Pop Culture Vultures and Lovebirds

Can an average-looking girl land a gorgeous guy?  That's the age-old question posed in Curtis Sittenfeld's Romantic Comedy.  The "normie" heroine is Sally Milz, an Emmy-winning writer for The Night Owls, a sketch comedy so much like Saturday Night Live I wondered if Sittenfeld had once worked there.  This fascinating window into the workings of SNL is sure to delight any fan.  But it's the story-within-the-story of Sally herself that resonates.  Brilliant but socially awkward, she's sick of seeing her schlubby male coworkers snag the beautiful women who host the show.  She even goes so far as to write a sketch about it.  Then Top 40 It Boy Noah Brewster gets the gig.  He's not only hot but surprisingly nice, and he and Sally forge an unlikely but very real friendship.  That is, until she sabotages it.

Sharp and witty and just plain fun, Romantic Comedy spans the space of three years, including the pandemic, to find out, once and for all, if men really like -- no, love -- smart women.  Through the admittedly distorted lens of Sally's insecurities, Sittenfeld skewers romcoms even as she applauds what makes them great.  

And that's what makes Romantic Comedy great, too -- its willingness to laugh at itself.    

Food for the Distraught: Murder With a Side of Munchies

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Halloween mysteries are full of tricks and treats.  And that's especially true of the two I just gobbled: Leslie Meier's Candy Corn Murder and Lee Hollis's Death of a Wicked Witch.  Both involve vehicular homicide, although not in the way you'd imagine, as well as, of course, festive food.  

In Candy Corn Murder, a local is stuffed in a car trunk in the middle of Tinker Cove's pumpkin-catapulting competition.  (There's also a guess-how-many-candy-corns-are-in-the-canister contest.)  In Death of a Wicked Witch, Bar Harbor's boo-tiful new sandwich artist bites the big one by being gassed in her own Wicked 'Witches food truck.

Like Joanne Fluke, Lee Hollis sprinkles in recipes, and in Death of a Wicked Witch, they're all for sandwiches (hoagies and grinders, hoagies and grinders!).  Witch Which always makes me wonder.  Are they there to serve as a delicious distraction, or for the deeper purpose of offering life-affirming balance to the bone-chilling murder?  You know, kind of like how people bring cakes and casseroles when someone dies.  Then again, like those cakes and casseroles, these subs and clubs have enough fat to end someone's life instead of sustaining it.  

These are the things that keep me up at night.  That and the BLTs.

Painting the Patriarchy Pink: This Barbie is a Blogger

Tee: Kohl's

I finally saw Barbie yesterday, and it was every bit as fabulous as I expected.  The clothes, the colors, the dance routines.  But also, the message.  Because if there's one thing that director Greta Gerwig makes clear, it's that being a woman is complicated.  To paraphrase America Ferrera's Gloria, all we really want at the end of the day is to "wear a flattering top and feel okay."  Yet sometimes the world -- and more to the point, the patriarchy -- makes that more difficult than it should be.  So it's no wonder that Barbie -- both the "stereotypical" one played to perfection by Margot Robbie and all the others who share the same name -- would rather stay in Barbie Land where women are always in power and cellulite is a myth, than venture out into the real world only to be arrested for rollerblading.

It's no surprise that it's Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon) who convinces Stereotypical Barbie to hang with the humans.  After all, it doesn't get much more real than having a toddler yank your hair out by the roots and tattoo your face with Jem-style graffiti.  McKinnon kooks it up brilliantly, pouring every ounce of SNL alien abductee energy into channeling the discarded doll.  As for her aesthetic, it's excellently edgy, a kind of warped candy cute.  Her outfit and house are my favorite. 

But this isn't about Weird Barbie.  It's about Stereotypical Barbie.  And what she learns is what we all learn at some point -- that things aren't always perfect.   Also, that sometimes it's better to have an Allan (Michael Cera) than a Ken (Ryan Gosling).  Finally, not to trust men in charge. (I'm looking at you, shades-of-Mugatu Mattel CEO Will Ferrell.)  Yet however imperfect, it's still okay.  Because being human is a beautiful mess, and the only way to clean it up is to muss your hair and snag your stockings.  Authenticity is better than plastic.  

And that, Barbie girls, is nothing to toy with.

Brunson Burner

Quinta Brunson's mom wanted her to be a teacher.  But Quinta wanted to be an entertainer.  So it's only fitting that Quinta ended up entertaining us about education.  I'm, of course, talking about the Emmy-winning smash hit Abbott Elementary, which Quinta created and stars in.  And although Quinta's memoir She Memes Well came out before the show, there are plenty of Abbott Easter eggs hidden within its pages.  Which may not make sense chronologically.  But I'm willing to say that it's a chicken and (Easter) egg thing if you are, so here it goes.

Now that I've read the book, I can't help but wonder if kindergarten teacher Barbara (Sheryl Lee Ralph), who serves as Janine's (Quinta Brunson's) prim and proper mentor, was modeled after Quinta's mom.  Because it turns out that Mrs. Brunson was a by-the-book kindergarten teacher too.

Quinta's favorite sitcom is The Office, which came as no surprise to me because Abbott has always reminded me of that show.  There's the documentary style, the crazy boss (Janelle James), and the awkward yet sweet Jim-and-Pam-esque romance between Janine and Gregory (Tyler James Williams).  Janine even starts the series with a boyfriend that rivals Roy in the doofus department.  Yet what ties it all together is the wry, relatable humor illustrating all the weirdness that comes with the workplace -- and also the heart.   That said, Abbott Elementary is in no way, shape, or form an offshoot of the Office.  For one thing, no one in it is trying to sell paper.  For another, it's about a bigger-picture issue, namely the struggles of teachers in underserved areas.  And although I'm not a teacher (and thank goodness because I'd be terrible), from everything I've heard, its portrayal of that world is spot on.

That's all well and good, you may be thinking.  But you already said that this book isn't about Abbott Elementary, so what the heck is it about?!  So glad you asked!  It's about Quinta's childhood and family and the culture shock of moving from Philly to LA, a city of women who expect their dogs to be able to operate iPads.  But it's also about how Quinta got to where she is today, and that's by making memes.  Now, this took me by surprise.  And it shouldn't have considering the title of her memoir!  I thought it was just a clever-but-not-literal pun.  But no.  Quinta was obsessed with the Internet as a kid and ended up going viral on Instagram with a meme called "He Got Money!".  It's about a girl who's never been on a real date, so every time a guy buys her popcorn at the movies or orders dessert at a restaurant, her character is so overcome that she enthusiastically cries this catchphrase.  It was so popular that Quinta made appearances at events just so people could hear her say "He Got Money!" in person.  As someone who spends a lot (too much?) time online, I love this.  The idea that a lifetime (if a lifetime can be measured by one's twenties) of blood, sweat, and creative tears could culminate and explode in a platform accessible to everyone is very exciting. 

But that meme was just the beginning.  Through a series of hilarious anecdotes, Quinta takes us on her professional and personal journey of making her comedic dreams come true.  She's decidedly saltier than her salt-of-the-earth Abbott alter-ego Janine, a topic that she gamely riffed about last night when hosting SNL.  Indeed, in Memes she tells us that she was popular, both a cheerleader and a prom queen.  That's about as far from Janine as it gets, which means just one thing: Quinta's one heck of an actress. 

Shine bright, Brunson burner, shine bright. 

Shannon Cannon

When I heard that Molly Shannon had written a memoir, I thought, oh, that'll be hilarious.  And it was, crammed with all the outlandish childhood and SNL anecdotes you'd expect.  But Hello, Molly! is so much more than a punchline.  It's ultimately Molly's story of her relationship with her dad.  Her mom and baby sister were killed in a car accident.  Four-year-old Molly and her older sister were also in the car, and their father was the one driving.  I'm going to pause to let that sink in for a moment because it's extraordinarily heavy. 

But -- and I cannot stress this enough -- Hello, Molly! isn't a downer.  It's the bittersweet, clean kind of sad that makes you appreciate life and remember that everything happens for a reason.  Like This is Us, plus comedy.  In other words, it has a good tone (and you know how much I value that).  Molly describes the highs and lows of life with her dad -- and her struggles to make it in showbiz -- with the straight-from-the-heart candor of a coming-of-age novelist.  She always sees the best in everything, even when audition doors are slammed in her face and her father acts more like a child.  Because it all really happened -- and made Molly the lovable, no-holds-barred performer we know today -- it's much more engaging than fiction.      

Of course, you can't talk about Molly Shannon without mentioning Mary Katherine Gallagher.  Or, as Shannon calls her, MKG (not to be confused with that other Irish icon, Machine Gun Kelly).  Shannon created the character while she was at NYU, almost a decade before she crashed into Studio 8H at SNL.  And it turns out that everyone's favorite painfully earnest, awkward Irish Catholic teen is based on Shannon herself.  Shannon joined SNL in 1995, so I remember the MKG years vividly.  And the sketch that stayed with me the most is the one where she's reenacting a scene from A House Without a Christmas Tree.  Not only is it cringeworthily funny, it's heartbreaking, showing Mary Katherine at her most vulnerable, reminding you that she's just a kid from a dysfunctional family who wants the world to love her.  After learning about her life, it rings even truer.  

Raw and sweet and hysterical, Hello, Molly! is an American tale (and no, not like when Fievel goes west; although, on second thought, maybe?).  It embodies timeless themes that readers hold dear: Midwestern girl makes good, optimism in the face of incredible odds, and an unorthodox but unbreakable father-daughter bond.  It's universal, its magic extending far beyond SNL.  At the end, I felt like hers was a life well lived (not that it's over yet!), brimming with love and adventure.  

No doubt about it, she's a Superstar.

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. 

Pasta for Dinner, Wacky Waving Figure: Mama Mia, What a Mother's Day

Once again, it's that day in May when we take time to honor our mothers.  To say thank you for cutting the crusts off all those PB&Js, showing up for every game and recital, and placing every hideous trinket we ever gave you in pride of place on the bookshelf.  Even when we whined, cried, and screamed.  And sometimes said I hate you.

For those and many other reasons, you deserve more than a macaroni necklace.  And that's not even counting the childbirth part.

My own mom taught me so many wonderful things, including how to read and accessorize.  I don't have to tell you that both came in handy, as I've devoted my life to books and baubles.

So Mom, in keeping with Arcade Fire's performance on last night's SNL, please accept this Wacky Waving Figure as a token of my appreciation:

Not literally, though.  Because I gave it to the husband for Christmas, and I think he'd really miss it.  But it's the thought that counts, right?  

Which puts us back in macaroni necklace territory.  

Then again, what's a macaroni necklace if not the combo of the perfect food and jewelry?

What I'm trying to say is, you get it.  You encouraged every wacky dream (and outfit!) I ever had, listened to every stray thought and worry.  So thanks for always cheering me on and being the best mom -- and friend -- I could ever hope for.  

I love you.  Happy Mother's Day!

Summer Stuns Before the Fall

Last night, long after John Mulaney's latest social commentary musical on SNL, I finished reading Jennifer Weiner's latest novel, That Summer.  If the title sounds familiar, then that's because Weiner's book before that was called Big Summer.  Although That Summer isn't its sequel, it does harbor an Easter egg.  

The book jacket doesn't say what it's really about, so maybe I shouldn't say either.  I will say that there are two strangers named Diana (although one goes by Daisy) who find out they share a disturbing bond.  What they decide to do about it will resonate with women everywhere.  

Here are two of my favorite quotes:

On Daisy.  Or rather, on what she thinks her daughter thinks of her:

"Worse, she suspected that Beatrice thought that cooking, cleaning, homemaking, all of what used to be called the domestic arts, were women's work.  A yoke that Daisy wore, of her own choosing, boundaries past which she did not stray; all of it part of a world that Beatrice and her generation had evolved beyond." (80)

On Diana.  Or rather, on what she thinks her coworkers think of her:

"She was sure her colleagues were engaging in some collective Baby Boom fantasy, where she was a bitchy, big-city ice queen who needed some salt-of-the-earth loving, maybe even a baby or three, to make her a woman again." (138)

Both women deal with female stereotypes that eat away at who they really are.  Just as both are victims of circumstances created by men.  Or, rather, by one man.  

To echo Michael Stipe, "Oh no, I've said too much.  I haven't said enough."

The end.

D is for Denim and C is for Venom: Just Kidding, but I Still Hate Caddies

Bag: Sleepyville Critters, Zulily

Top: Simply Vera, Kohl's

Tiger Heat Necklace

Skirt: Rewind, Kohl's

Sweater: Mudd, Kohl's

Boho Beach Necklace

Bag: Ella & Elly, Zulily

Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily

Top: So, Kohl's

Awesome Arches Necklace

Skirt: Almost Famous, Kohl's

Bag: Mellow World, Kohl's

Scarf scrunchie: Wild Fable, Target

Sunny Seahorse Necklace

Top: So, Kohl's

We've all heard of mom jeans (I'm looking at you, SNL JCPenney jeans skit that I've referenced too many times).  And even boyfriend jeans.  But dad jeans?!  Until about a month ago, I thought that phrase was limited to being about inheriting the ability to tell corny jokes.  Yet apparently, it also describes a super wide, super comfortable, and (at least on me) super long cut of denim.  I almost wore this patched pair to Target but thought better of it, not wanting to trip and become a cleanup on aisle five.  

Jeans: So, Kohl's

That said, I'm still unsure how to feel about pants named after the patriarchy.  Then again, their vibe is more Woodstock than why-is-there-a-scratch-on-my-Caddy?  So I guess it's okay to hang with the man and keep these in the family. 

Unless, of course, the family's wearing khakis.

Shrill Quill, Will Thrill: What Happens When Easton Meets West

Last weekend, I binged the third and final season of the Hulu original comedy Shrill.  Based on journalist Lindy West's memoir of the same name, Shrill follows Annie Easton's (Aidy Bryant) journey as a fat twentysomething journalist jousting for justice.  Now, as I said when I blogged about Big Summer, I'm not and have never been fat and don't pretend to know how fat women feel.  But I am a woman and writer who knows all too well what it's like to be weird.  So, I was on team Annie from go.

When we first meet Annie, she's meek on the outside and enraged on the inside.  Although she's a staff writer at Portland's The Weekly Thorn, she's relegated to writing calendar entries, a gig that stifles her creativity.  She's sleeping with a guy who makes her use the back door so his roommates won't see her.  And everyone from strangers to her own mother urges her to lose weight while feigning concern for her health.  Usually, she shrugs it all off.  But one day she stops being quiet and starts questioning everything (indeed, an early chapter in West's book is called "How to Stop Being Shy in Eighteen Easy Steps").  The angrier Annie gets, the more powerful her writing becomes, earning her a reputation as a voice for the voiceless.  This isn't to say that she doesn't make a boatload of bad and hilarious decisions involving but not limited to vandalism, light stalking, and awkward social encounters.  Still, Bryant brings a kind of I-got-this calm to the crazy, reminding us that Annie's not only smart, sensitive, and talented, but worthy of our respect.  This is just one of the reasons why her many wrecked romances rankle.  I had to remind myself that Shrill isn't a rom com, however much I might want it to be, and that Lindy West's own story didn't exactly wrap with her and some dude riding off into the sunset.  But that's okay.  Because Shrill is about something more important, namely accepting yourself even when -- especially when -- no one else does.  

Along for the Shrill ride are Annie's no-nonsense, Nigerian, gay best friend Fran (Lolly Adefope), on-again-off-again bad news boyfriend Ryan (Luka Jones), narcissistic drama queen boss Gabe (John Cameron Mitchell), laidback but put-upon office husband Amadi (Ian Owens), and kooky coworker Maureen (Joe Firestone), whose Carol Kane energy all but levitates from her manic persona and wild curls.  

Some other stuff to watch for: 

1) Annie's dad, who's played by Daniel Stern, the non-Joe Pesci burglar in Home Alone.  (I knew he looked familiar!) 

2) Portlandia's Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein (Season 3).  Armisen cameos as Gabe's long-lost bandmate, and Brownstein directs three episodes.

And that brings us to that tired old thing that people do when they start speeches.  Dictionary.com defines shrill as "betraying some strong emotion or attitude in an exaggerated amount, as antagonism or defensiveness."  And to that I say, betray away. Because emotions aren't meant to be hidden.    

After all, the (quill) pen is mightier than the sword, that early and admittedly questionable line about "jousting for justice" notwithstanding.  

Maybe I should've started with the dictionary bit after all.

Jost Post: The One About Colin

Like most Saturday Night Live fans, I assumed that Colin Jost was 1) spawned from the spotless teak of a yacht anchored at a Connecticut country club, an idea that was only fueled by those Izod ads he did with Aaron Rodgers, and 2) a bro.  But it turns out that he's 1) a fat kid from Staten Island, and 2) a guy who got beat up by bros.  That's right.  He's from New York City's most undesirable borough, i.e., Pete Davidson's brother from another mother.  In retrospect, I should've seen this coming.  Because bros don't become comedians.  They become fry cooks or investment bankers.  I learned these tidbits and others about Jost after reading his book, A Very Punchable Face.  And that's when I began to really like him.  

Because I didn't -- like him, that is -- when he first appeared on Weekend Update.  I was like, "Who is this clown?  He's no Seth Meyers!"  And the husband was like, "Um, he's exactly like Seth Meyers, only not blond."  But I wasn't alone in my rage disappointment.  In Face, Jost parodies the bad press he received after landing the gig (196):

"I rarely use the word 'hate' and I rarely put words in boldface and underline them and italicize them, but I hate Colin Jost." -- USA Tomorrow

"I'm finding out where Colin Jost lives and I'm going to murder him." -- That Stalker Who Came to My House and Tried to Murder Me

"Two Stars." -- My Aunt in Her Annual Christmas Letter

Still, I began watching Update more closely.  Maybe the husband was right; maybe Jost wasn't as pompous as he seemed.  And his subtle, admittedly wry wit was reminiscent of Meyers's.  Over time, I grew to laugh with him instead of at him, and after a couple of seasons, I couldn't imagine Update without his boyish charm (or without Michael Che's snarkiness).  But it wasn't until I read Face that I found out what was really going on behind the man mask.  He's just a regular guy who just happens to have the perfectly coiffed hair of a Ken doll.  What's more, he wasn't some rent-a-rando who crashed SNL to oust Meyers.  He was good friends with Meyers and had been writing with him for years.  Which just goes to show that even after reading countless showbiz autobiographies, including several by SNL alumni, I still don't know how anything works.  

A Very Punchable Face is very funny.  And not just because it's a book-long joke about the scrappy yet eager-to-please, never-say-die bookworm behind Jost's tennis-anyone? kisser.  But because it includes an entire chapter about an adult Jost pooping his pants.  (See?  I told you he was regular.)  Jost also shares his travel adventures, revealing himself to be a bit of an adrenaline junkie.  Then again, you don't get your mug punched without seeking thrills and, intentionally or not, provoking the locals.  

Here's a passage that I particularly liked, partly because of my own past phone phobia, partly because I get the giggles whenever anyone mentions Omaha Steaks:

"I even get scared when the phone rings because I think, I'm not ready to speak yet.  I haven't figured out what to say.  But when I push through that fear and start saying words, I'm instantly relieved.  That's why answering the phone and talking to another human still feels like a huge psychological accomplishment.  (And that's why I currently have 254 un-listen-ed to voicemails.  The oldest is a call from Omaha Steaks in 2007!*)

*My credit card was declined for the "Surf and Turf Sampler" I bought my grandparents for Christmas." (5)

It's hard to imagine the seemingly sophisticated Jost WHO SPEAKS FOR A LIVING as tongue-tied.  Or spending his years at Harvard consorting with cape enthusiasts.  Or getting kicked out of a Russian nightclub, then leaving his host family their requested teddy bears before slinking back to the States.  Or routinely ordering a cheeseburger and nuggets as side dishes for his McDonald's Extra Value Meal.  And those are just the wholesome parts.  But it's all true (despite the husband's belief that every word in celebrity memoirs is fiction).

As for his relationship with wife Scarlett Johansson, Jost doesn't spill much (way to keep it classy).  But he does say that he and Scarlett first met on the set of SNL when he was just twenty-three and she twenty, which was more than a decade before they'd start dating.  Awwww!  

So, yeah.  I liked this book.  And I can't wait to watch Weekend Update again.  Because how can you not laugh with a guy who's so willing to laugh at himself?  

Still, I don't think I'll ever be able to see Jost without thinking, Get this guy a Porta-Potty!

Cirque du Sol-Play

When I was a kid, I thought that it would be fun to be a trapeze artist.  I think it was because of the spangly costumes.  Of course, I also thought that it would be fun to go hang gliding, and the attire for that doesn't get much more avant garde than REI.  So I guess what I really wanted was to take to the skies like the freest of birds.  (I do really, really like parrots.)  But then Hart (Leonard Staab) from my favorite soap, "The Guiding Light," had a hang gliding accident and became paralyzed.  And I thought that I would be better off sticking to more earthly pursuits.

These days, I quench my thirst for big top thrills with fanciful felt accessories (and yes, the most outlandish clothes that Kohl's has to offer), namely this here Fabulous Felt Autumn Clown Barrette, which I'm wearing above as a brooch. 

You may remember it from my ground-breaking and critically acclaimed post Send in the Gowns: Three Ring Sumo Circus.  It's funny to think of a clown as being cute instead of creepy.  I'm looking at you, It.  And also Jack Handey, who said, "To me, clowns aren't funny.  In fact, they're kinda scary.  I've wondered where this started, and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus and a clown killed my dad."  Even the clown in this sign for a local party supply store looks like he might go on a rampage. 

Thankfully, not everyone is fearful of Bozo.  I'm happy to report that I sold the Fabulous Felt Spring Clown Barrette to a loyal customer in California.  It gives me a sense of satisfaction -- and amusement! -- to know that there's someone else out there rocking it ringmaster style.

It's also nice to know that I can do my own stunts -- no trapeze required.

Bear Flair: The Joy of Corduroy

Mauve, white, teal, and raspberry minis: Wild Fable, Target
Tan mini: Celebrity Pink, Macy's
Lilac mini: Modcloth
Pants: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

The last time I blogged, it was October, and it was about jackets.  Now it's November . . . which means time for corduroy!  It doesn't get much more retro than this elegant yet rustic ribbed velvet that's most at home with Led Zeppelin and love beads.  Also, Adam Sandler's "Thanksgiving Song" ("my favorite kind of pants are corduroys"), which I guess is retro now too, having come out in the '90s.

So, yeah, I like this fally fabric, as evidenced by the picture above.  But someone else likes it beary much, too.  There are lots of famous grizzlies out there: the Berenstain Bears, the Care Bears, even, if we're to count that strange cartoon, the Gummy Bears.  But only one wears stylin' green overalls.  And that's our story's star, Corduroy.

A sweet and curious underdog if ever there was one, this library darling remains at the top of children's woodland creature wish lists (because yes, that's totally a thing).  And no wonder.  He's so much cuddlier than that creepy Teddy Ruxpin. 

Anyway, for those of you who don't know, the first book, Corduroy, introduces the title character as languishing in a toy store with a missing button.  Then a little girl named Lisa busts open her piggy bank and buys him.  She brings him home and, with some surprisingly deft needlework for a child, restores him to his former sartorial splendor.

Yet it's the second book, A Pocket for Corduroy, that captured my Pre-K imagination.  Lisa brings Corduroy to a laundromat, which is fun because there are lots of colorful pictures of clothes.  She tells Corduroy to stay put while she does her laundry, but he sees something with a pocket and wanders off because, hey, he wants a pocket too!  A kindly, beret-wearing artist washes Corduroy's overalls (and, in fact, mistakenly washes him!).  But then it's closing time, and he leaves Corduroy to brave the night alone.  To be fair, he does say he's "too fine a fellow to be lost."

Corduroy gets into some mischief involving detergent (because really, who hasn't?) and gives himself a bit of a fright.  But the next morning Lisa finds him.  He tells her about the pocket (apparently he's not one of those talking toys that hides his powers), and she promptly takes him home and stitches a snazzy purple one to his overalls.  

I think it was Corduroy's commitment to clothes that got me.  He understood the importance of details and wasn't afraid of a little danger if it meant snagging his look.

Take a hint, Snuggles, and put on some pants.    

Cherries and Berries and Mushrooms: A Walk in the Woods With a Fungi

 Fabulous Felt Cheery Cherries Brooch

Fabulous Felt Magic Mushroom Brooch 

Fabulous Felt Sweet Strawberry Brooch

Top: Candie's, Kohl's
Skirt: H&M
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Boscov's

Or perhaps I should say "fun girl."  Because when I see these brooches, I think mushrooms, and when I think mushrooms, I think woods.  And when I think woods, I think The Lady Who Lives in the Woods (also, Smurfs, but this is not about them).  The Lady Who Lives in the Woods is Ruth, a recurring character on truTV's At Home with Amy Sedaris.  Remember Simple Times: Crafts for Poor People?  Well, this is the live action version, complete with guest stars (Stephen Colbert!  Justin Theroux!  Chris Elliot!  Did I mention Steven Colbert?).  To be accurate, the show is more like a dysfunctional marriage between Simple Times and I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence, but being a borderline hermit uninterested in entertaining, I never read that one.  Anyway, The-Lady-Who-Lives-in-the-Woods Ruth is a seemingly laidback yet controlling naturalist who lives in a lodge and is always picking passive aggressive fights with her long-suffering, mime-like, live-in girlfriend.  Distinguished by her long, red Earth Mother hair and loden green poncho, Ruth says things like, "Moss -- that's nice" in a soothing yet grating voice that's a cross between Martha Stewart and half of the duo from SNL's "Delicious Dish." (Both of which, fun fact, were played by Ana Gasteyer.  So maybe I'm just saying that Ruth sounds like Ana, in which case, Ana, you're welcome.)  But that's Red -- I mean, Ruth -- for you, bursting the bubble of the myth that the forest is peaceful.  Which is just one of the reasons, I suppose, that she seeks solace in her pet bird, Artemis.  

Anyway, I think Amy would like the brooches.  Because they're weird and retro and could have easily been made by a tree-dwelling seven-year-old.  (No disrespect to tree dwellers.  Or seven-year-olds.)  Also, her show logo is a mushroom.

From one toadstool fool to another, I say: I'm talking to you too, Smurfette. 

Sugar and Spice and Everything Dice: Part 1

Red Candy Bow Barrette 

Green Candy Bow Barrette 

Candy Bow Barrettes

Top: Material Girl, Macy's

Skirt: Forever 21

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

*Please see the below post for the Introduction to this epic post series.  Or, if you stumbled upon this post while wandering the wilds of the internet and have no way of navigating this blog (if that's a thing; I'm not sure, crafts are my wheelhouse, not code), then click here.

Relax; you've hit the sweet spot.  Sugar is the first stop in this series, so what better way to kick it off than with candy?  I got these retro-licious, circus-slash-carnival-looking candy appliques from kawaii jewelry supply super seller Delish Beads and added them to some colorful bows.  Are they hard candies?  Or taffies?  Who knows?  Either way, they do kind of sort of resemble something that a Nicholas Sparks hero might bring to his sweetheart.  You know.  If Sparks sagas had a campy, Willy Wonka-meets-Shopkins type vibe.

If you know Sparks, then you know that he's sugary, penning the kind of saccharine, read-it-and-weep stuff that sends most men in search of the nearest Home Depot or Hooters.  Being a sucker for such fare, I've read everything he's ever written, even his nonfiction memoir Three Weeks with My Brother. He releases a new title every other fall, and the husband always gets me the latest for Christmas.  This year I was happy to learn that old Pepe Le Pew had published Two by Two just one year after See Me.  Like See Me (which was a bit of a thriller), Two by Two is edgier than Sparks's previous stories.  It's about a guy named Russ who gets divorced and is forced to fight for custody of his five-year-old daughter.  Which is no surprise considering that Sparks himself recently made things officially unofficial with his wife of 26 years. 

That said, there are shades of Sparks that are less than sweet in this novel.  And it's not just because both he and his alter ego called it quits on marriage.  In the real world, guys -- even troubadours -- get divorced.  It's because of Russ's slightly controlling, chauvinistic attitude toward his wife.  Vivian is a classically beautiful shopaholic who drops out of the PR rat race to be a stay-at-home mom.  She enjoys wine, reality TV, and yoga, and she doesn't eat sugar.  To be fair, Russ says that Vivian is a wonderful mother, not to mention a more dedicated parent than he is (well, except for one no-wire-hangers-ever moment and a new job that uproots their lives, both of which seem melodramatic and out-of-character for the generally level-headed if cliche-riddled Viv).  But Russ also complains that she lets her "chores" slip, whining that he "doesn't like a messy house," and going all Scrooge when she spends a little too much at -- gasp -- Walmart.  Although this neat freak cheapo chump makes appearances throughout the Sparks canon, he's more fully realized here, so much so that I can't help but wonder if Sparks himself is the kind of guy who runs his finger over mantles in search of dust and expects women to spend an eternity in last season's shoes.  One thing's for sure; he wouldn't take too kindly to our spice and dice representatives, in-your-face funny lady Amy Schumer and free-spirited spendthrift Rebecca Bloomwood (but more on them later).  Can it be that Mr. Sensitive is actually a (and the romantic in me cringes to type this) misogynist?  It's a weighty question, and one that shakes my belief in not only Sparks, but in fiction.  You see, I've always put a lot of stock in the Mark Twain quote "fiction is the truth inside the lie," which is to say that I think of writers as truth tellers, wise souls who have valuable information to impart about life.  But Two by Two forces me to admit that they -- or, at least some of them --- aren't Yoda-esque messengers at all, but agenda-toting hucksters pedaling shoddy goods.

Now that I've aired my hostilities, I feel okay saying that I still like Sparks's writing.  Fascist or not, he has a way with words, managing to make the minutiae of everyday life not only interesting, but a little bit charmed.  Which is hokey, sure, but nowhere near as bad as saying that you watch "The Bachelor" for the cinematography.  (To be clear, I do not watch "The Bachelor."  Unless you count that SNL parody where all of the contestants sidle up to Beard Hunk and theatrically purr, "Mmm, I like this.").  To that end, Two by Two is worth reading (and blogging about) despite, or perhaps because of, its need to be read through a more feminist lens.

So, here's to enjoying the journey without drinking the Kool-Aid.  Or, in this case, sweet tea.