New to View: Familiarity Breeds Content

Cardigan: So, Kohl's; Tee and jeans: Sonoma, Kohl's

Cherry Lightning Necklace

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Amazon

Hair clips: So, Kohl's

Shoes: Cherish, Zulily

Toadstools and Tulips Necklace

Bag: INC, Macy's

Hat: Amazon

Shoes: Jessica Simpson, DSW; Socks: Xhilaration, Target

Dress: Nine West, Kohl's

Bag: Delia's, Dolls Kill

Cressida Crescent Necklace

Sweater: Poof, Marshalls; Top: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Starry Light Earrings

Medallion necklace: Banana Republic; Pendant: Nine West, Kohl's; Sunglasses: Party City

Headband: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

They say that familiarity breeds contempt, and maybe with most things that's true.  Like people who start out as fun but end up shredding your nerves into razor-thin cheddar.  But when it comes to other things, putting the same-old on repeat is a comfort.  Which is one of the reasons I wore my Easter hat again.  And also why I love reruns.

Whether I'm testing my glucose, walking in place, or editing pics, it's reassuring to have The Golden Girls, Friends, or The Office humming in the background.  Partly because I already know what's going to happen.  Partly because no matter how complicated a fix Rose, Ross, or Michael get into, in the end, they make it through okay.  But also, paradoxically, because every time I see an old episode, I learn something new.

It's funny how something as "dumb" as TV can give you much-needed perspective.  

Kind of like how a ridiculous hat can help keep your head on straight.  

Dunder Mifflin Tiff? As If! The Office BFFs Put it all Down on Paper

What if The Office's Pam and Angela were best friends?  What if, instead of reluctant colleagues who tolerated each other at best and gossiped about each other at worst, they supported each other like sisters?  Surprise! (Or maybe not, as I'm always the last one to the office holiday party.)  In real life, Jenna Fischer and Angela Kinsey are each other's ride-or-die, as chronicled in their popular Office Ladies podcast and now in their book, The Office BFFs.

Weathering work, family, and other woes, Jen and Ange have a friendship that transcends sitcom seasons.  They're so in sync that they've even broken their toes at each other's houses (accidentally, of course, not as part of some weird friends-to-the-end blood oath).  I loved reading about their memories and anecdotes.  Also, it was fun to find out that Angela Kinsey is nothing like the sour and rigid Angela Martin.  She's warm, bubbly, and irreverent -- and clearly an amazing actor!

Still, it's these reflections from Jenna that are my favorite parts of the book:

"Pam's dreams are not extraordinary.  She wants to marry the man she loves, have a family, and feel creatively expressed in her work.  In the end, she gets all three.  It's not lost on me that the series ends when Pam's dreams come true.  The documentary doesn't stop when Michael leaves.  They keep filming.  I like to think that's because they might have been following Pam all along." (223)

Her words go hand in hand with Pam's last words in the finale:

"I thought it was weird when you picked us to make a documentary.  But all in all . . . I think an ordinary paper company like Dunder Mifflin was a great subject for a documentary.  There's a lot of beauty in ordinary things.  Isn't that kind of the point?" (299)

So yeah, The Office BFFs is a sweet, poignant read.  

And now I just may have to become a podcast person.

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. 

Trash Bash: Celebrating (and Berating) Stinky

 

In the spirit of revisiting the nostalgia and wisdom of TV shows from my childhood, I finally took a gander at The Pursuit of Grouchiness: Oscar the Grouch's Guide to Life, which is a gift book I got last Christmas.  Now, there are only three other famous Oscars that I can think of: Oscar from The Office, Oscar Mayer, and that gold statue that everyone in Hollywood covets come award season.  Needless to say, this book isn't about any of them, but the not-so-loveable character who lives on the seamier side of Sesame Street.  Everyone knows that Oscar the Grouch is a misanthrope in Muppet's clothing, a naysayer of the first order who's probably been kicked by life even more than his trash can.  

This would probably be a good time to reveal that I've spent most of my life as a pessimist -- in other words, a better-smelling Oscar, but an Oscar all the same.  These last few years, though, I've turned a corner into optimist territory, and I'll be the first to admit that it's a much brighter, more beautiful, and all around easier place to live.  Nevertheless, the snarky ghost of Tracy past couldn't help cracking a smile at some of Oscar's less-than-sunny-sentiments.  Here are some of my (her?) favorite parts.  Even if one is the about the author page.  

"We're grouches, we can only be happy when it rains."

Whoa.  A garbage can dweller who's only happy when it rains?!  Is it me, or was Garbage front woman Shirley Manson inspired to name her band and first hit single after the original Dumpster diver?   

"Morning people annoy me.  So do all other people."

I think this one speaks for itself.

"Oscar the Grouch doesn't need to explain himself to you.  

He lives in a trash can on Sesame Street."

I like this one because I still struggle to not explain myself.  

And finally, here's the incongruously upbeat bookmark I used to mark the aforementioned Oscar and friends (enemies? frenemies?) page.  Tricked out with the neon peace sign, yin yang, and happy face that were the poster child trio of '60s-turned-'90s pop culture, it stands for pretty much everything that Oscar doesn't. 

That said, the, ahem, Oscar (Emmy?  No, just go with the bit) goes to . . .

. . . Oscar the Grouch for his portrayal of a curmudgeon on Sesame Street! 

 Because anyone who expends that much enthusiasm for being miserable is, deep down, loving life.  

Horse With No Shame: How the West Was Fun

Top: Chaps, Kohl's

Camisole: Macy's

Boots: 2 Lips Too, Zulily

Cardigan thingy: Kohl's

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Marshalls

Scarf: Mossimo, Target

Remember those Stetson cologne commercials from the '90s?  The ones with the glamorous cowboy and cowgirl setting off on a horse for a night of romance?  (By the way, get ready for romance -- the word, not the thing -- because I'm going to use it a lot.)  I always found them intriguing, even if I never smelled the dubious drugstore scent they were hawking and knew better than to romanticize people who smell, not like adventure, but horse hide.  Maybe it's because I'm so firmly East Coast and am attracted to anything different.  Kind of like when Maine-bred interim Dunder Mifflin branch manager Deangelo Vickers (Will Ferrell) declared his love for paintings of the Southwest.  

That said, I think my love of western wear, both its bold serape stripes (I see you, Chaps sweatshirt) and blushing prairie florals (right on, Willa Cather-esque cardi), is rooted in delusion, er, idealism, much like Deangelo Vickers's.  It's a way for me to experience the wild west's romance without having to endure its hardscrabble reality. 

Because if there's anything I hate, then it's stuff described as hardscrabble.  

See above thing about smelly horses.

Crave the Rave: Curating Cranberries

Top: Vylette, Kohl's

Three Cheers for Cherries Necklace; You Glow, Girl! Necklace

Bag: Boscov's

Jumper: Current Mood, Dolls Kill

Boots: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Bracelets from top to bottom: Amrita Singh, Zulily; B Fabulous; Mixit, JCPenney; Steve Madden, Macy's

Jumper: Candie's, Kohl's

Top: Current Mood, Dolls Kill

Belt: Dolls Kill; Bag: Circus by Sam Edelman, Kohl's; Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bracelets: Kohl's

Daisy Star Unicorn Necklace

Skirt: Dolls Kill

Bag: Amazon

Shoes: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Top: Macy's Backstage

When the husband took these pics, he said that the thick-treaded boots and loafers looked very monster truck Barbie.  And although he was talking about the shoes, I couldn't help but think that it was a sentiment that also applied to the outfits.  Because each ensemble includes at least one thing from Dolls Kill -- in other words, hints of Bratz, Monster High, and other similarly sinister playthings -- just like a tasty but not-quite-top-shelf vintage.  There are also notes of plaid, stars, and sushi.  And plaid, of course, means the '90s and the lumberjack-meets-prep sweet/tart 'tude that goes with them.  So, we're not just talking cranberry wine, but also -- yes -- The Cranberries.  That said, let's raise a glass -- wine or Ocean Spray, you decide -- to dressing up as versions of who we once were with a spit spritz of somebody else.  In my case, an aging, rave-raging schoolgirl.

Even if I've never ever been to a rave and am terrified of zombies.  

Except for the song "Zombie"  That I love.  It's an anthem that transcends time and produce.  

Especially when Andy sings it on The Office.

Light at the End of the Funnel Neck: Shirts of Schrute

Skirt: Celebrity Pink, Macy's

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Top: TJ Maxx

Shoes: Mix No. 6, DSW

Wrap: Amazon

Headband: Lady Arya, Zulily; Mustard bracelet: Cloud Nine, Ocean City; Brown ring: Charlotte Russe; Black bangle: Mixit, JCPenney; Yellow bangle: Silver Linings, Ocean City; Black and white bracelet: Mixit, JCPenney; Magenta ring: Express

Bag: Kohl's

Shoes: Circus by Sam Edelman, Kohl's

I thought I knew everything there was to know about The Office, but now that I'm reading The Office: The Untold Story of the Greatest Sitcom of the 2000s, I can see that I was wrong.  Written by Rolling Stone veteran Andy Greene, this comprehensive, interview-rich history of how The Office went from underdog British knock-off to one of America's most beloved shows is nothing short of pure joy.  

The Office began life as a dark comedy, and when it first aired, I, like many others, didn't like it.  But when it hit its stride in Season 2, I began to appreciate, then love it, understanding that it wasn't really about an office at all, but about the people who felt trapped inside it.  The hilarious and sometimes sad way they got through their day was a spark of hope, that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.  So, it's inspiring to read about the cast and crew experiencing the same kind of slow success as they rode the wave from obscurity to fame.  It's cool to hear how Creed (Creed Bratton) weirded his way into becoming more than an extra, or how Andy (Ed Helms) started calling Jim (John Krasinski) Big Tuna because showrunner Greg Daniels once had tuna twice in a row for lunch.  There's even stuff about the set design and camera style, which I didn't expect to like but did.  I learned that in most sitcoms, the crew curates the set to look like a painting by choosing prop and costume colors that pop and complement.  This makes sense; I can think of tons of mediocre sitcoms I've tolerated over the years just because they looked pretty.  But The Office didn't want to look like a painting.  It wanted to look like an office, a real office.  And despite my love of color, that (eventually) made sense to me too.  The Office would never have been as believable if Dunder Mifflin and the people who toiled there looked glamorous.  

Nevertheless, one piece of clothing in the series stands out.  No, it's not one of Kelly Kapoor's (Mindy Kaling) outfits, the wrap dress that Pam (Jenna Fischer) wore during the fashion show at lunch, or even Michael's (Steve Carrell) Burlington Coat Factory fur from the infamous budget surplus debacle.  It's Dwight Schrute's (Rainn Wilson) mustard dress shirts.  Dwight's shirts became so integral to his identity that he complained about not getting to wear them during his short-lived and ill-fated stint at Staples.  Dwight's signature color is fitting because mustard is kind of like Dwight himself, unpalatable at first but strangely appealing once you get to know it.  So I decided to devote this post to outfits where this warm yellow shade, well, cuts the mustard (even if in just a few drops).  Sure, these ensembles also feature un-officey looks like a bold funnel neck top and hot pink faux fur.  But in the spirit of The Office's more, ahem, workaday aesthetic, I included a version of each with a muted, nearly black-and-white filter.  

Although I don't have any Schrute loot to use as a visual aid, I do have this Dunder Mifflin snow globe and Michael magnet.  The snow globe used to be in my cubicle. 

Speaking of keeping it real wardrobe wise, here I am in, of all things, a sweat suit.  (The husband suggested I say that "I mustered the courage" to wear it.  Husband and French's, you're welcome.)  Despite having been voted least likely to wear sweatpants in eighth grade, this quarantine's got me collecting -- and living in -- loungewear.  

Sweat suit: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's      

Now that I work from home, I'm the one wearing mustard to the office -- not to mention any number of other unsightly things (my ratty old bathrobe, pajamas, even, on occasion, a muumuu).  And I've discovered that there's something nice about writing reports and editing documents in the comfort of my down-home duds.

Art imitates life, life imitates art.  The heart wants what it wants, and what it wants is the heart.  And the art.

It's lines like this that make me think of the mumbo-jumbo monologues of Michael Scott.  And remind me to not quit my day job.