Archive for March, 2007

Pretty Woman Part Deux

I’m watching Pretty Woman the other night on tv and I can’t help but be pulled in by the magic. Can any of us? Isn’t is just the most romantic story? I mean, how many prostitutes meet Mr. Right while turning their very first trick? And after proving that she cleans up good – and refuses to make love to his friends (I bet Jason Alexander was a tough one to turn down), she gets the guy and the roses “the whole thing!” Okay, fine, Pretty Woman came out, what, a billion years ago? Why am I talking about it now? Because, my pretties, I realized that there was never a sequel to Pretty Woman and I personally feel it’s begging, just begging for one.

Oh Garry Marshall, I hope you’re reading this – prepare for gold.

We open with a very pregnant Julia Roberts, laying in her super comfy thousand thread count bedding, watching a little tv with her super busy, executive hubby, the still foxy Mr. Gere. But, oh dear, even though it’s late, Richard’s forgotten some important papers at the office. “Honey, while you’re out, I’m going to need another pint of this delish Ben & Jerry’s Chubby Hubby. I seriously can’t get enough! It’s so carmely”

“No problem, sweetheart. Be back as soon as possible.” As soon he leaves, Laura San Giacomo calls (her role, unfortunately is a bit smaller in the sequel as she’s not as big a name since “Just Shoot Me” went off the air). Laura gushes,

“you did it. You really did it, Jules! You got the hot guy, the mansion and soon you’ll have the best accessory ever- a baby! I just hope it happens to me soon too cause I’ve had so many STD’s the free clinic’s not even free for me anymore. And Jimmy, you remember Jimmy our pimp, he smashed my eye in with a glass bottle of massage oil so now I can’t even make money until my eye stops oozing. Anyway, enough about me, I’m so fucking happy for you!”

“Thanks Laura! You’re the best friend a girl could have. And now I must hang up because my beautiful husband will be home with my Ben & Jerry’s any moment.”

Meanwhile, Richard, back in the familiar territory of Hollywood Blvd. cruises in his Lotus Esprit, slowly taking in the sights and sounds while his hunger for anonymous sex grows. You see, even though he’s been attending his sex addiction meetings, this is a monkey that’s hard to throw off your back. Suddenly, he sees her — at first glance you or I might think she’s homeless, no teeth, no shoes, a purplish velour one piece hanging off because the elastic has long since given way, but Richard sees a beauty. A beauty with a bottle of booze in a brown paper bag.

“Excuse me, I need directions…” Purple Velour cackles and slurs “I can give you directions to the nearest place dat sells da booze” and she hops in and looks around the car, “I bet this baby turns like it’s on rails” Richard smiles.

In the Beverly Wilshire hotel, Richard and his new lady love for the evening come in under the watchful eye yet approving eye of Hector Elizondo. The two lovebirds ride the elevator up and Richard’s drunk homeless date pushes all the buttons and then cackles hysterically until she accidentally throws up a little bit. Once in the room, Richard pulls out a beautiful red velvet box and opens it for Purple Velour revealing a beautiful diamond necklace. She looks at it confused and he shuts it on her hand jokingly. It suprises her though and she falls, grabbing onto the majestic curtains for balance. Unfortunately she still falls taking the curtains down with her. And then promptly passes out.

Finally, Richard’s done his business, Purple Velour is dressed and Richard’s in a slightly melancholy mood having had a “slip” for the fourth time that week. Rather than call his Sex Addiction sponser, he heads down to the big empty ballroom to tinkle out a little sad melody on the grand piano. Purple follows him downstairs to get paid but when she hears his beautiful, heartfelt melody, she perches herself on the piano, which takes a few tries because she topples off once or twice. Loudly ordering a bourban straight up from an imaginary waiter, she turns to Richard. “I waaaant da whowl fing. Da place to seep at night, da druuugs, everyting. Marrrry me, asshole”

“You are the most incredible thing, Purple Velour, I will marry you. I just have to run home for one second and drop something off. Don’t go anywhere!”

“Mmmm…Chubby Hubby…my favorite! Thanks, baby. I love you. Let’s name our baby Richard Jr. because you’ve changed my life and I want to always remember and be grateful for that! Now come over here and snuggle with me.”

“Sure baby, lemme just take a quick shower.”

Back at the Bev Wilshire, Hector Elizondo escorts Purple Velour out to the bus stop. He gives her a ten spot and tells her to have a goodnight.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on March 10, 2007 5:23 pmUncategorized15 comments  

Hyper-Chondriac – My New Favorite Book

Hey, life is about more than breastfeeding or NOT as the case may be. Let’s talk about happy things. Like how insanely chubby and munchable my daughter’s thighs are. Packed with nutritional value too. In fact, I think due to eating her thighs, my bad cholesteral has gone down 30 points and my liver is funtioning like a fourteen-year-olds. Something to consider for you health nuts out there.

Today, I would like to highly recommend a hilarious book that happens to be written by a friend of mine. But I know lots of people who write books and I don’t go on and on about them. Sure, I say “I liked your book. Very much.” but I don’t get on my computer and start typing out compliments like they’re Jelly Bellies. The book we’re talking about here is called Hyper-Chondriac – by Brian Frazer. Brian and I worked together for a period of time in a small windowless office and got to know each other quite well. From what I knew of him then, he was so funny he made the job worthwhile, generous to a fault, gentlemanly, compassionate but with the lowest threshold for frustration of any man I’d ever met. In short, I loved him and related to him.

So years later, he’s happily married, truth be told still a bit hyper but…working on himself like a beast which is way more than you can say for most assholes in LA who think the problem relies solely with “the other assholes.”

Let’s get to the book. It’s all about how Brian decided that his road rage, irrational anger at things and people that don’t act in an orderly manner, might be his problem. He started taking Zoloft ( a drug I have a bestfriendship with) mixing the dose around like I experiment with spices and finally coming to something fairly close to a working dose. But the funny part is all the ways he tries to calm down. Things that make me want to kill myself. Yoga (with a 100 year old instructor who didn’t show up half the time), special diets I don’t begin to understand, Tai Chi and the funniest, a silence retreat he made it through twenty minutes of. I loved this book because unlike all that “The Secret” bullshit (sorry for you Secret lovers out there but COME ON) Brian actually wanted to get better but knew there were no shortcuts. And he’s such a cynic that, if you’re anything like me, and if you’re reading this blog you are, you will find this book the funniest thing you’ve maybe ever read. And you might learn something too. I didn’t but I never learn anything. That’s what sucks about me.
So remember, Hyper-Chondriac. Give it to someone you love…or are just worried about.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on March 7, 2007 9:22 pmUncategorized6 comments  

Sorry If I Repeat Myself

Let me start on a light note: yesterday, because I was going out to celebrate my anniversary with the guy I trapped into marrying me by pretending to be a stable individual, I had my toes done. And on a whim cause that the kind of “throw ten dollars to the wind” kind of gal I am, I had them put little hearts on my big toe. Isn’t that totally ghetto fabulous? It’s pretty cute. I recommend it.

Okay, so stop me if you’ve heard this one about Sippy Cups before, but what is it about the topic of breast feeding that inspires people to spew venom at me because I dare to tell women it’s “okay, if they can’t breastfeed.” Why is this such an affront to people? About a week ago, I noticed a freakishly long review of my book which took about a half hour to read since I was also trying to eat a bagel and it kept falling out of my mouth because my mouth was hanging open in shock. This woman’s review has since been taken down (and then replaced by one that she edited to take out the most offensive parts) but still retains the pedantic air of holier than thou. In the first review, this woman actually called my daughter stupid, me a wimp (which she still does in this one) and says that my daughter will amount to nothing and that I’m a terrible mother. Oh and that my daughter smells bad.

Now normally, I might laugh at the ignorance and stupidity that I see everyday not just in my book reviews. But something primal in me was awakened when I read the mean things another WOMEN would say about my two-year-old daughter. Then this same woman put up in her blog (I have a google alert on my book – so it came up) bragging about how she really socked it to me in the name of breastfeeding mothers. Of course all breastfeeding mothers, even extremists are like this, but quite a few are and the implication that every mother who feeds her child through her breast makes her a better mother who is raising a smarter child is still running rampant.

I know, I know, this topic is old and tired. But her review made me cry and sent me into a downword spiral. I felt like, wow, no matter how much love I give me daughter, no matter how much of myself I sacrifice, it will never be enough for some judgmental people. I nearly killed my own spirit trying to breastfeed a baby who didn’t want and physically couldn’t be breastfed by me and if there had been ONE BOOK like mine telling me it’s okay, and that as long as I’m feeding her, and cuddling her, and attuned to her needs she’ll be fine. Maybe if someone had said that no electric pump (which I rented), no Fenugreek supplements which I took until no one would come within 10 feet of me and no lactation consultant doing backflips would help me bond with my daughter better than just snuggling with her in my nice warm bed, looking into her eyes, breathing in her catnip like smells until she fell asleep in my arms, I might not be still smarting over this.

I can’t stress this enough! I think it’s wonderful if you breastfeed. Do it wherever and whenever you want. Do it on the subway, do it in Target, do it in Oval Office, do in on Barbara Walters doorstep, do it until your kid is in Junior High ( I think that’s weird but that’s just my opinion). But for God’s sakes please, please stop saying such horrible things to the women that cannot or choose not to do it.

And for the record, this woman whose review had to be changed, emailed me and told me that

“i’ll be honest with you, i was breastfed & i had an ear infection like every week when i was growing up. but i wasn’t about to admit that on my soapbox (aka- my first amazon review.)”

I’m not mad anymore. I just want this to stop. I’ve had enough.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on March 5, 2007 10:07 pmUncategorized42 comments  


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