This may be the fact that I’ve been listening to Tina Fey’s (hopefully) first book Bossypants while galivanting about town this week, but I think this woman’s got a future in her. No, no. Here me out. This kid’s got something to say.
Few things I’ve learned from Tina’s musings thus far:
– Photoshop isn’t your enemy and it may do you some good, Droopy Boobs.
– Bust is an awesome magazine.
– You find women in higher-profile and power positions but there’s still work to be done. (see, Clinton, Hillary Rodham–only the third female Secretary of State in US history. And they still call them secretaries.)
Also, things I learned tonight: I can be too bitchy to my family sometimes and how to plunge a toilet. Red wine at the end of the night that involves the purchase of a brand-spanking-new plunger is delightfully quaffable.
It’s cold in the city tonight. I could’ve gone to two parties tonight, but instead I chose to stay home and bake shortbread.
Very plain and sad shortbread.
To be perfectly fair, there were few ingredients at my disposal in our apartment and it’s finally (finally? finally!) too fucking cold to go outside.
I also considered writing the follow-up to my previous piece tonight, but it turned out to be mostly just a skinny white chick on Facebook asking what the fuss was about, if you hate your body, just change it.
I wanted to point out in this unwritten post that it’s in poor taste to criticize unflattering photos when you yourself (the collective You) post enough tragically unflattering photos on a monthly, if not weekly, or daily basis. I believe it was Jèsus B. Gonzales who onced pointed out, “Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.”
We put those people on a pedestal and then we shit on them. It’s a terrible, horrible kind of mindfuck. Sadly, it also coincides around Christmas when we ourselves are overeating and grunting at each other over one more piece of chocolate.
I have better things to do, like work on actual articles for publication. But of course, sometimes the desire does get over me and I say something I may regret later on.
And I occasionally bake shortbread. Or a chocolate cake. It’s Christmas. I’m a little more frazzled these days and I think it’s affecting everything. I like Christmas, but god damn, the lead-up is a bitch. I had to chisel a wine cork open tonight because I couldn’t use the corkscrew properly. I sawed off the top of it like it owed me money.
Only got a bit of cork into the bottle, too.
Regardless of what I end up making, I have Ms Fey’s Bossypants reminding me we’re irrational, funny, strange creatures while I’m fetching plungers and other Christmas miscellanea. If the New York Times likes it, who am I to argue?
(I’d totally argue a NYT review, btw. Maybe.)