Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Lover lover

One of my more embarrassing hobbies is following (OK, obsessing over) famous relationships. Many a conversation has started with me saying, “You’re going to die when you find out who he’s married to…” I know, I know, it’s kind of a waste of time and usually pretty depressing as hobbies go, but it floats my boat to think of celebrities as real people. I WANT them to be real people, and the act of falling in love humanizes them in my eyes. It makes me fantasize about the banalities of their lives (What does Brangelina have for breakfast?) Plus there are so many wack-tacular pairings that make you think. I like when something makes me go, “Hmmm.” 

Like the fact that Shmoopy is married to George Stephanopolous. How does that even happen (actually I kind of know how it happened, because Ali Wentworth apparently grew up in Washington DC. So she probably impressed G-Steph with her political prowess. Or he loved In Living Color. What the hell do I know?)

Or Joanna Newsom and Andy Samberg. This one really gets me excited, because Joanna is my patron saint. She comes across as very scholarly and very much an anachronism. There’s a primness about her, and I like to think of her sitting around with Samberg and the Lonely Islands crew while they write modern classics “Dick in a Box.” I wonder if she’s ever picked out the melody for “Mother Lover” on her harp. 

See, isn’t this a fun game? 

And these are just current couples. Dig into the archives for head-scratchers such as Will Arnett and Penelope Ann Miller. (WHAT? I don’t get it.)

Honorable mention, of course, goes to the crazy awesome couple pictured. I don't know how Nick Offerman and Megan Mullally got together but I'd like to thank THE UNIVERSE for that.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Real Talk

It’s weird what sticks with you. When I was pretty young (say nine or ten-ish) my next door neighbors, who were like surrogate grandparents to us, gave me a book about hygeine, comportment and femininity for girls. Who the heck knows where it came from, because their daughter was already grown and having sons of her own, but it seemed to be some sort of hand-me-down. Teen Girl Talk (the great site has a feature on it, here was filled with all sorts of frightening tips.  At the time, I remember thinking it was already pretty out-dated*, and I’ve never been the girliest-girl in the world, but for some reason I lived and died by its advice. 

I tried the 1000 calorie per day diet plan (great for growing kids!) and did the ankle exercises until they were throbbing (and still chubby.)  I even kept my eyes open when washing my face because, “eyes need washing, too.” But what I remember most is its recommendations on body measurements, and how you should be able to fit your hands around your waist. Is anyone actually able to do this? Make a circle with the fingers of both hands in front of you right now. Does that look like the circumference of a healthy waist? No. Maybe back when whalebones were a popular fashion accessory, but certainly not now. Lord knows I couldn’t do it at age 10 and I couldn’t do it at age 20 when I started working out and dieting like a madwoman. Is that not insane? Even as an adult I catch myself wrapping my fingers around my waist trying to gauge just how long my damn fingers would need to be to reach each other. Even though I know – and knew as a kid – that it’s a completely unrealistic goal. 

There’s not much of a point to this, except to say that we spend our adult lives trying to get out from under the negative things we learned and experienced as kids. If I have a female child in the future I’ll make sure to tell her that her waist is great just the way it is and that eyeballs don’t need washing.

*Further research has uncovered that it was published in 1981, but, gosh, it seemed like something from the 30s.