If you can imagine me as Emma Watson and a week-long migraine as Jennifer Lawrence, that would be why you didn't hear from me last week. Hi, I missed you! Welcome to another week of Power Club!
So first of all, and possibly most importantly, you should know that if you use DHC Deep Cleansing Oil to take your makeup off and clean your face at the end of the day, it's entirely possible that your spouse will see you in the middle of the process and say, "your face looks like the chest of a character on Teen Wolf." I can both never use anything else again, and also never do it without laughing.
Loosely related reading: Mid-30s Women: Here’s Why You Can’t Stop Looking at Teen Wolf GIFs. My only brow-wrinkle at that piece is that as an adult I have never not enjoyed fannish blushy giggling about celebrity boys (and girls), and I'm currently 33. If it suddenly ramps up in the next two years...the world may not be able to contain the result, is what I'm saying. YOU WERE WARNED. Oh whatever, here's a kitten in a flower crown to distract you from all our impending deaths:
I was worried for a second that I was going to have to link to Jezebel but WHEW it turns out it was just a republish from somewhere else, so! This is eight days old, which in World Cup time is like sooooo ooooold (there's a"goooooal!" joke in there, but I dare to dream a little bigger, darling), but apparently Landon Donovan is getting praised inaccurately:
...please stop announcing that Landon Donovan is the “all-time U.S. leading goal scorer.” He is not. With 57 international goals, he’s not even in the Top Five.
The all-time U.S. leading goal scorer is Abby Wambach, with 167 international goals, followed by Mia Hamm (158), Kristine Lilly (130), Michelle Akers (105) and Tiffeny Milbrett (100). In fact, Abby Wambach is the all-time leading goal scorer in the world, among all soccer players, male or female.
This is so beautiful. I don't really go to bars anymore, but I think I need to start going back to bars and hanging out with the yadudes I can't really stand anymore just so I can bring this up and watch the blustering reactions. Can we make overly-loud, overly-friendly grown men cry with this information? The question needs answering.
"But she wanted to be eaten and beaten?"
...so I rewatched Pump Up the Volume a while back, and I've been thinking about it near-daily ever since. (If you haven't seen it: PUtV is a documentary filmed in real time of what it was like to be a teenager in middle America before the internet existed. Spoilers: it was fucking lonely.) The thing I can't shake from my thoughts is how upsetting it is that the most interesting character in the movie is forced to cajole the boy character played by Christian Slater, Mark, into sucking less. I speak, of course, of Nora, played by Samantha Mathis in her first starring role, a teen girl who has some friends, knows her classmates, works in the library, listens to the local pirate radio station, and writes poetry. (I cannot even speak of her style, because it's like trying to describe Citizen Kane to anyone who's watched more than five modern movies. Once you've seen something normalized, it's hard to appreciate it when it was radical. Trust me: Nora was radical.) She is supremely comfortable and confident in herself physically, mentally, and emotionally; she has ideas and acts on them, she wants things and sets goals to achieve them; she feels things and then expresses those feelings. At one point she takes her shirt off, not during a sex scene but because Mark has his shirt off, and it's clearly an attempt to mirror him and be on his level, be his partner and equal and relate to him, possibly kind of Gorillas In the Mist style, but whatever.
Because this is film, though, Nora is stuck as combination mentor, sidekick, and makeout partner for the dude -- a guy who is a quiet mom-jeans wearing loner by day and a super cool secret pirate radio station DJ by night. (Every guy thinks his hobby makes him this. They are all incorrect.) Nora writes erotic poetry that she sends into the pirate radio station for the DJ to read on air and when it's all sorted out that Nora knows that Mark is also the secret DJ, he doesn't even invite her on air to maybe read her own fucking poems to the audience. (There is a reason "Shock Jocks Read Slam Poetry" isn't a genre.) But the entire framework of this is "the dude has to Do All The Things, there is no sharing" so Nora is stuck yelling a lot of supportive shit at him about how he's "the one" that people want to look up to. Because of course he is. Of course the job of the most amazing girl in the world is to get the boy ready to be a leader.
The fully formed girl or woman who clearly has her own shit in fifth gear, positioned on a platter to be consumed for fuel by the dude that the camera insists on following around trope isn't new, but it's so frustrating. In Pump Up the Volume, it's right in the nickname Mark gives to Nora, since she doesn't sign her work. Her poetry is full of teen feelings, sexually charged, and clearly aimed at trying to connect with Mark; he calls her the Eat Me Beat Me Lady. Like, we all just learned a lot about you, buddy.
Seriously not the last time this happened in a film, and the next time that comes to mind chronologically, the director didn't even have the good grace to not bite Nora's look entirely (excuse me I forgot, it's Tarantino, it must be an homage):
Nora, Uma. Uma, Nora.
Try and look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't prefer a version of Pulp Fiction with all the Vincent Vega parts cut and replaced with the extended adventures of Mia Wallace, a woman who clearly had a lot more shit going on than Vincent ever did. (Also, because last winter I woke up one day and just Needed To Finally Know and somehow found myself in the corner of the internet that held the answer: while the nail polish Uma Thurman wears in the photo above (which was used for the Pulp Fiction poster) is Chanel's original formulation of Vamp, the lipstick is not. It is MAC's Dubonnet...which it turns out is not a very flattering color on me.) Anyway my point is #killallmen...infilm #agoodstart
[...] Of The Week:
Tumblr: Manfeels Park
Made Me Cry: Eartha Kitt, Angelitos Negros
Animated GIF: My favorite member of One Direction wore jorts yesterday, I'm still not over it
Subject Line Song: Diana Vickers, Music to Make Boys Cry
I had a whole thing here all "idk what this is but I need it because it's clearly the mascot for the Power Club" but then Ifound the commercial. Shoulda left it alone, Stanton. (However, I now have something to send over to the guys who run Trash Night Video, and that's always a good time.)
I feel like this entire issue is kind of a half-step off, and it's all because I still haven't seen this week's episode of Teen Wolf yet. I mean, I referenced the David Letterman infestation hosting of The Academy Awards up there, was that necessary? There's glass between us. NEXT TIME.