Reviewed: Presidential Address

Last night was the presidential address, which in the past has really annoyed me by taking place instead of Gossip Girl, but I had just gotten home from a drink with a friend and Obama's quite nice to look at so I curled up on the couch with Joe and shared a handful of Reese's Pieces. Of course, the mood in the room was so different this time around, like I could spookily feel it through the television. Obama's our celebrity, but it's more than that. It's the way he addresses, not just the Congress, but "Madam First Lady" and looks for Michelle, and she smiles and blows him a kiss and mouths, I love you--and oh my, it's so nice to see an American President so in love with his wife!  

I'm an easy kind of girl these days on politics. I could have just watched the first ten minutes of that speech--ha! the first 30 seconds of the speech--just long enough for that I love you and that's all I need to know. (If you're looking for in depth political analysis--yikes!--go elsewhere.)

All I can say to the rest of the world is--jealous? I am, and I live here! I wanted to be that little girl who got a hug from our gorgeous First Lady. I wanted to be the First Lady. And that made me think, how many little kids in their homes tonight are looking at the television thinking the same thing about Michelle Obama, about Barack Obama. That means that a bunch of little minds are inspired to be something more than 'making a living' or just the generic 'being successful.' Growing up to really be something. Something not generic, something extraordinary. 

Oh, I'm getting cheesy. It must be the sun coming in the window this afternoon, saying, February is almost over, Spring is coming...

100 Stars.  

Reviewed: Unexplainable Taste

I want this. I'm not sure why. 

I think because it reminds me of Lord of the Rings.

Reviewed: Nordstrom's

Oh, Nordstrom's, you disappoint me. Yesterday I got your catalog in the mail, which is usually a happy occasion because the pretty pictures of things I can't afford combined with things I can barely afford lulls me into a daydreaming sleepiness.

And usually, thinking about you, Nordstrom's, is a happy occasion. Since you don't have a store in NYC, I only get to see you in Washington when we visit Joe's family, and there you are so beautiful and clean and full of helpful, smiling workers that I would never encounter where I live. You have William Rast jeans that I like to try on for fun because Justin Timberlake made them and named them after his grandfather. You have Frye boots and Flowerbomb perfume and the most glorious selection of tights. You have a coffee stand that sells sugar cookies with thick, pink frosting and orange juice so pulp-y the straw gets clogged.

BUT...

...the economy is in shreds; here in New York everyone is losing their job and even Manhattan rents are falling so quickly tenants are renegotiating their leases.

It's cool that you included a letter recognizing that "these are challenging times for us all" and promising to "focus on what we can do to make a difference to you, our customer." Which is why it's funny that the very first item on the next page is a darling little Bluemarine dress, printed silk with a delicate ruffle at the neck and an azul satin belt, for the budget-friendly, depression-friendly, challenging-times-friendly price of $1,795. (Belt sold separately for $355.)

"We think of these extraordinary times as yet another chance to earn your business." Signed, Blake Nordstrom, Pete Nordstrom, and Erik Nordstrom.

Blake, Pete, and Eric--excuse me, Erik--I hate you all. 2 Stars.

Reviewed: Drunk Food

Joe makes the best drunk food. While I come home and throw my coat on the floor, fall over while trying to take off my shoes, spill a river of water while pouring a glass, and collapse on the couch, Joe is efficiently and effortlessly throwing together a feast in the kitchen. He even uses spices! Last night he made turkeymeat tacos and it might have been the most amazing meal I have ever eaten. One time he put together a BBQ chicken quesadilla out of the leftovers from my fancy French restaurant food. And his grilled cheese is so good I only want to eat while I'm drunk from now on.

100 stars. 

Reviewed: General Hospital, 2009

Oh, GH, what are you doing? Let's get this straight: I'm no TV-snob. I'm consistently pulled in by any show airing on the CW (last night's Privileged--nice!). I love so much about what makes you bad: the mob bosses, the hitmen, the crazy paralyzed guy who can secretly walk, the deadly airborne poison that was just let loose in the hospital, Sonny Corinthos. I even love it that every character has been on the verge of death multiple times, purely because now that only 3 of the main characters actually have anything to do with the hospital you've gotta work it in somehow.

But now?

The brain-damaged mob boss/former hitman is the person in charge of the airborne poison disaster at the hospital? His ex-girlfriend is "looking for stuff to do" to keep her busy, like running around in leather pants with a gun? The FBI agent/terrible-acting dude is handling the disaster from his office pacing around on a cellphone? And his main contact with the quarantined hospital is the brain-damaged mob boss/former hitman (recently shot in the arm by his ex-girlfriend while he's in love with a dying nurse who is about to get back together with her ex-husband for the safety of hitman's secret baby)? And you killed Leyla?!

Stop it! Even others are noticing.

50 stars, purely because of the above clip, one of the more enjoyable moments.