Citizen Mom

Twilight And Munchies

Ohhhhhhhhh snap!
Courtesy the fine photojournalists at TMZ and with a hat tip to Phawker, here's Twilight star Kristen Stewart sparking up what looks to be a fat bowl. Wholesome family entertainment FTW!

You know, I ain't mad at dear Bella -- it would take a whole lot of some kind of psychoactive to get me through that Emo Vampire dreck.

STEPHANIEMEYER.COM: Everything you wanted to know about Twilight but were rightly afraid it was too dorky to ask.

MEOW MIX: The Out-Of-Towners, No Credit - Don't Ask, And A Kept Gay American Man

* Droll, ironic question: Does this picture of Jennifer Aniston in Philly (we assume for the Middlebrow & Me shoot) count as distasteful paparazzi dreck? No, for many reasons, but nobody's about to waste your time waxing all smug-like on the deep, reasoned and ultimately, understandable only to myself thought process I used to decide.

I will, however, acknowledge being unsurprised at the speed with which Aniston embraced the city's native dress code of pajama bottoms and out-of-style footwear. (Dude. Those things look new. ) All she needs is a Kathy Van Zeeland handbag and no car insurance and bam! she's the lady in your neighborhood who does the jewelry shows. [Jezebel]

* On a related topic, Karen Heller wonders how it can be that stone(d) hottie Owen Wilson, who reportedly dropped cash at Rick's Cabaret in South Philly, has to pay to get a lap dance and see some boobies. I say every man pays for it somehow -- even the Butterscotch Stallion. And all the better if the stripper in question was wearing those handy shoes, the ones with the hollowed-out Lucite platform for holding tips. No, seriously. Our D.C. peeps say those pumps are also the latest in campaign-finance technology. Try the veal!

*  Jim McGreevey, testifying in his divorce trial this week, says he lives off his partner's dime and doesn't have enough income -- only $48,000 a year -- to pay alimony or child support. But he turned down that radio job on New Jersey 101.5 out of concerns for his privacy. (Which is a a.) a crock and b.) a shame, because there's nothing Jim McGreevey does better than talk shit -- it could have been classic!) What's more tacky -- Dina thinking she should continue to be kept in the manner befitting the governor's wife, or Jim acting like the wife and daughter he had before he came out suddenly don't count and he owes them nothing? Jersey's choice! 
 

MEOW MIX: What She Said, Right On Sister, and Honey, Just . . . NO

* "It's not over until the lady in the pant suit says it is." Tell it, Angela! Hillary wins big in West Virginia Democrats, while Obama's peacenik, self-consciously liberal loyalits press "you're with us, or you're a racist" case. And because that whole separate-and-unequal superdelegate thing has been such a smashing success, George McGovern has a plan!

If it's going to be about more than race, then stop making it about exposing the racist heart of America and start figuring out how to make that state full of people you just called bigots vote for your guy in November.

* Niiiice maps! Jen Miller's "Jersey Shore: Atlantic City to Cape May" book has  lovely ones, done by her brother, Jim.   Stick this well-reported volume in your beach bag and keep it with you this summer -- it's like the big-sister version of those well-intentioned Shore Guides that hit the newspapers every Memorial Day weekend. See how many spots you can hit. Argue the big questions, like whether Long Branch or Atlantic City is really the "original" NJ seaside resort. Love the surfing nun, too.

Of course I went straight to the Wildwoods section, and while I'd dispute the claim that there ware ever long stretches of boarded-up businesses on the boardwalk -- Pacific Avenue, yes, but never really on the boards -- the take on what's great about the Five Mile Beach right now is right on.

* Texas Teen Arrested For Prom Dress! Oh, if only, honey. If only. Marche Taylor's  date was wearing enough  fabric to dress my dining room windows and she's wearing an ACE bandage and a lasagne noodle -- don't make me have to do the whole free speech thing over a 17-year-old girl whose "custom-made dress" is straight out of the "Dancing With The Stars" collection. How about instead of arresting her, you call her parents and and make them bring her a sweater? Miley who? [HuffPo]

* What the hell is that on her head? Looks like a funeral parlor threw up.

* Irony of ironies: WaPo sports blogger notes hearing Tony Kornheiser's announcement -- on his radio show -- that taking the WaPo buyout offer "feels wrong," since all he ever wanted to be was a "newspaper guy." Let's review: Nobody begrudges a guy being successful, but people do tend to begrudge sky-high newsroom salaries to guys for whom the column is one of a clutch of part-time gigs.

I Went To See Bee Movie So You Don't Have To. No Really, You Don't Have To.

Since all the children in the Jerz are on vacation this week while their teachers go and get their Tailhook on in Atlantic City, we get to do things like wake up late with intention of heading to the Franklin Institute but decide to go to the movies instead.

This also means I get to join the other status handbags moms eating popcorn and listening to Jerry Seinfeld do "who are these people" as a nebbishy bee while sitting in a theater redolent of  poopy diaper. Fun!

Oh, the movie? Typical 'toon storyline involving a young person on a quest, traumatic separation from friends and family, a chance to save the town/kingdom/hive, even the requisite improbable romance and jive-talkin' sidekick voiced by Chris Rock/Wanda Sykes. I was bothered by the animated rendering of the Rene Zellweger character, as the female figure looked so much like the Mom in Toy Story it bugged me. Uh, no pun intended.

Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Decepticons

On DVD Oct. 16th -- but does it come with a yellow Camaro? Oh hell yes.

Holy Chick Flick!

Thank you, Jesus, for cable: TCM is showing The Trouble With Angels, the Hayley Mills convent school flick from 1966. The IMDB description doesn't do it justice, actually. There are some genuine and genuinely funny moments. Rosalind Russell is the ultimate Mother Superior, positively chewing up the scenery with her habit flying behind. And Gypsy Rose Lee as the interpretive dance teacher? Super-plus cool. A true chick flick, directed by Ida Lupino, written by two babes, the whole thing.

Before Dior

I'm watching The Women, the film version of Clare Booth Luce's play, and remarking on the fashion. So much fabric, such lovely nipped waists, but such ugly shoes, and those puckered sleeves, oy.

Of course, the flick was made in 1939, during the Depression -- as my late granny loved to tell us, women were skinnier then because there wasn't a lot of extra food and people walked a hell of a lot more than they do today -- and as World War II was heating up. The styles, despite the fussy flourishes of hats, brooches, scarves, wraps etc., strike an almost militaristic profile, with wide belts, prominent buttons and those squared shoulders. 

What struck me most, especially while watching the gorgeous fashion show sequence (a Technicolor interlude in the black-and-white film) is wondering how very different the wardrobe and set designs would have looked just 10 years later, as Christian Dior was unveiling the "New Look." Take this dinner dress from 1947. The shoulders are much more natural, rounded, and the skirt, while still full, is now shorter and has crinolines underneath it. It's a much more bountiful, womanly design, and it's only a hop skip and a jump to the '50s.

Woo-Hoo! Number Of The Day

2: Minutes it took for one of the 2008 presidential candidates to appear in The Simpsons Movie.

No, I'm not telling which one.

Here's To Love

I love a good production number.

From Down With Love

What Ails US

This morning I caught a screening of Michael Moore's Sicko, and it is everything you think it is: Sickening. Sobering. Disappointing. Disturbing. Twistedly funny. And unfortunately, all true.

Watch for this film to redeem Moore in the eyes of the right-wingers who vilified him as a liberal propagandist after Fahrenheit 9/11 -- after all, health insurers and pharmaceutical companies are enemies we can all rally 'round. In this film, I think Moore shows himself to be sort of Franklinesque in his ability to question the very nature of what it means to be "American" when we deny one another a basic right. Yet he does it with humor, insight and humanity. And yeah, that belly.

Truly, the most disturbing images in this film are the looks in the eyes of people -- average Americans living average, tax-paying lives -- when they stop to wonder why our country turns life-and-death decisions into profit-loss equations. You want to think we're all far too cynical these days to be surprised that it really is every man for himself in this country, but their eyes tell a different story.

Sicko opens Friday. Check out Jonathan Valania's review on Phawker.com