Tweets from Hillary

Sassy. It’s such a great word (and a great, but sadly extinct magazine, RIP). And a word that almost never gets applied to straight men, much to their own detriment. Because sassy people (straight women, gay women, gay men, et al) are kind of the best. That cheeky boldness that indicates an understanding that it’s all ridiculous anyway so why not enjoy it.

Hillary Clinton is sassy. This is, I believe, one of the very few female-identified adjectives without pejorative overtones. She has personality and smarts, but is willing to take the piss out of herself and others. She is, in short, sassy.

And if you ever needed definitive proof that Hil owns her sassiness, look only to her newly established Twitter account, @HillaryClinton.

“Wife, mom, lawyer, women & kids advocate, FLOAR, FLOTUS, US Senator, SecState, author, dog owner, hair icon, pantsuit aficionado, glass ceiling cracker, TBD...”

Also, she used the famous Texts from Hillary photo for her Twitter avatar. And her very first tweet was a shout-out to the Texts from Hillary creators. Hilz is good at Internet, no?

This light-hearted approach to her official Twitter persona took (let’s say it, male) reporters by surprise. Women being funny? Powerful women being funny? Powerful women the media narrative have told us are shrill harpies being funny? Up is down, black is white. WHAT IS THIS MADDNESS?

Oh, shut the fuck up. Those of us who have actually been paying attention to the actual woman have known, for years/decades/forever that Hillary is one funny lady. And, if I may broadly generalize, I have found that female politicians tend to be much funnier and self-deprecating bunch than their male counterparts. Perhaps it is a defense mechanism to coping with such a tiresome boys club. Or perhaps it is because men just won’t tolerate a woman with as big an ego and as thin a skin as they themselves have. Who knows.

All I know if you didn’t already love this hair icon, pantsuit aficionado and glass ceiling cracker, you certainly should now. Bring us your tweets, Hillary. You sassy lady, you.

New year, same Gayzzoli

I have seen your future, and it looks – well, it looks a lot like “Rizzoli & Isles.” The gayest non-gay show on television is back with its mix of ridiculous chemistry and ridiculouser (not a word, but neither are there chief medical examiners for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts that look like Dr. Maura Isles) crime solving.

Will you like it? If you like “Rizzoli & Isles,” of course. Will you be frustrated it? Well, if you are a gay lady who likes “Rizzoli & Isles,” of course. If the first two episodes of the new season are any indication, there’s plenty to make us smile and shake our heads. You know, like normal.

Yet still, I can’t help but love the show. Its banter and bickering keeps bringing me back. As a crime show fan I watch different shows for very specific reasons. Sometimes it’s the pleasure of putting the puzzle together. Sometimes it’s for the satisfaction of the good guys beating the bad guys. And for “Rizzoli & Isles” it’s for the enjoyment of the symbiotic relationship – specifically the symbiotic lady relationship. Because, even in 2013, shows centered around two female leads are sadly a rarity. Fine, it also helps that they totally act like a couple even when talking about their totally unconvincing gentlemen callers.

And, yes, while I understand the real frustration lots of us feel with the too gayzzoli to not be intentional and therefore teasing scenarios that emerge, I have resigned myself to it never being canon in anything but my own fertile noggin. Sure, I wish it was different, but I won’t get mad that it isn’t. Nor will it keep me advocating for more shows with real gay characters in real gay relationships (and championing those that exist – hello “Orphan Black” and “The Fosters,” you lovely things).

So, in just over two weeks when Jane and Maura are back for another season of “The Adorable Bickersons,” I’ll be there. With my subtext bells on. Until then, we always have the bloopers.

My Weekend Crush

You know you know Teri Polo. From “Meet the Parents,” et al, and “The West Wing.” She has often played the supportive and/or long-suffering wife. She has popped up in numerous TV shows and movies. And each time you see her you think, oh – yeah, her. But now, perhaps finally, you’ll see her and think, oh – of course, her.


Because in just one episode of her new series “The Fosters,” Teri has made her character Stef Foster her own distinct person. Yes, she’s the loving wife again. But she’s the loving wife in an equal relationship not one where she is background scenery to Ben Stiller or Jimmy Smits. I especially like how in a few short scenes she has been able to establish both Stef’s sense of authority and abundance of compassion. Her little dashes of dry, even awkward, humor help, too.

Another thing I enjoy about “The Fosters” against stereotype characters is that while Stef on the surface might seem like the butch one, being a cop and all, she’s also the one who was married before and had the couple’s biological son. Also, I like how they’re letting Teri look her age, which is a settled in 44. She ‘s beautiful, obviously, but not trying desperately to be 24.

Also, dammit if Teri doesn’t look exactly like Jodie Foster’s slightly butcher little sister. I mean, it’s almost distracting. I keep expecting Jodie to walk on screen and introduce herself as Aunt Jo and there to be lots of inside jokes about how lesbianism runs in the family.

I hope the show continues its very solid course, and I look forward to seeing a lot more of what Teri can do. Oh, and don’t you worry, we’ll be talking about Sherri Saum’s glorious hair porn soon. So soon. Happy weekend, all.

Hottest of them all

Right, so each year I feel a little responsible for creating The Beast that is the AfterEllen Hot 100. It was, after all, a post about my fury over Lindsay Lohan and the Maxim Hot 100 oh so many years ago that helped to start it all. But each year, I also dutifully tell you my vote. (Sure, this year it can be votes, but I am old school and choose to vote only once like the Founding Fathers intended or whatnot.) My picks vary, there are some constants (Tina, duh), but really whatever is turning my brain and/or heart and/or other regions most on at the moment is what makes my list. And this year is no different. Seeing as today is the last day to vote in the AE poll, I thought I would show you mine. So here they are. For all to see. Now you show me yours, it only seems fair.

p.s. You can vote in the AE Hot 100 here.

Ticket to the couch show

When I was a kid, I lived for the movies. Watching the trailers in the theater before a movie started was almost sacred, your one glimpse of what’s to come and what to get excited about. You couldn’t just pop onto YouTube to see all that summer had to offer. You had to wait and anticipate and decide in those two minutes if the fourth Superman movie would really solve the problem of nuclear proliferation.

But over the years, film has become less a driving force in my life. Sure, I still love the movies. The smell of movie theater popcorn makes me instantly feel 13 again and excited about sitting in a dark room with strangers and told fantastical stories.

But that at once solitary yet completely communal act of going to the movies has become less of a cultural driver in recent years because of cinema’s once scoffed upon little sibling, the television. TV is now our cultural barometer, with endless chatter and words and hand-wringing spent on the latest “Game of Thrones,” or “Mad Men” or “Breaking Bad” et al. The serialized nature of TV, its long burn versus quick payoff, makes it perfect for our media obsessed minds. Why just hyperventilate about a 2-hour movie when you could freak out about 22 episodes hour-long spread out over months and month.

I suspect part of TV’s appeal now is the ability to discuss it with dozens, hundred, thousands, millions as it happens. “OMG THE FUCKING STARKS!” said everyone at 9:59 p.m. Sunday night. You can be part of a live conversation and share your opinion with the universe the second it happens. In movies, that immediacy is blocked by basic human decency and the desire not to be the asshole in the theaters who lights up his cellphone to type, “Cool movie, bro.” Heaven forbid we have to wait two hours to tell the world exactly what we thought. But besides the more superficial I tweet therefore I exist aspect of social media, there is also more of a chance to help mold the creative process on TV. That long season means a longer production process which means more fan input which means more audience feedback which could have an impact on storylines and characters. It happens, just ask Brittana (circa seasons 1-2, that is).

But for me, what has turned me over the years away from my first love of the darkened theater and into my current love of my couch (besides comfort and better snacks) is the fact that TV has done a better job of giving women more and better roles. Period. One needs only to look at the current summer movie season to see it’s the same-old boys club where big things go boom. By my informal count there are only three female-led movies coming out: “The Bling Ring,” “Blue Jasmine” and “The Heat.” Two are arthousey fare – Sofia Coppola and Woody Allen projects – and the latter is a buddy cop comedy.

On TV meanwhile the summer offers “Rizzoli & Isles,” “The Fosters,” “The Killing,” “Covert Affairs,” Major Crimes,” “Pretty Little Liars,” “True Blood,” “Hot in Cleveland,” “Unforgettable,” Mistresses” and many more I can’t think of off the top of my head. Women get to be the crime fighters and action heroes and antiheroes and damsels who get themselves into and out of distress almost everything in between.

So I guess what I’m saying is even though movies won my heart first, TV is who I will always go home with. Here’s to long hot summers. And if you want to watch in the dark, just turn off the lights.

Foster the people

When I first heard about a new ABC Family show with two moms and rainbow tapestry of a blended household I wasn’t sure what to expect. Politically correct afterschool special? Womanhood sisterfire kumbaya drum circle? Jennifer Lopez dance montage retrospective? But this story of two women raising their three children – one biological to one of the mothers and twins adopted from the foster system – who bring in a new troubled teenage girl is more than the demographically engineered sum of its parts. It is, quite simply, good. (For a more thorough and verbose analysis, check out my full review on AfterEllen.)

What makes it is good is that it feels so solid right from the start. It’s particularly solid in the things that usually take time – family dynamic, unspoken chemistry, ease of togetherness. This show from Jenny from the Block seems like real people could live around the block. And in a wonderfully, understated way it turns Norman Rockwell’s quintessential American portrait inside out and upside down while still retaining their essential ideal of everyday exemplariness. Like I said, it’s good.

For all our rightful demands for more and better representation of LGBT people in our culture, it’s also important to celebrate the goods stuff. Right now we’re lucky to have well-drawn portraits of gay women in ridiculously diverse walks of life our teevees. A gay teenagers being chased by murderous stalkers. A gay succubi and her scientist lover. Gay clone and her French scientist lover. And we haven’t even mentioned the surgeons, bomb girls, private investigators, former cheerleaders and all the rest. So here’s to The Fosters, a welcome addition to the pantheon of gay ladies. There’s always room for two more hot mamas.

Send in the clones

My God, “Orphan Black,” my good God. It’s hard to think of a show I became more quickly, completely and addictively engrossed in. A week ago I’d never seen a single episode and now I’m clamoring with impatient indignation for the second season to begin already. Spring 2014, really? I cannot wait that long for more Tatania Maslany. I will not. It’s wrong. It’s mean. I hate time and space.

Right, so let’s get right into it then. How about that finale, eh? WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD! (Side Note: Those who asked for legal viewing options can purchase the show on iTunes of Amazon Instant. Those looking for less legal options are welcome to search the previous and current comments for alternatives.)

The show has made something very dense and complicated like a sci-fi clone conspiracy seem so edge-of-your-seat thrilling yet so heart-breakingly human. And none of it would work without Tatania who, if I was an Emmy voter, would singlehandedly sweep the Best Actress, Best Supporting Actress and best Guest Actress categories. One cannot simply talk about how thoroughly and convincingly she becomes each different clone – Sarah, Alison, Cosima, Helena and now Rachel. One must truly see it to believe it. What makes it even more dazzling is how much we care for each disparate clone. Sarah, the scrappy survivor. Alison, the desperate housewife. Cosima, the questioning scientist. Helena, just batshit homicidal maniac. Yet each becomes more than just her archetype, to become deeply human, flawed and worth saving in our eyes – well, maybe not Helena. And that’s what makes this show so amazing. We’ve become a culture that loves to pick sides. But to pick between Sarah, Alison and Cosima is beyond cruel.

Which is why Alison signing the contract we all know she shouldn’t sign with Dr. Leekie is so deeply affecting. We want this tighty wound, booty-burn cardio dancing, best frenemy non-life saver to have a happy life. But we know very bad things are on their way. Same goes for poor Cosima, who is coughing her way to a Fantine-like end in a race against corrupt genetics. Plus, while I may not fully trust Delphine yet, I completely buy their connection – blinded her with science, indeed. And then Sarah, oh Sarah – the key no doubt to this whole unraveling puzzle along with her oddly resilient and precognitiant daughter, Kira.

Few TV shows so fully embody the concept of a page turner as “Orphan Black.” It’s not that the show teases us with manufactured cliffhangers. It’s that the story, and its pacing, is like a thrill ride we never want to end. Each answer leads to another questions which leads to another emotion which leads to us screaming, “MORE!”

Of course I want Sarah to find Kira, Cosima to live, Alison to be set free. But more than anything I want to story to keep revealing itself in wonderful, twisty and unexpected ways. Spring 2014, hurry up dammit.