Paper or Plastics: Lean, Mean, Reading Machine

Just when I thought that Little Golden Books couldn't get more pop culture cute, the husband came home from the grocery store with -- yes -- the Mean Girls edition.  I was so excited, I read it to Charlotte immediately.  She was less than enthused, forsaking the mid-aughts classic to chew on some (hopefully clean) socks.  But I read on, impressed by how the brain trust at Little Golden Books was able to capture the heart and humor of the story in so few pages.  They even included "You go, Glen Coco!", a fan -- and personal -- favorite.

That said, the age-old message of Mean Girls will surely resonate with Charlotte someday.  

For now I'm just grateful that her biggest conundrum is whether to eat her food or wear it.

What the World Needs: What is, Women's Wit and Wisdom

When I saw Iliza Shlesinger promoting her books on Celebrity Jeopardy!, I knew that I would read them.  Not only do I love books by comedians, but Shlesinger's first, Girl Logic: The Genius and the Absurdity, has a foreword written by none other than Celebrity Jeopardy! host Mayim Bialik.  So when the husband gave me a copy for Christmas, I was psyched.  

In Girl Logic, Shlesinger shares laugh-out-loud anecdotes showing why we women think and act the way we do and why that both helps and hurts us.  Yet it's Shlesinger's more serious commentary toward the end that most gripped me:

"Point is, from the get-go, it's been excruciatingly difficult for women to be strong and make our way in this world.  We've had to fight hard for everything we've achieved.  And sometimes we've had to fight each other.  We're taught to do it, we're trained to do it, and our most reactive, base-level Girl Logic tells us we HAVE to do it to get what we want." (192)

I read that and thought, oh my goodness, she's right.  Women are taught to fight with each other.  That's where the whole mean girls thing comes in.  And why if you, for whatever reason, lack that killer instinct, then everything from playing musical chairs to competing for the corner office will rip you a new one.  Thankfully, Shlesinger goes on to say that we don't have to play this evolutionarily-rooted and socially-sanctioned game.  (Whew!)  We can be better than our biology and the men who try to control it:

"Though the irregular, sometimes-irrational headphone cord knots of GL might kick into freak-out mode and tell us other women are out to get us, it's on us to choose how to react -- to take the high road and attempt to act from kindness instead of fear or pettiness." (Shlesinger 192)   

Take that, Regina George!  (Not that Regina didn't already learn her lesson, what with getting hit by that bus.)

So yeah, I heart Girl Logic: The Genius and the Absurdity.  Because I'm always here for hard truths sugar-coated in comedy.  

Next stop (at some point!) Shlesinger's, All Things Aside: Absolutely Correct Opinions.

I'm sure it will be absolutely awesome.

Two Plaids, Four Fads, and a Rag Bag Revisited

Coat: So, Kohl's

I'm kicking off this post with a very cheesy -- but very necessary! -- line: so many plaids, so little time.  Because I was so excited about my new pair of plaid minis that I decided to build not one but two looks around each.  

First up is this purple skirt in an outfit we'll call "funky fur."  The skirt is preppy, but the color is kooky, and that's the part I decided to run with.  More mushrooms and My Little Ponies, please!

Yellow Garden Necklace

Top: Delia's, Dolls Kill

Barrettes: Dolls Kill

Bag: Amazon

Next is the same skirt styled in a more scholarly yet fairy kei way.  Looks like "pastel prep" to me!    

Sweater: So, Kohl's

Ring: (old school) Delia's; Barrettes: Dolls Kill; Mint bangle: Decree, JCPenney; Yellow bangle: B Fabulous

Skirt: Almost Famous, Kohl's

Teddy Confetti Necklace

Sweater: Pink Republic, Macy's

And that brings us to my second skirt, this colorful flared affair from Delia's for Dolls Kill.

But first, a little tangent. 

A year or so ago, I bagged up some clothes to donate, shoved them in a closet, and promptly forgot about them.  I wasn't about to haul them off to Goodwill with COVID still surging.  But I recently went into that closet to get something else, saw the bag there, and thought, I wonder . . . 

I don't have to tell you that I was soon surrounded by a colorful sea of my so-called castoffs.  Rifling through those garments -- even the hideous ones -- gave me a lot of joy.  There were even a few pieces that were still kind of nice.  This is how hoarders get started, I thought, examining an almost brand-new pair of chocolate flats I'd once deemed too small.  I set them aside; I could make them work with pantyhose.  I also rescued a cutout black sweater that I could probably get away with over a tee shirt, a floral red button-down perfect for Zoom meetings, and, finally, the maroon, blue, and mustard sweater I'm sporting in this ensemble.  At the time, I thought the colors were too drab or collegiate.  But after fishing it out of the bag, I remembered how much I liked the fit and considered reinventing it with a bright bottom.  Enter this sunshiney plaid number!  When the husband snapped my pic in it, he said I looked like I was ready to head to Riverdale, which I loved.  Even though to me the vibe was more Mean Girls.  

Green bracelet: Parade of Shoes; Blue bracelet: Cloud Nine, Ocean City; Ring: Making Waves, Ocean City

Skirt: Delia's, Dolls Kill

Suzy Snapshot Necklace

Tights: Isadora, Zulily

Finally, I curated the same skirt in a different way, with an oversized pastel sweater and eclectic accessories.  The leopard pumps were another near-discard; they're a little big, which is why I'm rocking socks.  And then there are my crooked cobalt tights.  What is it about vertical-striped stockings, anyway?!  Sometimes the stars align and everything falls where it's supposed to.  But more often than not, no amount of twisting and untwisting can correct a configuration that's woefully catawampus, and I feel as uncoordinated as a kid who can't tie her shoes.  That's why I'm dubbing this outfit "unkempt kitsch."  It's a not-so-subtle reminder that things don't have to be perfect to be pretty.

Which is as good a mantra as any for this recovering perfectionist.

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Flower barrette: Etsy; Bow barrette: Carole, JCPenney

Shoes: Journeys, Kohl's

Spider necklace: SHEIN; Love bangle: Boscov's; Choker: Mixit, JCPenney; Small bracelet: Cloud Nine, Ocean City; Large bracelet: Mixit, JCPenney; Barrettes: SHEIN

One Climb at a Time: Lisa Turtle Power

Top to bottom: Chase & Chloe, Zulily; Worthington, JCPenney; Chase & Chloe, Zulily

It's not unusual for shoes to be the first thing you see here at The Tote Trove.  But this time, they're not just about style -- they're about making strides -- while in style.  Because March is Women's History Month, and March 8 is International Women's Day.  Which, I'm aware, was yesterday (insert joke about women always being late.  What, no girl-on-girl crime, hashtag Mean Girls, when promoting gender equality?  Okay, Tina Fey, duly noted.)  A few years ago, Stephen Colbert did a bit on The Late Show about this special day, which I remember in a degree of detail because I logged it in my "Stuff to Write about Someday" Word file (most of which is flagged "do not publish until in witness protection").  Colbert was talking about a new Barbie-esque doll that was something worthy but boring, like an ambassador or a crossing guard who moonlights as an accountant.  And he was like, isn't it enough that little girls have to deal with all the issues that come with being female?  Why, in the name of proving themselves, do they have to play with lame toys too?  No one makes boys do that.  They get to play with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!  

This really resonated with me.  Because wouldn't the truly feminist move be to encourage girls to play with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles too?  Or the frilliest, glitziest Barbie?  Or whatever they want, not for the optics, but for the fun of it?  

So.  In celebration of all things shamelessly -- no, proudly -- frivolously feminine, here's a simply red (cue "Lady in Red") grouping of some of my more photogenic cosmetics.  

Body butter: The Body Shop, Zulily; Elizabeth Arden Red Door, Marshalls; Clinique lipstick: Boscov's; Mulan compact, Zulily

Note the Mulan compact, which is truly badass in terms of girls slaying it, whether on the battlefield or in the bathroom.  

Also, there's a turtle tee!  

Tee shirt, Macy's

Girls, hands off Leonardo; he's mine!  (Sorry, Tina.  I backslid into competitive mean girl mode there.)  

It isn't lost on me that the color scheme of the makeup and the tee is Red Hat Society-approved red and purple.  Because nothing says female empowerment like a posse of post-menopausal, chapeau-domed women commandeering an Applebee's.

Unless it's Lisa Turtle killing it in a  -- what else? -- red hat!

I knew I'd use those Saved by the Bell cards again.

That said, Lisa Turtle Power, although a sick pun if I do say so myself, is too close for comfort to Lisa Turtle Powers.  As in Screech Powers (Dustin Diamond, RIP).  I blame Mattel for starting it all by forcing Lisa to share a card with Screech.  It's not very Women's History Month of them, especially as the birthplace of Barbie.  I smell another comic Colbert exposé.  

Until then, sorry, Lisa.  

And, as always, Tina Fey.

Big Summer Stunner: Mean Girls Gone Wild

I haven't read a Jennifer Weiner novel since In Her Shoes.  I did read Weiner's memoir, Hungry Heart, though, and I'm glad I did, because it explains so much about the pain of growing up, which is front and center in her latest novel, Big Summer.  Part mystery and part romance plus a commentary on social media, Big Summer's got a little bit of everything, making it a page turner.  Fluff and intrigue aside, though, its focus is female friendships.  And not just the Golden Girls-theme-song-slash-going-out-for-strawberry-milkshakes part.  But the part about women building social hierarchies so that friend or foe becomes friend and foe, or, in the more popular parlance, "frenemy."  Which is to say, friendship can be war.

In Big Summer, the brave warrior is Daphne Berg, a fat fashionista and social influencer who was always picked on in school.  Fat is Daphne's word, not mine.  She prefers it to euphemisms like plus-sized and Rubenesque, and I don't blame her.  Despite promoting yoga mats and doggie treats on Instagram, what Daphne really wants is to feel less alone and to help other people feel that way too.  Back in the day, Daphne became best friends with this rich, popular girl named Drue Cavanaugh.  Drew made Daphne's life miserable but was, as all queen bees are, a blast.  Inevitably, they had a falling out in college.  They don't speak again until five years later when a desperate Drue asks Daphne to be her maid of honor.  And that's when the true battle begins.   

Weiner's talent for describing the social dynamics of girl world is what makes her such a powerful writer.  She shares Daphne's trials in a way that's real and raw.  Reading about them sent me right back to my own school cafeteria and its swirling sea of piranhas.  Although I wasn't fat (just a bookworm in weird clothes), I know exactly what it feels like not to fit in, and I'm sure a lot of you do too.  Reliving it isn't pleasant for any of us.  But it's important that Weiner explores it in this book and others.  Because if she helps even one kid -- or adult -- work through her hurt in a constructive way and feel, as Weiner says, "seen," then it's worth it.  

To that point, in Big Summer, there's one woman who hasn't worked through anything.  Unable to let go of her past, her anger consumes her, ruining her life and the lives of others. Which is a cautionary tale if ever there was one.  Because two wrongs don't make a right, and queen bees are people too.  Remember Regina George (Rachel McAdams) in Mean Girls?  Bitch though she was, she had a heart underneath it all and stopped being mean once she channeled her rage through field hockey.  Which is about the only time I can get behind sports, but if it makes the world a kinder and gentler place, then I wholeheartedly shout, "Go team!".     

That said, Big Summer's message isn't tidy, is even, at times, contradictory.  But that makes it even more relevant.  Because life is messy.  So to my way of thinking, the book's message goes something like this: To have a friend, you have to be a friend.  But keep your friends close and your frenemies closer.  Protect yourself, but don't become so suspicious that you grow bitter.  Be grateful for what you have because, chances are, they're the very things that make other girls jealous of you.  Most importantly, revenge is a dish best not served at all.  It's better to serve yourself whatever you want, extra pounds and Internet trolls be damned.

I guess that's how you win the war.  Or at least survive the mystery meat in the mess hall. 

No Shirt, No Shoes, No Nervous

Ah, the cinema. So glamorous and exciting and sweet and not just because it sounds like cinnamon. Is there anything quite like settling into a seat with a box of Junior Mints and a costs-only-a-quarter-more tub of Dr. Pepper while watching previews? Yes, I love going to the movies. And pre-pandemic, I went all the time. But now that my options are limited to whatever I can get on TV, I'm finding . . . that they're not so limited after all. There are a lot more movies out there than I ever imagined, some I've never even heard of. Just last weekend, I was scrolling through the Amazon Prime offerings when one such movie, Barefoot, popped up. I saw that Scott Speedman was in it and thought, oh, it's Ben from Felicity! Let's watch that!

Here's the rundown: Jay (Speedman) is a hospital janitor on parole; Daisy (Evan Rachel Wood) is in the psych ward and may or may not have murdered her mother.  Jay's a world-weary, rich kid-turned-gambler; Daisy's a shut-in who's never even eaten marshmallows.  They meet when Jay saves Daisy from a would-be molester.  Struck by his gesture, Daisy follows Jay out of the hospital and begs him to take her with him.  Jay protests but eventually relents, even though he's going to his parents' mansion for his brother's wedding.  Jay is estranged from his parents.  But he soon realizes that passing Daisy off as his new girlfriend may help get him back in their good graces so that they'll fund his new business venture.  Gentle awkwardness ensues as Daisy unsuccessfully navigates civilized society while garbed in bona fide stripper dresses (for some reason, Jay's favorite club seemed like a more sensible place to procure a wardrobe for Daisy than Target).  Nevertheless, Daisy is charming, a kind of fresh-limbed, Little Mermaid fish out of water who means well even as she stumbles.  Jay's mom takes a liking to her, even going so far as to lend her a dress.  But the wedding's only the beginning.  Jay steals his dad's brand-new, state-of-the-art camper, officially making him and Daisy on the run.  Still channeling Ariel, Daisy expresses wonder at everything she sees, proclaiming her day with Jay at a small town carnival to be the best she's ever had.  On the surface, the two seem so different.  But underneath, they're both outcasts trying to find their way in.  And that's how they get close and get through to each other.

One of Daisy's quirks is that she likes to be barefoot.  She never says why, but I think it's safe to assume that after so many years of confinement, she relishes the idea -- and symbolism -- of freeing her feet.  Daisy's backstory is especially interesting in this time of quarantine, when plenty of people are hunkering down in their houses.  Many of them probably feel trapped too.  Not me, of course -- you know I love living la vida solo.  But that's the thing about this crazy virus.  It makes you want to be kinder to everyone, no matter their point of view.  Because we're all human and going through stuff and deserve to have someone understand.

That said, today's crafty tie-in has nothing to do with sheltering in place or feet (I considered making a felt foot barrette but decided to spare you).  Although it is something that a slightly muddled, barefoot hippie might wear.  Yes, it's the Mixed-up Medallion Necklace, an eclectic accessory for the boho runaway in all of us.

Mixed-up Medallion Necklace

In keeping with the foot theme, here's a quote about feet from another movie that reminds us to be better.  Not that the quote is about being better -- it's not; if anything, it's about being mean.  But we're going for feet here.  You get it.

"The worst thing we've done is make Regina George's face smell like a foot."

Oh, Mean Girls.  You never let me down.

New Year, No Fear: On Wednesdays We Wear Black

 Garden Glam Slam Necklace

Sweater: Mudd, Kohl's

Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Delia's

Yellow bangles: B Fabulous

Green stretch bracelet: Parade of Shoes

 Ruby Red Romance Necklace

Top: Bisou Bisou, J. C. Penney's

Yellow tee: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Penny Loves Kenny, Zulily

Clutch: Express

Belt: Apt. 9. Kohl's

Hot Hoop Necklace

Sweater: Kohl's

Skirt: Candie's, Kohl's

Shoes: Guess, DSW

Bag: Nine West, Marshalls

Belt: B Fabulous

Lime stretchy bracelet: Cloud 9, Ocean City boardwalk

Yellow bangle: Silver Linings, Ocean City boardwalk

For this post, I had my heart set on a black and red rose-print cold shoulder crop top from the Kohl's line for Disney-Pixar's hit Coco.  Not to be confused with, "You go, Glen Coco!"from that other hit movie, Mean Girls, which has its own impressive merchandise.  (I've got the "so you think you're really pretty" compact mirror to prove it, as seen below with my until-now-never-been-stripped-of-its-cellophane DVD.  There was no need, as Mean Girls is almost always playing on TBS, Comedy Central, E!, WE, Ion, Oxygen, Pop, and/or Animal Planet.  Just kidding about that last one.  Then again, there is that wildebeest attack dream sequence or whatever, so who knows?)  

Anyway, I wanted to team the Coco top with a yellow lace midi pencil skirt from J. C. Penney's Project Runway collection.  But, alas, that too was sold out, forcing me to renounce my mid-priced department store product placement-themed ambitions and make it work, Tim Gunn style, with some stuff that in no way resembled what I'd planned.  Such is the roller coaster that is fashion blogging.

Speaking of which, a word about stretch bracelets.  When the beads begin to separate, however slightly, you know that your beloved bracelet is on its way to becoming a necklace.  Well, I know it's on its way to becoming a necklace.  You may just know that you're about to unleash a shower of rhinestone slider beads out into the world, sending a pack of mall-walking grannies scrambling in front of a Wetzel's Pretzels.  This happened to me with a much-adored, much-worn faux diamond and ruby stretchy stunner just before Christmas (not the Wetzel's Pretzels part, the repurposing part).  So I gave it new life by making the above darling Ruby Red Romance Necklace.  I did the same with Garden Glam Slam, which is similarly crammed with costume jewelry castoffs.  Hot Hoop, not so much, although the pendants are vintage.

Finally, if there's anything that fascinates me more than color, it's the absence of color.  Which is why I used this ironically named Vanilla filter on my outfit pics to dart to the dark side:

I love how the grayscale really makes the details pop, kind of like a close-up of a closet in a black and white movie.  So, it seems only fitting to ask, "(Compact) Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fetchest of them all?"  Why, Ms. Addams, of course, and I don't mean Rachel Mc.  Indeed, the first daughter of darkness could have taught the Plastics a thing or two, both in sartorial savvy and scariness.

In closing (I know I just said "finally," but then, when have you ever listened to me?), no resolutions this year.  Because resolutions are just rules, and rules were made to be broken.  So, no rules, just right.

That's Outback.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and Brigantine Too

 Daisy Kook Necklace

Blouse: Marshalls

Tank: So, Kohl's

Shorts: aeire, Marshalls

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Marshalls

Sunglasses: Michaels

Well, two trees grow in Brigantine (at least the two I'm talking about).  Yep, it's the twin palms I blogged about back in April, finally captured on camera in these last days of August.  As mentioned, they bookend the Brigantine welcome sign, which I love from its retro seashell-crested top to its old-fashioned latticework-laced bottom.  But my favorite part is the sweet and jaunty motto "an island you'll love for life" scrawled in dark blue italics.  Now, the husband has recently reported that a new saying, namely, "over the bridge" has begun to take root on local bumper stickers.  No matter.  This hunk of rock's calling card will always be "an island you'll love for life" to me.  And not just because of the alliteration.

Brooklyn has its own fetchingly literal and metaphorical foliage.  At least according to Colm Toibin's novel Brooklyn and the later movie of the same name.  A tender yet unsentimental coming-of-age story set in the 1950s, Brooklyn centers on Aisling (Saoirse Ronan), a young woman who leaves her Irish village to make a better life in the States.  With the help of a kindly priest, she finds board and work in Brooklyn, the former with a group of high-spirited (if catty) girls overseen by a fussy spinster, the latter behind a counter in an upscale department store.  But what Aisling really wants is to become an accountant.  For most of us, this is a dubious dream, but Aisling's pursuit of it in the face of prejudice, pettiness, and crushing homesickness is endearingly admirable, giving it the cachet of a more glam vocation.  Indeed, with each challenge, Aisling gains a sense of sophistication and ease with the world, an evolution symbolized by her increasingly glamorous outfits.  When we first meet her, she's clad in drab dresses and stringy hair.  So, it's all the more satisfying when she emerges in well-cut, vibrant frocks, her fair tresses becomingly coiffed as she navigates the city streets.  Style and spreadsheets aside, the most exciting thing to happen to Aisling is Tony.  An intense Italian plumber (no Super Mario jokes, please) with a boisterous family and a passion for baseball, he quietly but earnestly makes a bid for Aisling's heart.  But just as Aisling is sorting her feelings, a family crisis pulls her back to Ireland.

Although Aisling left her village in obscurity, she returns with an elegance that elevates her social status.  Before long she catches the attention of the local accounting office as well as the eye of the most eligible bachelor.  A cookie-cutter future is hers if she wants it, and she's suddenly forced to ask herself if it's possible to go home again.  Brooklyn is no candy box romance (despite my having maybe made it sound like one).  Actually, I wouldn't consider it a romance at all, because 1) it's written by a man, and 2) that label, however unfairly, is more often than not disparaging.  No, Brooklyn is not genre fiction; it casts a much wider and more ambitious net made all the more powerful by its economical prose.  Although usually a fan of lush language, I found Toibin's spare writing style to be perfectly suited to his simple story.  Not that this tale is easy.  On the contrary, slice of life stories are the hardest to tell because they can't hide behind fancy phrases.  Toibin succeeds in capturing every nuance and tension, painting a more realistic portrait of female social interactions and all that goes left unsaid more masterfully than any writer I've read in years.  It's as if he went to summer camp or joined a book club or went undercover wherever women weave their little worlds, granting and denying admittance with the skill and subtlety of long-reigning monarchs (translation: on Wednesdays, we wear pink: just further proof that all roads lead to Mean Girls.)

As for me, I like to weave neckwear, the weirder the better.  And this week I've kept the flame burning with Flash Charms.  Because despite the feminine flair of the fabulous 1950s, my closet belongs to the 1980s.

That said, these macaw-print culottes could hold their own on Coney Island.

Ruffle Kerfuffle: Of Monsters and Zen, What a Mother

 Red and Yellow Roses Necklace

Top: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Skirt: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

 A Tribe Called Zest Necklace

Top: Maison Jules, Macy's

Skirt: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Belt: Marshalls

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Creamsicle Circle Necklace

Top: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Nine West, Marshalls

Sunglasses: Brigantine beach shop

Rainbow Pearl Necklace

Blouse: American Rag, Macy's

Tank: Macy's

Skirt: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Modcloth

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Every outfit in this post features a swallow-print, ruffle-tiered mini I got from Target, that one-stop trend candy shop.  Part festival, part fairy tale, this skirt is the kind of sassy yet muted not-so-basic staple that Snow White might've worn if the seven dwarfs had ever carted her off to Coachella (now, there was a damsel who could rock crazy colors).

Speaking of which, it's time to talk about some ladies who put the rough and tumble in ruffle, namely the casts of two of summer's biggest blockbusters: Ghostbusters and Bad Moms.  Fun and frothy with a topping of let's-take-on-the-world, both center around fantasies, some supernatural, some suburban.  Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, Kate McKinnon, and Leslie Jones do battle with poltergeists in New York City while Mila Kunis, Kristen Bell, and Kathryn Hahn take on the PTA outside of Chicago (the latter is, in my opinion, the more formidable of the two villains; when faced with a bitch or a beast I'll take my chances with Slimer), putting it all on the line in the name of justice, whether it be for the safety of humankind, some much-deserved me-time, or a heady elixir of the two.  Sure, on the surface, these women couldn't be more different.  Ghostbuster McKinnon zings zany one-liners as she builds whoa-Nelly weapons; bad mom Bell daydreams about getting into a (minor) car accident so she can spend a week in the hospital eating Jell-O.  World-class physicist Wiig gets tongue-tied at the mere sight of delicious but dumber-than-dirt secretary Chris Hemsworth; come-hither Hahn flashes married dads in the school drop-off zone.  But at the end of the day, they're all women fighting adversity, whether in the form of phantoms or frenemies.  As such, both casts shine with brave yet vulnerable, laugh-a-minute comediennes.  Ghostbusters was funnier, but I enjoyed the plot of Bad Moms more.  Maybe that's because Bad Moms is a little like Mean Girls: Mommy Edition.  The cliques are the same; just the ages have changed.  And there's not a woman alive who doesn't appreciate a good comic commentary on (as Tina Fey so eloquently put it in Mean Girls) the age-old theme of girl-on-girl crime.  In Moms, the pressure doesn't come from the need to be popular, but the need to be perfect, which is, when you think about it, merely popularity all grown up.  

In Bad Moms, Amy Mitchell (Kunis) is the poster child for mother martyrdom.  Put-upon and stretched-to-the-limit, this marketing maven is an always under-it everywoman who bears the added burdens of dealing with an incompetent fetus of a boss (Clark Duke) and an overgrown frat boy of a husband (David Walton).  So, when Amy ambles into a PTA meeting, late as always, fresh from a horribly hellish day, and resident queen bee and PTA president Gwendolyn (Christina Applegate) shames her into bake sale police duty (no sugar, no oil, no dairy!), Amy tells her to forget it, makes a grand exit, and plops down on a bar stool at the nearest dive to drown her proverbial sorrows.  There she meets perennially-on-the-prowl single mom (and, may I add, dressed-to-kill) Carla (Hahn) and eager-to-please mother of four Kiki (Bell).  The liquor flows, the ladies vent, and before you can shout "Tequila!", the trio is wreaking havoc at a grocery store, Fruit Loops and inhibitions flying.  What follows is a wicked spin on sugar and spice and everything nice as the fast friends turn the stereotype of the perfect mom on its head, blowing off cooking and cleaning to day drink and cruise guys.  But when Gwendolyn gets Amy's daughter kicked off the soccer team, what began as a game turns into a full-fledged revolt against the powers that be.  Amy launches a campaign to run for PTA president in a brush with the dark side that is faintly reminiscent of Cady Herring's (Lindsey Lohan's) in Mean Girls.  Yet although Amy tries on a new persona and even sometimes stumbles, unlike the callow Cady, she never loses sight of who she is.     

Bad Moms is a sweet satire sprinkled with the surprises that make movies sparkle.  SPOILER ALERT: if you read any further, then this one will be a surprise no longer.  (I'm talking to you, party scene headlined by paragon of perfection Martha Stewart offering up Jell-O shots.)  Although lighthearted, Bad Moms touches upon the complexities of female relationships, intertwined with that old chestnut of a theme: freedom vs. duty.  That having been said, once the chaos has run its course, peace predictably descends upon suburban Chicago, more than restoring the status quo as each mom, mean ones included, embraces a more warts-and-all way of life.  Peace, after all, is the goal of most stories (and, indeed, of that great story life), dressed in the finery of happy endings.  

Yep, peace is pretty important.  As Gavin Rossdale once sang, "everything's zen."  Of course, he followed that up with an angry "I don't think so," and now his ex is doing a duet with Blake Shelton.  

So maybe he needs to try yoga.