Monthly Archives: February 2009

TMZ can go to hell

Standing in line yesterday waiting for my morning bagel with cream cheese, I looked over to see the cover of the New York Post and was horrified. Literally horrified. And right now I’m alternating between seething anger and regretful appreciation. So let’s divide and conquer.

We’ve all heard about the, to use his words, “incident” between Chris Brown and Rihanna, two very high profile pop stars who have been dating for a while. Although the gossip mill spouts different details, the matter is that Chris Brown, age 19, beat the shit out of Rihanna a few weeks ago. Both of them have been MIA in the public realm since this occurred, although Brown issued the most bullshit public “apology” I have ever seen, never mentioning Rihanna by name, saying, “Words cannot begin to express how sorry and saddened I am over what transpired.” Transpired?! You beat her face in, you asshole! So all of this has been swirling around the tabloids with rumors over what exactly happened and how bad it really was.

Then on Thursday TMZ, the LA-based paparazzi-stalking media-whore site without a soul, somehow obtained the LAPD picture of Rihanna’s injuries. [eta: apparently they paid for the picture to the tune of $62,500.) The picture shows Rihanna’s swollen and bruised face, with contusions on her forehead, her lips puffed beyond recognition. As the LAPD vowed to investigate how the picture was leaked, it quickly made the rounds on multiple gossip blogs before showing up on the cover of the New York Post yesterday morning, which happened to be Rihanna’s 21st birthday. Celebrations indeed.

So here I am, alternating between seething anger and regretful appreciation.
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What’s it mean to be a wifey?

wifeBefore we delve into the depths of Anne Kingston’s delicious, decadent delight (The Meaning of Wife–I hope you’ve had time to pick up a copy!)— let’s talk about “wife.”

When I hear the word, I’m immediately hit with a wave of connotations: wedding dresses, Father of the Bride, housework, husbands, love?, divorce, yoga class, soccer mom, supermom, second, _____’s wife, loss of identity, work, swap, wedding rings, diamonds, trophys, gold diggers, happily ever after, proposals, the second shift, First Lady, the 1950s, partnership, ownership, equality?, and many, many, more things. I was having trouble sorting through all my wife-baggage, so I enlisted the help of my greatest resources: my friends, family, and Google — This is what I found:

wife-beer

Wikipedia tells me that the term has Middle English, Old English, and Germanic roots meaning “woman,” and Indo-European roots meaning “veiled or clothed,” allegedly referring to wedding veils. “Wife” simply meant “woman” at one point in time, and had nothing to do with marriage, as evidenced in words that remain today like “midwife.”

Who remembers Fairie Tale Theater? Having partially defined my childhood, I can’t talk about “wife” and not mention their version of the Princess and the Pea. (This was also the first thing a relative thought of when I asked about “wife”.) Their Prince is bored and “needs something more, something to make his relatively perfect life complete.” He thinks he might need a pet, like a little dog or a hamster– the Fool informs him that no, in fact, he needs a wife. “A wife?” “Yeah.” “Would that be better than a hamster?” “Much.” Watch a clip (~5:10 is where this clip takes place).

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Power to Palin?

In her first interview since the joy of childbirth, Bristol Palin:

-used feminist terminology to defend her “choice” (having the baby) [but is it really a choice when your mother is running for VP and is staunchly anti-choice?]

-quickly reminded the world that abstinence is the best option, but that expecting teens to remain abstinent is unrealistic.  [a step in the right direction?  if one of their own says it…]

has been brainwashed by US Weekly and celebrity moms into thinking that ‘the baby’ was just a fun new accessory for spring.  Bristol confides that motherhood is anything but glamorous!  [file that under “no shit sherlock”]

Maybe she’s about to “click”?

Male Feminists?

Spitfire and I have been discussing the possibility of roping in more guest bloggers as we find our personal plates rather full. (I myself just started a new relationship…meet my new boyfriend, Graduate School. He keeps me up late nights with fiery discussion of Dewey Decimal versus Library of Congress Classification…mmm… nerdylove.) So I suggested that it would be interesting to get a guy to guest blog.

And then we heard the metaphorical crickets chirp on both sides of the Gchat.

This has been a common debate within feminist circles–can men be feminists? In its most basic terms, I tend to wholeheartedly agree that yes, men can be feminists! Men can believe in gender equality! But upon further investigation I begin to wonder. Between the theory of male feminists and the the actuality of male feminists, there has been a disjoint as I find theory hasn’t manifested itself into actuality…at least that I have personally witnessed.
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Hail to the Chief

I just shit a brick folks. I was reading this article forwarded to me by Jack about the differences between Obama’s and Bush’s White House. The author discussed dress code and daily schedules, and, GASP, the balance between work and family.

He reads several papers, eats breakfast with his family and helps pack his daughters, Malia, 10, and Sasha, 7, off to school before making the 30-second commute downstairs – a definite perk for a man trying to balance work and family life. He eats dinner with his family, then often returns to work; aides have seen him in the Oval Office as late as 10 p.m., reading briefing papers for the next day.

“Even as he is sober about these challenges, I have never seen him happier,” Axelrod said. “The chance to be under the same roof with his kids, essentially to live over the store, to be able to see them whenever he wants, to wake up with them, have breakfast and dinner with them – that has made him a very happy man.”

Whoa! What’s more surprising: that such a high ranking man has a desire to balance work and family, or that the author even thought it was necessary to mention it? And not only mention it, but clarify that it makes him happier! At last: Recognition, with a capital R, that perhaps not only women toil with the work/family balance.