About two years ago I wrote an article for this magazine about Battle of the Network Stars. It was an attempt to defend the 70s and 80s kitsch show—as an early example of reality television and, thanks to some clever soul at VH1, what has become known as celebreality
My favorite breakfast as a kid was iHOP’s chocolate-chip pancakes. The kind with the whipped-cream smile? Blech. These days, I’d just as soon pour Nutella in my morning coffee. Wait, that sounds delicious. How about: I’d just as soon eat pancakes made from human blood?
I cannot separate the songs I loved as a child from their videos. “Rio?” That’s a song about sailing the Caribbean and pouring melted pink ice cream on yourself. “Billie Jean?” Requires light-up tile floors. “Hello” is about some blind chick in Lionel Richie’s acting class (a
As a kid, I loved candy cigarettes. I was obsessed with Hollywood glamour, with being an adult even as I was just learning the wobbly letters of my first name. It was a powerful feeling to slip that sweet, chalky stick between my lips and puff away. If you sucked
Living in San Francisco means constant reminders that the Big One could come at any time. This year marked the 101st anniversary of the Great Quake, when a 7.8 exploded along the San Andreas Fault, leveling the city and igniting a massive fire when the shaking stopped. Many of
With the endless malapropisms, spoonerisms, and eggcorns spilling out of the mouth of our president, we’ve been spoiled for political humor. Back when I was a wee girl, it wasn’t so easy. Yes, Michael Dukakis rode on a tank, and George Bush, Sr., choked on broccoli, vomited on
I’ve never been a big fan of House, the television show. I find it painfully contrived, annoyingly outlandish. I’m a kid who grew up on St. Elsewhere and General Hospital; if a medical drama strikes me as unrealistic, then we know things are bad. That said, I’ve
Rosie O’Donnell is leaving The View. Shh, shh, little bear, it’s going to be OK. I know what you’re wondering. You’re wondering: What will my day be like without a kneejerk, vaguely incoherent lesbian to organize my day? Watch this video. Why? Because it would piss
I spent my college years working at a daycare with four- and five-year-olds who screamed a lot, hurt themselves easily, and sometimes wet the bed. They reminded me a lot of my friends at the time. Turn on loud music, blow some atmospheric bubbles, and the only difference
Each week, as I sift through online videos for this column, I kick one of my ballet slippers up onto my studio barre, bust out a few pliés, and and try to find an overarching theme to unite the week’s digest. Usually these themes come to me immediately, even
