Please allow a young Jodie to express my feelings about the end of my vacation.

Ugh. Why is this show not back yet? Not only did Netflix not have the DVD set available in time for the holidays (seriously, gay ladies everywhere are pissed they didn’t get this in their stockings), but they also have not announced the second season premiere date yet. I need something to look forward to, people. It’s January. I need a ray of sunshine to dream about. Even if Alex Vause is only going to be on four episodes. I’ve been Googling toilet wine recipes in your absence. And making duct-tape flip-flops to pass the time. Hell, the other day I browsed the screwdriver aisle at the hardware store. Bottom line, come back show. Come back. Until then, guess I’ll just have to keep watching this gif over and over and over and over and, well, you get the picture.

Fuck! I haven’t put up a Weekend Crush yet this weekend. Since yesterday was the 10th anniversary of the premiere of “The L Word,” I thought I’d bring out this gem. Yeah, the week back from a vacation is like this. Happy what’s left of the weekend, all.

Hard to believe, but it has indeed been 10 years since Bette’s spectacular tirades and all the spectacular hookups (and breakups and everything in between) of “The L Word. The show premiered Jan. 18, 2004. And as much as we love, love, loved to hate it, we can’t help but miss all the talking, laughing, loving, breathing, fighting, fucking, et al. Ten years after the first-ever television show about gay women and their relationships, what has changed?

There are, indeed, more women – both lesbian and bisexual characters – on TV now. From the moms on “The Fosters” to the inmates on “Orange Is the New Black” to the liars on “Pretty Little Liars” and faebians on “Lost Girl,” we have an array of representations. But, all these years later, we still don’t have another “The L Word.” Sure, we had “Lip Service” ever so briefly. And even more briefly “Exes and Ohs.” But there simply isn’t a scripted show just about gay women on TV right now.

So now the question is, should there be? This past weekend HBO premiered “Looking,” the long-awaited successor to “Queer As Folk” for gay men. Television has been incredibly reluctant to create shows set in almost exclusively gay worlds. Be it squeamishness at the LGBT content or lack of confidence in audience or something else or a combination of everything, networks just haven’t been willing to give us a chance.

Though, our characters have been incorporated in more shows. While gay characters, particularly lesbians, are seldom the singular lead to a series, we have been included successfully into a variety of shows and genres from “The Good Wife” to “Modern Family” to “Grey’s Anatomy” to “Glee.” So is it actually better to have us part of ensembles, just in the mix as we often are in our real lives – at work, in our families.

Is there value in still having shows that depict us in our own world? A world where, as LGBT folks so often do, our families are the friends we surround ourselves with? Hell fucking yeah, there is. It’s been said so much it’s cliché, but we really do create our own families. And they are worth seeing on TV.

Call me greedy, but I want it all. I think we deserve it.

You guys. Seriously, YOU GUYS. If Kate McKinnon doesn’t become a mega star immediately and get used to her full potential on SNL, I will – be very disgruntled and write angry posts about it on the internet. Yeah, sorry, sometimes you have to go for accuracy over snappiness. But after watching Kate’s ridiculously on-point impersonation of Justin Bieber last Saturday I think you’ll all agree. Good stuff starts at the 4-minute mark. I’m telling you, if she’s not a household name at the end of this season expect those strongly worded posts. So many of them.

I know they still have two three years, but dammit if I’m already worrying about how much I’m going to miss having the Obamas in the White House. My separation anxiety has already begun. Politics aside (thought, for the record, voted for him twice and would happily again – despite his various shortcomings and numerous flaws), there has been something so incredibly refreshing about having such a young and vibrant family at the helm of our country. Also, not to state the obvious, but no other First Family has ever looked like the Obamas. It’s been so incredibly refreshing and so incredibly long overdue.

Among the things I’ve loved most about having the Obamas in the White House is having Michelle Obama as First Lady. I know, I know – how dare she plant a vegetable garden and ask children to get off the couch. What is this? Communist Russia? The lady is a world-class shade thrower (with a name like Boehner, how could you not?), a world-class dancer (girl can Dougie) and having world-class arms (Arm Porn in Chief). And now we find out the lady can dunk.



OK, fine, not exactly. But you can’t beat her In-Your-Face face afterward.



Yeah, I am going to miss that lady like crazy.

Yesterday was the 41 anniversary of Roe v. Wade. Yet still the assault on women’s reproductive rights continues unabated. I don’t know what it is exactly about women being in control of our own bodies that drives the Far Right so crazy. Perhaps it’s the crazy concept that we’re human beings with our own minds, hearts and agency that they just can’t wrap their heads around. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s it. And we haven’t even touched on the hypocrisy that puts an unborn fetus above all else, including that same child once it is born and its mother if they have the nerve to be poor and happen to need some additional assistance for luxuries like food and housing. Also, don’t even mention preventing pregnancies in the first place with comprehensive sex education and access to birth control in the first place.

Anyway, all of this is a very long way of saying Sarah Silverman has been totally killing it of late. I mean, I’ve always admired her even if her humor hasn’t always been my total, um, thing. But her social commentary has been always been particularly razor-sharp and recently very impressive. Not to mention hilarious. She is an unwavering feminist and champion of a woman’s right to choose. Like, take her chat yesterday with Jesus. Sure, it might not convince the wingnuts. But for everyone else, it is the very definition of “good talk.”

In life, and on TV, if you persevere it often really does get better. Few shows have proved that more recently than Mindy Kaling’s series, “The Mindy Project.” What started as a fairly superficial show about a fairly superficial person has evolved into, dare I say it, a surprisingly thoughtful and consistently hilarious show about a superficial person. Now in its second year, “The Mindy Project” can make me laugh, - really, really laugh – more reliably than almost any other show in TV. (Don’t worry, “Parks and Recreation,” you’re still my No. 1. Also, you’re another prime example of the It Gets Betterification of TV shows in their second season.)

But I digress. What helps to make “The Mindy Project” so special is a) it’s crackerjack cast and b) Mindy herself. To get in character and be superficial, this is the only show on TV centered solely around South Asian female character (Mindy is Indian-American) and one of the few shows on TV centered solely around a not stereotypically skinny female character (Mindy is by no means overweight, but her non model-thinness is touched on frequently). Sure, she’s kind of a brat – but dammit if she isn’t a fun brat to watch.

The real Mindy is whip-smart and more than aware of all the bullshit expectations, obstacles and trappings that come with being “different.” As she told Parade magazine in September:

On standing out in the white male-dominated comedy world.

“There are little Indian girls out there who look up to me, and I never want to belittle the honor of being an inspiration to them. But while I’m talking about why I’m so different, white male show runners get to talk about their art.”

“I always get asked, ‘Where do you get your confidence?’ I think people are well meaning, but it’s pretty insulting. Because what it means to me is, ‘You, Mindy Kaling, have all the trappings of a very marginalized person. You’re not skinny, you’re not white, you’re a woman. Why on earth would you feel like you’re worth anything?’”

These are by no means a complete or coherent listing of my thoughts about the Grammys. But it is late and my brain needs a break from all the stage fog. What I do know is that these were the first Grammys I have actually enjoyed in years. My enjoyment was twofold. 1) There were some very fun performances by Queen Bey, Pink, Lorde, Sara Bareilles and Carole King, Kacey Musgraves, Kendrick Lamar and those rock guys and Macklemore, Ryan Lewis, Mary Lambert, Queen Latfiah, Madonna and all those couples who got married. 2) I watched it on tape delay with liberal use of the fast forward button.

The only way it could have been better, besides all the boring bits I fast forwarded through, was if Queen Latifah made it official while officiating all those marriages. Come on, Queen. If Jodie Foster can do it at an award show, so can you.

pic.twitter.com/SfXr2Gf6WJ

— christine teigen (@chrissyteigen) January 27, 2014

If you are like me, when the country music portion of the Grammy Awards come on you use it as a perfect time to go get another beer. But at Sunday’s Grammys I stayed seated and delighted. Well, no, not with Hunter Hayes. What’s with the random quotes, Country Bieber? You see, I’m no country music fan – but if that’s what you’re into, absolutely no judgment. I enjoy some classics – Patsy, Loretta, Johnny, Willie. But the contemporary stuff, eh. Still the adorable Kacey Musgraves had me glued to my couch.

First, there was her outfit – light-up boots and lamp-shade skirt and all. Then there was her band – with their cute matchy-matchy Western wear. And now I have this odd desire to decorate my living room with neon cacti. But the main attraction was Kacey herself. And, more importantly, her music. I am a little bit in love with “Follow Your Arrow.” See for youself.



Yes, America, a popular country music song discusses same-sex smoochies, pre-marital sex, toking up, body snarking, slut shaming and aethism – in a good way. This is one of the most merrily progressive songs I’ve heard in the past year. And it does it all without being preachy. It’s just about, you know, following your heart. Do what makes you happy, don’t worry about what makes other people happy. Be you. How utterly refreshing.

Right, so I’m off to iTunes to download “Follow Your Arrow.” If you need me I’ll be two-stepping under my desk.

p.s. Here is the official video. I kind of want hot-pants with gun holsters to become a thing.

I don’t know will ultimately rise up and become the next Supreme tonight on the season finale of “American Horror Story: Coven.” I’m rooting for a “Chosen” kind of power-share. Are you ready to be strong, witches? But save that, I’m rooting for Misty or Cordelia. How could I not?

In looking at the scope of this season’s “American Horror Story,” I am both thrilled and disappointed. It’s a Ryan Murphy show, you were expecting more? I have unquestionably enjoyed this season more than last. The total mind-fuck of psychological (and physical – because of course) torture to befall the characters in “AHS: Asylum” was almost too stomach churning to watch. Sure, “Coven” folks have had to endure dismemberment, disembowelment and self-inflicted garden shears to the eyes. But it doesn’t feel as torturous, somehow.

What I’ve loved all along is two-fold. One, it’s absolutely lights-out female cast. (Jessica and Kathy and Angela and Sarah and Lily and Frances and Gabourey and Emma and Taissa and Patti, OH MY!) I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again – this is hands down the biggest gathering of female talent on TV this season. And, goodness, how they’ve flexed their collective muscle.

But what I haven’t loved, in fact hated, is that a series all about female power would be fixated on the wrong kind of power struggle. Instead of Witches vs. The World, “Coven” is Witches vs. Witches. Like women can only fight and destroy each other. Sure, there can be infighting, but does it ALL have to be infighting? Ugh, whatever Ryan Murphy.

I also have some not insignificant quibbles with the way the show has portrayed its African-American characters as motivated almost exclusively by vengeance. That and they tragically underused Marie Laveau. (Really, Benadryl takes down the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans? Really?) The show’s insulting insistence on keeping its focus on the stereotypical cat-fight dynamic robbed us of more of an opportunity to see Jessica Lange and Angela Bassett acting with each other, instead of against each other.



Oh, and then there’s the show’s reliance on tropes for what motivates women: fear of aging, want of a baby, jealousy over a boyfriend, et al.

Still, in spite of it all, I remain grateful for the ridiculous bounty of female talent who got to be on my TV together each week. And however it turns out, they should feel pride in how – despite the often subpar material – they’ve utterly bewitched us.

It’s hard out there for a feminist. We fight gender inequality and each other in equal measures sometimes, it seems. Pointing out bad feminists has become a bit of a bloodsport. Check your privilege while tone policing the discussion of intersectionality of binary genitalia and all of that. But I hope, despite all the back-and-forth and finger pointing, we can all agree that other women – despite our many flaws and frequent short fallings – are not the ultimate enemy. A culture that thinks women can be driven instantly wild and become mindless sex machines because of a stupid body spray is the real enemy.

Also, this parody AXE commercial is just fucking funny.

It had been a long, long week. My landlord informed me he is selling the house. Mind you, this is the second landlord in a row now who has sold the house I was living in out form under me. Yay... And so now I have to wrap my little tiny brain (and arms) around the gargantuan project of packing up all of my earthly possessions and dragging them to some other place to call my h.o.m.e. Blerg. If you have not noticed, I really fucking hate moving. Anyway, chin up. Stop moping. Yadda yadda. The universe is still filled with wonderful and random surprises. Like, say, Meryl Streep, 50 Cent and Kobe Bryant mean mugging for the camera. Guess the world can still delight, despite frequent evidence to the contrary. Happy weekend, all.

Trigger Warning: Sexual abuse and rape culture discussion follows.

The last Woody Allen movie I saw in the theater was 2008’s “Vicky Cristina Barcelona,” which I will readily admit I watched to see Scarlett Johansson and Penelope Cruz kiss. Before that the last one I saw was 2005’s “Match Point.” I don’t know, maybe – like its creator – I was going through a Scar-Jo phase.

Throughout my life I have seen many, many Woody Allen films. My father, a Brooklyn native with the accent to match, was an enormous fan of his when we were growing up. We sat and laughed through rented copies of “Annie Hall,” “Sleeper,” “Love and Death” (pretty much the entire Diane Keaton era) in our living room.

But then, after the ugly end of his Mia Farrow period, it all changed. I haven’t felt good about seeing a Woody Allen movie since 1992. And I believe, once and for all, I am through. The separation between artist and art is something I’ve discussed, at length, before. I don’t necessarily have to like or agree with a person’s ideology and actions to like his/her art. But if a person’s character is so repugnant, it is also my prerogative to not support his or her work. I feel the same way about Roman Polanski.

And I find Woody Allen repugnant. While some have long rooted for the way his nebbish, neurotic nerd persona has always gotten the girl, I have continually found it jarring. I’m all for nerds getting the girl. Hello, story of my life. But I have never found Woody’s brand of nerdom particularly endearing. I find it narcissistic, whiny and continually obsessed with bedding young women. “Manhattan” is considered one of his enduring classics. It’s about a 42-year-old comedy writer who starts dating a 17-year-old girl.

But then the sexual assault allegations on his then 7-year-old daughter and fact that he began a sexual relationship with his longtime girlfriend’s adopted daughter happened. Let me address the latter first. I know, I know those into technicalities like to say that Soon-Yi was not his adopted daughter. And he never married her mother, Mia. But the two were in a relationship for 12 years. And the relationship only ended when Mia found nude pictures the then 57-year-old Woody had taken of the then 19- or 20-year-old (her adoption records are incomplete) Soon-Yi. I am adopted and I can tell you 100 percent, flat-out, without reservation, that shit is weird and gross and wrong. End of story.

Then there is the separate issue of the alleged sexual assault on his daughter, Dylan Farrow. The allegations, which were first made in 1992 and then became part of the bitter custody dispute though never prosecuted criminally, resurfaced a few days ago with an open letter from the now 28-year-old Dylan Farrow. Her letter recounts – for the first time publicly in her own words – what happened and how it has affected her life. It isn’t pretty. As mentioned earlier, trigger warning if you click this link.

There has been a lot made about the ambiguities and fact that Allen has never been charged or convicted of the crime. The “Who can know what really happened?”-attitude is pervasive. But its implication could not be clear. “I the absence of clear facts, I’m going to assume this girl has been lying for 21-years and keep supporting Woody Allen and seeing his movies.” Indeed, we have a presumption of innocence in this country, and it is a good thing. But it shouldn’t automatically equate to a presumption of guilt on the behalf of the accuser – especially in cases of sexual assault and abuse. Rape culture is everywhere and is real. It’s that toxic atmosphere which allows everything from casual rape jokes to actual rape because such violations are totally the same as your favorite football team getting blown out of the big game and a girl is totally asking for it because she is drunk/wearing a short skirt/what was she doing there in the first place anyway, etc. etc. Blame the victim, blame the victim, slut shame and repeat.

So let’s go to the numbers. In the Unites States, every two minutes someone is sexually assaulted, according to the U.S. Department of Justice's National Crime Victimization Survey. Nationally, 60 percent of sexual assaults go unreported, also according to the U.S. Justice Department. And nationally 97 percent of rapists never spend a day in jail, again according to the U.S. Department of Justice. Meanwhile, an average of methodical international studies on sexual assault claims finds they are only between 2-8 percent of all reports to police are false, according to The National Center for the Prosecution of Violence Against Women. So, statistically speaking: Rapes getting reported? Rare. Rapists going to jail? Rarer. Rape reports being false? Possibly rarest.

Allen, by the way, has vehemently denied the claims through his lawyer and lays basically all the blame at Mia Farrow’s feet.

You don’t necessarily have to take a side in this debate. You can continue seeing Woody Allen movies and appreciating his work. Your conscience is yours and yours alone. I just known mine feels a whole lot better believing a 7-year-old girl. I can live with giving up on some movies. In the scope of things, it’s really the least I can do.

p.s. Yesterday New Yorker TV critic Emily Nussbaum unearthed this gem from a one-act play Allen wrote and had produced three years ago. Yes, it’s a child molestation joke. Ladies and gentlemen, a comedy genius.

Triggerish, FWIW. Here's a graphic WA joke about child molestation from Honeymoon Motel, a 1-act produced 3 yrs ago: pic.twitter.com/at1Z7DrXxd

— emilynussbaum (@emilynussbaum) February 4, 2014

Oh, be still my heart. “Orange is the New Black”creator Jenji Kohan has told Us Weekly that Alex Vause will be back for “most” of season 2. Now, I know the massive heart attack every lesbian, some straight women and an assortment of gay and straight men felt when news dropped last summer that Laura Prepon was leaving and/or severely cutting back on her time at Litchfield. It was a terrible, terrible dark time for us all.

Kohan told the magazine:

“Yes, yes, she is coming back. Not the whole season, but...you'll see her for most of it.”

I would pay for an online service that sends me daily video compilations of Emma Thompson being awesome. I really would. I’d open up my email every day and it would be like a little present. You’ve got delightfulness! This awards season Emma has been particularly delightful, which is actually a hard thing to say considering her average level of delightfulness is already off the charts. But whether she is throwing her Louboutins off on live television, photobombing Lupita Nyong’O, plotting how to kill someone with an Oscar statuette, explaining the secrets to marriage, making Oscar-worthy animal sounds, discussing how being in a musical made her clinically depressed and drinking at award shows, she never disappoints. I know we have the gifs, but I demand a video editing service. Think how much happier we would all be? Make it happen, Silicon Valley.

p.s. I mean ,even when she is trying to not be delightful, she is - of course - delightful.

I am an admitted Olympics junkie. I love them. I love the pageantry. I love the drama. I love the passion. I love the hot athletes. Without fail I always get a little choked up during Opening Ceremonies because it represents the culmination of a lifelong dreams and a lifetime of hard work.

But this Olympics? Dammit if they’re not trying to break up with me before we’ve even started dating. What with its kidnapping of wild orcas, killing of stray dogs and warnings to visitors about “dangerous face water.” Oh, right, and there is also all that terrible mistreatment and persecution of LGBT people. Faster. Higher. Stronger. Fewer Civil Rights. Ugh. It is just so fucking awful.

This is the first Olympics which I have truly, unshakably mixed emotions going into. Certainly, there were questions about human rights issues with Beijing. But Sochi has had so many that are so well documented they’re practically impossible to ignore. And they’re kind of ruining everything. The illusion that the Olympics are about the purity of sports and talent was shattered long ago. But it’s still nice to hope that we can rise above the geopolitical posturing, rampant consumerism and endless corporate sponsorship to appreciate the thrill of human accomplishment.

The good news is the world is watching. NBC kicked off its Olympics coverage tonight with Bob Costas mentioning Russia’s anti-gay climate in the first few seconds of broadcast last night. And there was an in-depth discussion of the civil rights issues in the country (with the even more depressing stat from a veteran Russian journalist that 85 percent of the country is virulently homophobic). And while most corporate sponsors have stayed silent, AT&T was the first major corporate sponsor to take a stand against the country’s anti-gay laws. And yesterday Google posted took an unmistakable stand on its homepage (as well as its Russian homepage). I swear to God, I got genuinely choked up looking at my search engine yesterday.



So, starting today, we’re all faced with a choice. Watch the Olympics, don’t watch the Olympics? Boycott Russian vodka? Toast with some Stoli, baby? Hard to say what will be most effective. I’ve decided I’m still going to watch. I’m going to cheer for these athletes because they deserve to be cheered for. But I’m also going to continue to advocating for change, continue shedding a light on Russia’s oppressive anti-gay laws (and other general bumblefuckery). And I hope more athletes, sponsors and world leaders do the same. Perhaps the glare of the international spotlight will do some good, or at very least expose all that is wrong. Perhaps the torch can shine some light into some dark places. In fact, I think it has an obligation to do so. In the end, you don’t have to love Sochi to still love the Olympic spirit. Go, world. Happy weekend, all.

p.s. Oh, and I have a few thought on the ridiculous hypocrisy of having fake lesbian Russia pop duo t.A.T.u. play at the opening ceremonies tonight as well, if you’re so inclined to care click over here.

p.p.s. When not rooting for Team USA, I will be rooting for Team Canada. A little gay indeed, eh.

So, you might have heard that Russia, the country hosting the Sochi Winter Olympics, is a little anti-gay. You might have also heard a lot of people are boycotting watching the games (like lesbian fandom dreamgirl Zoie Palmer, for instance) and others are protesting in other ways (rainbow unicorn mittens of solidarity) and still other companies have made their own statements (AT&T and Google were early out of the gate). While companies have tailored ads for LGBT events, publications, etc. Now there have been a handful of commercials that have put their inclusiveness where their advertising dollars are in the mainstream. There was that cheeky Canadian ad with the lugers. (Oh, Canada, indeed!) And now Chevy, Coke and Chobani (above) have all created LGBT-positive advertisements, which have all been released during the Olympics. These sorts of gestures often make me feel torn. On the one hand, amazing – so fucking amazing that finally we’re being represented in mainstream culture in something as All-American (yes, yes – I know, they are global brands) as Chevy and Coke. On the other hand, is it just a crass way to use the LGBT audience as another consumer pawn to be played in search of the almighty dollar? Though, I guess being seen as just a capitalist tool is in a way its own victory. If inclusiveness and diversity is seen as a way to make money, I guess I’ll take it. So gay sells now? It’s better than the opposite, that’s for sure.

Are we all just a little bit in love with Kate Hansen? The Team U.S.A. women’s luger is the surprise sweetheart of these games so far. It’s not because of her medal-winning performance necessarily (she competes in the finals today – I think, freaking timezones), but because she’s the most adorable fly girl Olympian you’ve ever met. During coverage of the women’s luge it was revealed the 21-year-old’s pre-race routine was simple. Crank up Queen Bey and dance like nobody is watching. Get it, guuuuurl. The NBC broadcaster watching her epic dance moves was the biggest, boringest killjoy in the world. But please ignore his inability to feel joy and enjoy this clip of Kate getting her groove thang on.



Get down, girl, go on get down. Though I would expect nothing less from someone whose Twitter bio reads: “I know all of Beyonce’s choreo by heart and I wear spandex for a living.”



In a post-race interview she told a decidely more fun NBC broadcaster that she always, always listens to Beyonce to get her game-face on:

“Strictly Beyonce. My girl, B. She just gets me fierce and I get stoked and I have to. I have such good mojo going on. So that’s just how I roll.”