Amber Heard vs. Kate Winslet

Amber Heard--you're beautiful. You're talented, eloquent, proud, and fierce as all hell. And you love talking about your girlfriend, which I love.

It doesn't hurt any that you look good in (and out of) anything. You could wade in a tub of mayo and make it haute couture. 

So it really isn't saying much about you as it is about Kate when I say you have a long way to go before you reach the stratospheric levels of perfection that is Kate in the latest Harper's.

I mean, look at you:

And then look at her: 

Goodness gracious, and then some lingerie? Is, is that lace--*swallow*--c-cupping her--those magnificent works of art-- And that posture.

My brain stopped. Or died.

Even when you're getting kinky with yourself, and as much as I'm into that (I AM), there's something about Kate's subtle, understated sexuality that takes the whole cake. Even if you're crawling on the floor in a painted-on leather catsuit, and Kate just looks bored as fuck counting the thread count of the sheet.

I don't mean to compare, because that's just unfair to you both. But I had to go there because I live there 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Where Kate is my queen, and I, her bitch. 

You don't resent me, do you? After all, aren't all women a little bit in love with her? Aren't you?

F**k you, too, Santorum

In spite of all his protestations, Rick Santorum is certainly working hard to cement that very special association his charming personality has garnered his name. 

No, I apologize. That was unduly insensitive and crass of me. I didn't mean to offend all of us who actually work hard to put a meal on the table and provide a roof over their children's head. Because as we all know, all he does is unplug that hole in his face and let the toxic waste festering in his soul spew forth. Wait, did I say 'toxic waste'? Because I really meant 'santorum'.

This is in regards to the Stephen Hill debacle at the 9/22 GOP debate. Personally, my opposition to DADT was never a passion interest for me simply because of my aversion to the military and all that it entails. Particularly so in the last two years because the momentum it gathered from Obama's and the Pentagon's increasing support made it evident that the repeal was not only imminent but inevitable. It should have been such a non-issue. And it looked like we were finally there when it was buried this week.

So, for this to occur within days, was like a cold splash in the face. It pissed me off. 

Just to be clear, no one's surprised by the shit that leaves this guy's or other equally conservative politicians' mouths. I wasn't expecting them to change over night, to easily move onto a new battlefield (read: another non-issue) where they can conveniently juxtapose themselves as the counterpart to Democrats. But I guess what I did expect was that they'd at least have the decency to treat an American soldier with respect. 

No. Santorum sucked the marrow out of anti-gay rhetoric bone-dry and pandered to the bigotry that drives the conservative vote. DADT has nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with giving each and every American soldier the respect, honor, and integrity they deserve. The fool. Inciting and reveling in hate politics over soldiers who sacrifice their lives to protect his dumbfuck, un-American ass. How dare you, and shame on you, shame on you.

And lest I forget, fuck you, too, Fox, for trying to whitewash it.

Stockings

Yes. 

Just yes to Dita Von Teese and seamed stockings. 

You're just lying to yourself otherwise. And why would you do such a thing to yourself?

She's gay!?

Hey, remember that movie from 1988 based on a book by Isabel Allende starring Meryl Streep, Glenn Close, and Winona Ryder?

Yeah, that one, The House of the Spirits (or La Casa de los Espiritus).

Yeah, hetero-ick, move on.

Well, I saw it again last night--but properly this time, you know. Meaning from beginning to credits without the pesky, self-absorbed parochiality of my teenage mind. And it was just as good as the first time, omitting some major, glaring discrepancies with the characters' race. (Seriously, did no one question having the whitest, gringo-est actors cast as the main characters? Really?) 

Except there was just this tiny, little thing that stood out this time. A rather inconsequential detail within the scope of the book, but still. And not to glaze over the other aspects of the film, or the book for that matter, because those are probably more noteworthy (although I actually do), but...

HOW COME NO ONE TOLD ME THAT GLENN CLOSE'S CHARACTER CRUSHES ON MERYL STREEP'S CHARACTER, HER SISTER-IN-LAW, IN THIS FILM/BOOK???

Glenn/Meryl? My world just imploded.

Where was I? Why do I even live? Does this count as hitting the lesbian jackpot yet? And did you know?

Because I sure didn't, and it came flying at me out of nowhere with enough force to tilt Uranus' axis back straight.

Glenn Close enlivens "Albert Nobbs"

Oh my god, yes.

Yes. Glenn Close is Albert Nobbs, a woman turned hotel butler living in socially repressive 19th century Dublin. The eponymous passion project of Close, who portrayed him on the stage in 1982, goes like this (via Geektyrant):

19th century Ireland: a woman with no husband or family and without work would face a bleak life of poverty and loneliness. Albert, a shy butler who keeps himself to himself, has been hiding a deep secret for years – ‘he’ is a woman who has had to dress and behave as a man all her life in order to escape this fate. When handsome painter Hubert Page arrives at the hotel, Albert is inspired to try and escape the false life she has created for herself. She gathers her nerves to court beautiful, saucy young maid Helen [Mia Wasikowska, Alice in Wonderland] in whom she thinks she’s found a soul-mate – but Helen’s eye is on a new arrival: handsome, bad-boy Joe, the new handy-man! As Albert dares to hope that she might one day live a normal life, we catch a glimpse of a free-spirited woman who is caught in the wrong time… This humorous but ultimately poignant ensemble story about life ‘below-stairs’ is nothing less than Gosford Park meets Boys Don’t Cry.

Did you just wet your pants a little? 'Cuz, not going to lie, I did.

Minx: One more

Aw, shucks, c'mon. Like I could help myself. Seriously. I have no resolve.

Oh, the tease.

Um. Hair. Eyes. Hook, line, and sinker. Yet again. 

Sweet baby Jesus, they are smokin'. And simultaneously cute. Gahhh.

Minx Madness

Yes, it's been quite a bit. But I've been a productive little bee as you'll see.

The hair!!! The hands!!!

Post-sex scene, which I have been naughtily remiss about, Minx madness has taken lesbians by storm. And by 'lesbians,' I mean the handful I know on Twitter (Follow me!) and AfterEllen, whose fanaticism alone could energize a nuclear submarine. 

We are an intense group. No, scratch that. We are fucking obsessed. 

But in a nice, good, completely harmless way, as MOST fangirls are. (Seriously, WTF was her deal? It's Marion Cotillard. You just don't mess with her; she's a goddess!)

Why I Won't Watch 'The Help'

Or at least go out of my way to see it, which inevitably means upturning the sofa for loose change.  Or jump onto the bandwagon of raving reviews.

For the last couple of weeks, I couldn’t quite put a finger on what bothered me about 'The Help,' especially considering how I’d been so excited when I first saw the trailer. There was just something about it that gnawed at my racial consciousness over time.

And then I found this article "Why I'm Just Saying No to ‘The Help and Its Historical Whitewash" by Akiba Solomon that exactly articulated my reservations--it’s another typical white guilt project that places the white protagonist at the very center, and colored folk at the sidelines to advance the white protagonist’s (or other white folks’) personal journey or enlightenment. Says Solomn:

I just can’t bring myself to pay $12.50 after taxes and fees to sit in an aggressively air conditioned, possibly bed bug-infested New York City movie theater to watch these sisters lend gravitas to Stockett’s white heroine mythology. I’m sorry, but the trailer alone features way too many group hugs to be trusted.

Aside from the lovely snark, she’s completely right. It might be premature of me to pass judgment without having seen it, but really? If you’ve see one white guilt movie, then you’ve seen a dime and a dozen. They all have the same characters and plots, with endless variations as long as it’s about the white person, of course.

Best Story Ever

You don't have a heart if this doesn't bring a smile to your face. 

After persevering decades of sexism denying women equal recognition in martial arts, 98-year-old Keiko Fukuda became the 16th person and first woman ever to earn the 10th degree black belt in judo. 

She began in 1935 but she remained a 5th degree black belt for twenty years because of strict rules curtailing women's advancement in the Kodokan. Only in 1971 was she able to move onto her next belt. 

At the 3:15 mark, you see exactly how much this means to her. Aww, why are grandmas so cute?

On a side note, what the hell are the Japanese eating that keeps them preserved like that? I can only pray to look that good when I go over the hill.

Minx Lovin'

The word is out. Next week, Friday, August 19th, to be exact, Minx is going to spend the night together.

Make love. Get bizzay. Color. Have sexy time. The Bavarian jig. The horizontal tango. Bump uglies (except, Christina B. Lind and Sarah Glendening’s uglies still look better than most of us in our Sunday best).

And that was the sound of thousands of lesbians squealing and sighing in delight.

YESSSSSS. Finally. FINALLY, our Binks gets to be like all the other characters of AMC—a human being with sexual desire. It’s been, what, a year and a half since she got some? With Reese, in Paris?

Daughters of Club Bilitis Subbed!

I'm happy to say that someone has kindly subbed Daughters of Club Bilitis!

Watch it here!

As a side note, before I found these subs, I tried subbing for the first time. And it was not that easy. It requires time and dedication in vat loads. And comparing my translation with theirs, it's clear that it requires skills. So much thanks to all subbers out there making the world a better place. :)

Daughters of Club Bilitis

Korean lesbian drama.

Yes, breathe and repeat after me: Korean lesbian drama.

Watch it here on YouTube. 

Say what? Am I in the twilight zone? I must be because I thought that I would need a time machine to see anything like this happening.

Yeah, it's only a one episode special, but still! It's an hour-long special following three lesbian couples—high school-ers, 20-30 year olds, and a middle-age couple—whose lives are intertwined, and it addresses some of the issues lesbians in Korea face, such as coming out, self-acceptance, enforced heterosexuality, and above all, THEPARENTSHOLYSHIT. And you know what's the best part? It was done in a socially sensitive and respectful way.

Damages: An Overview

I love Damages.

I really do. I think it’s sophisticated, intelligent, powerfully characterized, and socially relevant, which is more than I can say about 95% of the crap in the current media. More importantly, it doesn't rely on the sexual appeal of its two female main characters to carry the show. Which is why I’ll be recapping (read: gushing over) it.

Before I begin, though, I’m going to need a moment.

Thank god for DirecTV because seriously, what in hell was FX thinking when they decided to cancel their only award-winning show? Ratings be damned, did they have no idea what that would do to me? Each season of Damages was tantamount to sex for me (fyi, I watched all three seasons within two months, but yes, it was somewhat of a dry spell at the time). The way the non-linear s/l was set up, I knew what would come at the end—no pun intended; I would get hints and flashes, but the build-up was always tantalizing and more than enough to satisfy me until the end.

Dorky, gay, loser fangirls

I’m gonna give this a shot.

No, really. A legitimate shot this time.

Not like all the countless times in the past when I swore up and down, cross my heart, to persevere with maintaining a journal, only to lamely peter out with much begrudged and increasingly brief entries three days later at which point I unfailingly went, Resolution, what resolution?

But, o ho, this time, the circumstances are different. I’ve come to the realization that I have reached an impasse where I can no longer afford to delude myself of the inexorable truth. Oh, it’s a long story--one of excoriating self-exposition and of highs and low reached—but at the end, the one truth rings loud and clear.

Quite plainly and simply, I’m a loser fangirl.