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May 30, 2007

Adventures in Living in Sin

Today on The Morning Show with Mike & Juliet - Relationship 101: Moving In with Your Significant Other

My take: When you start to think of your apartment as an expensive and extremely inconvenient closet, it's time to move in with your beau.  Or boo.  Whatever you call him.  As long as you're on the same page about why you're moving ("so she can do my laundry more efficiently" may not go over well, but I suppose at least you're being honest), what you'll do with the expenses (nickel & dime, split 50-50, divide according to income, or my personal favorite - let him pay for everything!), how you're going to deal with stuff (you get all of the closets, he gets a drawer, and yes, at least one joint IKEA meltdown is mandatory), and of course, the various ways you'll lie to your disapproving family (I highly recommend just not telling them, and if that doesn't work, insist you're still a virgin and the mere thought of sleeping in a bed with a boy shocks - just shocks - you.  Hint: hide your bondage gear.)

Watch the segment here!

May 29, 2007

Yes, We Know, Rosie is Not Size 2. Move On.

Huffington Post media columnist Rachel Sklar analyzes what she views as FoxNew's anti-fat prejudice today, citing the Hannity & Colmes segment I appeared on last Friday as an example.  Although I agree with most of Rachel's interpretation, I wouldn't say it's so much anti-fat prejudice as a disproportionate and inappropriate focus on women's looks, which seems to get in the way of a rational discussion about the substance of their opinions.

In other words, if we want to debate whether Rosie insinuated the troops were terrorists, fine.  But the idea that it's somehow valid to endlessly denigrate her physical appearance is just so ridiculously and gratuitously beside the point, it should go without saying.  Except that in every single public debate about Rosie of which I've been a part - and there have been many - her detractors have brought up her body, face, or sexuality (which is equally irrelevant!)

Witness the following abridged transcript from the show last Friday:

Hannity & Colmes, Friday, May 25, 2007

Hannity: If we referred to America as a terrorist nation - if we called our troops terrorists - and she did say it - if we talk about our president as being a dictator ought to be tried at the Hague - these irresponsible comments were accepted by ABC - why does she get a pass, because she's a liberal?

Julia: You know, I don't actually think she called the troops terrorists, but I don't think that's really about this, this is really about ...

Hannity: Excuse me, I'll read you the quote "655,000 Iraqi civilians have died, who are the terrorists?"

Julia: Listen, I absolutely understand what you're saying, but as far as ABC is concerned this is really about the money, it's about the ratings, they're not concerned about the political viewpoints.

Colmes: By the way, Julia, ABC has denied that the dressing room was trashed.  That was in the Post, it was reported, but it's been denied.  So we don't know whether it happened or not.

Julia: But we do know that they drew mustaches on Elisabeth Hasselbeck's photos.  That's third grade behavior!

Colmes: But that was not Rosie.  Here's the deal, Ellis, on this show we talk a lot about Imus and Opie & Anthony and defending their right to say things that are over the top.  We should also defend Rosie O'Donnell's right to say things that we agree or disagree with - it doesn't matter whether we agree with her or not - this is not about agreeing with Rosie ... It's about the right to say what is a point of view - extreme though it might be - that you can still say it and not be criticized or ridiculed for saying that point of view.

Ellis Henican: And most of us who are in the business of providing provocative and engaging opinions understand that that's something precious we really need to defend.  The fascinating thing with Rosie is she's brilliant at getting under the skin of people that she disagrees - she angers Curtis and she angers Sean.  Why does she rattle you guys so much, that's what I want to know?

Julia: Absolutely! Why do you care?

Ellis (to Curtis Silwa): Who cares!?  Who cares what she says!? She got under your skin!  She rattles you!

Curtis Sliwa: The blob has her own blog!! If you're a sycophantian lackey of Rosie O'Donnell, you can see her at home stuffing the cookies in her face, the blob working her blog!! (mimes stuffing cookies in his mouth)

Julia: But once again, you're making ad-hominen attacks!  Why go and insult her attractiveness?  That's absolutely unacceptable.  If you want to insult her viewpoints, do that, but why go for her attractiveness?

Colmes: Good for you!  Good for you, Julia!

Curtis: Excuse me, the fact that I'm watching her attack my President and my country, and she looks like Linda Blair in the Exorcist with her head ready to explode!

Julia: But this has NOTHING to do with what she looks like!  You said earlier that it ultimately came down to the fact that Elizabeth is cute and Rosie isn't.  But if you had two men in an argument, at what time would you ever hear them say "Oh, you know, this fight is really about their relative attractiveness."  You would never, ever, ever hear anyone say that!

Curtis: Elisabeth Hasselback is the only person on that hencluck show called The View who has any decent basic values about America.

Colmes: I think Julia is exactly right.  You don't like the way she looks and that should not be fair game!  Julia, you're exactly right.

Ellis: It's anti-fat prejudice maybe!

Curtis: Anti-Fat??

Julia: It's just unacceptable to draw her personal appearance into any of these arguments and we've time and time again gone back to the fact that she's supposedly a "fat lesbian."  That's just irrelevant!

Curtis: I didn't say that, you said that!  I said "the blob has her own blog!"

Might I add that Curtis isn't exactly svelte himself and, to top it off, was wearing a red beret to disguise his bald head?

Ah, the irony.

Today, 12:40 pm, Fox News Live

Will be discussing Rosie and her crazy video-blog, which is a technology I fully embraced before I saw Ro's, uh, "interpretation" of the medium, and decided there was a reason standards for television exist.  That having been said, I support her freedom of speech although I'm confused about why they (Rosie's writers) feel the need to A) wear sunglasses when they are clearly indoors and B) eat while they're filming.  I mean, like WAIT FIVE MINUTES WILL YOU!?!?  Bizarre.

May 28, 2007

This Week's Time Out New York Column -
Let Them Eat Shoes: The Case Against Dinner Whoring

My very sweet Ex bought these for me in Paris two years ago.  What can I say?  He pretty much ruined me for any other not-ridiculously-generous man.  And you know what?  I'm okay with that.

This week's Time Out New York issue (Summer Concerts) is sold out all across town.  Or, uh, at least at the two newsstands I asked randomly (spot check, suckers!), so you'll have to click HERE to read the column I shall forevermore lovingly refer to as "Buy Me Shoes, Damnit!!"  (Well, it was either that or "I'll Do You for Shoes!!"  which is not entirely true.  It's more like "I'll Cocktease You for Shoes!!"  Just strivin' for journalistic accuracy here.)

Anyway, it's not that there's anything inherently wrong with "dinner whoring" - I don't personally understand it (boring, calorie laden, did I mention boring??), but I'm not against women who like going out to nice meals paid for by ... not them.  If that's your (doggie) bag, baby, then go for it.  ha.  (Dear god, that was the lamest pun ever.  Sigh.)

Personally, after almost three freaking years of these dinners, I can't take it anymore.  So I put my foot down (ha. pun again!) in this column, and well, what do you know?  I didn't get a pair of shoes ... per se ... but I did get an extraordinarily creative first date this past Sunday with a guy who had obviously read the column and, uh, gotten the point. (creative dates = happy Julia)

Herewith, a short(ish) summary.  It won't seem short, I realize, except that the date was 12 hours long, so honestly, this is the abridged version.   And, sorry, it's G-rated.  Because that is how we rolled.  8th Grade New York Tourist Style!

Instead of aimlessly ingesting food within the safe confines of Manhattan, we took the N to Astoria (!!) to visit the Museum of Moving Images, where you can make your own flip book (!!!)  Which is pretty much the most awesome way to commemorate a first date, aside from, you know, getting knocked up.  Although that's really an option I'm not much interested in right now.  Then we caught their screening of a 1957 Western called "Forty Guns," which I thought was going to be a disaster (the whole "Guns is Part of the Title" thing) but turned out to be rather ... hot ... for some reason.  You'd be shocked how steamy old films can be with just innuendo and loaded weapons.  (I swear to god, the following was an actual bit of dialogue --- Woman: Can I see your gun?  Man: Sure, but it's a big one.  It might go off in your face.  Woman: I just want to hold it.  I like big guns.)  I mean, that's unbelievable.  Much better than Spiderman 3.

But we didn't stop the date there!  In fact, we decided to get all ATHLETIC with a half hour at batting practice, right around the corner (Queens has everything!).   I would like to happily report that avoiding all sports-like-activities for my entire, well, life, more or less, did not stop me from hitting the shit out of several innocent baseballs.  He was impressed/scared/possibly turned on.  Anyway, after searching Queens fruitlessly for edibles we decided it would be totally ironic (we said it in italics) to jump back on the subway and eat at that bastion of fine Times Square dining, Hawaiian Tropic.  Although we had come too late to vote on the hottest server in that evening's "beauty contest," we asked for (and received) leis, as well as excessively fruity alcoholic beverages from our tiara-wearing bikini-clad server (she had won the contest, obviously.  Only get served by Winners, that's what I always say).

And still, the date refused to end!  Following that, we walked down to Gotham Hall, where we attempted to crash a wedding (a "Sunday Styles" wedding, we were informed by a disgruntled nicotine-patch-wearing bridesmaid), and then walked a few blocks south to the Empire State Building, where I unsuccessfully tried to get our tickets for free (c'mon, everyone knows there're no such things as real press passes!!).  I surrendered my Amex for the tix, and all of a sudden we were at the top, admiring the lovely mini pink-for-girls & blue-for-boys Statue of Liberty figurines in the gift shop.   Who knew tchotchkes were gender assigned now?  And, yeah, we checked out the view too.  Although there were some rather thuggish guys who brought their portable iPod docking station and were blasting rap, killing the Nora-Ephron-esque mood slightly.  They did not respond favorably to my glares, so we made out to spite them.  Also, because it was sorta romantic.

The whole thing was so much better than your average three-vodka-tonics-nice-to-meet-you-uhhh-what's-your-name-again bar date, right??

Although I still haven't given up on a world where men purchase women shoes every week or so.  Mmmmm.  We all need a fantasy.

May 26, 2007

Friday Night with Hannity & Colmes

So while you were packing your Louis Vuitton/Vera Bradley/LeSportsac for the Hamptons/Hawaii/Cleveland like the jet-setting-Memorial-Day-celebrating patriot you undoubtedly are, I was over at the FoxNews studios on 48th and 6th, spreading false rumors about Rosie trashing her dressing room (uh... oops?).  Then I came home, wiped off my three inches of makeup and cued up four episodes from my totally-legally-downloaded-from-iTunes-cause-I-had-a-gift-certificate first season of 30 Rock.  HA!  Who's the patriot now, bitches??

May 24, 2007

This Morning, Fox News Fox & Friends, 6 freaking 20 am

Discussing Rosie & Elisabeth's tiff on the View yesterday morning.

Oops - you missed it!  Probably "sleeping" or some shit like that.  Nice life, lazy.  Screenshots and a reenactment below, for your benefit -

Anchor: Who do you think won, Jill?
Jill: Elisabeth, because [fill in cogent and nicely worded answer here].
Anchor: Who do you think won, Julia?
Julia: Uh ... Rosie.  And Elisabeth.  Also, Rosie.  [fill in unintelligible, un-follow-able other stuff here].

What I meant to say (and what I said to myself in the car going home) was "Rosie won on style, Elisabeth on substance.  Shockingly."  That just didn't come out, exactly.  Or, you know, at all.

with Star mag's extremely-coherent-at-6-am Jill Dobson.  Me?  Less so.

Double boxed with Rosie!

hmm.  Why do I feel like I just came dangerously close to making a sexual joke?  That's what I get for staying up all night ...

May 23, 2007

Last Night's (Birthday) Party - 17 Going on 30 ...

From last night's birthday party at Tenjune for my favorite 17-year-old, Leven Rambin  ... actually, she might be the only 17-year-old I know.  Hmm.  Yep.  Suddenly I feel very old.

In any case, she's a doll.  Happy birthday, sweetie!

with the adorable birthday girl

with the Huffington Post's Rachel Sklar, who dragged herself FROM WORK at 11:45 pm on a Tuesday night.  Now that's friendship!

May 21, 2007

Today - on Fox's Morning Show with Mike & Juliet, 9 am

I was going to write "Good Monday Morning" but then I heard Amanda Congdon's voice in my head saying it and immediately I got a blistering headache.

In any case, will be discussing competing within RELATIONSHIPS with your sig other.  I have absolutely no idea why I capitalized relationships in the previous sentence.  And because I am Very Tired and Want to Go to Bed Desperately, I'm not going to change it.

Update: screenshot!

with Matt Titus, dating coach and founder of Matt's Little Black Book

May 20, 2007

Crap I Did This Weekend, Part 1 - Saturday Night Live Season Finale After Party

Saturday night was SNL's season finale wrap party, which I swang by with the (newly 17!) and absolutely adorable Leven Rambin.  Not really in the mood to do a comprehensive write up at this moment, but a few quick notes ...

If I had my own Julia version of the Gawker Stalker, I would report that shortly after introducing myself to a completely disinterested (but HOT) Ivanka Trump [conspicuously absent - boy-mogul-toy Jared Kushner], I saw myself knock a wine glass out of her hand, splashing it all over, shattering it on the ground, and mauling the feet of various party-goers while she looked at me as if I had a serious form of contagious mental retardation.  Super smooth.  As usual.

Also spotted - Renee Zellweger, Zach "the douchebag" Braff, Andy Samberg (um, obviously, right?), Sarah Chalke (who is as sweet and unpretentious as Zach is, well, a douchebag and douchebaggish), Heroes' Zach Quinto and 30 Rock's Lonny Ross.  Below, another 30 Rock'er, the absolutely stunning Katrina Bowden, who could be Leven's twin, as well as a younger Christine Taylor, circa her "Hey Dude" period.  Needless to say, taking a photo sandwiched between the two of them was not one of my brighter ideas.  Nothing like 17/18 year old blonde bombshells to make one feel old, dowdy, and very, very fat.

30 Rock's Katrina Bowden, Not-a-Blonde-Actress me, All My Children's Leven Rambin

Leven's heel (the black one) by Prada.  Mine by ... oh hell.  Nine West.  Jealous?

This Week's Time Out Column

The inaugural Time Out column, Gather Ye Rosebuds, Bitches!

May 18, 2007

Tonight, 7 pm EST, g4 network's Attack of the Show

Will be on the g4 network's geek popular program Attack of the Show ... 7 pm, chatting about next season's Heroes extra episodes, something called "Halo," the douchebags otherwise known as Opie & Anthony getting suspended from XM, and the military banning YouTube & Myspace.

In other words, your average bar conversation in Silicon Valley.

May 16, 2007

What I Sound Like in the Morning, On Speaker.

Nothing to do for the next sixty or so minutes? Why not listen to a tinny version of me talking to the editors of Amore magazine right after I woke up one morning last week? I'm not sure I say anything amusing, but I do talk for quite some time. Whatever, it's either that or you can actually do work for your job or something. I understand if you choose the latter.

May 15, 2007

Fox's The Morning Show with Mike & Juliet, today (Tuesday) at 9 am

Was on Fox's Morning Show with the jovial Mike and lovely and vivacious Juliet ... talking about Relationship Bad Habits ...

You can watch the show here!  I will warn you, however, that it looks like a vicious tornado armed only with hairspray and a teasing comb attacked my hair.  Sigh.

May 14, 2007

FoxNews, Your World with Neil Cavuto, 4:40 pm, chased by an hour of Maxim Radio 5:30-6:30

Will be discussing a possible Bloomberg run for the White House at 4:40 pm today on FoxNews - specifically whether the sheer size of his financial, uh, package, is patently unfair to the voters (buying their votes!) and other candidates (making them feel poor!).  I will be taking the affirmative.

Afterwards, (from 5:30-6:30 pm) I'll be doing Covino & Rich's Maxim radio show on Sirius to promote my brand new column in Time Out New York!

May 13, 2007

Happy Mother's Day, Momsers!

My gorgeous, brilliant mom, circa 1990 (ish?).

See, I didn't learn the "Put-Your-Hand-on-Your-Waist-So-Your-Arm-Doesn't-Look-Fat" trick from Paris Hilton - I learned it from my mom!  That having been said, this is very much the only thing my mother and Paris have in common, I assure you.

And with me, circa 1983.

More Mother's Day Love

Young Julia, 2002, Oil on Canvas.

How to describe my mom?  She has never been the sum of her resume, although that's impressive - an early Type-A, she graduated from Stanford, worked for Reagan (when he was governor) and Nixon (when he was President), a PBS producer (until I came along), and then a full-time mom, Hospice volunteer, and very active church member.

She is a consummate runner-of-households - my father calls her CEO of Wif, Inc. - but never, ever "just a housewife."  One of the most artistically gifted and creative human beings I've ever met, what this woman can do with a box of ribbons and a pair of scissors would blow your mind.

Indeed, her talent as an artist - oils, pastels, pencil, charcoal - is so astounding that if she had the self-promotional bent I do, she would be a household name.  See below (and at top) for proof.

Unlike so many people (including my lawyer dad, whose profession describes him better and more expeditiously than anything else), my mother has never defined herself through her job - even as a mother.  Who she is cannot possibly be described by what she's done, because "force of nature" isn't frequently found on business cards, no matter how avant-garde.

Blisteringly intelligent, her conversations are legendary for their depth and breath of thought.  And yeah, their length, too.  She's open-minded, a perfectionist (in ways both good and bad), a bastion of unpretentiousness, a sometimes-devil's-advocate, spiritual but definitively not dogmatic, relentlessly altruistic.  I've never seen anyone care for pups as well as she does for our shih-tzus Lilly & Langdon, whom she adopted from me when I moved to New York.  She cooks them chicken dinners.  They have puppy car seats and puppy life vests and 837 puppy toys, and, oh yes, their very own puppy nanny (for when Mom is away for more than four hours).  Rough life.

My mom, who used to sport ribbons in her hair into her 20s and shunned pants in favor of A-line skirts as much as I do (we were both "blessed" with physical qualities that theoretically enable us to star in rap videos and/or as poster white girls for "Baby Got Back"), also doesn't wear makeup or get botox or hobble around in heels and a Juicy Couture sweatsuit pretending to be "hip and young."  She doesn't really give a shit about what people think, which is both one of the coolest and scariest things about her.  She is nobody's doormat.

An inveterate reader, a strong-willed, confident feminist, and the most financially prudent women I've ever met (she dominates Turbo-Tax), she thinks buying anything without heavily consulting Consumer Reports is asking to be robbed and summarily beaten with broken microwave parts.  She once told me that she wished either me or my brother were gay, because she would have been "totally supportive."  (Alrighty, then!  I made a mental note in case the need should arise for me to alter my sexual orientation.)

It has been said that sometimes my mother can be so warm and bubbly she must be fake.  She's not.  She's a Gemini.  She's a communicator.  A communicator who will laugh and smile, warmly, lovingly, but If You Cross Her You WILL REGRET IT.  [A small illustrative anecdote: In high school my #1 'issue' was not drugs or alcohol or sex.  It was waking up on time in the morning.  I am NOT a morning person, and I got very good at forging excuse notes (the number of "orthodontist appointments" I had at 8:30 am probably numbered in the hundreds).  One morning, after sleeping yet again through the first bell, I had pushed Mom too far.   She told me I would get suspended if I didn't shape up.  I replied - accurately, I might add - that they "didn't suspend kids like me."  (Hello, I was on the DEBATE team!)  "Oh yeah?" Mom said.  "Is that so?"  And she marched down to the school, right into the dean's office and announced, "You need to suspend my daughter for being relentlessly and unapologetically late."  And the dean said "We don't suspend kids like her."  And my mother said, "You do now."  Guess who had to check "yes" in the box of "Have you ever been suspended?" on ALL of her college applications?  Lesson Learned.  Do.  Not.  Mess.  With.  Mom.]

Actually, my mother is the sole reason I'm (ostensibly) a writer today.  It was my mom who first encouraged me to join my high school paper as the opinions editor ("you have so many opinions!  way, way too many opinions!  many of which are wrong!  why don't you write about them?!"), and it was my mom who not only supported me when I started writing columns at Georgetown, but spent hours and hours on the phone editing them with me.  It was my mom who - despite her unabashed hatred of the FoxNews channel and absolute disinterest in any sort of publicity - nonetheless championed me by making an appearance - makeup-less on tv!! - to talk about what it was like to edit her daughter's "sex column."

More than all that - my mother is the reason I'm a strong woman today.  Yeah, I said it.  STRONG WOMAN, hear me roar and wear purple and go on women's retreats and quote Maya Angelou.  Because more than anything, my mother is that, the ultimate "strong woman" - with a ridiculously loving almost 30-year-old-marriage, a close group of girl friends, two beautiful, well-run homes, two happy little puppies and two more or less well-adjusted kids with no discernable need for SSRIs.

She could make Kim Jong Il piss his pants with one of her lectures, but she still signs her emails "lovehugskisses, momsers."  And that, my friends, is a damn impressive dichotomy.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.  I love you.

Julia with her Dad, 2000, Oil on Canvas.

Abstract, 2001, Oil on Paper.

Nude, 2003, Charcoal/Pastel on Paper.

May 11, 2007

BREAKING(ish) NEWS!* Julia Brand New Dating Columnist at Time Out New York

Hurray! Someone is willing to hire me!!  Parents "Shocked, Confused"

Now, listen here, people.  For the past two months (since I stopped writing AM New York's dating column), I know you've all been wandering about, aimlessly lost, devoid of direction or purpose, unable to think clearly, steadfastly bewildered, scared and alone, muddled and nonplussed, hopeless and ... okay, that's enough.  Anyway, you probably wondered to yourself, "Self, where should I get all my dating advice now that Julia no longer writes an actual dating column and instead just posts photos of herself on her blog, not smiling in the exact same way every single time??"

Well, Self - Your Self, that is - the brilliant weekly magazine Time Out New York has come to your rescue, and by "your" of course I mean mostly my ex-boyfriends, who are relieved that now I'll have to go on dates with new men instead of emailing the old ones at 2 am to wonder angrily why they're taking other women to Jamaica and Dubai and London and the Bahamas, even if I did dump (most of) them in the first place.  (Whatever.  It's not like I gave them permission to actually enjoy life without me.)

Right.  So my new column - called BLANK (we'll get to that in a second) - will run every week in Time Out's print edition and at the following URL - www.TimeOutNewYork.com/dating.  Bookmark it, bitches!  Please?

Now.  As for that name ... here's the deal.  I couldn't think of anything absolutely beyond amazing (or even, you know, anything at all), so I'm letting other people do the heavy lifting and having a PLEASE JUST NAME THIS COLUMN FOR ME, C'MON YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO, EVERYONE'S DOING IT CONTEST.  Look, this will be my fourth dating column (the first three being The Georgetown Hoya's "Sex on the Hilltop", COED magazine's "Sex Editor", and amNewYork's "The Dating Life"), and my fifth column overall (yes, I wrote one my senior year in my high school paper.  It was beyond crap, actually.  It was super crap.  Craptastic, really, if "tastic" indicated more "superlative of crap" and less "sort of awesome").  And you know what?  I think it's clear I'm not really that great with the uber clever column names, and I'm okay with that.  It's cool.  So you do it for me.

In return - cause, really, who does anything for free nowadays? - you'll receive a dinner for two courtesy of Time Out, and you can invite me or, if you're just not that into me (also totally fine), invite someone you'd actually want to sit and look at during a meal.  You'll also get two dating advice books of your choice.  I know, I know, try to calm yourself down.  Breathe.  Really, no, inhale.

And go enter the contest!!!

*Thanks to Gawker, Jossip, and Mediabistro for sweetly covering the announcement, including my personal favorite portion of the press release, which I assuredly did not write: "[Julia is] a notorious figure with a notorious figure."  Two words: obit material.

May 09, 2007

Last Night - TIME Magazine's 100 Most Influential Gala.

In vintage Nordstrom Rack (ha).  Yellow Moe purse designed by the incomparable Mary Rambin.

So, here's the thing.  Well, there are two things, really.

Thing #1) I haven't yet slept since attending the dinner last night, so I'm not really going to get into the details (now) except to say ...

Thing #2) I met TIME's Ana Marie Cox for the FIRST TIME!!!

There are probably about four people alive who can fully comprehend the enormity of this for me, but I'll attempt an explanation.  Ana - back when she wrote DC's political blog Wonkette - was the very first person to ever make fun of me online (an impressive distinction, really).  She called me out when I was a baby sex columnist at Georgetown, after the then-Washington Post gossip reporter Lloyd Grove busted me for seeing ex-Rep Harold Ford.  Lloyd is now a friend of mine (Harold, not so much), but although I kept hearing about Ana through the media grapevine, attended some of the same parties - and even re-enacted conversations involving her - I never managed to actually get a face-to-face ... until last night, when she sat down TWO SEATS FROM ME.  Ahh!

It blows my mind that it could take five years for us to actually meet, but I have to say - totally worth the wait.  I've always respected Ana's writing; she's fucking smart, and the most hysterical political writer since Chris Buckley.  Like many women writers (okay, women in general), she's incredibly self-deprecating with regard to her work, albeit unnecessarily so.  She gets far less credit than Maureen Dowd, while consistently being a better writer and thinker.  Also, she's much hotter.  Which is neither here nor there, of course, but it's something I really can't help but add, namely because I'm a shallow bitch who's always secretly wanted to be a redhead, damnit.

May 07, 2007

Today, FoxNews, a little Hilton love at 7:20 am, 5:30 pm

I'm not going to even show you the up-close screenshots, that's how tired/puffy/generally hideous I looked this morning, attempting to talk on Fox & Friends (and later on The Big Story with John Gibson) about the insidious schadenfreude this entire country (and parts of the UK, I'm told) is experiencing over Paris Hilton's imminent jailtime.

Being a friendly contrarian by nature, I took Paris' side.  I think I'm literally the ONLY ONE (according to a TMZ poll, 96% believe Paris "got what she deserved.")  Look - of course it's not okay for her to drive drunk - jesus, I get upset when people drive seatbelt-less (Corzine, you hear that??), but the unbridled glee with which the nation is celebrating her punishment strikes me as a little ... unsettling.

In general, I think criticism of Paris tends to be unwarranted, due mainly to it devolving into a debate about her sexuality or purported promiscuity, which, in my opinion, should be completely off limits for judgment.  She can sleep with the entire NFL and several Greek islands, and I'm not really sure why that gives anyone the right to abhor her the way they do.  My thinking was - she's rich, stunning, dresses like a Barbie, and loves attention - I thought I smelled an unhealthy dose of jealousy and said as much.

In any case, after I stuck up for her on John Gibson's show, I received this email from a friend, chastising me:

Julia -

  Never would have thought of you as a Paris supporter. The reason people can't stand her isn't jealousy, but because she never does anything positive with her fame. If she even just set a good example, telling kids to stay in school and work hard, that might make her a little more acceptable instead of the punchline of a dirty joke. Then again, she had all the best given to her (best schooling, best life) and she just pissed it all away because she never gives any consideration to having to work for herself.


The Lone Paris Hilton Supporter - 0.
Everyone Else Who Thinks Paris Hilton is a Tool - 259,999,999

I concede defeat.

May 01, 2007

Fox's The Morning Show with Mike & Juliet

Nothing like a little sex talk in the morning!

Watch the show, below ...