...then stay out of this spoiler. If you're hopelessly addicted to the guilty pleasure that is Bravo's Top Chef like yours truly, it definitely takes more than paprika to make you cry. So a minor detail like an inconsequential leak that can't be attributed to the Bush administration should be par for the course, right? Now that we're winding down to Part 2 of the grand finale that has already been mired by last-ditch allegations of cheating, Food & Wine magazine has put the exclamation point on a second season that will live in rerun infamy.

A minimum wager who now joins me on the unemployment line in F&W's public relations laid the mother of all goose eggs, "accidentally" leaking an online feature which inexplicably revealed who the big winner was before Bravo even had a chance to aggravate us all again with more product placement ads before the commercial break. Somehow I get the feeling Gail Simmons offered to use the culprit as a blood sacrifice. Does this put a damper on being excited for seeing the final cookoff in the comfort of my own bedroom with Haagen-Dazs as my companion? Hell to the no. My TiVo is programmed and ready to roll.

Just as long as Padma Lakshmi does in fact utter the melodious phrase of "please pack your knives and go" to Wolverine boy here... I'm good.

EDIT: The cat was already out the bag, but I still had a twinge of apprehension to make sure that the web rumblings did indeed come to pass. Maybe it was the Suriname cherries or the macadamia nut gazpacho with moi which sealed the deal, but yes Virginia, there is still justice on contrived cooking competitions. Two seasons in, two New Yorkers taking the crown. Congrats Ilan!

Labels: foodie, reality TV, Top Chef

Hell hath no fury like a supermodel scorned. Remember those unflattering paparazzi photos of her royal fivehead in Australia that hit the internet a couple of weeks ago and it seemed the self-fulfilling prophecy of following in Grandma Winfrey's swollen feet had come to pass? Well, Thigh-ra was surely making her shit list and checking it twice. Which explains the latest publicity stunt in her greatest hits of attention whore syndrome, never missing out on an opportunity to fire back at those meanie buckets (read: bloggers) who made fun of her for making repeat trips to the Sizzler lunch buffet.

"It was such a strange meanness and rejoicing that people had," she says in People's next issue, on stands Friday. The magazine says she believes the photos were snapped at an unflattering angle. (She will wear the same swimsuit on the Feb. 1 episode of The Tyra Banks Show.) Banks, 33, worries about what effect such reports might have on her fans. "I get so much mail from young girls who say, 'I look up to you … I think you're beautiful,' " she tells People. "So when they say that my body is 'ugly' and 'disgusting,' what does that make those girls feel like?"

Oh, I dunno... maybe the way Robin Manning did in the augural pilot? Or 3rd season contestant Toccara Jones or cycle 5 castoff Diane Hernandez felt for not fitting the mold of what a top model should look like? Doesn't feel so nice when the shoe's on the other bloated ankle, eh Ty Ty? Excuse the hell outta me if my heart isn't broken over a drama queen who devoted an episode featuring herself in a fat suit, surrounded by overweight chicks for support — sobbing because she'd been mistreated and ridiculed for being "chunky," knowing that at the end of the day, she can ditch her Shallow Hal experiment with the pull of a zipper but these real-life fat women can't. Well guess who's at the mercy of Photoshop now? Cry me a river, bitch.

Speaking from the soapbox of endless doubt when it comes to my own warped sense of self, I think putting Tyra and fat in the same sentence borders on absurd. In my eyes, she looks lovely with the added roundness to her statuesque frame and carries it well. However, the glaring hypocrisy of a retired glamazon now getting in touch with her Rubenesque side while perpetuating the same rail thin standards on her reality show rings about as hollow as Kate Moss's cheekbones. It's interesting that Tyra chose a career in an industry that judges women exclusively on how they look and how small their measurements are. Now that she's decided to no longer maintain that model standard, she's shocked this noticeable weight fluctuation is put under the microscope. Shocked! She doesn't want to be judged, but as creator/host of America's Next Top Model, she's cashed in on scrutinizing the superficial from contestants who'd forfeit more than a few meals to follow in her Jimmy Choos.

However, the saddest part is seeing her feign martyrdom as some picture perfect portrait of confidence with an ash blonde lacefront courtesy of the Raquel Welch collection. Ironically, during the height of her catwalk fame, she felt free to embrace more Afrocentric looks with regularity. Nowadays you have to play Where's Waldo? to find a picture without the bleached wig tape and self-bronzer obscuring her features. Resembling the bride of George Hamilton with a pallor one roast away from candied yam, I'm supposed to heed pearls of wisdom from the fountain of mixed messages?

After all is said and done, the need for reciting Iyanla Vanzant cribnotes that it's okay not to look like a walking hanger will grow stale. Mouthing "I am beautiful in every single way, words can't bring me down..." in the mirror as a daily affirmation will seem passe. So she'll hop on the Zone and shed the 30 lbs. faster than her ill-advised stab at singing. Real women do have curves, Tyra. Own it 'round the clock, not just in time for sweeps week.

Labels: body image, tabloids, Tyra Banks, weight gain

"Everybody comes to Hollywood
They wanna make it in the neighborhood
They like the smell of it in Hollywood
How could it hurt you when it looks so good..." - Madonna

The Academy Awards are the pièce de résistance of the awards season, where everyone involved in the film industry sits in a big room, pretends to be interested in riveting categories like Best Sound Editing and wonders how many Santeria offerings does it take to keep Jennifer Lopez perpetually RSVP'd. All in the name of a bedraggled golden gigolo who's banged any and every sleaze that's had money, given out countless, totally undeserved mercy fucks, and occasionally rubbed elbows with the truly worthy. The time has finally arrived for eager Oscar hopefuls to be roused from slumber, groggy from the remnants of coke still caked around their nostrils and hold their breath for that annual slice of 5:30 AM Pacific Time magic. The chosen few spend the rest of the day fielding carefully rehearsed reaction from press scribes far too willing to keep the golden shower of congratulations going, while the snubbed valiantly try to save face through gritted teeth since the Plan B excuse of "it's an honor just to be nominated" in the humble pie handbook need not apply.

Here's how out of control the shameless studio campaigning has spiraled into. Dreamgirls was practically anointed as the film to beat long before curtains rose on the NY/LA/San Fran $25 preview circuit and it wound up not even in striking distance of any of the A-list categories. Diana Ross is breathing a sigh of relief that the check paid to AMPAS cleared in the nick of time.

The former frontrunners at Paramount & DreamWorks find themselves oddly juxtaposed between euphoria and being brutally rebuffed at the For Your Consideration roundtable, becoming the only Best Picture shutout to ever receive the most nominations in its year. This supposed snub is, presumably, a result of the latent prejudice of Hollywood in general. Many of these racial snubs in the past reek of bullshit by the powers that be, but this time around? Let's pipe down the paranoia. How else to explain inclusions of Forest Whitaker, Will Smith, Djimon Hounsou, Eddie Murphy, Jennifer Hudson, Rinko Kikuchi & Alejandro González Iñárritu in the same year?

If there is a disappointment, it lies in the inevitable. The script forces the most exciting character offscreen for the sake of giving marquee attraction of Ms. Knowles more camera time. Once J-Hud goes away, most of the energy fizzles out of the picture. The bland-by-numbers Beyoncé just does not and cannot measure up. At least when Hitchcock bumped off Janet Leigh early on, he left us with Tony Perkins to take us the rest of the way home.

The Oscars, like most other big award shows are celebrations of commercial achievement, with the occasional nod to artistic merit. And the award for most pervasive promotional campaign goes to Fox Searchlight for hawking that yellow school bus for 6 months. Your prize is a Best Picture nod.

Best Picture: "Babel," "The Departed," "Letters From Iwo Jima," "Little Miss Sunshine," "The Queen."

Actor: Leonardo DiCaprio, "Blood Diamond," Ryan Gosling, "Half Nelson," Peter O'Toole, "Venus," Will Smith, "The Pursuit of Happyness," Forest Whitaker, "The Last King of Scotland."

Actress: Penélope Cruz, "Volver," Judi Dench, "Notes on a Scandal," Helen Mirren, "The Queen," Meryl Streep, "The Devil Wears Prada," Kate Winslet, "Little Children."

Supporting Actor: Alan Arkin, "Little Miss Sunshine," Jackie Earle Haley, "Little Children," Djimon Hounsou, "Blood Diamond," Eddie Murphy, "Dreamgirls," Mark Wahlberg, "The Departed."

Supporting Actress: Adriana Barraza, "Babel," Cate Blanchett, "Notes on a Scandal," Abigail Breslin, "Little Miss Sunshine," Jennifer Hudson, "Dreamgirls," Rinko Kikuchi, "Babel."

Directing: Alejandro González Iñárritu, "Babel," Martin Scorsese, "The Departed," Clint Eastwood, "Letters From Iwo Jima," Stephen Frears, "The Queen," Paul Greengrass, "United 93."

Foreign Language Film: "After the Wedding," Denmark, "Days of Glory (Indigenes)," Algeria, "The Lives of Others," Germany, "Pan's Labyrinth," Mexico, "Water," Canada.

Adapted Screenplay: Sacha Baron Cohen and Anthony Hines and Peter Baynham and Dan Mazer and Todd Phillips, "Borat Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan," Alfonso Cuaron and Timothy J. Sexton and David Arata and Mark Fergus and Hawk Ostby, "Children of Men," William Monahan, "The Departed," Todd Field and Tom Perrotta, "Little Children," Patrick Marber, "Notes on a Scandal."

Original Screenplay: Guillermo Arriaga, "Babel," Iris Yamashita and Paul Haggis, "Letters From Iwo Jima," Michael Arndt, "Little Miss Sunshine," Guillermo del Toro, "Pan's Labyrinth," Peter Morgan, "The Queen."

Animated Feature Film: "Cars," "Happy Feet," "Monster House."

Art Direction: "Dreamgirls," "The Good Shepherd," "Pan's Labyrinth," "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest," "The Prestige."

Cinematography: "The Black Dahlia," "Children of Men," "The Illusionist," "Pan's Labyrinth," "The Prestige."

Sound Mixing: "Apocalypto," "Blood Diamond," "Dreamgirls," "Flags of Our Fathers," "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest."

Sound Editing: "Apocalypto," "Blood Diamond," "Flags of Our Fathers," "Letters From Iwo Jima," "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest."

Original Score: "Babel," Gustavo Santaolalla, "The Good German," Thomas Newman, "Notes on a Scandal," Philip Glass, "Pan's Labyrinth," Javier Navarrete, "The Queen," Alexandre Desplat.

Original Song: "I Need to Wake Up" from "An Inconvenient Truth," Melissa Etheridge, "Listen" from "Dreamgirls," Henry Krieger, Scott Cutler and Anne Preven, "Love You I Do" from "Dreamgirls," Henry Krieger and Siedah Garrett, "Our Town" from "Cars," Randy Newman, "Patience" from "Dreamgirls," Henry Krieger and Willie Reale.

Costume Design: "Curse of the Golden Flower," "The Devil Wears Prada," "Dreamgirls," "Marie Antoinette," "The Queen."

Documentary Feature: "Deliver Us From Evil," "An Inconvenient Truth," "Iraq in Fragments," "Jesus Camp," "My Country, My Country."

Documentary (Short Subject): "The Blood of Yingzhou District," "Recycled Life," "Rehearsing a Dream," "Two Hands."

Film Editing: "Babel," "Blood Diamond," "Children of Men," "The Departed," "United 93."

Makeup: "Apocalypto," "Click," "Pan's Labyrinth."

Animated Short Film: "The Danish Poet," "Lifted," "The Little Matchgirl," "Maestro," "No Time for Nuts."

Live Action Short Film: "Binta and the Great Idea (Binta Y La Gran Idea)," "Eramos Pocos (One Too Many)," "Helmer & Son," "The Saviour," "West Bank Story."

Visual Effects: "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest," "Poseidon," "Superman Returns."

Labels: award shows, Hollywood, movies, nominations, Oscars

"Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
Trying to make ends meet
You're a slave to money then you die..." - The Verve

When life gives you lemons, you're expected to whip up a batch of Country Time, but in my case I'd prefer Jack Daniels straight from the bottle. Whoever said you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth clearly wasn't referring to a pink slip handed down a mere 48 hours from a birthday. Or fighting off a sinus infection that's hampered me for the past 2 weeks only to wind up battling a head cold all over again. Or adding onto the ever-growing tally of "people who can go fuck themselves." But these are the days of the my so-called life. Going through an endless obstacle course of setbacks and disappointments almost make me lose sight of what I was raised to have birthdays mean to me from back in the day. Not extravagant theme parties, not poppin' bottles in a club, not ego stroking from the amount of RSVP's I can rack up on Evite. It all comes back to being grateful to make it through another year. Counting my blessings never seemed so passe, but in spite of the hurdles, there's a few things I still have to be thankful for. My health (or what's left of it), a loving, supportive mom and a roof over my head ranking at the top of the list.

Happy birthday, Aquarius! Nothing is too much trouble for those you love. There's no question you don't even need to think about going the extra mile for them. However, this year it's time to be the star and focus on raising your own level of popularity within the world. To do this, ask for the support of those closest and there will be no limit on how high you can reach.

Astrologers have about as much credibility as ambulance chasing legal eagles, but in this case, what's the harm in taking a page from Casey Kasem? My birthday wish is to keep my feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars.

Labels: birthday, celebration, reflection

How to succeed in business without really trying? Well, you've got to have more than a little Mel Gibson in you. And I don't mean of the drunken, anti-Semitic variety (although I'm sure the suits & ties higher up the food chain save that horseplay for the confines of their respective country clubs), but an all-consuming, almost pathological bloodlust. To worship red tape slashes with the fervor of Hollywood execs dumping third-rate horror flicks into theaters during the dead of January. Once you get in touch with your inner Apocalypto, breaking the news to an entire staff of employees that their services are no longer needed due to a "change in direction" becomes as impersonal as a handshake.

As I stood still among the entire roster of staff members hovered around our Managing Director reading our last rites, all feeling from head to toe just went numb. It wasn't enough that I had worn myself ragged this past week juggling workloads for two, playing the part of a team player since a co-worker fucked me royally by going on vacation last minute. But this was the cherry on the top of my bullshit sundae. All the instances of staying till ungodly hours, skipping lunch hours and inviting gray hairs to take up residence on my head had earned me the ultimate booby prize. A one-way trip to human resources to discuss transitioning and severance packages.

I can't say I was terribly surprised about this turn of events since the rumor mill had never quieted with whispers of consolidation for months. Since the first round of payroll cuts rolled off the chopping block last February, the hologram of job security remained just that. An illusion. However in true white collar fashion, even though the situation gave off premonition vibes, you're still never really quite prepared when innuendo becomes reality.

And the carnage kept on coming. The guillotine wasn't limited to falling just on us sacrificial lambs in New York. Fellow colleagues over in Houston met the same fate as their entire department of operations were also announced as closing. Factor in the additional cuts made in Maryland and the grand total of casualties soared past the 500 mark easily. But the real punchlines were saved when Corporate tried to put a positive PR spin on the unceremonious dismissals this way via e-mail:

"First, in a cost effective manner, this partnership provides ____ a competitive edge, giving us the flexibility to quickly add capacity and seamlessly respond to the ever-evolving needs of clients and changes in the _____ market.
Second, this partnership lets us leverage a strategic partner's existing assets, which include a highly educated and experienced workforce, and a track record of operational excellence and client satisfaction.
Third, with ______, _____ has created a truly global service offering, giving us access to talent around the world, allowing a "follow-the-sun" work schedule with 24/7 service capabilities.
Finally, and most importantly, the partnership allows _____ to maintain its focus on its core competencies, increasing our efficiency and furthering our ability to invest in technologies and resources that will continually help our clients."

Translation: "Fuck ya'll, suckas! We're outsourcing this bitch to barely competent Southeast Asians and pocketing your paychecks to keep our profit margins pleasing to the shareholders. 7 figure end-of-year bonuses for us! Schwing!"

The only silver lining to this dark cloud is that this frees me from the fear that was holding me back from pursuing what I truly wanted to make of my life. This job was never anything that fulfilled me and just waking up in the morning to get dressed was a daily struggle. I got accustomed to going through the motions so much that I forgot what trying to build a career feels like. I chose what pays the bills as opposed to what makes me happy and look where it got me. I don't care if I never get to see my byline gracing the front page of the New York Times, my time of being a bench warmer while my aspirations float off into oblivion is over... thankfully. And besides, the only thing better than using up vacation time in rapid succession is throwing caution to the wind with 2 hour liquid lunches. I mean, what are they really gonna do? Fire me? Oops, too late.

Labels: frustration, layoff, unemployment, work

One of my favorite things about living and commuting in New York is the importance placed on keeping the entertainment commissions rolling. At any given time, you could run into a famous face in the most familiar place. Having the city stand tall as an prominent (but unscripted) character to the bulk of what dominates the big and small screens lends an immediate authenticity you can't recreate on some artificial backlot in Lalaland or staying within a budget in Canada. And while tasty tidbits courtesy of Page Six, Rush & Malloy and Gatecrasher are the perfect side dish to my A.M. Sausage McMuffin, usually the scenery picks stay confined to the famous trademarks (i.e. Rockefeller Center, Times Square, Central Park) or the trendier areas in the Village, Chelsea or SoHo. Rarely, and I do mean rarely do the cameras roll where the everyday Joes and plain Janes of the world roam. But today I'd be in for a pleasant surprise.

Power walking down John Street this morning, those little yellow "no parking" notices were dotted all over and I paid it no mind. Not until I was debating Japanese vs. Thai for lunch did someone fill me in that a camera crew was filming nearby. I shrugged it off thinking it wouldn't be anything I'd be interested in and kept sifting through menus. Until my boss slinked over to namedrop that he'd just seen Chris Noth while leaving Duane Reade and forwarded me his grainy phone cap as shown above for proof. Of course that's all I needed to hear. While Noth does very little for me in his ongoing reprisal of Det. Mike Logan, (this time in alternating episodes on Law & Order: Criminal Intent) there's always a soft spot in my heart for the actor formerly known as Mr. Big.

Right on the corner of John & Cliff, the shoot was already set up and a huge crowd of rubbernecking passers-by (myself included), couldn't help but angle for the best shots, cell phones contorted above heads. Dodging cables, dollies and Teamsters, my mood was shifting from from "Get the hell out of my way" to "Oooh girl, is that him?" You'd think after meeting an actor already before wouldn't be a big deal the second time around. So much for playing the part of the jaded New Yorker. I'm just thankful this was a filming for a Logan/Wheeler episode and not one featuring Goren/Eames because as I detailed painstakingly earlier this week, one glimpse of Vincent D'Onofrio would send me ape shit and I would probably be physically escorted off the sidewalk. But I digress... check out a few snaps I took with my Razr that are of marginally better quality.

Cast chairs for Noth and co-star Julianne Nicholson.
The crew hard at work.

Labels: Chris Noth, Law And Order: Criminal Intent, Lower Manhattan, shoot, TV

"Why everything that's supposed to be bad make me feel so good?
Everything they told me not to is exactly what I would
Man, I tried to stop man
I tried the best I could..."

What's your addiction? My working list of weaknesses are far too long to mention with chocolate, Camembert, co-dependent relationships and Chloe leather mary janes near the top of the Kryptonite dosage heap. Lately, I've fallen off the wagon of nicotine aversion (chalk it up to the Super Black Woman suit and cape I've been donning since taking on a heavier workload) and actually going to bed at a decent hour. And the tell tale dark circles are wreaking havoc. However, the silver lining to this bit of self-inflicted abuse is I've been managing to catch up on a TV show that I can't believe I've neglected for this long...

It's been airing on NBC for almost 6 years, but can you believe I've just gotten reeled into the matrix? Were it not for the good programming folks over at Bravo & USA, I'd have no clue as to what I've been deprived of for so long. With a glutton of crime-based dramas occupying TV schedule space, it's not hard to see how it could get lost in the shuffle, though. I've read enough suspense stories and seen my fair share of whodunits to know that most criminals get caught. Sometimes they're tracked down and a confession squeezed out, sometimes their guilt overwhelms them and they tell all as the investigator simply bears witness. Been there, done that and I'm wearing the T-shirt. It's already the second spin off of Law & Order (still going strong after all these years) and ratings-wise, overshadowed by SVU. But what it lacks in the Nielsens, it more than makes up for with a strong ensemble cast and the quirkiest interrogator left of Dirty Harry, so how can you resist?

And by quirky, I mean the glue that keeps the show together in the always riveting, über-talented, Vincent D'Onofrio whom paired with the perfect sidekick in Kathryn Erbe make up the detective tag team of Robert Goren & Alexandra Eames in Major Case. One thing that I hate in mystery dramas is that the writers always seem to want to put sexual tension between the male and female colleagues. What I *love* about LO:CI is the easy rapport between the two but there's never a need to progress from platonic affection. They know how to play against each other with the suspects without their egos getting involved.

But enough about non-sexual tension, just a mere head twitch from D'Onofrio could send me over the moon. I've had a jonz in my bonz for him ever since Full Metal Jacket, and yes that's even with the 70 pounds plus gained to play the tormented Private Pyle. I hate to use the term "sensitive," because that usually conjures up images of blubbering girlie men who are way too in touch with their feelings. But as Det. Goren, he's unafraid to show the vulnerabilities of a deeply complex man. Of course it doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes, but the smarts and the intellect combined with that incredible force of power behind his wit, his temper at times, lends a certain appeal. Whether psychologically manipulating a suspect into the palm of his hands or agonizing over his schizophrenic mother, he's the thinking woman's eye candy. Always ready to strut his brain, so to speak, and that's undeniably sexy.

Of course, the borderline mania angle isn't everyone's cup of tea. So to see that played out on screen in Episode #96, In The Wee Small Hours, Pt. 2 when Goren grins sheepishly at Eames after just learning she requested a partner change behind his back was fan-fucking-tastic. Without a hint of irony, he admits "I am an acquired taste." Meow. See where waxing poetic on my TV crush gets me? Right back at square one. Damn, I need a Marlboro Light.

Labels: Kathryn Erbe, Law And Order: Criminal Intent, TV, vices, Vincent D'Onofrio

"Now there was a time when they used to say
That behind every great man
There had to be a great woman
But in these times of change, you know
That it's no longer true
So we're coming out of the kitchen
'Cause there's something we forgot to say to you
We say... sisters are doing it for themselves."

The times they are a-changing. Every conservatives nightmare has just come to pass. The Jezebel who represents the liberals playground that is San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury is just a mere two indictments away from the Oval Office. But when Nancy Pelosi took her oath as Speaker of the House and used that inaugural opportunity to imbue the event with tales from the apron strings, out came the claws from the right, left and those in between. Here was the highest-ranked woman ever to achieve elected office in the United States, proudly speaking about crashing through the barriers of the U.S. Capitol, but flooding the dais with children and bragging about her journey from "kitchen to Congress." What gives? I certainly don't think of myself as a hardliner, Birkenstock-wearing, bra burning feminist of the highest order. And I don't feel like Speaker Pelosi committed an act of treason. How unfair is it to ask women who stump on the Hill to somehow transcend their gender when every other facet of their political life is dictated by lack of a Y chromosome?

What Nancy Pelosi did was share unashamed pride on her brood. Too many on the Right pay lip service to children and family. Too many on the Left (particularly feminists, go figure) are quick to disrespect a woman who chooses to be a parent, let alone a good one.

It's not so much that she felt compelled to publicize her familial history, but as of now that sort of thing that remains the exception for male politicians but still the rule for women. A very wise columnist once said that every woman running for office must mention her husband and kiddies, and how she "plans to combine her work with her family," but nobody expects a man to discuss the same. Several decades later, this is still pretty much the case. Pelosi has impeccable "woman credentials" for all those who are afraid of castrating spinster bitches in power.

Perhaps what our elected officials need is a daily reminder of why this all matters. Imagine the career of Strom Thurmond had he chosen to include all of his children. Including Essie Mae Washington, the unplanned and unwanted result of a funny valentine I like to call rape. It would be quite a doozy for our elected officials to also invite to the podium each of their adulterous affairs, as well, and any offspring they produced.

In the heart of New England, if you thought a Black candidate didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting elected to the governor's office, it wouldn't seem all that far fetched. Especially when you consider that Beantown isn't exactly known for being the Eastern seaboard's bastion of racial harmony in its not-so-distant past. After 16 years of divisive wedge issue politics and presidential posturing by a fraud like Mitt Romney, I'm ecstatic that with Gov. Deval Patrick at the helm, the people of Massachusetts will be able to reacquaint themselves with what good government feels like.

As progressive and inherently superior as we in the Western world tend to view ourselves, it's interesting to note that three Muslim nations (Pakistan, Bangladesh & Indonesia), two of which have very strong fundamentalist movements of their own, have elected women as prime ministers. So when it comes to equality and freeing the Middle East from tyranny, we've still got a long way to go in our own backyard.

The first Black governor elected to represent MA and only the second overall, period. The first ever female speaker of the House. Small steps for mankind, quantum leaps for this country as a whole. Politics as usual? Let's hope not.

"This is an historic moment - for the Congress, and for the women of this country. It is a moment for which we have waited more than 200 years. Never losing faith, we waited through the many years of struggle to achieve our rights. But women weren't just waiting, women were working. Never losing faith, we worked to redeem the promise of America, that all men and women are created equal. For our daughters and granddaughters, today we have broken the marble ceiling.

The election of 2006 was a call to change - not merely to change the control of Congress, but for a new direction for our country. Nowhere were the American people more clear about the need for a new direction than in Iraq.

The American people rejected an open-ended obligation to a war without end. Shortly, President Bush will address the nation on the subject of Iraq. It is the responsibility of the President to articulate a new plan for Iraq that makes it clear to the Iraqis that they must defend their own streets and their own security, a plan that promotes stability in the region, and that allows us to responsibly redeploy American forces.

Let us be the Congress that rebuilds our military to meet the national security challenges of the 21st century.

Let us be the Congress that strongly honors our responsibility to protect our people from terrorism.

Let us be the Congress that never forgets our commitment to our veterans and first responders, always honoring them as the heroes they are.

The American people also spoke clearly for a new direction here at home - they desire a new vision, a new America, built on the values that made our country great."

Labels: Congress, Democratic Party, Deval Patrick, feminism, history, Nancy Pelosi, politics, race, women

Okay, so you know how I announced that I was jumping ship and packing up the paddy wagon for greener pastures? Ummm... scratch that from your consciousness and let's call the whole thing off... mmkay? The reasons which explains in a nutshell why my big plans are derailed yet again begins with the standby Negro faithful... "see what had happened was..."

I figured end-of-year was the perfect time to embark on turning the page and starting anew, but it helps to actually do that when you have a web designer who works on a realistic schedule as opposed to a lackey who ends up bucking for Best Bullshit Artist in a Supporting Role because they can't function outside of CP time. I can deal with being banished to a waiting list, but time is money and sitting on the sidelines while I wait another 3 months for everything to be ready is nothing short of blog euthanasia. So, I'm gonna ride this happy bunny's ears till the wheels fall off. Or whenever I decide to mosey on over to Barnes & Noble for a long-overdue copy of the idiot's guide to cooking up my own template. I'm clicking my red patent Louboutins thrice in mock defeat... there's no place like home.

Labels: arrested development, false start, rants

Yesterday I made the mistake of trying to walk down 42nd Street right as the calm was edging closer towards a confetti frenzied storm. Suffice to say, I did not make the same mistake twice tonight. I've mixed so many kir royales for myself since 9:00 that the cassis is oozing out my pores, so I won't run the risk of lapsing into my usual bout of word nazi-isms since I'm hitting the keyboard like a letter a minute as it is. Just like the blinking stars say, happy 2007 everyone!

Labels: celebration, holiday