SGALGG: Lesbian Oscars Edition

God, did you make it through all 127 hours of the Oscars telecast? Did anyone find James Franco’s personality? Or, better yet, could he have just shared whatever he was smoking with all of us. That way it would have been a much more enjoyable experience for all parties involved. Though, despite the show falling in its desperate attempt to be young and breaking its hipness, there were still some quality Straight Gals Acting Like Gay Gals moments. I mean, the show’s one conscious host Anne Hathaway herself called it “a great year for lesbians.”

Michelle Willliams & Busy PhillipsBusy was Michele’s date for the Oscars, and they even arrived holding hands. Someone needs to give them a portmanteau tout de suite.

Gwyneth Paltrow & Cameron DiazI can’t tell if I’m more excited by the SGALGGy hug or the arm porn. Probably both.

Sandra Bullock & Halle BerryI will pay good money to whoever has the next photo in this sequence. Kiss her you fool!

Marisa Tomei & Melissa LeoMarisa looks like she’s about to jump into Melissa’s arms. And then, in my head, they do the dramatic lift from “Dirty Dancing.”

Selena Gomez & Taylor SwiftWhile the Bieber kid looks more lesbian, Selena and Taylor make a cuter couple.

Leslie Mann, Emma Stone & Jennifer WestfeldtThe best thing about this picture is how badly Judd Apatow wants to make this a foursome and how defiantly the ladies are keeping it a threesome.

Rosario Dawson & Jennifer HudsonWhat I would not give to hear a “Take Me or Leave Me” duet between those two.

Reese Witherspoon & Elizabeth BanksI’m assuming Reese just said something absolutely filthy about what she was going to do with that finger and Elizabeth approves.

Anne HathawayIf only Anne had hosted with herself and her tuxedoed self, instead of James Franco. It would have been so much more entertaining, and hot.

Lea Michele & Dianna AgronI particularly love how they both look like they’ve been caught in the act. Busted, Achele, busted.

GGALGG Bonus: Lora Hirschberg & her wife LauraOut lesbian sound mixer Lora Hirschberg won for Inception and got a smooch on her way to the stage.

OK, Anne Hathaway, you were right. It was a great year for lesbians, or at least lesbian behavior.

p.s. Check out my full Oscar recap over at AfterEllen.

My Weekend Crush

I didn’t start watching “Pretty Little Liars” until this season. I’d shied away because a) it’s on ABC Family and b) it’s about teens and c) I am an adult and already watch way too many shows about teens. But its lesbian storyline and the consistent insistence by friends that it was great, goofy fun convinced me to give it a try. And it is fun, like a live-action episode of Scooby Doo each week without the stoner comedy. I can’t say I’m an ardent devotee. I mean I watch it weekly, but sometimes I wonder if I wouldn’t have just as much fun watching a rerun of Scooby and the gang zoinks it up on some haunted island. Also, the Aria-Ezra/student-teacher thing kind of weirds me out. There, I said it. Go ahead and call me a prude on this one.



But, then I get my own May-December (OK, not really December, more like May-July to Augustish) feelings about Shay Mitchell. That girl is ridiculously pretty. Like not normal, possibly from another planet, definitely not like anyone I went to high school with pretty. Wow, is she pretty. And I know she is 23, which is perfectly legal and not entirely out of the sphere of age appropriateness for me (and probably smack dab in many of your wheelhouses), but whenever I look at her I feel like a skeazy mouth-breathing old lady. I think it’s her skin, that delicious, delicious olive. And her hair, that shiny, shiny black. Also, she kisses girls on the show. I can’t help myself. She makes me think very good, very bad things. I should probably just watch more grown-up shows so I don’t have keep having these fictional moral conundrums with tiny Chris Hansens on my shoulder. So to summarize, “Pretty Little Liars” is pretty fun, Shay Mitchell is insanely pretty and it all makes me feel pretty pervy. But, mostly, in a good way. Happy weekend, all.

Case study

So Neko Case can’t get laid. OK, wait, let me rephrase that. I am sure Neko Case can and does get laid, but she’s not getting laid by groupies at the rate of her male singer counterparts. And, to extrapolate further, it seems no female musicians are getting laid at the rate, frequency and intensity of their male counterparts. There is, apparently, just no such thing as the male groupie. Salon did an interesting piece on Neko’s recent Twitter admission that “ladies in bands don’t get ANY action.” It’s interesting but also kind of a bummer because someone as talented and beautiful and smart and successful as Neko Case should be awash in whatever kind of sexual smorgasbord her heart desires. She is Neko goddamnfucking Case. Take her to bed immediately, men of this planet.

But it also illustrates a broader, equally bummer truth in our society. Most men simply find it easier to get action than most women. And this is especially true when it comes to smart, successful men and women. While men are awash in lady loving, their female counterparts find their options more limited. Why? Well, we could be here for weeks talking about sexual politics and societal patriarchy, power dynamics and gender norms. But let’s just mutually agree that this is a fact, like gravity and the impossibility of eating just one Pringle. Or, now that I think about it, Twizzler.

So here is the obvious follow-up question: Is this true to gay women? Does this mean we doubled down on the inability to get some? Or does this make it total cake? I can tell you from my own totally unscientific empirical observations, lesbians really suck at hitting on each other, even when none of the parties involved are famous. Obviously, someone needs to interview Tegan & Sara on this subject immediately. I have no idea whether lesbian artists have ardent and active fanbases willing to drop and fling their panties at them. I don’t know if they’ve got to hire double security to block the stage door or can saunter out into darkness unnoticed. I know I’ve seen many, many a lesbian performer on stage and have never waited outside of the tour bus to see if I could my own private encore. But then, I’m not really the groupie type. Though, as always, I would wait at the stage door to hell forever and always for just one shot at Tina Fey. (Had to put it out there one more time. You understand, universe.)

I guess, in a way, I’m a little glad that female musicians don’t partake in the bedroom buffet line that many of their male counterparts do, where they open the door and point. Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with sex for sex’s sake between two consenting adults. Sex is natural, sex is fun. Sex is usually best when it’s one-on-one. But mostly this is just because any more than one other person and the experience becomes a complicated timing exercise of how much and how well one spends attending to each separate partner – or so I’ve, um, heard. Right, where was I? Ever the ERA backer, I think her refusal to board this particular sexual gravy train should be entirely the female artist’s choice. As Neko tweeted after her groupie lament: “I realize for myself, I didn’t want to be hit on BY lots of men so much as I wanted to be hit on AS MUCH as men. Competitive inferior complex.”

Neko, darling, if you’re interested in testing your theory with the other team, I am more than willing to help. Point me to your stage door. I’ll be happily waiting.

Really, men aren’t lining up for that? God, they can be such idiots.

It Gets Awesome

This video made the rounds last month, yet somehow I managed to not watch it until just recently. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested, it’s just at that point I was a tad It Gets Bettered out. (And, again, not that I have anything at all against the campaign – it’s wonderful and amazing and should go on forever and ever). But, you know, I know it gets better so I wasn’t sure I needed to hear it again. But then, out of my normal mix of insomnia and procrastination, I finally clicked the link I’d favorite for a rainy day. And, boy, was I thrilled I did. Not only is Rebecca Drysdale’s “It Gets Better” music video the funniest and cleverest (and danciest) of all the It Gets Better campaign, it’s also one of the most unexpectedly encouraging. So if you, like me, were suffering from a little inspirational burn out, please fight through the doldrums and hit play instead. I promise you, this video is the better we’ve been getting at – and then some. (Note: Mild NSFW language, so just wear headphones.)

Like I was saying, awesome. So awesome it’s been in my head for days – and I’m happy about it. Some of you might be familiar with delightfully naughty comedian Rebecca Drysdale already. But if it was your first introduction, my, wasn’t that a treat? Others of you will remember Beck D from her equally hilarious “The L Word Serenade” music video from a few years back. Not ringing a bell? How about a refresher. (Same NSFW language, so keep those headphones on.)

Damn, now that’s stuck in my head. And by “damn,” I mean “awesome.”

p.s. Obscure, but cool fact: “30 Rock” writer and fellow comedian Kay Cannon was a producer for this “It Gets Better” video. Everyone involved with that show is just continually high fiving a million angels.

Tank Top Tuesday: TV Time

Between the return of winter TV and the start of pilot season, so much has happened that I think we’re going to need to review the revised landscape with clear-eyed, in-depth, critical analysis. In other words, we’re going to review it with tank top.

Sarah Michelle GellarSMG is coming back to TV. If that doesn’t get you excited check your pulse. If you don’t have a pulse, look out for SMG because she may be coming to stake you. Old habits die hard.

Minka KellyShe’s one of the new Angels on the “Charlie’s Angels” reboot. If the show is a hit, will boyfriend Derek Jeter start playing for Anaheim as a show of solidarity?

Adrianne PalickiPeople agree on two things when it comes to David E. Kelley’s new “Wonder Woman” series. 1) They love Adrianne’s casting as Wonder Woman. 2) They hate the pilot script with a fiery passion.

Zooey DeschanelShe is going to star in a pilot for a project that had the working title “Chicks and Dicks.” It’s hard to think of a title with less appeal to gay ladies, unless you called it “Dicks and Dicks,” but then it’d be a reality show on Logo and I’d totally watch that with several cocktails and my best gays.

Laura PreponI really liked her better as a redhead. But then I guess you have to embrace the peroxide to play Chelsea Handler, and the vodka.

Anna TorvFringe is now on Friday, but mostly I just wanted to post her holding this gun. Mmmm.

Jennifer Beals“The Chicago Code” broke out the white tank top for the very first episode. It’s blatant pandering to the lesbians, and we like it.

Sarah Shahi“Fairly Legal” isn’t a great TV show or anything. But it’s fun and Sarah has showed up in her underwear. So, you know, sold.

Caroline DhavernasI stopped watching “Off the Map” for the same reasons I don’t watch “Grey’s Anatomy.” Doctors with personal problems (with or without borders) just aren’t my thing. But I still love you, Jaye Tyler.

Sofia VergaraNothing new is happening with “Modern Family,” but when you have a chance to post a picture like this, you take it.

So, what new TV pilot or show has your temperature rising. And, remember, please phrase your answer in the form of a tank top.

Happy Birthday, Mrs. President

Today is President’s Day in the States which means I get to lounge around in my pajamas for one more day before having to do real work and write real blog posts once again. So in honor of President George Washington’s 279th birthday, a little bit of fun. I mean, Ellen DeGeneres is basically President of the Lesbians anyway, right?

Vacation Vixens: Anna Torv & Lena Headey

That this picture even exists is evidence that we live in a benevolent universe after all.

Speaking of benevolence, this is the final weekend to vote for yours truly as Best LGBT Blog in the Bloggies. Happy weekend, all.

Vacation Vixen: Simone Lahbib

I still haven’t watched “Bad Girls.” So, no, I have not worked out yet how to be a good girl.

Vacation Vixen: Helena Bonham Carter

I absolutely cannot wait to see what madness she wears to the Oscars.

Vacation Vixen: Gina Torres

Her arms are kind of a religious experience.

Vacation Vixen: Rachel Weisz

I’m back in the Midwest this week to attend our family friend’s memorial. So this isn’t really a vacation, per se. But that won’t stop me from posting pretty diversions every day for your viewing enjoyment. Why? Because I care, but also because I can’t help myself. This week I’ve taken inspiration from all of your fantastic Fake TV Wives and will be using your imaginary spouses as my selections. Don’t worry, I’m not poaching – just appreciating. There’s no harm in looking at another woman’s Fake TV Wife, none at all. Especially on Valentine’s Day.

[As always, feel free to follow me while I’m away on Twitter @dorothysnarker.]

My Weekend Crush

When I started to watch “Winter’s Bone,” I was worried I wasn’t going to make it through 100 minutes of poverty, violence and depression. And I was also really scared they might end up eating the horse, or one of those dogs. But I stuck with the aggressively stark look at rural life in the Ozarks and was glad I did. Not just for the honest story it told about life on the edges of society, but for the carefully calibrated performance by Jennifer Lawrence. Nothing in Jennifer’s resume would really suggest she could pull off such a feat. It’s not that she was bad before, it’s that most of her credits were intensely middling: “The Bill Engvall Show,” “Not Another High School Show,’ guest spots on “Medium.” Nothing that would scream: I’m about to earn my first Oscar nomination by the age of 20.

Yet in “Winter’s Bone” she is in nearly every scene and remains quietly riveting throughout. It’s not that her part is necessarily showy – Hailee Steinfeld’s role in “True Grit” is more of a standard-issue showcase. But it’s that she remains so level and determined. This is a woman who, despite everything the universe has thrown at her – will not be denied. She is going to find her father, dead or alive. You can’t starve it out of her. You can’t scare it out of her. You certainly can’t beat it out of her. Though, Lord, do they try. And, I don’t know about you, but I got a definite vibe from her Ree Dolly. There was just something about her walk, and the way her best friend always called her Sweetpea. After a little research I found my ping was justified, in the book there is more of an implied relationship between the two young women. But its unrealized subtext ultimately doesn’t detract from a film that is as at once inspiring as it is bleak. As hard as “Winter’s Bone” is to watch at times, it’s even harder to stop watching Jennifer. Happy weekend, all.

Your Fake TV Wife

So the other day my good friend TheLinster gave me a gentle yet firm warning to step off her woman, Elizabeth Mitchell. It was a clear and understandable setting of boundaries. Every friendship needs boundaries. It also highlighted a little-talked-about, but extremely basic tenant of relationships in this modern media age. Everyone has a Fake TV Wife, and that Fake TV Wife is off limits to her friends. I mean that’s just like The Rules of Feminism. This beyond just the Fantasy Freebie list we all have (some of us even laminated). This is about calling dibs, staking a claim, marking one’s territory. This, my friends, is serious business. Now, of course, we don’t mind if our friends appreciate our Fake TV Wives. In fact, we encourage it. Who doesn’t want a hot wife, fake or otherwise? But when it comes to the serious business of actually virtually making a move – whoa there, cowgirl. Hands off. Back away. Don’t even think about it. We take our delusional relationships very seriously here, OK.

Of course, the big caveat to the Fake TV Wife Rule is that it only applies to your friends. I mean, you would hope that strangers would also acknowledge your fictional marriage, but only the truest of friends understand the depth of one’s imaginary commitment. So with that, here is a peek into a few of my friends’ off-limits Fake TV Wives.

Me: Tina Fey, duhIf at this point you still don’t know that Tina is my Fake TV Wife, then I’m not sure we can be friends.

The Linster: Elizabeth MitchellAnd if Elizabeth is wearing a baseball cap, Linster will cut a bitch for even looking at her.

Heather Hogan: Eve MylesA Welsh accent and guns. Like Heather even had a chance.

Scribegrrrl: Meryl StreepGranted, this is more like a Fake Movie Wife, but it’s Meryl fucking Streep, so we’ll accept it.

Right, your turn. Tell me about the women you’ve promised to love, honor and cherish until death and/or reality do you part.

Look what the postman brought

I love you guys. I really do. I love you because you come here, day after day, to read the crazy things that pop into my head well past midnight. I love you because you write nice, thoughtful comments (though every now and then not, but you can’t please everyone). I love you because you send me kind emails, lots of emails. I love you because those emails often contain pictures hot women, lots of hot women. I love you because those hot women are often wearing tank tops and or less than tank tops. So much unsolicited hotness in my inbox. Wait, that sounded dirty. Excellent!

[Click to enlarge The Hot]

And one of those unsolicited emails contained hot photos of Sara Ramirez in the new issue of Latina magazine. [Hat tip, Sara! Not that Sara, I think] Thud times, 1,000. Wait, check that, times 10,000. Only the cover photo has leaked online so far and the full interview isn’t posted. So this was an unexpected and very welcome treat. I don’t watch “Grey’s Anatomy” regularly, unless I know someone is going to get shot or Calzona is going to get naked. But I do keep up with Sara and fully appreciate all there is to fully appreciate about her. And that’s a lot of appreciation. So, I guess this is my round-about way of saying, you, readers, are the best. Because for every little thing that gets me down about writing for the insatiable internet monster, you’re there to send me pictures of Sara Ramirez rolling around in sheets while wearing fishnets. You, kittens, are too kind.

p.s. After all that slopping of sugar, perhaps now is a good time to remind you to vote for your truly as Best LGBT Blog in the Bloggies.

There's no V in adorable

Confession: I stopped watching “V” last year because it was taking forever for something, anything to happen. I’m a relatively patient person, but I do want a payoff now and then. And despite its great set-up and stellar cast (Elizabeth Mitchell AND Morena Baccarin AND lizard people), I just couldn’t take the glacial pacing. Show me some freaky alien freakiness. Show me someone eating a guinea pig. Something. Anything. Now, I understand things have gotten better. And I’m sure people who stuck with it feel rewarded. But me, yeah, I’m letting other shows fill up my DVR for now. This doesn’t mean I don’t have some regrets at stopping (and, yes, I know through the magic of DVDs and The Internets I could easily catch up if I wanted to). But, the thing is, I don’t have the time or desire at this point. Really, the only thing I feel genuinely guilty about is not supporting Elizabeth Mitchell.

Elizabeth is an actress I pretty much adore, but who I’ve seen in very few things. First there was “Gia,” of course. And then “ER.” No, I never watched “Lost,” but I’ve admitted that before and you can sic the smoke monster on me all you want. I’m just not going on that six-season cruise. Still with Elizabeth (and her expertly arched eyebrows) her empathy and strength comes through immediately. So you don’t even need to see her in many roles to know. Which, again, brings up the guilt. Because how could I not support someone like that? What am I, a heartless alien? Then, the coup de grace of guilt came in the form of Elizabeth’s TV Guide Cubicle Confessions. She loves Buffy! She love Star Wars! She does the Jabba laugh! My geeky heart just exploded!

Please forgive me, Elizabeth. And, while you’re feeling generous, please do tell us about being naked in heels. I promise not to do the inch in if we ever meet. Promise.

The city that works

All is right with the universe. Jennifer Beals is back on TV. That’s right, kittens. She’s back, she’s bad ass and she’s more beautiful than you even remembered. How is that possible? I don’t know. I just know that I’m thankful and willing to make whatever kind of sacrificial offering is required to keep the spectacular Ms. Beals on my television on the regular.

And about that television show, it’s good, it’s damn good. “The Chicago Code” premieres at 9 p.m. tonight on Fox and you should watch. You should watch not just because of Jennifer (though, come on, she is reason enough), but because the show has ambition, smarts, grit and energy. Also, it had Chicago – and that’s one hell of a town.

You can read my complete review of “The Chicago Code” at AfterEllen.com later today.

Curiously, many of the reviews I’ve read for the series (all by men, mind you), have called Beals too light-weight and even slender to have the immediate gravitas to pull off her role as Chicago’s first female superintendent of police. Of course, we know better. We’ve feasted for years on the glorious tyranny of Alpha Bette. We know exactly what this woman can do with a single glance. Don’t worry, boys, she isn’t going to have any trouble at all filling out that uniform.

My one problem with the show, and it’s the drum I will continue to beat all this year, is that the pilot violates the Bechdel Rule. Sure, Jennifer has a great leading role and newcomer Ericka Johnson has a prominent part as a rookie cop. Yet, they never speak to each other or to any of the other peripheral female characters. Now, I’ve also seen the second and third episodes and there are actual words spoken (and not about a man) between women. So let’s hope more female characters work their way into this otherwise crackerjack of a series. I mean, any show that spoils us with Jennifer Beals flashes cop forearms in the very first episode has set the bar pretty high. We expect them to deliver. We know Jennifer will.

p.s. We also get to see Jennifer in a tank top in the pilot. Sweet merciful Zeus, watch this show.

My Weekend Crush

Relax, relax, seriously, relax. Obviously, this is not that kind of crush. This is a talent crush, plain and simple. Because after belatedly seeing “True Grit” last weekend, I have become a true believer in Hailee Steinfeld. First things first, Hailee is 14. So, again, totally not that kind of crush. But at 14 she is already amazing. Child stars can be good, they can be great, but seldom do they exhibit the long-term potential as Hailee in their very first movie. Most child stars work because they’re convincing as children. Hailee works because she is convincing as a character. It’s not that she plays older than her 14 years, it’s that she plays as genuine. There’s nothing gimmicky, cutesy or dainty about Mattie Ross. She doesn’t smack of preciousness. Instead she is no-nonsense and knows who she is. She is as good a female character as you’ll see all year. Strong, smart, sensible, determined, driven, dedicated. By all appearances, Hailee is as well. And, because it bears repeating, Hailee is only 14 years old. So in 10 years, she’ll still just be 24. Hollywood’s future? Pretty damn bright. Happy weekend, all.

Fairly illegal

We interrupt this week’s very deep, very important discussion about women’s roles in the media, equal rights, childhood and mortality to stare open-mouthed at Sarah Shahi. I don’t. I can’t. What were we talking about again? Right, important things. Inclusion. Power. Representation. Oh my God, is she not wearing anything under her tank top?

OK, no, sorry. Bechdel Rule. ERA. Feminism. Women telling their own stories. Women reaching the highest public offices. Women breaking glass ceiling. Women rolling around on plush couches. Hold on, where did that come from?

Focus, focus. Did you know the Republican-led House is trying to redefine rape? (UPDATE: They dropped the “forcible rape” crap, but the bill still sucks.) Yes, a body of government with 435 men and 79 women is going to tell all 155.6 million women in the United States what kind of sexual assault counts. That’s unconscionable. That’s infuriating. That’s definitely something I’m going to write a strongly worded letter about. Right after I brush my teeth ….

Or sit in a chair….

Or stare out a window….

Look, Sarah Shahi. You’re being very distracting being all hot like fire in this new Vanity Fair Esquire Me In My Place photospread. (Damn, this photoshoot is so hot I’m too discombobulated to even get the magazine right.) [Oh, and click any image to enlarge, not that you’d be interested in that kind of thing.]I’m trying to maintain righteous indignation and that’s impossible to do when I’m ogling your, um, area…region…fine, DAT ASS.

All that and you’re kind of perfect. You sleep in just a T-shirt – and flannel sheets. You appreciate a pinch on the ass. You are a little dangerous on tequila. You love that your “Fairly Legal” billboards are catching guys and girls attention. And your goal in life isn’t to win an Oscar, but to have a house with a big library. And not just any library, “a giant Harry Potter library. That's what I want. If I can have a house that can have that kind of a library in it, then I feel like I've made it. I just want nothing but plush couches and a huge shaggy carpet and a fireplace with a bar in that room, and then books — floor-to-ceiling. That's what I want.”

Holy. Fuck. Hell. I’m sorry, tomorrow I’ll return to fight the good fight. Today I’m going to gaze hungrily at my computer screen while fantasizing about serving Sarah Shahi tequila as she’s laying on a plush couch in only her T-shirt and reading from our gigantic Harry Potteresque library together. Yeah, reading. That’s what we’ll be doing.