Posted at 10:51 AM Dec 18, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
There are 89.8 million single people in the United States--according to a 2006 U.S. census press release, that is, 41 percent of us. And there are probably more who are divorced, widowed, etc., who don't consider themselves properly "single." More than half of the single folks are women. So, like, everybody you know right?
Singles are supposedly the target demo for Singular Magazine, a publication for, well, I'll just let them say it:
"In a society that still tries to tell us individuals must be married to be happy, successful and "complete," Singular Communications is breaking the mold. They have created a vibrant community where unmarried adults in Los Angeles can come together and celebrate the benefits and positive aspects of the single lifestyle. It's a fresh new view of what it means to be single in Los Angeles."
I'm not sure people in L.A. have felt an oppressive need to be married since divorce was invented, but I'll take their word for it. The magazine itself seems to have a sense of humor, or is at least okay with borrowing Amy Sedaris', since she's their holiday cover girl. Singular also has a rather tasteless sense of luxury, according to MediaPost's "Magazine Rack," from which I heard of this single-positive pub. Oh, to be loaded and single and to have gone this long without a magazine!
The mag's online ads, at least, try to fight the (married) power: on the Singular site I found a link to an eBay listing (?) for the Singelringen! It's a little Swede-made ring that advertises your singlehood to the (hopefully interested) world. Why do they only come in blue? I hardly ever wear blue. Or go to Sweden.
Posted at 4:47 PM Nov 21, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
The New York City I used to live in is and was nothing like the New York City of New York magazine, where disposable income runs rampant and designer clothing diarrhea is a serious epidemic. My NYC bore no resemblance to Carrie Bradshaw's playground or the Gossip Girl landscape. Which is probably why I did love Sex and the City and the Sunday Styles section so very much. In the Big Apple, escapism is never far away, especially when your apartment is the size of a Kleenex box.
Still, I remain miffed at New York's Live Cheap: Without Giving Up Much feature this month. Given the New York demographic, I didn't expect all of it to apply to me. So imagine my surprise when just about all of it applied to me. No, not in that I could take the advice for my own life. But in that everything it touts doing to save money ... I'm already doing because that's the way us poor folk roll.
Ladies and gentlemen of New York City, if the "Live Cheap" prescription seems impossible, please allow me to offer some words of encouragement if you're going to be taking a step down on the recession ladder to join me and, oh, the rest of the planet.
Drink at dive bars: Not only will this not kill you, it is also unlikely to upset your delicate New York drink palette. Say the words "Bud Light" and down that thing, fast. Think of it as drink camping. It's only temporary, and it. is. going. to. be. fun. dammit.
Embrace low fashion: This means shopping at J. Crew and Zara. Shit. I wish I could shop at J. Crew and Zara.
Have "frugal fun": Here, they advise you to go see Mark Kozelek instead of AC/DC. I don't call this having "frugal fun." I call this "listening to good music."
Recycle your romances: Since it's too expensive to date and impress new people, you should just keep getting back together with your exes. I'm pretty sure me and my man o' the hour are on version 6.0 now. I used to think that just meant we had issues, but now I know we're just recession-proof. Call up somebody in that lil' black book and join us!
Posted at 4:43 PM Nov 19, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
Settle in front of the fire with a glass of zinf', a box of chocolates and your favorite Pottery Barn blanket, ladies! People has released its sexiest men of 2008, and the steam is on!
... is what I would write if I wrote press releases for People magazine. But since I write snark for Heartless Doll, we'll be doing things a little differently. Here now, I give you: what People's "Sexiest Men Alive" for 2008 will be doing in five years.
1. Hugh Jackman - Starring alongside a hot young Aussie starlet in AUSTRALIA II: New Zealand before going to live in the wilderness for six months to prepare for Wolverine: The Untold Story.
2. Daniel Craig - Dividing his time between the next Bond flick, Magnum of Penis, and the wacky BBC sitcom showing his softer side, Oh, Daniel!
3. Jon Hamm - Starring in the seventh season of Mad Men, where they discover a time machine and start creating ads for the year 2360.
4. Zac Efron - Gay porn.
5. Robert Buckley - Getting even more tired of people asking him if he's related to Jeff.
Posted at 5:45 PM Nov 18, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
Here's an incongruous visual for you: ballerinas and bars. Images of tutus and Bud Light don't exactly go main dans main, do they? Of course, leave it to New York City to figure out a way to combine them.
Actually, I'm talking about bailarinas, Hispanic and Central American dancers who work in dance clubs and get paid by the dance. And okay, it's not me talking about them, it's New York magazine. In "Two Bucks A Dance," Debbie Nathan slices a piece of life for us:
"Rosa is a bailarina. For a couple of dollars per song, she dances with strangers in a bailarina bar. It’s a job held by many immigrant women in Spanish-speaking New York, filling a need created by many immigrant men. The man on the phone is typical of her clients. He’s in his twenties, doesn’t speak English, and immigrated to the United States by himself—no mother, no girlfriend, no wife. He works six days a week at a restaurant and sends his money back home to Ecuador. Most of all, he’s lonely."
But a couple of bucks a dance can turn into hundreds of dollars a night in paid companionship--no sex implied. In fact, most of the guys just seem to want a pretty girl to pal around with. Who could blame them? Strange country, strange language, strange white women gadding around in Carrie Bradshaw heels. I'd take a couple of minutes with a bailarina, for sure.
Bonus: all the clients aren't immigrant men. Some are Orthodox Jews. They call them pinguinitos because of their black-and-white clothing. I call that just about the cutest thing I've ever heard.
Posted at 7:07 AM Nov 11, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
It's a shame I like watching television at 1:00 a.m. so much, 'cause it sucks to be winding down from a long day and have to get all riled up again when I see a Girls Gone Wild infomercial. Blame the girls, blame Joe Francis, blame my chronic insomnia, but the whole brand just reeks of glitter-lotioned ignorance. So allow me to express my surprise at New York's recent portrayal of a non-promiscuous co-ed on their Daily Intel blog.
In "The Contemplative, Not-Getting-Any College Student," NY's occasional foray into the sex lives of others actually contains no sex. Does the fact that it's written by a 20-year-old college student living in New York City surprise you?
"12:30 p.m.: At school. Contrary to popular belief, there aren’t many romantic options for female college students in New York. Or, I should say, for girls who don’t want to either (a) be in relationships with much older men, (b) have sex with guys who wear bronzer, or (c) hook up with the rare straight college males who are very aware of what a commodity they are."
Oh, hon. Sounds like a Water Street dorm Bobcat (Hey, did you know NYU had a mascot? Yeah. It's named after the library catalog--Bobst Catalog.) The author gets dissed in the comments by folks calling her stupid, square, or worse, a liar. To them I say: I was so, so in her boat five years ago. Consider this gal vouched for.
Sure, NYU's full of hot men. Most of them are gay. What of NYC itself? Yes, plenty of men--and even more women. What's a straight gal to do? Well, do what I did--snag one on the first day of orientation or bed a grad student too busy to go trolling for tail elsewhere. But NY Mag's gal? She's got another option:
Noon: I contemplate masturbating this morning to put off my homework, but I feel too lazy to even bother. Maybe like a chameleon, my sex drive has adapted to its surroundings.
2:30 p.m.: Trying to put off my homework even more, I scan through my Facebook account, my BlackBerry, and my in-box trying to think if I am friends with any guys who I haven’t hooked up with already. Zilch.
Don't give up, Contemplative Not-Getting-Any College Student. Your day will come, and so will you.
Posted at 3:17 PM Oct 21, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
There's a lot to like (or in my case, love) about Sex and the City. Unfortunately the thing I love least of all is probably what most non-SATC fans are most familiar with: the show's shoe obsession. Say you're a SATC fan in front of a n00b, and chances are you're going to get asked, "Why do you like a show about overpriced shoes?"
No doubt, SATC vaulted designer shoes (and designers, cough, Manolo) into the mainstream vernacular. Of course, whether designers really want to be in the mainstream vernacular is another story, but I'd bet the paycheck makes any highbrow artistic aspirations a little easier to forget about. Regardless, this shoe business is getting out of control.
Late last week, Christian Louboutin announced his intention to produce an 8" high heel.
Ladies, I ask you, what the hell are we doing to our feet? We already know we could end up a bunch of hobbling cripples by the age of 50. And yet we plow (or demurely step) on. I'm a victim, myself. I love, love love my Cole Haan 3" pumps with the Nike Air soles. No, they're not good for jogging, but they're a hell of a lot better feeling than the other shoes I'm likely to wear: vintage heels in all shapes and sizes. Sparkly, shiny, bright, understated, I don't care--my closet is absolutely overflowing with heels gleaned from thrift stores, vintage shops and my mother's closet over the past decade.
And yet, how far is too far? I shudder to think of the damage I've already done to my feet, plodding along through New York City and London, walking miles a day at a height of 2" or more. Since moving to Austin, I've obtained a bike and a love for flats, and I'm only now realizing that my feet don't have to hurt all the time! And so I ache, literally and figuratively, for the celebuladies in People's Style Watch "Star's Most Outrageous Shoes" today and their shocking pedi-donkulousness.
Case in point: the Antonio Berardi boots recently worn by Victoria Beckham. You may see this runway photo, and think, hey, those are just some tall boots. But click the link--they don't have heels! Yes, they are kind of fabulous, but WTF? Does David Beckham care what kind of shoes Posh wears? Does any man, for that matter, go around choosing women based on the height and ridiculousness of her footwear? (Oh, dear. Don't answer that if you, uh, do do that.)
With some notable drag or TG exceptions, I've never seen a man in a pair of heels or any shoe, for that matter, that he felt was uncomfortable. And yet day in and day out, us girls schlep around with blistered feet. With the intention of pleasing ... whom?
Posted at 1:44 PM Oct 16, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
You know how you always imagine that the popular, pretty girl's life isn't as great as it seems to be but you never get around to proving it, especially not after you got caught stalking her and had that stupid restraining order set against you and who really is able to judge precisely how long 50 feet is, anyway?
Maybe just me. OK.
So excuse me for being totally riveted by the new Maureen McCormick, a.k.a. Marcia Brady, revelations about drug use and venereal disease. Oh yes, venereal disease. That Brady Bunch set sounds like a parrrrrrty on bizarre green astroturf. OK Mag has the scoop on the scoop McCormick's giving The Morning Show with Some Guy and Some Girl, and a hearty spoonful it is:
"My grandmother died in a mental institution, she had contracted syphilis from her husband...he committed suicide a week after. My mother contracted the disease from my grandmother" ....
Add cocaine and abortions and you've got one hell of a memoir, McCormick. (Well, literally ... the book's called Here's the Story: Surviving Marcia Brady and Finding My True Voice.) Sing-along time, everybody!
Here's the story of an actress lady
Who was famous in another time and another world.
She was raking in cash and gold, no regard for others,
But she was one sad girl.
On the TV, she played Marcia Brady,
A goody-two-shoes, liked to talk on the phone,
But in real life, things were way different,
A different kinda line at home.
There was one day when the lady met this fellow
His name was Spielberg, and she nearly lost her lunch,
She was so high she didn't know up from downish,
Nobody hired her and her career went into a slump.
Oh, Brady Bunch,
That's the way it was behind the scenes on the Brady Bunch.
The Brady Bunch!
Posted at 7:44 AM Oct 10, 2008
by Andrea Grimes
Who knows more about karma and chameleons than Boy George? None! None, I say! And so it's rather appropriate that he's reaching out to our poor, troubled Amy Winehouse. Using his vocal chords for the force of good for the first time in a quarter century, the former drug addict has announced he thinks Winehouse ought to quit taking the drugs. Boy, Boy George, you are nothing if not observant. And that's why I've modified your 80s classic Karma Chameleon to make sure we really, really get through to Winehouse.
Come-a Clean, Young One
Stumbling round with your eyeliner all astray
If I confiscated your pipe would you say
Im a girl with drug convictions
Im a girl who will not show
How to quit an addiction
Rehab, just go
Rehab, just go
Come-a come-a come-a come-a come-a clean, young one
Something on your nose
Something on your nose
Quitting won't be easy no more seeing colors on LSD
Red, gold and green
Red, gold and green
Used to hear your soulful songs every day
And you used to be almost coherent, oh Amy
You said drugs weren't an addiction
When you sing your voice is gone
When it goes, you're gone forever
Grammy's gone
Grammy's gone
Every day, paparazzi survival
Pete was your lover, now your rival
Every day, beehive survival
Hairspray's your lover, not your rival
Find a man with conviction
Find a man who doesn't know
How to sell a coke concoction
Rehab, just go
Rehab, just go
Posted at 1:00 PM Sep 30, 2008
by Andrea Grimes
50 Rules to Being a Gentleman. No, it's not a guide to getting your transgender on, it's a guide to proper conduct for "dudes who split bills on fast-food dates," brought to you by King magazine, "the illest men's magazine ever." Of course, King fails to take into account the fact that any "dude" who splits a fast-food bill probably doesn't spend a lot of time reading magazines or critically evaluating his own behavior or having thoughts.
But that shouldn't bar us from passing on a few tips just in case you ladies out there are dating un-ill men. For instance, rapper Q-Tip suggests tip #40: "“[As far as books], start with the classics: Catcher in the Rye, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Odyssey, Crime and Punishment.” Does that seem too hard? Skip right on to #39: "If reading books the size of War & Peace seems daunting, peruse different types of magazines—ones covering art, architecture, design or photography."
They don't really get to the good stuff until #19: "Avoid unnecessary use of expletives in public, especially in the presence of a woman you’re trying to impress." King, you suggested someone read Crime and Punishment before telling them not to drop F-bombs? Baby steps, for fuck's sake. Oops.
Tip #8 just makes me want to cry: "Even if you’re having a one-night stand with a woman, be respectful. Jay-Z might brag about kicking women out five minutes after having sex with them, but he’s not having sex with your date—you are. Casual sex needn’t be disrespectful. In fact, it’s more fun when its not."
But what's the #1 way to be a gentleman? Don't procreate! "Young guys should pump their brakes," declareth King. "Don’t have kids until you’re 30, and look at her family and background to know what you’re getting into."
Yet, King has missed the forest for the trees. Based on a perusal of King covers, I'd posit that a great start to becoming a gentleman would be avoiding King altogether.
Posted at 10:30 AM Sep 15, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
Picked up your copy of Garden and Gun magazine, yet? It's a publication for the "New South," where gardens and guns live in harmony together with mint juleps and wide-brimmed hats. Infuriatingly, the magazine doesn't have any breaking news in the War of Northern Aggression. Which is strange, because I'm sure I heard something about Georgia being invaded recently.
One can only speculate as to how Southerners kept their gardens and guns properly maintained before a publishing genius fulfilled this most nichest of niches. Trouble is, how do you know if you're an Old Southerner or a New Southerner? I've delineated a few key points in Garden and Gun that should help you decide whether to subscribe or just to head out for a Rooty Tooty Fresh 'n Fruity with the guys from the feed store.
New South: "The Pork Is In The Mail," about 10 "iconic" Southern foods you can order through the mail
Old South: Actually cooking dinner
New South: Thoughtful, prosaic "Goodbye, Bo Diddley" memorial obituary
Old South: Drinking moonshine and listening to Bo Diddley
New South: "Miranda Lambert: The New Queen of Country"
Old South: "Quit yer yammerin and put on that Loretta Lynn record. We don't need no new damn queen."
New South: A reader writes ""I am a 44-year-old avid hunter and saltwater fly fisherman. I also like a great bottle of wine and 700 thread-count cotton sheets on my hunt camp bed."
Old South: "What in the hell is your dysfunction, friend? Now get in the deer blind and shut up."
New South: "A Love Letter to Southern Coaches"
Old South: "I'll tell you what, if Mac Brown doesn't get his shit together this season, I'm gonna go down there to that damned University of Texas and coach the bitch myself."
Old and New South: gardens, guns
Posted at 6:53 AM Sep 12, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
Hello from London! This girl just spent 10 hours on an airplane. Does that mean I got a lot of work done and sat next to a handsome Englishman dying to show me around upon landing? Hellz no. I watched TK Mrs. Pettigrew, and sat next to a toddler with the world's most astounding, enduring set of vocal chords. Truly, the little beast was a medical anomaly. I can only hope the parents were taking it in to get tagged or cataloged or similar.
The urge to buy a Cosmo in an airport is nearly undeniable, and it overtakes women who ought to know better with shocking ease. However, I decided that as long as I was going to be reading suspect literature, I might as well go all the way. So I bought a Maxim, too, and spent the better part of Screamer Fit No. 9 (A Concerto) doing a page-by-page comparison of the two magazines.
Without further comment, I give you Cosmo vs. Maxim: What A Man Wants. Draw what conclusions you will.
Cosmo cover : tousle-haired Kate Hudson wearing a plaid corset
Maxim cover : tousle-haired Megan Fox holding a bedsheet
Cosmo page 47: "Hot Sheet" declares taking back your ex is a bad idea
Maxim page 47: "High Infidelity" tells you why your girlfriend is cheating on you
Cosmo page 50: "6 Things You Didn't Know About Kate Hudson"
Maxim page 50: "The Worst Teams in College Football"
Cosmo page 56: "When Guys Bail Without Warning"
Maxim page 56: An open letter to Megan Fox declaring her "Earth's Hottest Girl"; lingerie pictures of Megan Fox
Cosmo page 61: black-and-white advertisement for Calvin Klein perfume featuring (implied) topless model (implied) in the throes of ecstasy
Maxim page 61: "48 Hours in Las Vegas" guide to debauchery
Cosmo page 78: "This Is What It Means When Guys Cry"
Maxim page 78: Interview with actress Nadine Velazquez re: crotchless panties; photo of aforementioned actress in bra
Posted at 11:03 AM Sep 10, 2008
by Andrea Grimes
Never underestimate reality television's continuing dedication to making "reality" out of people whose job it is to subvert and alter reality. Except this time, they're not exposing manipulative celebs a la Denise Richards, they're tailing Marie Claire mag staffers. They'll be the new subject of a "docu-reality" series on the Style Network, airing in March.
Could be a disaster; could be fascinating. If it's going to be all launch parties and fashion shows, and if those super-confessional diary entries are going to be all about overblown office politics, I'll opt out. But if there's just one scene--one scene--where they show an overloaded editor saying, "Fuck it, Avon sent us this sample lipstick and I need something pink to go on this spread, so we're calling this stuff the new It Stick and if anyone disagrees they can shove this Venti latte down their promotional Prada clutch!" I'll be a happy, happy camper.
Other key elements of the show I'd love to see: cover line writing sessions and the awkward silence in editorial meetings when someone asks who'd like to write "150 Hairstyles Even You Can Master" (you idiot?). Will staffers confess to the intense pressure in the fashion journo world to look superhot on $28k/year in Manhattan? Or will everything remain mysteriously fabulous, jet-setting and dramatic?
We'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, I'm going to go take notes on the Top 10 Best Watches for Fall. What if I pick the wrong one?
Posted at 10:52 AM Sep 09, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
I'm sitting here on a lawn on the campus of the University of Texas, hanging out with a group of women's studies gals who've convened to sit around and talk about the patriarchy and other man-hatin' issues on our agenda. And I'm surfing the 'Net, thinking I've gotta get some more fascinating content up for you guys, and I come across this Style.com article: "The New Infidelity."
"You guys are not going to believe what I'm reading right now," I piped, interrupting a discussion about Arab representations in Western media. (WERE SMRT.) "Women commit infidelity! And you know why? Style.com does: men do too much housework."
It's a conversation stopper. I quoth:
"... Diane Shader Smith, the author of Undressing Infidelity: Why More Women Are Unfaithful [says] "Nowadays women have jobs. And if they're home, there are gardeners, there are pool men. They have opportunities and they feel empowered." They also feel sexual. And while your prowess with a Dyson is commendable, it's hardly titillating."
That's right, dudes. Put the housework down and start being an unavailable man-ball of testosterone. That'll definitely keep your wife from stepping out.
At least one real-life rebuttal from our circle: "My husband is a sweet angel. That is ridiculous."
Posted at 11:10 AM Sep 04, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
People magazine's "BodyWatch" section, a thoughtful exploration of body-image issues and health concerns, offers valuable insight today into a few revolutionary self-grooming, weight-loss and well-being techniques that will enrich your daily routine. By using real-life examples from the popular celebrities we know and admire, we can better understand how to make ourselves in their image. In this paper, I will attempt to draw out some of the key arguments presented in "BodyWatch" and translate them into a more accessible form for Heartless Doll readers.
Initially, BodyWatch theorist Amy Keith advises those seeking to lose weight to follow the example of actress Eva Mendes. She notes: "Consistency is key for Eva Mendes, who makes fitness a part of her daily life." One way in which readers can achieve this is by having a personal trainer. Keith notes that this is not possible for everyone. Alternately, "If you need inspiration to get moving, read Health.com." In the vernacular: have trouble getting off your ass and losing weight? Surf the Internet.
Next, the notable aesthetic authority Maureen Harrington presents the results of what has clearly been years of close research based on the skin care regime of Orlando Bloom. "Orlando Bloom keeps his skin looking camera-ready with another great British export – U.K.-based Liz Earle Naturally Active Skincare line." If one's socioeconomic status prevents one from purchasing this line of skincare, Harrington offers an alternative: "Read about more healthy skincare ideas on Health.com." If this seems too esoteric for readers, allow me to summarize briefly: "Read about more healthy skincare ideas on Health.com."
Thirdly, health-anthropologist Lisa Marsh expounds at some length on the advantages of teaching healthy habits to children as young as 3 years old through the example of The Biggest Loser star Allison Sweeney. "Sweeney is already teaching 3-year-old son Ben the importance of exercise," writes Marsh. If this theory seems problematic, consider alternately the horror of having a fat toddler. Confused? Marsh posits: "Find out how to feel and look your best while you're expecting on Health.com." It is a refreshingly postmodern embracing of new media; who are doctors, and what is truth? Read Health.com, perhaps, to find out.
Serena Kappes, who needs no introduction, considers the problem of back pain and wastes no time in offering her interpretation: "dancer-turned-teacher Elaine Petrone's The Elaine Petrone Method: Stop the Back Pain could offer you some relief." Her theory speaks for itself, but the conclusion she draws is worth considering: "Find out five other ways to baby your back on Health.com."
Kappes goes on, in another section, to the cultural significance of chocolate craving in adult females: "The Real Housewives of New York City star Bethenny Frankel, who's also a natural-foods chef, made a guilt-free chocolate muffin..." for a Law and Order actress. Feeling a gastronomical desire for the muffins is natural. We may examine the muffin in detail, according to an uncharacteristically enthusiastic Kappes, "Get the recipe for Mariska's Joyful Heart Fudge Chip Muffins on Health.com!" At this point, one may identify an interesting pattern with regard to Health.com. Can the reader suss it out? We will discuss next class.
Posted at 8:29 AM Aug 21, 2008
By Andrea Grimes
How can it be that the world's oldest profession is still so incredibly fascinating to us repressed Americans? You'd think after a few thousand years of whoring around, we'd have all the juicy deets. But other peoples' illicit sex lives never get old, and even though "Secrets of a Hipster Hooker" in Radar this month tells me absolutely nothing I didn't already know about hookers, it's not any less riveting. Hell, this could be a million monkeys pecking away at typewriters, and if one of them came up with a barely readable article about sex workers, I'd devour it.
Added bonus: the author, a brave/stupid Jessica Pilot, whose tits aren't big enough to warrant her a four-figure hourly rate, according to her madam, actually tries hooking. The rest of the time, she's interviewing a few well-bred call girls whose trust funds, one would think, should make the temptation to sell their bodies rather small. But they rake in $300,000 in tax-free cash, and one of their clients even does their taxes!
But here's where every article and fable about prostitution fails, including this one: nowhere is there a discussion of STD's. One of these girls estimates she's slept with 70 clients in a couple of years of working. I don't care if you use a condom every time, something's bound to slip through. And yet, these high class call-girls never seem to address the issue of contracting anything. Then again, maybe they're so expensive because they get tested all the time. And if that's the case, I want to know.
There are 89.8 million single people in the United States--according to a 2006 U.S. census press release, that is, 41 percent of us. And there are probably more who are divorced, widowed, etc., who don't consider themselves properly "single." More than half of the single folks are women. So, like, everybody you know right?
