....and, someone in California has my name and is passing out my email address....can I capitalize on this somehow?

So - the greater southern California theatre community can count one pretty bright kid among their ranks: so bright, she doesn't even realize the email address she's giving people does NOT, in fact, belong to her.

Delightful.

Actually, yeah, it is delightful. I'm privvy to all sorts of really boring details about the life of someone involved in selling pashmina's for $12.95 a pop, who sends lavish thank you gifts to her friends, and who likes to be kept in the loop about upcoming auditons.

The trouble: she's not getting these emails.

Because I am.

It started with boring, not particularly personal messages like this one, from a Mr Frank Vignola, offering me some options for comedy classes I might want to audit:

Frank Vignola to me

another auditing option...


Class this Saturday, July 24th at Broadway Comedy Club is the Main Showroom from 2:00 to 5:00.


This is the first class of "The Masters Class with Frank Vignola at Broadway Comedy Club" (Summer Session - Saturday section).


Please let me know whether or not you will be attending class this Saturday as I know some of you have scheduling conflicts in July.


But the good news is it's my understanding that most of those conflicts will resolved on a case by case basis by August.


A couple of class rules…


1. Bring a tape recorder if you own one. And if you don’t own one maybe you should buy one.


2. You may bring video cameras to class to tape yourself if you’d like.


3. Be prepared to do what you currently consider to be your most industry savvy and audition worthy five minute set.


4. Auditors are welcome. So whether you’ve got friends in town who just want to watch or somebody you know is interested in the class but wants to check it out first, all are welcome.


Monday nighters doing makeup sessions please re-confirm as well.


Sincerely,


Frank Vignola
frankvignolacomic.com
broadwaycomedyclub.com ("Interested In Comedy Classes?")
646-243-4361

Then it moved onto more interesting things, like, oh, spreadsheets with great info on them, like SKU numbers from the SGI-USA Bookstore in Santa Monica, wherever that is. Oh - and before you accuse me of being a stupid twit who not only opens emails not intended for her but also snoops through the likely virus riddled-attachments, I'll defend myself by saying, um, "what? I couldn't resist!" and leave it at that. So far, virus-free. But, all that much richer for knowing that SKU 516, Also known as "Taneesha's Treasures" is in stock at the bookstore, but being held for disposition. Darn.
 
Then I get a message titled "Old Japanese Books." Mmmm, fascinating. Open it up (sorry - can't help it!) - it's more bookstore info:

Hi,

Here the list of old Japanese books. Please note qty that you have of each and send to me. Then ring out the books and give away.


Thanks,


Melissa

Melissa Hilton-Silver
SGI-USA Bookstore Operations
606 Wilshire Blvd.
Santa Monica, CA 90401
310 309-3228 office
310 844-8599 cell

At this point, I started getting a little concerned that whomever was passing out heatheradair@gmail as their address was actually supposed to be receiving instructions from her employer, or something and that they're going to the wrong email box and she'll never get the message that she's supposed to "ring out and give away" the old Japanese books....(there's a spreadsheet for that, too).
 
Over the weekend, it got slightly more personal:

Hi Ladies,


I am working on some of the things we talked about last week.


I found the shawls-they will most likely be Pashminas with an embroidery. Pashmina is the soft wool underbelly fur of a Himalayan goat. They are lightweight yet warm. They are some lovely "FNCC" type colors available. I am trying for a $12.95 retail.


Tell me what you think-should it be an FNCC logo or can I do a beautiful SGI 8 petal lotus logo instead? I just think the SGI logo is a little bit more sophisticated. Thoughts??

I am also working on the travel mug-should have some more info on that by the end of the week.


I sure had a great time working with you both. I miss you already!!


Best,


Melissa


Melissa Hilton-Silver
SGI-USA Bookstore Operations
606 Wilshire Blvd.
Santa Monica, CA 90401
310 309-3228 office
310 844-8599 cell

Okay, at this point I had to do a little digging. What on earth is the SGI-USA bookstore? Ah. Why, it's the US branch of the Soka Gakkai International Organization. Happens to be a group founded in 1975 as a support network for practitioners of Nichiren Buddhism. Hmmm. Who knew? So, they have a bookstore, they're selling embroidered pashminas......and I'm now part of their club.

I actually replied to that one. I felt a little bad. Like someone was actually missing out on the joy of participating in a decision about whether to go with beautiful lotus logos or something more corporate on those $13 pashminas.....So I said,

I've received several emails from you recently, and I believe they were intended for someone else. Though pashminas are certainly lovely (!!!) I'm really not particularly well-qualified to help you decide which logo is more sophisticated. It seemed rude not to let someone know that your emails aren't being delivered to the correct recipient. I wish you (and your old Japanese books!) the best. Kindly correct the email address you have on record. 

Yeah, so it was dorky. Smarmy. But whatever. I thought it might stop. Maybe these Buddhists would pass the good word along: the Heather they were trying to email wasn't the Heather on the receiving end. So I felt a little self-satisfied. I'd done my deed for the day.

Then the next morning:

Hi Heather and Karen!

Thank you both so much for all of your hard work last week and for welcoming and taking care of us! I had a wonderful time. I can't wait to see you both again soon (I will be there mid August).

I mailed you several butterfly tickets and square labels for the fukusa. Please feel free to let me know if there are any SKUs I missed and/or if there are additional tickets you'd like me to print for you. I'd be happy to send those to you anytime.


Thank you so much.


Julia

Hmmm - now in this case, I'm not terribly worried because Julia mentions she's mailing tickets - and in that case, she -- presumably -- has the correct mailing address for the real, live Heather with whom she intends to correspond. But really - does the real, live Heather wonder why she's not getting her emails?

Anyway - the latest arrived this morning:

Hi Heather,

Thank you so much for the wonderful gifts!! I was so happy to see them when I got back to my desk!! :)

I had such a great time working with you and Karen!!! Thank you so much for all of your hard work.


Julia

Yep.
 
Well, at least we're well-mannered and gracious.
 
I give up. I'm just going to have to resign myself to being a silent participant in Mystery Heather's Buddhist, butterfly-loving, Pashmina-selling, Bookstore-organizing life, in tiny bits and pieces.

Quickly: are his pants too small, or is he just happy that Mad Men premiers Sunday?

I have nothing else to say about this: pictures speaks for themselves:

?????????

So, if women ruled the world we'd live in a Jersey Shore nightmare.....?

So, the premise of this Newsweek essay was interesting, but, unfortunately, fundamentally missed the boat.....it's part of a larger Newsweek feature called "The Beauty Advantage" that seeks to break down the truths and fallacies behind the idea that our looks drive our success, for better or for worse.

The writer of this particular piece (Susanna Schrobsdorff - whom, I've decided, should stick to interviews and skip the "faux comedy") tackled the question "What if men everwhere had to conform to beauty standards set by women" and then came up with a cute list of behaviors that men the globe over would find ridiculous and appalling and would immediately eschew - but - SHOCK! GASP! - they're the same behaviors to which women are currently expected to conform in one way or another.

The trouble: she did this backwards.

The first paragraph:

...what if we lived in a world where women had always been the kings, the presidents, the bosses (and, thus, the arbiters of beauty)? Perhaps we’d call it a 'Gynocracy'—a place where superficial women would set the standards for attractiveness, and men would have to conform to them. It would be a place where ugly men would have a hard time getting a date or a promotion, and the women would burn off steam over beers at a restaurant called Hunks, where all the waiters must have 30-inch waists and grapefruit-sized biceps.

Ok, first of all: Gynocracy? Please. If women ruled society, we're certainly not going to invoke a word most of us find blatantly ugly when naming our utopia. We'd sooner call this new dynasty a "Fem-ocracy." Er, that's lame, too. Anyway - semantics. Not the big issue.

She assumes that, left to our own global-domination devices and given thousands of years of glorious female superiority, we'd naturally end up just like men, valorizing the same things men valorizing, objectifying in the same ways men objectify, etc, etc, etc. Here's an example:

Weekly Forearm Waxing : No hairy arms or knuckles. It’s a crazy fashion thing that just sort of evolved—like the way women had to start shaving their legs a hundred years ago. To keep up with the beauty ideal in the Gynocracy, men have to wax or shave their forearms. To avoid it, some men just keep their sleeves rolled down—even in the summer. But if they want to wear short sleeves, or get a date with a woman, they absolutely have to be smooth and shaven from the elbow down. Sure, they could rebel, and show up to work hairy, but it’d be like a woman in our world sitting in a meeting with thick black hair on her legs. It’d be a STATEMENT.

Well that just makes no sense. It supposes that domination and status as the "power gender" is the only factor driving cultural body hair preferences. Women are in power, now let's shave our men! But not their legs or backs or asses or underarms or what not: Death to arm hair! Death to arm hair!

Uh, no.

Why?

First - we could just as easily put it this way: why not mandate beauty standards for men that involved cultivating EXTRA hair?

Why do we suppose that men (in their hundreds of years of socio-political control) dictated whether or not we shave our legs? In fact - some "body hair removal timelines" (yes, they exist....) indicate men and women arrived at a depillatory advent fairly concurrently. Both genders decided to start removing hair at the same time - men (and women) from their faces - eyebrows, hair on the head, you name it.

Let's tackle this from another angle: when I was 10 years old (and not yet shaving my pretty significant amounts of leg hair off into kingdom come), it was other girls that pointed and giggled, not the boys. So, I'm left to assume that, while men have been conditioned to appreciate a hairless female body, there's nothing that inherently fingers men as the perpetrators of the silky smooth revolution. SO, to flip this back around on the "If women ruled the world" scenario, I don't see anything that specifically indicates our body hair preferences would be any different.

Actually, if we're taking this from a "survival of the fittest" perspective, I have every reason to believe the higher-testosterone (read: generally hairier) men would continue to be pegged as the more virile, fit mates, (the better option for propegating the species), and women would select the wide-jawed, thick-browed, furrier men for reproduction purposes, and -- as such -- fuzzy men would come out on top, body hair would continue to be a more priced aesthetic AND even the advent of hormonal birth control (which, interestingly, renders women chemically UNABLE to tell the difference between a the scent of a man who woul make a good mating match versus a poorer match -- genetically speaking -- and instead predisposes them to a preference for softer, more feminine features), might have happened very differently - if we weren't concerned with creating the ability to control when we have children and how many children to have, but instead, as the ruling party made the decision ourselves, I think the gender debate would look significantly different.

So, waxing. Right.

Here's another one I'll pick apart - flat abs. As she puts it:

Tummy Tucks and Ab Work: Because the style for men in the Gynocracy is to wear skin-tight T shirts, men are obsessed with having a flat stomach. Older guys with the intractable paunches that sometimes come with middle age have a very hard time with these fashions. They either look sad in their tight shirts with belly rolls, or they cover up with frumpy “Chico’s for Men” shirts that make them look old and dated. And of course female bosses are always paying more attention to the young guys in the tight shirts, so just for economic survival, some guys have resorted to wearing full torso girdles called Manx—which is murder in the summer.


Some men in the Gynocracy do rebel. They ask: why won’t women love us for who we are, or for our money, or our success, instead of our flowing hair and broad shoulders? The women shrug their shoulders. “We can’t help it,” they say. “It’s pure biology and evolution.” Occasionally some unattractive guys break the mold. (One was even secretary of state!) And there are a few TV newsmen who are getting close to 50—but they’re really talented. And then there was that little frumpy guy who ran for president. He got a respectable number of votes—though he could never take off his suit jacket without all the political columnists writing about how his butt looked flat in pants. Secretly, no one really blamed his wife for cheating on him—he did seem like shrew—always bossing everyone around and insisting on people doing things “his way.”


Men in the Gynocracy would have to make time for hotness maintenance and still do all the other things necessary for success. They’d exhaust themselves trying to juggle family and work. Some would slowly give up. Others would try and change the standards and try to get women to like male models with beer bellies. Maybe some women would see beyond the superficial and say: “I don’t care if you have stubble on your forearms, your gray roots are showing and when you take off your Manx, your belly expands like a balloon, I’m crazy about you. Sit down near me and have a beer.” Surely there’d be women in the Gynocracy like that. In fact I even know a few men who do it for us here in this world.

Again: really? So, if genders were flipped, the power-party would still boil down to, "You're my eye candy: go put on a tight shirt?" Women weild the sword for thousands of years and it comes down to "remove your body hair and wear a girdle?" REALLY? Is this Susanna chick even female?

Yeah, yeah, I get it, she's making a point that the things we do for beauty and the stupid rituals to which we subject ourself are more or less ridiculous - but is it just me, or does this article's version of MAN end up looking remarkably like "The Situation?" And, again, is it just me, or does that sound remarkably UN-like what most women look for? And while I'm nitpicking....where is it written that we only maintain ourselves because of pressure from the other gender? Unless there are women to woo, men would be slovenly pigs? Eh, again, I just don't think so: no more than women would go to seed in the absence of men to snag.

Sure, we can take this back to a more socio-evolutionary standpoint and argue that attraction of a viable mate tends to be what drives most of us to make ourselves attractive to the other sex, but to suggest we'd all be fat slobs unless slave-driven to look better for each other's visual pleasure: um, that would quickly lead to the destruction of the species, and I don't think it's in humanity's best interest to simply go to seed. Self-preservation as a species would probably keep us from completely imploding (er, exploding, if we're talking Spanx and girdles), present state of the nation aside......

Also - the idea that women would all tend toward the young bucks rather than the silver foxes is just silly - sure, young females are a hot commodity from a child-bearing standpoint, but since men are fertile well into the grey-haired years, would we really toss them out of the mating pool so readily?

Whatever - I'm reading way too much into what was supposed to be a lighthearted snapshot of some insane beauty practices, but this is one case where flat role reversal just doesn't hold up....

I don't want an arm-hairless, tummy-tucked, grapefruit-biceped, artificially colored man - you can take your freaky washboard abs and your starched black hair and give me something with a little more to wrap my arms around, any day. I prefer not to worry about getting bruised by bumping into a spooky pelvic muscle when I go for a hug........and we know how I feel about bald.......

Mmmmmm. 12 inches of MEAT.

There's no way to do this without falling back on some crude double entendres.....but naturally, most 18-24 year-old dudes would like nothing better than to hoover a solid foot of meat. Right? Open wide. Swallow it all.

Ahem.

That's what the marketing minds at Carl's Jr suspect, anyway. Why enjoy something as pedestrian as a ROUND burger when you can send something more torpedo-shaped down the hatch -- and pay only $4 for the experience? Oh, and YES, the fact that I got exited about this story means I'm apparently as much of a sucker for junk food gossip as I am for the celebrity variety. One word: Chickenwich.

To add to my irrational excitement: a woman with the Orange County Register (who's job I would desperately love to steal) writes exclusively on the fast food industry and test drove the footlong for a recent review - here's a snapshot:

"Chain reps confirm that the home of the “Six Dollar Burger” is testing a foot-long cheeseburger in some restaurants. The funny-looking meat sandwich has been spotted at this Orange County restaurant: 1943 E. 17th Street in Santa Ana. (Note: This is the same restaurant that tested the Grilled Cheese Bacon Burger before it rolled out in stores across the country.)

The regular “Footlong Cheeseburger” sells for $4; the deluxe version (with lettuce and tomato) cost $4.50.

When I got my hands on the 12-inch burger, the first thing I noticed is that part of the wrapper stuck out of the to-go bag. Now, that’s a long burger.

But, that’s where the impressiveness stopped. Upon further inspection, I discovered the footlong came with three tiny round patties carefully placed between a Hoagie-style bun. I was kind of hoping for one long, lean burger pattie. The toppings (onions, mayo, pickles, lettuce, tomato and cheese) made the whole thing ordinary."

Apparently this is BIG enough news (clearly big enough. that's some, uh, Monster Meat......) that USA today ran a story about the burger as well. They fell prey to the same bad analogies by starting the article off with this tagline: "The fast-food world has proof positive that size matters: a foot-long cheeseburger." Snicker. But I was delighted to discover a quote from the editor of a website called BurgerBusiness.com. Seriously. Junk food porn. Anyway - this gentleman, Scott Hume, theorized that ""We live in a society that's fascinated with all things big...It's inherently American to push for something bigger and better than anyone else has."

Ah yes - like bigger, better percentages of Americans living with heart disease, diabetes and sky-high cholesterol. Bigger and better waistlines. Atta girl, America! And even better: it's obesity on the cheap!

Naw, I actually I'm not going to condemn in this case - I do love me some fast food. What interested me about this story was the fact that Carl's Jr's core customer base is primarily young men (or so their marketing department believes) and they figured those young men like foot-long things. Like Subway. Or Sonic's footlong quarter pound hot dog topped with chili and cheese.

Hmmm.

It's been my experience that 20-something men are pretty much happy as long as they're within drunk-stumbling distance of a Taco Bell. That's pretty much all the cheap fast food a good micro-brew loving single guy needs. Why bother with something so unnecessarily long it's a pain to eat or fit into a fast food takeout bag when you can have seventeen tacos for $3.27 or whatever? Why deal with the carbs of a hoagie roll when you can stack those three beef patties and three slices of cheese on top of each other, add bacon, and have the Baconator Triple, instead? I mean, come on, Carl's Jr - at least add BACON to this concoction. Oh - then you'd have to charge $11? Ah. Got it.

Speaking strictly of calories, they could do worse. It clocks in at 850, less than most of the other monster-burgers fast food chains have rolled out recently. Actually, it's marketed as a direct attempt to take back the stomachs of sandwich-loving bargain shoppers from Subway's market - if they like a footlong turkey on wheat, wouldn't they love a footlong BEEF WITH CHEESE that much more?

Maybe.

I have this whole "I don't like bread" thing that has nothing to do with carbs and everything to do with the filling and flavorless nature of dough in general that seems -- to me -- to get in the way of the good stuff in the middle. Ditto pizza crust. If I could order a pizza with extra cheese and no crust, I would. Yes, bring me a box of cheese topped with sausage and pepperoni and I'm solid. SO - the hoagie roll idea here seems to introduce too much extra...."filler" into the equation. Stack all three of those on top of each other, add a NORMAL bun (or, Chickenwich style, skip the bun!) and you've got something more enticing for $4. A $4 triple cheeseburger - I'd say "Sure!" to that.

In the meantime, we can wait and see if the 18-24 year-old crowd says "I'd eat that," to all 12 inches of that meat.

Brains versus "Bolt-ons" for The Hamm.

I got slapped by an 80 year old woman.

In my dream last night.

We were on a beach. Oregon Coast-ish with some big sea stacks. I was walking with my mom, grandma, some cousins.....then we realize there's a "traffic jam" on the beach and a long line of cars is particularly irate with my family for standing in "the road." An old lady gets out of her car, walks up and gets in my face about the fact that my grandmother was blocking traffic. So I think that's ridiculous (we're on a flippin beach. come on.) and say something that -- in my dream -- was "ooooh...rather inflammatory" (something like, "My grandma wouldn't have to get out of the way if your giant ass car wasn't IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BEACH!") at which point the lady reared back and slapped me with everything she had. Which wasn't much. But at that point, cue the Teen Drama Queen in me - I tried to rush the biddy, my entire family had to restrain me - there was much struggling against their hold, shaking my fist, screaming at the old lady that I was gonna shank her - nice stuff like that. Eventually, they calmed me down enough to pursuade me that the better plan was to get very dressed up - like evening gown dressed up - and parade with the rest of them across the beach, through the waves across a sandbar to "the hottest nighclub on the Oregon Coast" (I know, I know....) which really felt more like a country club turned funeral home (we had to be VERY QUIET inside or we'd "disturb the other guests") and eventually my dream ended after my sister found someone's FINGER on her chair (no hand, just a disconnected finger) and we decided this beach town was for suckers.

And all of that happened between snooze buttons this morning. Wowee-wow-wow as The Continental might say.

So, ummmm:

Waaaaaay back in the distant 2009 past, I wrote about the fact that Chuck Klosterman was absolutely right: any woman who has a John Cusack crush is actually just nursing a misplaced Lloyd Dobbler hang up....I'll re-quote the "Sex, Drugs & Cocoa Puffs" bit that I quoted back then:

"It appears that countless women born between 1965 and 1978 are in love with John Cusack. I cannot fathom how he isn't the number-one box-office start in America, because every straight girl I know would sell her soul to share a milkshake with that motherf****er. For upwardly mobile women in their twenties and thirties Cusack is the neo-Elvis. But here's what none of those upwardly mobile women seem to realize: They don't love John Cusack. They love Lloyd Dobler. When they see Mr. Cusack, they are still seeing the optimistic, charmingly loquacious teenager he played in Say Anything, a movie that came out more than a decade ago. That's the guy they think he is; when Cusack played Eddie Thomas in America's Sweethearts or the sensitive hit man in Grosse Pointe Blank, all his female fans knew he was only acting...but they assume when the camera stopped rolling he went back to his genuine self...which was someone like Lloyd Dobler, and someone who continues to have a storybook romance with Diane Court (or with Ione Skye, depending on how you look at it). "

If you want to read my whole "Lloyd Dobbler is actually a first class wimp" post, here's the link. If you love the Cusack and don't want your Dobbler adoration monkeyed with: don't bother -- I decided he needed to grow a pair.

But let's flip that phenomenon on its head with another celebrity that most of us ladies love, even while loathing the character we can't separate him from: Jon Hamm.  We all went through the same Phases of Don Draper anguish.... Our "oooh, why aren't there men as dreamy as Don in real life?" infatuation morphed into "Oh....so he's an ass. But he looks so good in that suit!" and then became "Put a pillow case over his head and beat him with a tire iron," ire right before we finally found some version of "He's a pitiful, weak little excuse for a man who doesn't know how to love AND looks good in a suit" acceptance.

Maybe that's what makes it that much more delightful when The Hamm proves he's more than just the sum of Don Draper's parts. He popped up on SNL and nailed it. Twice. He seems generally gracious and un-Draper-esque in "real life." He's been seen out and about with less than well-coifed hair. AND, he's gallant and manly and witty and fantastic when he sounds off in interviews as he does in this month's W cover story alongside Rebecca Hall (the purported Kate Winslet/Sam Mendes homewrecker). It's unusual that we like the actor as a human being more than we like the award-nominated characters they play.

BUT, when The Hamm (who plays off of Rebecca Hall pretty well in this interview) say things like this, well....we wish a little bit of him would rub off on Don Draper:

W: Rebecca, would you label Jon a man’s man or a ladies’ man?

Hall: I don’t know. He’s proper manly, like Gregory Peck, old-school. He hangs around with the boys and does sports. But can he talk to women about emotions and shoes?

Hamm: Absolutely. Can and do. I was raised by a single mother. I think the definition of a man’s man has shifted in recent times to this sort of fratty bro, different from the older version, which was aloof and distant—Gary Cooper or Cary Grant or James Bond. Now it’s a little vulgar, kind of lowbrow, adolescent. I’m not that guy. Part of being an adult is treating women like women.

Hall: The grand pendulum has swung backwards a little bit. Women are allowing themselves to be objectified as “empowerment.” I suppose to some degree you have to go through that phase of, like, “Look, I can make myself a sexualized object.” Still, I just hope that it’s okay for women to read and be bright and talk about interesting things and be sexy.

Hamm: To be able to read and talk about complicated things is sexy. It’s not just having a pair of bolt-on tits.

W: Jon, the old rule is if a man wants to flatter, he tells a beautiful woman she’s smart and a smart woman she’s beautiful. What does one say to Rebecca?

Hamm: That she’s very funny.

W: Rebecca, in stories earlier this year about the breakup of Sam Mendes and Kate Winslet—

Hall: Oh, you’re going to do that, are you?

W: —your name was mentioned in a way that implicated you in the breakup of their marriage. Is there any accuracy to that perception?

Hall: No.

Hamm: The reality is that I broke them up.

Hall: Jon Hamm was sleeping with Sam Mendes.

W: Wow. Does a sex tape exist?

Hamm: Does it? He directed it. It’s beautiful.

Not bad. He jumps in and deflects the uncomfortable interview direction away from the home-wrecker conversation with a little chuckle-worthy misdirection. He prefers a girl with brains. He's not all about low-brow vulgarity.

Aw gee: he's perfect.

Except for all of that hair.

Let's gross ourselves out together!

I've decided since it's Friday and the sun is actually shining in Seattle today (98 degrees registered on my car thermometer yesterday! 98 degrees! Er....cue the "It's the Hardest Thing I'll Ever Have to do....." lyrics that are now stuck in my head......that was their tune, right?) I'll kill that joy with a bunch of "Ew, YUCK!" celebrity gossip stories today.

Because if I suffered through them, so, too, should you.

First up: James Cameron in general. More specifically: James Cameron's creepy wife and his giant Avatar payday. So, the guy seems like a first class moron. I refused to watch Avatar because I didn't want any of my reasonably hard-earned dollars to end up anywhere near the wallet of James Cameron - or his creepy wife. So, when I read this story about precisely how much money he got (which will allow his wife to continue to starve in luxury, apparently), I was a little "yuckked out." As my favorite source Celebitchy puts it:

"Deadline Hollywood is reporting that Avatar director James Cameron is set to make a $350 million (MILLION) payday off of the $2.7 billion success of the film. Can you believe that? Apparently, Cameron has some kind of sweetheart deal with the studio where he gets a percentage of the theatrical gross, plus an even bigger cut of the DVD sales. Considering Avatar did make $2.7 billion, Cameron’s payday is about 13% of the total gross. And how much did it cost to make and promote Avatar? A lot. Like $500 million or more. But that’s still more than a billion dollars of pure profit for the studio. So everybody wins!"

That's a lot of cash. Got me thinking (much the way giant lottery billboards get me thinking) about exactly what I'd do with $350 million. Here's the short list: Hotel in the Maldives. PhDs in topics from Sociology to Shoe design and everything in between. Hip/Thigh lipo. My own publishing company. I'd actually MAINTAIN professional hair styling. Like, every 6 weeks like clockwork. And I'd fly them in from, oh, flippin Paris if I thought it would serve me well. Sailboat for my pops. House on a tropical beach for my momma. Until I run out of money. I have a feeling the hotel in the maldives would pretty much wipe out my stash, but hey, if I were James Cameron I'd just make another stupid movie with a laughable script and giggle all the way to the bank (without stopping to buy my wife lunch on the way. Because she doesn't need that. She also doesn't need to step a pretty little foot outside, because I like her looking like a True Blood cast off - sexy that way. Sexy like me, James Cameron....).

Moving right along on the "ew, YUCK!" spectrum we've got the alleged Kate Bosworth augmentation. On the one hand, I can appreciate that she's come back just slightly from the Skeletor days of 2008. On the flip side: ew, that cleavage is just all wrong. Granted, this could just be an unfortunately....binding dress that's sending her rack in different, unnatural directions, but I look at those independently mobile bumps that sprouted from her more or less boney chest and can almost hear them arguing with each other...."We'd look better if we were up higher! No - wait, you go that way, I'll go hide under her armpit! Er, um, actually, it looks more comfy up there under her chin! Shoot - we can't breathe....we can't breathe....quick - RUN!" Or something like that. They certainly look artificial. Correction: they must be - skinny girls with no body fat would have a very hard time boosting up a particularly volumptuous....STERNUM in a way that fills a bustier.

What else have we got: OH - we've got the ever-loathesome Kate Gosselin walking around New York barefoot. That's a great "Gross!" moment if I've ever seen one. She actually took the kids with her this time...I had to think about it for a moment, but I believe it's the first time I've seen her with so much as a single spawn in tow since, oh, Dancing with the Stars.

I tend to think if you're going to be doing a lot of walking around a city (fine, let's call it like it is: if you're going to be taking the paparazzi on a guided walking tour of Ellis Island) you should probably have the good sense to bust out a pair of flip-flops for the day.

Or, fine, some understated gladiator sandals.

Or even some low-heeled wedges or perky little flats. Wear flippin Crocs for all I care - because if you grab the kids' hands for an all-afternoon jaunt while wearing some pretty ill-fitting strappy stilettos the odds are good that you'll end up wishing you hadn't. And then you'll be photographed wandering around on bridges without any shoes on. And THAT will definitely not acheive the leg-lengthening look she was aiming for. This condemnation is even coming out of the mouth of The Girl Who Would Prefer To Wear Heels At The Beach Because It Makes Her Legs Look Less Stumpy. I just have the good sense not to act on that preference.

Because it's weird.

Here's more fuel for the Friday afternoon "Ew, YUCK" fire: Kathy Griffin may (or, we pray, may not) have hooked up with Levi Johnston. Yes, shake your head around, blink, rub your eyes - you read that correctly. The National Enquirer has a pretty comprehensive theory on this odd couple, here's a snippet:

"While the comedian has talked about her obsession with Levi and joked about seeing his “goods” in recent interviews, The Enquirer has learned that Levi’s pals say the pair did indeed have sex romps - on multiple occasions.

Levi, 20, and 49-year-old Kathy had their first encounter in August 2009 when the comedian took him as her date to the “Teen Choice Awards,” according to a close pal of Levi’s. The source adds that their fling continued after Kathy performed in Anchorage, Alaska, on March 5 of this year.


“Levi said that he hooked up with Kathy when he visited L.A. for the ‘Teen Choice Awards,’ and again when she went to Alaska for her stand-up comedy show,” revealed the pal. He was excited when he bragged to friends about how he was going to entertain her at his house after they spend theday together ice fishing.

“The next night, Levi went to Anchorage to stay in Kathy’s hotel - they went to dinner and then to a gay bar called Mad Myrna’s before going back to her hotel.”"

Er - yeah. I sort of hope this is true, because it's pretty disgustingly awesome. Odd Couple o' the Decade sort of territory....but isn't there something sort of uncomfortably...."knowing" in the way he has his hands on her hips? I'm not sure a 20 year-old kid would really opt to get so touchy-feely-on-the-waistline of a 49 year old unless he'd gotten comfortable getting touchy-feely in a different capacity....am I way off base?

So - I'll spare us the weekend-ruining site I found with a comprehensive list of all of Mel Gibson's bone-chilling, horrifyingly disgusting comments (where he throws around vicious epithets and threatens violence and murder toward the mother of his most recent baby), because the language was so horribly offensive I couldn't even bring myself to link to it.......let's put it this way: Tom Cruise: you've got nothing to worry about. Compared to the hideous workings of Mel Gibson's mind, he's America's Sweetheart all over again. I actually believe Mel DID say a lot of those things, just like I believe he has an alcohol problem and a general HATE problem and I feel like he should be court-ordered to forfeit his fortune to charitable organizations that help battered women, but that's a different story for a different day.

For now, allow yourself to be ooked out by the likes of James Cameron, KateB Boob, KateG Toes, and all things Levi Johnston. Shudder.

Everything I Need to Know About Life I Learned From Watching The Hills

(Side trip: yep, Lindsay Lohan is going to jail for 90 days, er IF she doesn't OD on whatever horse tranquilizer she's 'legally' hooked on before she checks into the clink. Yes, her mother is in denial about why incarceration is necessary. Yes, her father partied last night after the sentencing and told TMZ he was going to call her from the bar and make her jealous. Also, yes, The Rock shaved his head and I approve. Enough of that, on to fluffier fluff):

So, I'm horribly behind the times (or, at least seven seasons behind the times) but on an ill-advised Netflix streaming gamble decided to start watching The Hills. From the very first episode.

Wow.

Oops, I mean, "Like, wow."

It's an excercise in patience that stretches even my pop-culture-loving boundaries. BUT: I realized thirty two episodes or so into the series (we're talking waaaaaay pre-Heidi surgery) that there's no life situation you couldn't resolve with a little help from Lauren, Heidi, Audrina, or Whitney.

Really. They, like, totally get it.

1 - There is no crisis that cannot be fixed by the words "Let's Go Out Tonight!"

2 - The best way to get accepted into a very choosy design school is to admit you have no interest in working hard and that you want to work "like, in the party industry."

3 - If that choosy design school does (against all human logic) admit you, tt's not a big deal to ditch out on that choosy design school after only one class. What? You were totally, like, late and didn't want to piss of the instructor, so it's better to, like, find a new career path.

4 - In an interview when a prospective (red letter!) employer asks you why they should hire you, it's probably best to chomp your gum and stare at them like they're jeans from JC Penny - they'll be impressed by that. They'll find you dependable, trustworthy, hardworking, a good risk.

5 - It's totally possible to rent an apartment, drive a BMW and wear a different pair of jeans every day if you're just lucky enough to snag a clerical job that pays minimum wage.

6 - It's also totally possible to get ready for an interview, drive across LA and make it to the interviewer's office looking fresh and pretty in just 20 minutes!

7 - Like, the first question out of your mouth when you meet like, a totally hot guy, should definitely be, like, "So how long have you lived in LA?" Because, like, if you've lived here longer, you totally get to act like, "oh, I'm totally an expert at this place - I know this hot club called "Area," where all those guys from that show 'Laguna Beach' hang out - it's rad."

8 - All of that cash you have left over from your minimum wage job is best spent on full foils and facials at every opportunity. Because it makes you look hot. And then you'll be able to score a douche to kiss on New Year's Eve.

9 - Hanging up on douches is the best way to make sure they call back.

10 - If  you're dizzy and nauseaus in the morning, it's totally not because you're hungover from last night's awesome birthday bash at Area. It's because you're pregnant. Ha - wait! Like, just kidding! Wasn't that funny when you let your boyfriend think you were, as a JOKE? And he had to think fast and act like, "I'm cool with whatever you decide," but you knew he was totally about to puke all over the inside of his fancy Audi???

11 - If you haven't spent all of your leftover money on spa pedictures and expensive waxing, you'll have plenty left to buy your girlfriend a Chanel purse for Christmas!

12 - The best way to heal a broken heart (aside from, you know, "going out tonight!") is a new car. Mercedes fixes boy problems.

13 - Pinkberry: that word never gets old.

14 - If you're totally, like, VAPID, and whine a lot, and run off to the bathroom to cry when you don't get your way at work: PROMOTION! It'll happen like, OVERNIGHT!

15 - It's a great idea to rent a 5000sqft summer vacation home on your internship/minimum wage job along with your not discernibly employed boyfriend. Oops, like, I just said discernibly!

16 - If you, like, ever have to "schedule" time with your best friend, that means you've absolutely chosen your boyfriend over your bestie, and you are WAY out of line. Like, so far out of line your friend will totally start hanging out with your former ARCH ENEMY, and everyone will be like, "welll, she WAS there for her when you were off with the tool."

17 - If your friends hate your boyfriend, it's just because they "don't see the way he looks at you  behind closed doors." And so what if the "way" he looks at you is with a sort of smirky, gape-mouthed grin at all times, like he's got something wedged between his back teeth. That's his look of love.

18 - A birthday is a great excuse to do abso-flipping-lutely ANYTHING you want. You can be mean to your friends, you can sleep with their boyfriends behind their backs - ANYTHING. It's so cool - it's like, YOUR BIRTHDAY. Total free pass to be as vile as possible. BIRTHDAY!

19 - Buying your friends diamonds for their birthday, however, not necessarily like the immunity idol in terms of protecting yourself against their free pass. They'll still sleep with your sorta boyfriend even if you gave them diamonds.

20 - You don't have to be legal to drink in bars. You just need a camera crew!

There ya have it. Go live long and prosper. I'll update this with more "words to live by" once I've torn through the rest of the seasons. Right now, Spencer is still a new addition to the cast of hacks. Can't wait til Heidi Surgery, Round 1 takes place. She's a cute girl in the early days. Looks great with smoky eye makeup. Has good bone structure. Looks a little like a young Bridget Fonda. Too bad that doesn't last.

Darn - for a minute there I actually (oops) thought he was hot.....

Dear Jude,

I have a recurring theme here these days: famous people I don't like. I guess it's easier to come up with reasons to be irritated by someone than it is to put together a list of "reasons person X is awesome."

Anyway - since the very early "The Talented Mr Ripley" days I've had a problem with you. A big Jude Law Problem.

You look whiny.

You play emo wimps more often than not (ugh - "Closer," anyone?).

You get more credit for being good-looking than you deserve.

That whole "Sienna Miller" thing has me vexed, too....the on/off/on/off relationship is too much to keep track of...and is it just me, or is Sienna Miller sort of like Naomi Watts in the sense that unless someone tells me I'm looking at a picture of one of them, I'd have no idea who they were from one outfit to the next? She's so vanilla with such an overinflated sense of her status as some sort of UK style icon. Just me? Fine, okay....

Find a new girlfriend, you whiny, overrated emo wimp. Yes, you WERE in that movie "The Holiday." Yes. You. Were. And you can't hide behind the "But so was Kate Winslet" excuse - Kate Winslet wasn't the one that spent 90 minutes sobbing over a relationship with Cameron Diaz. You can't explain your way out of this one, dude. Just like you can't explain what Gattaca was about, exactly. OH - it was about genetic discrimination in a monocrome futuristic age? Fine - but it was a sleeper of a movie, and you were in it, therefore, I'm blaming you.

And then I saw some pictures of you arriving in Paris with Sienna and the kids in tow and I actually - for perhaps the first time - thought, "uh, Jude Law. Hot."

Why, exactly?

Because you let the receeding hairline out for once. Yep, Heather loves the hairlines that are trying to make an escape.

Instead of a bizarre permed-looking comb-over, you rocked the sort of euro-faux-hawk think and let the forehead get some airtime. Combine that with the "ooh, I think I can see some chest hair trying to climb out of that v-neck" detail (I'm a sucker for a good chest rug) and Jude, you've actually got something to work with here. The messed up jeans look decently hot. Black shirts and a good tan: always a safe bet in the sexy department. For one jaunt through the airport, I actually thought, "Hmmm, if I passed you on a moving sidewalk I'd actually probably look twice and even excuse the Risky Business shades."

And then you headed off to the Czech Republic to accept some sort of award and went back to the sweaty, frizzed-out comb over.

As such: the hotness is over, you're back to looking like a tool.

Yours, much chagrined,

Heather

Misplaced expectations: young celebrity behavior and the "grown-up backlash."

Ages ago I came up with an entire theory on the socialization of young starlets and the reason they go off the deep-end. Check out my ideas in some older posts here and here. Nutshell: the fact that young celebrities are never surrounded by normal "peers" means they're afforded no opportunity to live through the trial-by-fire process of high school that "normal" kids their age live through - trials that help to develop proper social responses, coping mechanisms, problem-solving behaviors, stuff like that.

And that's still my theory - afterall, Hollywood is no place for a girl to come of age (or a boy, but the boys seem less likely to parade around in their underwear and pole dance in videos, strangely....and I guess it has to do with female sexualization in the media....sixteen year-old boys don't inspire the universal fantasy sequences that sixteen year-old girls manage, frankly.)

However - given the recent backlash in the media against a newer glut of pop stars and actresses being accused of "growing up too fast," and presenting an age-inappropriate image to their young fans, I figured it was time to investigate the behavior and expectations of the grown ups throwing the stones....there's an obvious backlash against the Miley Cyruses and Taylor Momsens and Kristen Stewarts out there right now, with plenty of magazines and websites clamoring to get their hands on photos and quotes by the girls at the same time they're condeming the behavior or the image the girls and the magazines and the tabloid television shows are making money off of.

Bottom line: we're expecting them to behave like adults, dress like girls, and somehow manage to endure celebrity and come out as well-adjusted as we'd hope for them to be were they raised out of the glare of the flashbulb. Expectations: much too high.

How about a few case studies to compare the behavior of the Starlets We Can't Escape with the adult complaint about them (because -- let's be honest -- it's a "Monday" morning after a holiday weekend - my "real job" is still sort of a cruel joke right now).

First up: Kristen Stewart.

She's ubiquitous because: the Twi-Hards may well unseat the Tea Party as the next eye-roll inducing stealth political movement.

If there's not a Twilight movie opening any given Friday, there's probably some sort of international photo call or highly publicized interview or media speculation about her hair, her relationship - or her fear of being assasinated by fans? That's the latest. On the heels of her comments comparing paparazzi photos of herself to rape (drawing the righteous ire of rape victims' advocate groups the globe over) she mentions that she's afraid of being killed on the red carpet. The official quote from Hello! magazine:

"I don't feel very comfortable on the red carpet...I look out there at a thousand people and I realize they could rush me and assassinate me. No security could protect me. Ostensibly they're fans, but I think about them turning on me."

And then she was torn to shreds for once again biting the Twi-Hard hands that feed her. So in this case, the misplaced expectation is that this kid (she's 20, by the way, making her certifiably old and wise in the realm of pop Starlets We Can't Escape) will be well-equipped to handle the fame she may or may not have asked for in the first place. She's the "reluctant ingenue," the type that didn't expect the fame that came with her career path, who finds herself worn down and tired from all of the attention (and all of costume changes, I can only assume?) and who speaks more honestly than we expect.

We expect our little teen angels to speak softly and carry a big...purse. We don't expect them to express anxiety over the level of international superstardom they've netted, we certainly don't expect them to resent our loving them, and we tear them to pieces when they show vulnerability. Show us your neck, kiddo - we'll sink our teeth in. She spent WEEKS apologizing for the rape comment - now she fears for her life on the red carpet. Hey, we (meaning "adults" and "the media") made her (meaning "interviewed her, photographed her, put her out there for the world to criticize") and then stood back and laughed when she acted surprised by all of the attention and actually reacted honestly (and awkwardly) to the entire side show.

Next up: Miley Cyrus

She's ubiquitous because: she made a deal with the Disney, and there's no gravy train like a Disney gravy train. Oh yeah - and she wants to be ubiquitous.

She's got great people working for her - they make sure any prime time show that might even possibly have anything to do with singing or dancing books her as a musical guest. She knows where the photogs will be and makes sure she and her boyfriend du jour show up there. She's trying to shed the Hannah Montana image, so in a desperate stab to be taken seriously as an "adult" she busts out sort of weak (or maybe just recycled and unoriginal) shock antics and wears teeny tiny clothes. The misplaced expectation: that any girl that starts out on the Disney Channel should grow up to become Charlotte York.

Dolly Parton (friend of the Cyrus family) jumped to Miley's defense recently, saying "“I’m there for her if she needs me, and I get upset lately, they’ve been hammering her to death, and she’s been trying hard to make the transition from Hannah Montana — she’s 17, and at that age … I know how I was at 17, so let’s leave Miley alone!”

Precisely.

We expect her to behave unlike a girl her age behaves. 17 year-old kids want to be adults. They act out - they wear fantastically ill-advised outfits out of the house, they push the limits, they test boundaries - celebrity kids are at the distinct disadvantage of having all of America watching when they decide a leotard and thigh-high boots doth a fantastic "outfit" make, but who among us didn't try to wear something to a party on a Friday night that showed just a little too much...?

Finally: Taylor Momsen

She's ubiquitous because: we got tired of Miley-bashing. And she's playing the ubiquity game to get her band a little recognition. In this case, we've got an expectation that a girl with access to fame would wait and get America's approval first BEFORE going all "Courtney Love meets Lindsay Lohan" on us. "Pretty Reckless? That's the name of her band, or what we call her eyeliner?" Band name.

One commenter on a NY Magazine post about Taylor's devolution said, wisely: "the thing with Taylor, Miley, etc is that they are just doing what we all kind of dreamed about doing when we were that age. but we didn't have the ability/parents/money to pull it off and are now very thankful for that."

Aha - there's the truth. We EXPECT them to know better than to leave the house wearing only a tank top and hosiery, but on the flip side, we sort of wish we'd had the legs to do that ourselves back when we were young. We pay the money to see their movies or tune in to watch their television shows, then play self-righteous and disgusted when their off-screen antics are just as bizarre as the scripted stuff, then inwardly admit it seems like they're having fun....and wouldn't we love to have the self-confidence to play big kid karaoke in a corset and blonde extensions.

Put a kid in the spotlight, throw money at them, follow them around with cameras, and all of a sudden the transition from pajama party princess to jail bait feels artificially sped up - like the growing up process is suddenly on steroids (when it's actually more like Growing Up On Frappacino).

This would all be gloriously less shocking if we just stopped expecting them to behave like good little Honor Society debutantes - they're kids. They're trying to be taken seriously. They just don't have the benefit of very many years to give them the wisdom to recognize they're going about it a little too dramatically, and that classy trumps trashy in the public opinion polls more often than not. It's hardly their fault that they have the money (and the metabolism) to tramp it up to their little leather bustier wearing, rape-comparing, fan-fearing hearts contents.

Adjust expectations accordingly.

So, insecurity knows no fame limits. apparently.

First things first: I'm really particularly ambivalent about Brangelina.

Er, I should say: I don't buy Angie's saint act, Brad's about as far from "hot" as it gets in my book, the two of them are patently UN-interesting to me.

EXCEPT when we start talking "celebrity jealousy issues," because it reinforces the psychologically fascinating fact that it doesn't matter how rich you are, how many women would kill to look like you (and I'm speaking in generic, rather than personal terms), how many men hold you up as a paragon of "unconventional hotness" or how teeeny tiny your upper arms look in photographs, it still doesn't give you a get-out-of-jail-free card when it comes to that pesky matter of insecurity.

Well then, Heather, tell me more.

Sooooooo.....the Pitt is working on movie with Robin Wright (no longer Wright Penn). In Touch Weekly (so, there's your fair grain of salt warning) ran a bit that suggests Angie is jealous of all the time Brad's been spending with Ms Wright. Here's the quote:

"In L.A. recently, Brad and Angie had a 'huge fight in the car' over a sex scene in Brad’s new movie, Moneyball. She’s also not happy about how much time Brad is spending with his costar, Robin Wright."

Aaaaaaaand - Heather declares that Angie is at least able to recognize when she's out-classed.

Put another way: there aren't a whole lot of actresses that we could insert into this little rumour that would pose a believable threat, but there's something about Buttercup that I would find threatening if I lived in Angie's Louboutins.

It's not that Robin Wright is that much more stunning, but she seems remarkably self-possessed. Wise. Well-spoken. Composed. Classy.

And, um, she doesn't come with an entire football team of rugrats.

In my mind, she'd probably sit there with a cigarette and her sort of excellent "I need no makeup, I'm Princess Buttercup" understated style and smirk at these rumors, herself. "I have no need for an international kindergarten. I'm in the market for an ambassador. A political powerhouse. A restauranteur. Now then, make like a bird and fly -- far, far away."

To flip it around: I read a different story a while back suggesting that Johnny Depp's girl Vanessa was righteously uncomfortable with Johnny filming with Angelina because, I dunno, she was afraid Angie would grab Cap'n Jack in those spindley, veiny little arms of hers and Vanessa would be history. And I chuckled and thought, "um, darling, you've nothing to worry about. You're much more mysterious and internationally eccentric and, oh, the MOTHER OF HIS CHILD, so really: retract fangs, re-compose, chill."

This rumour, however, I'd love to see get a little more air time. Because if nothing else, it's a lovely, poetic sort of reminder that none of us (no matter how wealthy, how over-exposed, how pillow-lipped, how fit or how famous we may be) are immune to that Ugly Insecurity Thing.

Aaaaaaand, I'm reminded of an OLD, old song by....oh, Ginuine or something, that talked about the fact that talked about cheating, and the idea that a girl looked good, but she was already dating someone else, and if she was willing to cheat on boyfriend X to run around with Ginuine, how did Mr G know she wouldn't do the same to him down the line. To summarize. And, as we remember, Brad was still legally Mr Aniston when he ran around with Angie, so she knows he's got it in him to seek greener pastures....

Bottom line: obviously tabloids thrive on flimsily-substantiated cheating rumors to stay in business, if we're not convinced that Scarlett and Ryan are on the verge of a split on Tuesday, then odds are we're at least contemplating whether or not Jude and Sienna are on or off by Saturday.....it's just that this particular rumor actually seems interesting....as in, Robin Wright doesn't spend a whole lot of time in the gossip limelight, making her a more believeable player in the "When will the Brangelina Dynasty Topple" tale.

Stay tuned.......

(and cue my shame over the fact that I did just commit 630 words to speculation on two of my least-favorite celebs....eh, it happens....)