I’d rather be fat than dumb.

An acquaintance posted on Facebook that a bad stretch of depression had caused her to gain back weight she’d lost, and some cheery fitness fucker commented “Awe, you can do it again with exercising and eatting healthier again! It’s mind over matter. Everything in moderation. Tell yourself you can do it! 💪😁👍”

OK, obviously I don’t know your life, but also? Blow me a little.

Who doesn’t know about diet and exercise IN THEORY? Everyone KNOWS about it, bitch — you ain’t droppin’ science. Don’t talk to her like she’s an idiot like she doesn’t already feel bad enough. Ass.

And it’s not “mind over matter” if your mind is what’s telling you cake will fix things, and guess what, cake DOES fix things.

Finally, UGH, the “Awe” instead of “Aw” — I think we can all agree those people can’t be trusted.

As always, Shonda Rhimes said it best…

The Continuing Wisdom of #TGIT

“I don’t know how to do this thing you do, where you make me feel like crap and there are no words coming out of your mouth.”
— Amelia Shepherd, Grey’s Anatomy

#TGIT #BeenThere

Say Yes to the Press

I’ve had an unusual number of blog views on the Shonda Rhimes book review I wrote back in November.

Since New Year’s, 23 people have seen it. Only 13 saw it when I first posted it.

What the hell? I was pleased with the post, so I don’t mind, I’m just befuddled.

Also, at least one person found it by searching for “veal practice rhimes,” which made me happy in my lazy places.

“Did I tell you what veal practice is?” asks Rhimes. “Oh! Veal practice involved me lying very still on the sofa trying as hard as I could to mimic the life of a veal. While eating veal. I wish I were kidding. It. Was. Magic.”

Happy Thanksgiving!

A few things I’m thankful for this year, in no particular order:

1. All y’alls. (Or, in the words of my native people, “all-uh-yas.”)
2. Kids who aren’t mine.
3. Shonda Rhimes and Jenny Lawson.
4. Miranda Lambert and Anna Nalick.
5. “Silver Linings Playbook.”
6. Therapy and progress therein.
7. Prescription drugs.
8. My friends — “Boyz II Men, ABC, BBD, the East Coast fam-i-ly.” (Yep. Said it. Deal with it.)
9. Four straight days with no alarm clock.
10. Gravy.

There are more, but those are my favorites. Enjoy your day, guys. Gravy be with you. (And also alcohol, because let’s be honest…)

Guest Book Review: I will always say YES to Shonda Rhimes.

yearofyes

Disclosure: I am a Shonda Rhimes fan (duh): Meredith, Addison, Olivia, Annalise. You name, I worship.

So it really should come as no surprise that I loved her first book, Year of Yes. I loved it on spec, really. Shondaland disciples understand. (Juju be with you. And also with you.) But I was still excited that it met and exceeded my expectations. It was great to read about SHONDA, not just to see her peppered into little bits of her characters.

As you may infer from the title, Rhimes dedicated a year to saying “yes” to things outside her introverted writer comfort zone: giving the commencement speech at her alma mater (Dartmouth, NBD); losing more than 100 pounds; making self-care a priority; saying “no” when necessary; accepting praise — as a woman especially — with a “thank you” and no attempt to negate or downplay your achievements. (Have y’all seen that Inside Amy Schumer thing? You should. We all should. And then we should all knock that shit off.)

Really the best thing I can say about the book is: it made me feel better. I hesitate to use the word “inspirational,” because UGH. But it was. It helped me during a tough time (specifically, the week I happened to be reading it, my brain was not being especially kind to me). But the book still made me laugh so hard my lady-belly ached. I had to put it down multiple times to laugh it out. On at least one page, Rhimes had me brimming with weepy tears, then cry-laughing two paragraphs later. It’s one of those comforting books that made me feel like things are actually pretty OK — I am a badass lady and I shall “power pose like Wonder Woman,” and if you don’t like it, you can just step right off.

I actually bought a LivingSocial deal for an audiobook site just so I could have Shonda Storytime. Maybe her “badassery” can infiltrate me via hypnosis osmosis while I sleep.

Her reflections on Mommy Wars were insightful and hilarious, even though I don’t have children. Standing up at a PTA meeting and shouting “Are you fucking kidding me?!” when they demanded homemade desserts instead of store-bought? Hero. But it also made me think about how I speak to my friends who are mothers, and to consider again the way women address and judge each other. (By the end of that chapter, you too will be all, “Whitney Houston. Curling iron. Solidarity.” Just trust me.)

My favorite chapter was the one about her weight loss, how food is amazing and DOES make you feel better, because it’s delicious but also because it’s a lovely, numbing spackle for your internal wounds. Oh, Shonda — you had me at “Cheesecake will always taste like love.”

My new favorite expression — and get ready, because you’ll see me use it in the future — is “veal practice.”

“Did I tell you what veal practice is?” asks Rhimes. “Oh! Veal practice involved me lying very still on the sofa trying as hard as I could to mimic the life of a veal. While eating veal. I wish I were kidding. It. Was. Magic.”

Veal practice, people. It’s gonna be a thing.

2015 was actually my own Year of Yes — a year that brought me Amy Poehler’s Yes Please, Jenny Lawson’s Furiously Happy, Matthew Quick’s Silver Linings Playbook, and finally Year of Yes, the icing on the therapeutic cake (but only metaphorical cake because I try not to use cake as therapy anymore).

Rhimes’ book is, in essence, about deciding to stop living your life being small — meek, numb, detached. Going through the motions, doing only what you have to, not being present, not feeling joy. Sleeping, basically…hardly even living. I struggle every day NOT to live that way, but she’s right — sometimes it really is easier, so I can’t say I always succeed.

It was as if this year the book gods had bestowed upon me the exact books I needed to get my shy ass off the couch and out to an aerial yoga with a Creative Ladies’ Club full of women I didn’t know, to an oral sex class or a burlesque workshop, and to really deal with my family issues and these romantic ensnarements I can’t escape — Olivia Pope ahoy, y’all. (I suspect I won’t get past them until I find my own Jake Ballard, though, so I think I just have to wait that out. Plus, Liv totally screwed up that Jake thing. I mean, honestly — Jake taught you how to shoot, danced to Stevie Wonder with you, fingered you on a tropical beach, and brought you Gettysburger. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT, OLIVIA? You want “Olitz,” seriously? Fitz is a giant bitch-baby with an overly emotive forehead. Vermont is cold, and jam sucks — Jake shakes like jelly. For the love of God, Liv, go STAND IN THE SUN!!!!!!)

*pant* *pant* *pant*

I sense I have too many feelings about this.

So. You go get yourself a copy of Year of Yes.

And I? I will go enjoy some veal practice.

#YearOfYes

*At my request (pleading, really), the lovely people at Simon & Schuster send me a copy of Year of Yes for my review.

Busta Shonda Rhimes

Worth revisiting as I wrap up my Shonda Rhimes book review:

“You don’t get to call me a whore. You chose Addison. I’m all glued back together now. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what YOU broke.”

This construct really evolved by the time it got to Olivia Pope: “I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. If you want me, EARN me!”

Goddamn right, ladies. Testify.

(BTW, this is not a one-sided notion. I certainly hope I’ve earned the men I’ve had relationships with and have never taken them for granted. Ha ha, GRANTed… See what I did there?)

#YearOfYes Foreplay

You may recall about a week ago I was fortunate enough to receive an advance copy of Shonda RhimesYear of Yes. (How much would it have sucked if they’d said “no” to my request for a copy of Year of Yes?)

Since then, I’ve only gotten through the first 100 pages, mostly because I’m an asshole, but I also got too busy. But the book came out in stores today, SO:

The first 100 pages are hilarious and inspiring, and unless it somehow ends with a puppy massacre, I have faith the rest will be the same.

I should be able to finish reading and write a full review over the weekend. But in the meantime: she’s one of my heroes, the book is at least one-third amazeballs, and you should all go read it. (Unless you don’t groove on Shonda, in which case I have no idea why you’re reading this — I am merely her hacky, foul-mouthed henchman.)

Also, I just found out she narrates the audiobook, which means I’m going to go spend $18 (on iTunes) to have Shonda Rhimes read me a story, and probably finish the book much faster.

‪#‎YearOfYes‬ ‪#‎Worship‬ ‪#‎TGIT‬ (<– in which “T” is for “Tuesday” this time)

Year of Yes, Yes, 1,000 Times, YES!

So this came in today’s mail. 

No big deal, I just get advance reader copies now.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My first book review is coming soon! (Ahem, as am I, probably, because I’m pretty goddamn excited.) 

 

Girl, PREACH.

Again, I have my own things to write, but it’s been such a “Girl, PREACH” day on the Internet this morning. Just for the sake of brevity:
First, the new song from Adele, which…yes, as the article points out, please gut punch me right before the holidays. Bring it, Adele, I ain’t scared. (It’s got a li’l Lionel on it, but I’m not mad at it.)
Next, can we just talk again about Ashley Graham’s FINE ass? I’m suddenly pretty proud of things I have that jiggle, even if they jiggle in a whiter, cottage-cheesier way than hers do.

And last, from last night’s Scandal, Kerry Washington is my hero. I’m in the process of creating a “vision board” as one of the hippie-dippy elements of therapy (*eye roll*), and goddammit, I’m getting rid of everything I have and just building an altar to Kerry Washington, and obviously also to Shonda Rhimes. There will obviously be Scandles. (See what I did there?)