Oh, pervy cigar ad, how fortunate we are that you are old, so we can laugh at you.
Profile for Jessica Wakeman
- Controversial women’s issues writer Katie Roiphe penned an essay for Sunday’s New York Times Book Review lamenting what’s happened to male novelists writing about sex. In the ’60s and ’70s, many balked at the ravenous, at times violent, depictions of sexuality in books by writers like Philip Roth, John Updike and Norman Mailer. But the “Great Male Novelists” of today that Roiphe cites—men like Dave Eggers and Jonathan Franzen—write more passively and apologetically about sex. It’s another “let’s blame feminists for everything” type of piece, but it also led me to believe this woman has never heard of Tucker Max. [New York Times Book Review]
- Legislators in Kansas hope to block $250,000 in federal funds for preventing unwanted pregnancies from going to two Planned Parenthood clinics. Ugh. Please stop being foolish, people! [Kansas.com]
- Grr. Why is it that women who start their own businesses are called “lipstick entrepreneurs”? Can’t we just be regular entrepreneurs like men? [Times of London]
“It’s funny. When [my husband] Laurence and I go out into the countryside, I think a few of the older locals actually believe I’m a whore … They follow him around, they want to mother him …Then they look at me and are like, ‘That slag! How could you dirty yourself with her? She’s corrupted you.’”
I used to hate women on diets. They look at your frosted brownie, then at your waist, then at your cookie again. Women on diets whine, “I can’t eat that…” They poke and prod their bellies and upper arms like displeased factory inspectors. They complain about how “fat” they look seemingly because they want someone to compliment them. Let’s face it: women on “diets” are annoying.
Me? I thought I’d just count calories because I’m trying to lose weight. Keep reading »
If you were anywhere near as dorky in middle school as the Frisky staff, you passed many an hour not on the phone with boys and instead reading The Baby-Sitters Club. Each one was only about 200 pages but the series seemed endless. The Baby-Sitters Club was published from 1986 to 2000, when all the books went out of print … until now. Keep reading »
If you came of age in the early 2000s, like I did, pop culture was strange—strangely plastic, that is. Britney Spears had the hottest body on earth, but she married a skeezebag and shaved her head. Paris Hilton had a sex tape, then a TV show and then everyone wanted to be her best friend. Hugh Hefner‘s bunny-girlfriends got their own show and then two of them spun off and started shows of their own.
All the way up to 2007, things were looking weird, when “Gossip Girl” debuted and Blake Lively‘s cleavage co-starred in every scene. Yes, indeed, the 2000s were the decade to be conventionally pretty, blonde, silicone, slick, PR-laden, lawyered up, and above all, fake.
Yes, 2009 sucked and we’re all glad that it’s over. But in 2009, pop culture had mercy on our souls. It couldn’t run on fumes anymore. People, one hopes, got bored. And so, against all odds, 2009 became the Year Of The Real Girl. Keep reading »
If the sex scene in “Avatar” disappointed you, you’re not alone. James Cameron spent a quarter of a billion dollars on special effects, but there wasn’t even a hint of damn Na’vi peen. (Apparently, they screw by sticking their tails together?) Zoe Saldana, the actress who played Neytiri, has a little explanation:
“…Because [Cameron] was shooting for a PG-13 rating, we couldn’t move in certain directions. The motion would look a little too past the PG-13 rating standards. So it was really funny for Sam [Worthington] and me. We had a lot of giggles there.”
Fortunately, Saldana hinted we might get what we’re looking for in an unrated, special-edition DVD.
But let’s not forget there were an awful lot of curse words in “Avatar,” as well as bombings, death and cruelty. This is America today, folks: 13-year-olds can watch a movie with a lot of colonialist carpetbombing and S-bombs, but no Na’vi sex. [New York Magazine] Keep reading »