Great-read books that rose to the tops of the piles in tonight’s brief excavation of the storage unit:

Two are bipolar. Two are totally gay. One is a fascinating historical-fiction fantasia (Let the Great World Spin—read it!). One is the pre-McSteamy actual reference book that I received for Christmas 1981 back when I had dreams of being an ER doctor. But it qualifies as a great read only if you really REALLY want it to be.

#UnwantedIvanka

Really, Amazon Prime Video?

The entire batshit-crazypants Left Behind trilogy is free in your catalog but Can’t Stop the Music is $3.99?

Is it because I finally blocked all the fox “news” channels tonight?

I know it’s May The Fourth Be With You Day

but in space no one can tell the difference between franchises so this is still relevant.

I’m one bird-feathered fascinator and a barely attractive missing fiancé away from being Carrie Bradshaw!

David Yazbek wrote Full Monty. David Yazbek wrote Tootsie.

By the transitive power of awesomeness, I’m going to love this show more than my smudgeproof lip liner.

I had a dream last night

that I was giving some sort of symposium on some sort of public policy and I noticed that Taylor Swift was sitting in the second row of the audience next to a woman I was pretty sure was Kathy Griffin but I wasn’t really sure and I didn’t want to ask and look stupid because of course I should know who Kathy Griffin is and it was weird that I knew who Taylor Swift was because I really know very little about her but anyway I got to a part in my presentation where I discussed people who are polarizing and I decided for some reason that I had no choice but to use Taylor Swift as an example so I called her out on being a polarizing public figure even though as I said I barely know anything about her but I couldn’t call out the woman who may or may not have been Kathy Griffin as a polarizing figure because again I wasn’t entirely sure the woman was indeed Kathy Griffin and again I didn’t want to look stupid even though Kathy Griffin is very much a polarizing figure and she would have been a much better example to call out and the look on Taylor Swift’s face when I called her out as being a polarizing figure was a mix of unwelcome shock and uncomfortable embarrassment and I kept saying she was a polarizing figure anyway and I don’t remember how the dream ended but here’s a picture of Bitch Kitty in a box:

Hy-pathetic

If a guy in a perfectly broken in Banana Republic circa 2010 faux-1978-throwback compass-and-fleur-de-lis-crest-collection cornflower blue crewneck T-shirt crafted from 100% soft, breathable cotton (I’m being purposefully vague here to protect everyone’s privacy) bench pressed 3 sets of 10 reps at 185 lbs without a spotter in his uncharacteristically empty gym so there was practically nobody there to see it, would it still make a sound on social media?

Hypothetically, of course. BECAUSE ONLY A FERAL JUNGLE-BEAST MONSTER COULD EVER BENCH PRESS 3 SETS OF 10 REPS AT 185 LBS WITHOUT A SPOTTER.

Ahem.

(Confidential to whomever inflicted this abomination on the world: “Darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream” is neither creative nor clever nor meaningful nor of intrinsic or extrinsic value nor worthy of the music-listening population’s attention. Especially in a would-be headbanger gym. I hate you with the white-hot fire of a thousand competent lyricists.)

Movin' the chains

I’m home from another delightfully exhausting weekend, I have the house quietly to myself and an ice-cold cherry-lime La Croix on a coaster next to me, and I’m going to spend my evening listening to Mozart and reading a book. And being thankful for many, many things.

#samedif

It takes an awful lot of clothing to be a singing stripper

Also: There are grown, functioning adults in our dressing room who just asked each other in a fog of cultural bewilderment if the song “Footloose” was written for the movie Footloose or afterward in some kind of ride-the-post-Footloose-movie-pop-culture-wave frenzy. And I am apparently THE ONLY PERSON IN THE ENTIRE DRESSING ROOM WHO’D LIVED THROUGH THE ‘80s AND FOUGHT IN ITS HARDSCRABBLE BEMOMJEANED TRENCHES AND ACTUALLY SAW FOOTLOOSE IN THE THEATERS WHO COULD UNLOCK THE MYSTERIES OF THE MEDIEVAL PAST AND ANSWER THEIR QUESTION.

(Answer: The song was written for the movie. DUH.)

Also: Kevin Bacon as Ren McCormack. Or just guys named Ren in general. Sigh.

Well hello, rakishly asymmetrical gym stealthfie!

It looks like you’re shaking things up on a different lat-pulldown machine. Your initiative and resourcefulness are sure to get you completely unnoticed by an entire gymful of muscular, handsome, manly men. Again.

Well hello, Shoop Shoop song on the gym speakers! In case you hadn’t noticed, this is a gymful of muscular, handsome, manly men. They prefer working out to the genre of music called Not The Shoop Shoop Song. Go back to your retirement-center elevator.

The gym tonight is (please select all):

1. Teeming with masculine pulchritude
2. Collectively doing chest, shoulders and triceps because EVERYONE’S USING THE EQUIPMENT I WANT
3. Celebrating the entire discography of Wilson Phillips
4. Rudely ignoring the awesomeness of my Mew Mew Kitty shirt
5. Bringing back the man-bun

I thought I had to make it to midnight tonight, but I won last night without even knowing it!

I’m giving this victory to someone special.

White Christmas is the dumbest, plot-hole-iest, staggeringly-implausible-storyline-iest movie ever made--and I adore every second of it

I used to host a party every year in Chicago and invite only the friends I knew were able to shut up for 120 minutes so we could all enjoy its ridiculous awesomeness together in peace. And then I usually watched it again on my own. And maybe one more time. But now my DVD is buried in a box in my storage unit, and I’m not able to see any of the big-screen showings this month so I'm just gonna mock it here. Lovingly, of course.

So let's get started ...

First of all, it drives me NUTS that Rosemary Clooney runs (well, clomps in four-inch stilettos) away from Bing Crosby in a self-righteous fit over a laughably stupid misunderstanding that she could easily clear up with a simple question and then boards a train with a little satchel in which she's packed all her clothes, wigs, makeup, gowns, those white sequined oven mitts she wears in "Love, You Didn't Do Right By Me" plus four of the Vermont dancer boys. And then she happily--yes: happily, despite the loathing she had for Bing's appearance on TV that was so toxic it prompted her to sneak away from Vermont in secret--watches Bing's appearance on TV, suddenly has a mis-misunderstanding revelation, sneaks back to Vermont in the dead of night with her sensible orthopedic Army-issue oxfords in tow and somehow absorbs all the "Gee, I Wish I Was Back in the Army" choreography out of thin air from some secret backstage rehearsal room in that drafty barn that apparently a cast of 1,000 people had mysteriously never even known about because she surprised the hell out of all of them when she suddenly appeared onstage in the middle of the number with the woman who was presumably going to replace her tied up and gagged in a corner by the flylines.

But those gowns!

And don't get me started on that stupid "Sisters" number--it sure gets a LOT of mileage in the Haynes' sisters' apparently only-one-song act despite having only one verse and an enormous dance break where Rosemary and Vera basically just stand on stage and smile dewily at Bing and Doofusface while presumably the rest of the audiences watches and thinks they're being somehow entertained by all that standing around. AND WHAT THE HELL IS THAT "SNOW" SONG? "I want to wash my hands, my face and hair with snow"? SERIOUSLY?

But those gowns!

And Bing Crosby sings “Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep” after chugging a quart of buttermilk and Rosemary Clooney’s and Vera-Ellen’s “ugly” brother is actually totally cute when they show Bing and Doofusface his picture and WHAT THE HELL IS THAT “MR. BONES” SONG?

But those gowns!

And then Vera-Ellen--who does the entire movie in funnel-collared outfits tailored to hide whatever the hell is wrong with her neck--descends from the sky in her tearaway Ostrich Barbie outfit and executes some wicked nerve taps WITHOUT EVEN WEARING TAPS.

But those gowns!

And the general is clearly on a laudanum binge in the attic of his hotel-theater as he somehow doesn't notice that every U.S. war soldier past, present and future is swarming all over the entire property and filling every hotel room not already taken by the swarm of singers, dancers, directors, and costume and tech crew members, and when they all finally surprise him with their--frankly underwhelming--show, they seat him at the table of honor behind a three-foot-tall cake that completely blocks his view of the--frankly underwhelming--show that they put together ESPECIALLY FOR HIM TO SEE.

But those gowns!

Happy Thanksgiving to everybody except Christina

Dad’s ultra-fancy almost-birthday brunch!

We’re doing it two days early because my nephew is home for the weekend. More importantly, though, is the fact that I got us lined up better than the Brady kids on their staircase for this family selfie.

If this doesn't make you laugh involuntarily, you are roadkill to me

Well, I was SUPPOSED to see A Star Is Born tonight

But they must have mislabeled the theater we went into, because instead we saw Bradley Cooper: A Study In Blue Eyes, Distracting Abs And All Around Male Perfection And Oh Yeah Lady Gaga Is Freaking Awesome Too But We Already Knew That So Let’s Get Back To How Much I’m Going To Marry Bradley Cooper.

The movie really is pretty awesome. The singing, the beautifully intertwined rhythms of joy and humor and emotion and pathos, the creative range of camera work, the slightly dusty palette ... THE SINGING. My only criticism is that it feels a titch long toward the end, and I found myself ready for whatever was going to happen to hurry up and happen before I started losing sympathy for the characters.

Plus their puppy kind of got uglier as it grew into a dog. But that’s just a kibble.

Just between you, me and this lamppost ...

1. The good news is my knee didn’t hurt.
2. Well, MOSTLY didn’t hurt.
3. But I found myself still in the habit of favoring it as I ran.
4. Which is a good way to get hurt.
6. I just accidentally typed 6 instead of 5.
7. But I’m too lazy to go back and fix it.
7. So I fixed it this way instead.
8. MATH!
9. So ... three miles ...
10. It was pretty rough.
11. And I mean rough as in it felt like I’ve never run a step in my life.
12. I wanted to stop the whole time.
13. Especially—ESPECIALLY!—at my two-mile wall.
14. Because I have a two-mile wall.
15. Most runners have a 20-mile wall.
16. I have that as well.
17. But nobody—NOBODY!—has a two-mile wall.
18. At least I’m pretty.
19. Right?
20. RIGHT?
21. Thankfully, Rob got up in the early darkness (dark earliness?) and ran with me.
22. I haven’t seen him since the NewBo half marathon almost three weeks ago.
23. So it was nice to catch up on all our disparate theater adventures.
24. Plus it was a great distraction from all those damn walls.
25. Scott selfishly did NOT join us.
26. Because of his kids, he said.
27. His kids whom I HAVE NEVER SEEN.
28. So I have my suspicions about this friendship.
29. We replaced him with this lamp post in our selfie.
30. Because he lights up our lives.
31. He gives us hope.
32. To carry on.
33. He lights up our days.
34. And fills our nights.
35. With.
37. Song.
38. It can’t be wrong.
39. When it feels so right.
40. ‘Cause he ...
42. He lights.
43. Up.
44. Our.
45. Lives.