control of our own bodies, to be granted the full rights, to be free to choose how we live our lives. And to be honest, it pisses me the fuck off. Like when I heard this week that the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation, the world’s largest breast cancer organization, had bowed to political pressure and pulled its support for Planned Parenthood, it majorly pissed me the fuck off.

Komen has given Planned Parenthood about $700,000 in grants each year since 2005, which have funded some 170,000 of the breast exams and 6,400 mammograms. But now, that money has stopped. You can have whatever opinion you want on abortion. I certainly am not some sort of abortion cheerleader, but I also certainly respect the right and choice of any women to decide what happens with her own body. But this isn’t about abortion, because none of the Komen money went toward abortion. It went to what the Komen Foundation is supposed to be about – preventing and curing breast cancer.

Komen’s bullshit answer is it has a new policy where it does not fund organizations being investigated by local, state or federal authorities. And it just so happens that Republican Florida Representative Cliff Stearns has launched an investigation over how Planned Parenthood spends its money. Stearns, it should be noted, is virulently anti-choice and, just for good measure, also super anti-gay. Heck, he even wanted to ban gay adoption. How dare we try to be parents to those babies the women who did what you demanded and decided not to have abortions gave up for adoption!

But for the record, because it bears repeated repeating, only 3 percent – yes, THREE PERCENT – of Planned Parenthood’s patient care goes toward abortion services. The vast majority is contraception (35 percent), STD infection/prevention care (35 percent), cancer screening/prevention (16 percent) and other women’s services (10 percent). In case you’re doing the math, the other 1 percent goes to other services. Also, Congress has already banned the use of federal money for abortions. So while the federal government does provide a large portion of Planned Parenthood’s funding, it is already prohibited from using any of that money for abortion services.

I have been lucky in my life not to need Planned Parenthood services. But I have many friends who have. In fact one in five women in the U.S. has visited a Planned Parenthood health center at least once in her life. The organization helps millions of particularly low-income and minority women who would otherwise have absolutely no access to safe and affordable health care services. These are life-saving services like pap smears, breast exams, STD screenings and more.

So what’s this all about then? If the Komen money goes toward breast cancer screening and the federal dollars are already prohibited from being used for abortions? It’s about attacking women. It’s about denying us the most basic health care rights. It’s about controlling our bodies. It’s about making the choices for us. Well, we can make our own choices. We are in control of our own bodies. We are not political footballs. We are women. And you will now hear us roar. Donate to Planned Parenthood today, tomorrow and as long as it takes. Happy weekend, all.

UPDATE: UPDATE: Indeed, Komen has issued a statement saying it changed its policy prohibiting organizations under investigation from being eligible for its grants. It said “We will continue to fund existing grants, including those of Planned Parenthood, and preserve their eligibility to apply for future grants.” Given the debacle, this is a clear attempt at damaging fallout from this clearly political decision. While I am happy Komen has made Planned Parenthood eligible again for its grants, I have learned more about the organization that makes me wary of its motivations. Not only did it hire a stridently anti-choice senior vice president for public policy last year and its CEO is a major contributor to Republican political candidates. The good news, Planned Parenthood has received some $3 million in donations since this whole debacle started. The moral of this story? The women and men who support women’s health are legion. And we will not be silenced.

My Weekend Crush

Life affords us far too few moments of grace. Amid the mess and muddle of our everyday existence, we can forget what matters most far too easily. Amid the complication and conflict of our differences, we can forget what makes us all the same. Like many of you I have followed the story of Gabrielle Giffords from that terrible moment a little over a year ago when those first horrifying reports first came in of a shooting at congressional event in Arizona. And, like many of you, my emotions went from anguish and anger to amazement and admiration as the nation struggled to come to terms with what had happened. She has been, quite simply, awesome. To survive getting shot in the head is, in itself, nothing short of a miracle. But how she has conducted herself through this ordeal has been almost otherworldly. The courage she has displayed, the strength she has mustered, the compassion she has offered and the unbreakable spirit she has shown is more than a miracle. It’s pure grace. I had hoped, with all my heart, that this inspirational woman would defy the odds and stay in congress. But I completely understand and admire her reasons for resigning this week. And I think, in fact I know, that we have not seen the last of this extraordinary woman or her radiant smile. Thank you for your service, Gabby. A grateful nation wishes you a full and fast recovery. Happy weekend, all.

p.s. On a purely superficial note, because this is a Weekend Crush after all, hot damn does Gabby look smokin’ with a motorcycle or what?

My Weekend Crush

I love “Finding Nemo.” I loved it from the first moment I saw it at a dollar theater after it had long ended its regular run because I was too cool to go see an animated movie no matter how much everyone raved about it. Now, I own the DVD. I downloaded it to my phone. I may even have cuddly stuffed Dory. That last one was a gift, I swear. What I love most about it, besides being smart and funny and as adorable as can be, is that it makes me feel better each time I watch it. We all have that movie, the one we put on as a guaranteed mood lifter. Sure, there’s the Bambi-esque opening with its bad things that happen to good fish eggs. But then there is everything else. And everything else makes me just plum happy. In fact, it’s kind of my happy place. And, in January, I’m always looking for things to make me happy – this January is no different. So after a long, tiring, stressful week, I plan to put on a little “Find Nemo” and talk whale with Dory. And then, then I should be ready to just keep swimming through the rest of the year. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Crush

So, remember when Leisha Hailey and Camila Grey were kicked off a Southwest flight for kissing? And we were all Rage! Indignation! Protest! That’s kinda hot! Because, let’s face it, the leading ladies of Uh Huh Her are kinda hot. All sorts of hot. And talented. And, yeah, hot. I’ve enjoyed Uh Huh Her’s seductive, melodic music from the start. Their sound is, for lack of a better word, sexy. I think “Explode” ranks among my favorite hook-up songs of all time. I’ve been a fan of Leisha’s music since before Alice Pieszecki was even a glimmer in Ilene Chaiken’s eye, when I found a Murmurs CD in the bargain bin and fell in love at first listen. But while Leisha has been out for ages, Camila only recently had an official coming out via Kissgate. So here we have this fantastic queer duo being fantastic together in public. Uh Huh Her made their national TV debut on Jimmy Kimmel this week. So now what we’ve known for years is being shared with the wider world, finally. And one would think they can only fall under their sexy spell as well. Well done, ladies. To celebrate, how about a kiss? What? It never hurts to ask. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Crush

Recently, I came in possession of a mix tape by someone lovely which I promptly popped into my CD player on the way home. While listening to said mix tape (Fine, it’s a CD, but mixed CD sounds like something your financial adviser tells you to invest in. I think, I don’t know, I’m a writer. My financial adviser is a Magic 8 Ball) the song “Drive” popped up unexpectedly. Of course, being a gay lady, I am familiar with Melissa Ferrick’s “Drive.” How could you not be? But if by change you haven’t heard it before, hold onto your pants. Because they will spontaneously drop while listening. Also, um, you might not want to be in public.

Still for me, it had been a while since I listened, really listened to “Drive.” (I posted a fanvid featuring it not too long ago, but it was abridged and didn’t pack its full, shall we say, oompf). But if you do take the time to give it a proper once over, you will have to agree. This may just be the sexiest lesbian sex song ever. Like, seriously, ever. Fucking hell, that shit is hot. And that brings me back to Melissa. Seems like she has been around forever, always there bringing the dykeliciousness. For a while she was The Other Melissa. But she has always been her very own Melissa. And what that is one hard-working, hard-strumming, hard-loving sexy motherfucker. And she’s still right here, still out there, still making us ladies who like ladies swoon and sweat. So thank you, Melissa. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts and lower regions for putting delicious words and music to our deepest, dirties desires. Now, where did I put those pants? Happy weekend, all.

p.s. If you haven’t heard/seen her epic live performances of the song, well, just go ahead and take off your pants right now. Because she’s hot and hilarious. And it just saves so much time.

My Weekend Crush

Even at her most vibrant, there was always something tragic about Judy Garland lurking just under the surface. Something that allowed her voice, even when still just a teenager, to cut through the ages. It’s what made her so special. It’s what made her so irreplaceable. That it took so long for me to get to Judy, particularly considering the partial namesake of this blog and all, is in itself a tragedy. One which I must promptly atone for. For any woman who came up as an impossibly pretty prodigy, blossomed into a big-time marquee name and then metamorphosed into an unquestionably consummate showwoman. deserves her moment in the spotlight and then some. Because, sister, could that lady belt it out. Despite her problem, despite her troubles, Judy Garland was going to put on a show. And you, you were going to sit mesmerized by all the beauty, sass, power and emotion she poured into every performance, every gesture, every note. She just didn’t take us over the rainbow, she took us out of ourselves, if only for a moment. Happy weekend, all.

The Ingénue


The Showwoman


The Classic

Have yourself a merry little Christmas, kittens, with all the beautifully tear-stained children’s cheeks your little heart can hold.

My Weekend Crush

Charlize Theron is almost a cruel kind of gorgeous. It’s not the most accessible beauty, like a girl next door or sexy librarian or anything. She reminds me of an iceberg. Exquisite to look at, a little cool around the edges, but with so much more going on underneath. What I think I like most about her is her sophisticated, I don’t give a fuck attitude. Because she really kind of doesn’t. She says what she thinks, she swears with abandon and she doesn’t need to play beautiful in every role. In fact, I’d argue there are few actresses who have traded less on their beauty – especially of late – than Charlize.

It’s not that she just uglies up to win awards (though that certainly didn’t hurt with “Monster”), but I really don’t think she cares if she looks glamorous in pictures. Take “Monster,” take “North Country,” take “In the Valley of Elah,” take “Sleepwalking,” take “The Burning Plain,” take “The Road.” And now “Young Adult.” The wardrobe departments on these pictures probably cost about the same as a good used Honda Civic. And, just as interesting, Charlize isn’t all that interested in playing nice. Not in her next two pictures at least. In both “Young Adult” and “Snow White and the Huntsman,” she played decidedly un-nice. Heck, I believe “Evil” even gets bandied about in the latter.

And that’s what helps make those movies, and her, so very interesting. Well, that and her passionate stances on causes like women’s rights, reproductive rights, gay rights and the plight of her native South Africa. See what I was saying? An iceberg. A crisp beautiful, beautiful iceberg. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Crush

Change can be a real bitch. It doesn’t comes right when you want it to. It always takes forever. Sometimes it seems it’ll never happen. But, still, we never have to stop trying, stop fighting, stop working to make it happen. So each step toward change, however small, is something to celebrate. Something to embrace. Something to hold up as a reminder that, yes, change is coming. It always comes. It is the only inevitability in life besides death. And that, in itself, is a change. So this week, when Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton stepped before the United Nations in Geneva and gave a speech declaring gay rights human rights. This isn’t a baby step. This isn’t even a regular step. This is history.

God, I love this speech. Hillary spoke for 30 solid minutes about gay rights. It is, quite simply, extraordinary. A few excerpts (but really, watch the full 30 minutes – you will not be sorry).

On human rights:

“Some have suggested that gay rights and human rights are separate and distinct; but, in fact, they are one and the same…. Like being a woman, like being a racial, religious, tribal, or ethnic minority, being LGBT does not make you less human. And that is why gay rights are human rights, and human rights are gay rights.”

On religious objections:

“This is not unlike the justification offered for violent practices towards women like honor killings, widow burning, or female genital mutilation. Some people still defend those practices as part of a cultural tradition. But violence toward women isn't cultural; it's criminal. Likewise with slavery, what was once justified as sanctioned by God is now properly reviled as an unconscionable violation of human rights. In each of these cases, we came to learn that no practice or tradition trumps the human rights that belong to all of us.”

On freedom of expression:

“Universal human rights include freedom of expression and freedom of belief, even if our words or beliefs denigrate the humanity of others. Yet, while we are each free to believe whatever we choose, we cannot do whatever we choose, not in a world where we protect the human rights of all.”

On creating change:

“We need to ask ourselves, ‘How would it feel if it were a crime to love the person I love? How would it feel to be discriminated against for something about myself that I cannot change?’ This challenge applies to all of us as we reflect upon deeply held beliefs, as we work to embrace tolerance and respect for the dignity of all persons, and as we engage humbly with those with whom we disagree in the hope of creating greater understanding.”

Chills, really, chills. Clear, direct, eloquent, forceful. It’s everything we want our leaders to stand up and say to the world. And, like Hillary herself admits on the speech, our “own country's record on human rights for gay people is far from perfect” and we “have more work to do to protect human rights at home.” No, the Obama Administration’s record on LGBT rights isn’t perfect. No, neither Obama or Hillary fully support gay marriage – yet. But still, this speech is a landmark worldwide. A message to the corners of the world where being gay is still a crime. A clarion call for equality across the globe.

You can read her full transcript here.

Her speech could not be more of a contrast to the new political ad put out by Republican presidential candidate Rick Perry also put out this week. In it, the want-to-be President of the United States says:

“I’m not ashamed to admit that I'm a Christian, but you don’t need to be in the pew every Sunday to know there’s something wrong in this country when gays can serve openly in the military but our kids can't openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school. As President, I’ll end Obama’s war on religion. And I’ll fight against liberal attacks on our religious heritage. Faith made America strong. It can make her strong again.”

When people scoff about voting and say, “Oh, who cares, politicians are all alike,” show them these two videos. Sure, sometimes it’s hard to find perfection in our leaders. But then consider the alternative.

p.s. As distasteful as it is to watch, I urge you to take a look and then click the “DISLIKE” button to help make Perry’s hideous spot the most disliked video on YouTube.
p.p.s. But it’ll make your day infinitely better knowing that that Perry wore Heath Ledger’s iconic “Brokeback Mountain” jacket in his big, dumb anti-gay ad.

Hillary ended her spectacular speech with a call for change, that ever elusive yet always present creature. And it urged everyone to get on the right side of history. It’s what makes me know that no matter how hard the Rick Perrys and worse of the world try, they’ll never be able to truly stop change from coming. Delay it, sure. Aggravate it, definitely. But history has proven to have very little patience with those who deny its progress. As Hillary said, “no matter how long the road ahead, we will travel it successfully together.” Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Crush

Amber Heard is proof that God loves lesbians and wants us to be happy. I mean it, just look at her. Look at her. Truth be told, I tried to resist her charms for the longest time. She’s kind of too perfect. I tend to prefer a little imperfection – a rough edge, a quirky tick. Something that hints that this specimen of humanity is indeed all-too human. But Amber, Amber is the dream. She is the ideal. Sometimes, when I see pictures of her on the red carpet, I can’t believe they’re real. Those artists in the Hollywood dream factory couldn’t have drawn her up better themselves.

But aside from being just gorgeous wrapped in ridiculously gorgeous, she is that even rarer of creatures – a Hollywood starlet who is out and proud. I can’t really over emphasize the importance of this, particularly in light of all the talk recently about on-screen outing. No one had to out Amber. She did it herself. She did it before she was famous, before she was on the billboards. She showed up at events, arm-in-arm with her beautiful girlfriend and called her as much. She goes to protests. She speaks for equality. No one has to whisper and wonder. She shouts it with pride herself. Her openness about her sexuality is almost more beautiful than she is. Almost. Just imagine if everyone in Hollywood felt the same way. She is that daily reminder that we are everywhere, and sometimes – just sometimes – we even look like Amber Heard. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Crush

I have very few stead-fast winter traditions. I don’t put the decorations up on a certain day. I don’t roast chestnuts on an open fire. I don’t rush out to sled at the first fallen snow. But, come on, I live in California so that last one isn’t really my fault. What I do always do is open presents on Christmas morning (not Christmas Eve, that’s just impatient crazytalk). I always watch “The Snowman” with my family (well, when I’m with my family). And I always start playing Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson’s “Winter Song” on an endless loop. Here after a day of much turkey and lying flat, I finally feel ready to admit that winter is well on its way. So now, now I’m ready to press play. Something about this song with its delicate melancholy makes my heart just melt. It’s a harvester of light through cold, dark nights. I fell in love from the first second I heard it. And, once the season changes back, I fall in love all over again. Welcome, winter. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Crush

Goddamit, if I “2 Broke Girls” more doesn’t make me laugh like an idiot. I know, I know – there are still some problematic racial overtones. Though, thankfully, they’ve begun toning those down a bit. And, no, it’s not necessarily high art. And, yes, I still think the horse is crazy. But, fuck it, sometimes you just want to chuckle uncontrollably at the sight of two girls stuffing cupcakes down each other’s shirts. Plus there’s absolutely no denying the comedic and comely charms of Kat Dennings. She’s really why I tuned in in the first place. (Well, that and friendo to the lesbians Liz Feldman writes for the show.) While Kat’s delivery bothered me at first, it has developed a nice rhythm now that is her own distinct style. I also like that she’s not a bean pole (we’ve got the equally delightful Beth Behrs for that already). Heavens, does her waitress uniform fit her tightly nicely. I hadn’t seen Kat in much before the show. But from what I can gather she’s a geek dream girl alternative to Zooey Deschanel. For those who prefer their ladies with a little more vavoom and a little less cutsie. And I have this unstoppable urge to touch her oversized upper lip. And her milky skin. I think they’d be soft – so soft. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Crush

Clearly, I’ve had Adele on the brain the last 24 hours. And it seems so cliché to say you love Adele, because everyone loves Adele. Women, men, vertebrates, invertebrates, inanimate objects, imaginary friends. It’s impossible to not be awed by her voice. It’s criminal not to be moved by her emotions. Also that chin dimple? I fucking love that chin dimple. I really think Adele is one of the most beautiful women in music – not just her spectacular face, not just her spunky personality, not just her sublime voice (though sweet merciful Zeus, her voice), but her sane attitude about her art and self. She’s so refreshingly herself, so very outside of the corporate expectations of what a successful singer looks like in this day and age.

As Adele said herself in her Rolling Stone cover story earlier this year:

“My life is full of drama, and I don’t have time to worry about something as petty as what I look like… I don’t like going to the gym. I like eating fine foods and drinking nice wine. Even if I had a really good figure, I don’t think I’d get my tits and ass out for no one. I love seeing Lady Gaga’s boobs and bum. I love seeing Katy Perry’s boobs and bum. Love it. But that’s not what my music is about. I don’t make music for eyes, I make music for ears.”

Adele is gorgeous, and in a way that reminds you talent just needs a stage and a spotlight to shine. There’s nothing wrong with letting it all hang out, so to speak. But we also need to see it’s possible without the tits and ass. Talent is just talents. It doesn’t need any additional adornment to transport you someplace at once outside yourself and intensely personal. Also, there is no better therapy than singing at top volume in the car to Adele. “Someone Like You” in particular has saved me thousands in shrink fees. Happy weekend, all.

My Weekend Reflection

It had been, for whatever reason, a long week. I don’t know why, but my birthday week always sits heavy on me. It’s not the actual act of getting older, because we do that every day. Perhaps it’s just the reminder of one’s own mortality. Small speck. Enormous universe. Silly, I know. And in so many ways it has been a perfectly lovely week. Calls. Visits. Cards. Gifts. All of the wonderful birthday wishes from all of you wonderful people. I couldn’t be more touched, kittens. You’re too sweet, as always. Yet still, every year, the week ends with a strange sense of not entirely melancholy, but quiet reflection. There is so much unnecessary misery around us sometimes – violence, injustice, inequality, greed. So sometimes, sometimes I just like to remind myself that we’re not just a bunch of hairless apes with an unusually advanced ability to use tools. We are also kind, loving, generous souls who believe in the magic of each new day. I posted this once before on my Tumblr. And since then I’ve actually played it for myself several times just as a little reminder. This is summer solstice in Poznań, Poland with 11,000 paper lanterns set to Mumford & Sons. Every once in a while, we tiny humans do beautiful things. Happy weekend, all.