It’s been a hot and sticky week in New York City. I showed up to a meeting on Tuesday looking like something out of a terrifying Dali painting, my face dripping off and collecting on the table in a puddle of melted wax. My colleague literally watched me lose 2 pounds over the hour I was there. My boobs were actually lactating sweat — which would be a super trick if I could find a way to lactate beer. Or french fries. Or liquid gold. Might almost be worth the hassle of getting pregnant, minus the weight gain and residual child. At any rate, I feel bad for the war correspondents in the Middle East. Not because they’re in harm’s way, but because keeping their makeup on must be a bitch.
Speaking of lactation, I read that Gisele Bundchen wants to make breastfeeding a “worldwide law” for the first six months of a baby’s life — yet more proof that having kids apparently makes you batshit crazy. And it’s not just famous folks — I have a good friend who recently became a father, and is acting like he’s the first person in the history of the world to perform this spectacular feat. During a debate about immigration his only argument was that because I don’t have kids, my opinion counts less. When we talked about Afghanistan, same thing. Health care? Same thing. I realized it’s not an uncommon thought — I remember when Ma’am Sen. Barbara Boxer said that then Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice wasn’t qualified to weigh in on the Iraq surge because she didn’t have children. If I can’t procreate for beer lactation, I might have kids just to gain some credibility as a pundit. Apparently it’s a requisite.
The Real Housewives of DC aired last night. Yes, I watched. It was both sad and fabulous all at the same time, of course, but I hope Michaele Salahi’s View appearance and subsequent fallout makes it on to the show at some point. According to her lawyer (who is presumably on call 24/7), she felt she was “demeaned and degraded” by the hosts, and actually assaulted (!) by Whoopi Goldberg. I think it’s safe to say the whole of Salahi’s life is demeaning and degrading, but she just doesn’t know it, poor thing.
Saw the “Jersey Shore” season premiere last week and was shocked to hear that Snooki stopped tanning because she doesn’t like Obama’s tax on tanning beds (she does offer that, being dark-skinned, he probably doesn’t need to tan.) Now if only the rest of the country would vote with their wallets like she does! Snooki for President.
On that subject read a Newsweek article titled “Jersey Shore: America’s New Icons.” To be clear, it wasn’t “America’s New Icons?” but a definitive, punctuated declaration of their status. Predictably, the piece fretted nervously about what “shows like the Jersey Shore say to other countries about what it means to be an American.” As Joshua Alston put it (I guess Ramin Setoodah was unavailable) “It’s one thing to have Snooki as a guilty pleasure, but how is she doing as an ambassador?” Um, she’s doing terribly, Mr. Alston. But thanks for asking the tough questions. Newsweek’s not only run out of cash but also good story ideas, as was also evidenced by this week’s cover story — a non-ironic celebration of “The Reinvention of the Reverend Al.” Next up? Newsweek tackles the tough subject of pet parades and explains why Vince Shlomi could actually sell peace to the Middle East.