I enjoyed the festival of food writing review in the Times this weekend (in my usual weird torqued up way), but I still think the opening to the (fatuous) Prud'homme review was stupid: Julia Child did *not* like everything about France.
Also, the out-of-print cookbook list was interesting. A. Bourdain's exactly what one would expect from reading his books. I woulda put Alice Medrich's Cocolat on there for sure. If I may make a dorky little literary comparison, it looks like Ma Gastronomie and Fernand Point is in for the same treatment B. Pym got after Lord David Cecil and Philip Larkin mentioned her in 1977 in the Times. That's grand news.
Today: M Monroe's birthday. All hail. Celebrated by watching part of Niagara (alternate titles: We Must Punish Her for the Sexuality That Makes Us So So Hot; also This Film Wrapped in Oilcloth) and all of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. [I STILL don't understand why the Gilmore Girls used Lorelai for their name; the first two major associations with it are of a Teutonic siren on the Rhine and of a gold-digging chorine--I must be missing some waspy somethin-somethin here.] The teal-colored deep vee neck with magenta sash and pedal pushers MM wears in Gentlemen is one of my all-time favorite Marilyn outfits. She looks so beautiful in it.How many more people would have died in Iraq if this were 30 years ago? Without the advent (horrifying) of poly-trauma medicine, as it were? All we need is for Malcolm MacLaren to come up with a new song for this to look *exactly* like Vietnam.
Anderson Cooper definitely OUT as GV's son now.
I indulged (right word) in the 2nd wildly over-scored Bridget Jones movie. Bleah. Only three funny words: 'mini spotted dick.' Well, okay, a little better than that. And why the big dose of John Currin near the end? A bit of the most bizarre product placement ever? Probably just a chance for HL to say "perv quotient."
No comments:
Post a Comment