Punch Line? Feeling Fine! The Tears of a Clown are the Saddest

Judd Apatow's Sicker in the Head hit me the same way that his first book, Sick in the Head did.  Which is to say that it's not a laugh-a-minute collection of interviews with comedians and entertainers, but an introspective look at how the comedy sausage is made.  And one of the main ingredients, unsurprisingly, is emotional damage.  Because for all its seeming frivolity, comedy is a coping mechanism.  And if laughter is the best medicine, then comedians self medicate.  Apatow puts it best in his foreword:

"I have always seen comedy as a lifeline -- which is why I've been interviewing comedians about why they do what they do since I was fifteen years old.  Without comedy, I don't know how I would survive.  When the pandemic was at full force, I grabbed my family and made a really silly movie.  I didn't know what else to do.  Is that healthy?  Is it denial?  Is it medicine?  Is it sick?  I am not sure.  But now I know that when the world seems to be collapsing my reaction is to make a movie about a group of people having a meltdown during a pandemic as they attempt to make a movie about flying dinosaurs." (Apatow XII)

Apatow picks the brains of many beloved funny people, including Jimmy Kimmel, John Mulaney, Mindy Kaling, Pete Davidson, and Samantha Bee, ending, appropriately, with Will Ferrell.  Because who better than the guy who wrote "I've got a fever -- and the only prescription is more cowbell" to close a conversation about being sick in the head?  Ferrell talks about that, how the idea for the famous Blue Oyster Cult sketch came to him because he roots for the underdog:

"Even just the notion of driving along and listening to "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," by Blue Oyster Cult and hearing a faint sound of a cowbell.  I don't know how I had that idea.  I remember, the first time I heard that song, for some reason I focused on the cowbell, and I immediately thought, What's that guy's life like?  Does he ever get to hang out?  The sad weirdo who's trying to be a part of the group really appeals to me." (451)

Me too, Will.  Me too. 

Celebrity Date Nut Cred: Giving Love a Swirl (or Swirly)

From left to right: Self Esteem, Macy's; Delia's, Dolls Kill

When I first saw the commercials for The Celebrity Dating Game hosted by Zooey Deschanel and Michael Bolton, I was like, what?!  I couldn't remember a duo that bizarre since that Martha Stewart and Snoop Dog ad for Tostitos.  Which is to say, I had to watch it.  

The show, which airs on Mondays on ABC, is a reboot (yes, another one!) of The Dating Game, which first aired in 1965.  As a nod to that peace and love era, the set is adorned with big, groovy purple flower décor (just as this very post is decked out with swirly sweet tie dye tees).  And in the tradition of 1983's Love Connection, 1995's Singled Out, and, yes, the original The Dating Game, its "plot" centers around one lonesome lad or lady grilling three randos in an attempt to find love.  Only in this case, the on-the-prowl soul is a secret celebrity hidden from the hopefuls.  The celebrity asks the competitors a series of questions, ostensibly to determine their compatibility but really to entertain us, and the answers are as ridiculous as you'd expect.  For example, when comedian Nicole Byer asked one particularly dubious dude to describe love, he said that it was "like taking a dump."  So, it's all pretty cringeworthy.  But not bad background TV to craft to.  Indeed, one contestant's dream date for former bachelorette Hannah Brown (this is, after all, ABC), was none other than crafting, a suggestion that inspired Deschanel to pipe up, "I love crafting!"

Speaking of Deschanel, I can only surmise that the indie darling is hosting this show ironically.  But I've seen enough celebs-turned-game-show-hosts on late night (Deschanel just lack week on Kimmel included), to know that she's contract-bound to never admit it.  Yet gimmicky gig or not, I always dig Deschanel's performances -- and wardrobe.  For The Celebrity Dating Game premier, she wore an adorable ruffly red and white dress that made her look like a valentine.  

As for Bolton, I think he's laughing on the inside too.  He'd have to be, as his job is to sing a parody of a famous love song filled with clues about the celebrity's identity.  Like most of us, I can't think of Bolton without remembering his Fabio locks or that Office Space line where one of the Bobs (John C. McGinley) asks office drone Michael Bolton (David Herman) what his favorite Bolton song is and he, despite his hatred of the crooner, squeaks out, "All of them."

Anyway, each episode of The Celebrity Dating Game ends with the celebrity selecting a suitor (or suitress?) and hugging him or her awkwardly.  Deschanel and company blow the signature Dating Game kisses out into the ether, and then . . . that's it.  No one goes on a date.  Which, although anticlimactic, is probably for the best, especially considering the aforementioned bathroom humor hijinks.

And now for this Electric Elephant Rampage Necklace, which has nothing to do with The Celebrity Dating Game except that I'm "rebooting," or rather, posting a new pic of it on Etsy: 

Eclectic Elephant Rampage Necklace

So come Monday, will I tune in to the next installment of The Celebrity Dating Game?  As they say, all's fair in love and ratings wars.  

And as I say, as long as there are accessories to be made, I'll give it -- if not a swirly -- a whirl.

Twice in a Blue Moon: Oh, Spunky

Flannel: So, Kohl's; Skirt: Mudd, Kohl's; Boots: Betsey Johnson, Macy's; Bag: Delia's

Tee: Self Esteem, Macy's

Gummy Bear Flair Necklace

Calling all '80s babies: The Punky Brewster reboot has landed on Peacock!  Although to be fair, Penelope "Punky" Brewster herself, a.k.a. Soleil Moon Frye, says that it's not so much a reboot as it is a continuation.  (I recently saw her on Kimmel and thought, hey, where have I heard that voice recently?  Oh yeah, from a rerun of Friends where that pint-sized brunette beat up on Joey!).  Because in the Peacock spin-off, America's favorite foster kid is all grown up with four kids of her own.  Two are adopted, and one is a foster kid who's a mini Punky, rocking the same scruffy-cute style, only with a blue hair streak and a beanie standing in for the vest.  Izzy is streetwise yet sensitive, a lost little girl in need of a home.  And in the tradition of Punky's own foster father Henry, Punky and her musician ex-husband Travis (Freddie Prinze Jr.) are just the good Samaritans to take her in.  Also like Henry, Punky's a photographer and even lives in his -- now much more colorful -- apartment.  With her bubbly, no-holds-barred approach to life, she's a rock star at tackling parenting issues including gender identity, dating, and drugs.  Travis, the actual rock star, is less talented.  When their daughter's boyfriend denies ownership of a joint on the grounds that he has asthma, Travis quippily reminds him that they make edibles too.  SPOILER ALERT!  The joint turns out to be Travis's, an allegedly forgotten relic from his partying days.    

Still, as much as I'm enjoying this revival about the ragamuffin turned sweetheart, the original series aired when I was too young to remember much of it (not that that stopped me from having the doll, purple vest and all).  So I delved even deeper into Peacock's plumage and watched the first three episodes of Punky 1.0 to find out how Punky and Henry came to be.  The opening shot of Chicago's bleak cityscape emblazoned by the words Punky Brewster in wobbly Crayola letters (so symbolic!) jogged my memory, but Henry's struggle to first accept Punky and then go through the system to become her foster parent might as well have been brand-new.  So I soaked it all in, along with the '80s era screen quality and music.  Although I initially found them to be kind of cheesy, both quickly won me over, eclipsing a story that could've easily been a soulless after-school special to reveal a tale with a bittersweet heart.  Style-wise, it was fun to watch too, what with Punky and pal Cherie's "sophisticated lady" photo shoot, not to mention the social worker's prim pastels warring with Punky's rumpled rainbow.  Same goes for the reboot -- er, continuation -- which features thirty-six-year-old Punky in tie dye, rocker chic tees, and, of course, denim vests.  What's more, her daughter is an aspiring fashion designer who's always whipping up eclectic looks.        

So I was inspired by both shows', ahem, punky and playful palettes to curate this outfit.  The pink flannel, daisy-print baby tee, and granny square bag are part girly '90s, part boho, whereas the ripped denim and (admittedly pink floral) combat boots (Private Punky, reporting for duty!) give it a smidgen of edge.  (True, there's no vest.  But never fear; you can find one back in time here.)  I topped it all off with my new Gummy Bear Flair Necklace, which is a bit of a black rainbow, its juicy bright bears and baubles lighting up the midnight beads and cameo.  It reminds me of another '80s classic TV show, namely the animated Adventures of the Gummi Bears

Speaking of cameos, it would be rad if one of the bears visited Punky.      

Provided, of course, that Travis doesn't get confused and eat him.

Toilet Paper Caper

These days, caper doesn't mean what it used to.  Just as excitement over toilet paper no longer means "decorating" your neighbor's house.  Now it's all about snagging some Charmin before your next bathroom incident.  And everyone's in on the search and the success stories.  On a recent episode of "Jimmy Kimmel Live!," Kimmel's three-year-old son burst through a fortress of heard-won rolls.  On Jim Gaffigan's YouTube channel, Gaffigan's head pops up from a sea of two-ply.  Finally, my Pinterest feed is, ahem, clogged with products boasting "I survived the toilet paper crisis of 2020!".  Well, I'm not Jimmy Kimmel or Jim Gaffigan.  But I am a person.  And I'm thrilled to share my own tp coup (while, for some reason, dressed like backwoods Barbie).  This is how it unraveled. 

I was trolling Walmart.com for essentials (i.e. another half dozen boxes of Nature Valley almond butter bars), when I pessimistically typed "toilet paper" into the search box.  I was expecting to see the usual toilet paper roll stands (such a tease!).  So, when Northern appeared on my screen, I couldn't believe it.  Northern, a brand I never even buy, suddenly seemed like the most beautiful word in the world.  It made me think of idyllic Scandinavian fishing villages, the northern lights, and, of course, not having to delve into my party paper napkin supply for intimate use.  I wasted no time adding two 12-packs to my cart; I'd been foiled before by waiting even a minute too long on the likes of Target.com.  Yet even after I completed the order, I had my doubts.  In this age of mass shortages, it was entirely possible that I'd get one of those sorry-not-sorry emails informing me that my Northern order had, well, gone south.  I'd been there before, you see (I'm talking to you Target), and like a jilted lover, I'd hardened my heart.  But no such email arrived and then, just two days after the estimated delivery date, the Northern landed on my doorstep with all the unlikely magic of a unicorn. 

More than anything, this hysteria over toilet paper shows that the COVID-19 pandemic has been something of an equalizer.  When even celebrities are clamoring to maintain personal hygiene normalcy, it makes you realize that we really are all in this together.  And that we all put our pants on one leg at a time.

And now, thanks to Northern (and Walmart!), my legs can be blessedly clean.

Oscar the Pouch: The Envelope, Please

Cross My Heart Necklace 

Festival Flair Envelope Bag

Pink top: Decree, JCPenney

Maroon blouse: Kohl's

Skirt: Bubblegum, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Belt: Marshalls

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Garden Party Envelope Bag

Top: Marshalls

Dress: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Payless

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's 

Fruit Bowl Envelope Bag

Top: Marshalls

Skirt (a dress!): Modcloth

Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW

Belt: Marshalls

Sunglasses: JCPenney

I almost called this post "Oscar the Slouch," but catchy though that was, it didn't make much sense.  Another contender was "Oscar the Couch," as that's where I (and probably you) am glued tonight, watching Kimmel crack jokes as Hollywood's finest compete for little gold men.  (So far, my favorite part is when Kimmel made it rain Red Vines and Junior Mints from the ceiling.)  But it was "Oscar the Pouch" that, ahem, took the title.  Because I'm writing about receptacles, damn it.  And also, I like kangaroos.  

It's not every crafter that would embellish Oscar-themed clutches with pompoms and felt, but then, I'm not every crafter.  Or, for that matter, every Oscars viewer, having seen exactly one of the films nominated (Florence Foster Jenkins), my cinematic speed being more Sesame Street than serious.  Which is just one of the reasons I'm giving a shout-out to everyone's favorite garbage can-dwelling Muppet.    

These shoulder bag-slash-clutches, although not exactly an example of "from trash to treasure" (they're brand spanking new, thank you very much), reflect a kind of artfully messy kitchen sink (that garbage can of the plumbing world) aesthetic.  Taking their cues from festivals to gardens to fruit bowls near you, they let you carry -- and communicate -- a little bit of what's imperfect and exceptional about the everyday (not unlike -- funny connection -- movies).  After all, what better way to send a style message than in a good, old-fashioned envelope?    

I like to think that Oscar would give his stamp of approval.