The L Word, S5. Ep. 12: Loyal and True

Season 5 draws to a close, and once again continuity was not the forte of the writers of the L-Word. Not that it ever was.
The leaps and bounds, the strands of narrative left hanging, never cease to amaze me.

Off the top my head, I can think of Papi (who disappeared off the face of the earth and the chart without so much as a mention), Mark, Helena's children, the fact that Kit, Tina AND Bette can all be out and about, but where is little Angelica in all this (attachment parenting, hello?), Bette and Helena hugging like best friends, Marina (oh, remember Marina) auditioning for Les Girls with her troupe, Carmen, and so on.

Also, I don't know who directed this episode (couldn't be bothered to look it up), but the direction sucked: the sideways profile (Shane/Phyllis scene), the filming through fabric or blinds (Bette and Tina, Jenny and Tina) , the seguing of Bette and Tina in traffic and the chopper overhead with Mama P and the jellyfish venom inside, ack!

But on to more interesting things, the storylines:

- Alice/Tasha: I guess the poster on the bus means that Alice DID get the job. Hurray, and thanks for mentioning that. So being on 'The Look' now means that she has to go dress like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday, so she can take a ride on a Vespa.
And what's with the identical dressing this season? The Wardrobe people must be on drugs: Bette and Tina, Bette and Jodi, Alice and Clea... Need I go on?
Was the Cal-Mart badge a dead give-away that the Alice/Tasha relationship was going down the drain, or was it the police academy that cinched it? At any rate, I almost feel that season 6 will start sans Tasha, with once again no mention of what happened. I'll be very sad to see Rose Rollins go and I will definitely miss her belly laugh. Just seems amazing how Alice is capable of throwing her own principles (remember last week's eppy) out of the window when it suits her. But let's face it, if you're taking advice from Shane on your relationship, you might just as well call it quits.

- Shane/Molly: wow, how quick does Shane cave in to Phyllis on her future with Molly?! Coming from someone who just threw twenty years of marriage down the drain to rediscover her inner lesbian, that is a bit rich. (Also for some reason, Cybill Shepherd reminded me of Dawn French in that scene. All she needed was a giant baby strapped on). But I also think any best friend should know better than to hop on to the best friend's ex, especially when everything is so fresh and raw. That said, in the lesbian world of six degrees of separation, everything is possible, I guess.

- Jenny/Nikki/Adele: pff, I'm guessing that the balcony scene, as it will henceforth be known, (to replace that old favourite, which goes something along the lines of 'O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo) means the end of exciting purple strapon sex. Ah, had we had but more of that this season. I'm looking at you, Bette and Tina! It also gave a whole new meaning to the expression "safe sex", didn't it.
As for Adele and Begonia: it's almost as if she lives out Jenny's life as it should have been? Success, and the hot exotic girlfriend to boot.
And Jenny could have done MUCH more when she walked in and told Adele that she stole the movie from under her.
The end of this episode was slightly puzzling: was this a cliffhanger? Was Jenny referring to Nikki or Shane when she dropped the 'love' word ? Guess we'll have to wait another ten months to find out. Now if this was Dynasty or As The World Turns, someone would have walked up with a machine gun or someone would have fallen off a balcony... No such luck here.

- Jodi: I must have missed something because at what point did Jodi become BFF with everybody overnight? Since I never was on the Jodi bandwagon, let's just say that this episode did nothing to make me change my mind.
The 'Core' installation was downright spiteful and the smirk that served it too. Also, I must have been asleep during the past six episodes, because did ANYBODY ever see a videocam in the vicinity of Bette? We all did see the one in Nikki and Jenny's tent (how could we ever forget that memorable scene and the purple dildo) but at Bette's house? And why would someone who is deaf, make an AUDIOvisual installation?
And personally, I'd be dialling Joyce Wischnia's number ASAP for assault of character or whatever it is that they call it these days instead of doing a paltry imitation of Annie Leibovitz's photo of Lennon/Ono.

- Bette/Tina: it must have been a pretty bad week at casa Porter/Kennard. First Tina gets kicked off her own set by scheming Adele (if you want this movie on time and on budget) and then Bette gets some pretty strong medicine levelled at her by Jodi. No wonder their heads aren't thinking straight, as Bette mentions having a 'baby brother or sister' for Angelica during the poolside scene. Um, hello, you haven't even decided whether you want to live together yet, have been reunited for all of twelve seconds, and you're talking babies? This will never fly in Peoria, or with the lesbians for that matter. On a nicer note, the ladies took dancing to a whole new level ;-)... The word 'floorgasm' has already been coined.

- Helena: I'll admit to having fanned myself as a sun-kissed, tussled Helena tumbled from under that chopper to greet Peggy P. So Mama P got herself stung by a jellyfish? I was reminded of this story in last week's news. With her untimely demise near, Peggy giveth, taketh and giveth again... and after all that, recommends Helena to go buy Kit a night club, or two... I'm lost for words. And did we see the old Helena shine through there, as she admits to being bored with life on a remote paradise island in Tahiti with a hot criminal wanted for tax evasion? On to the next thrill, rich girl.

- Double D: my God, my lovah Cindy has a middle and last name. It's Cindy Annabel Tucker, if you please, and she manages to serve Denbot her just desserts. And then, for some reason, she's glued to Helena. 'Mmkay?

- Max, wherefore art thou?

Some good moments this season:

- Bette: was Mary fucking Poppins not available (on learning that Bev would be played by a white actress)
- Mama P: Were I receptive to such a proposition, it would first require a full booty check. Were you to pass muster baby, I'd give it to you family style. (hmmm, sigh, Holland Taylor, I love how you steal every scene you're in).
- Pam Grier for being able to turn two words into a whole line. Max for getting fewer lines every eppy (hi guys, in ep. 12)
- Fuck no, Denbo (Alice?)
- Nikki/Jenny: We’re going to fuck in a closet? The irony hasn’t escaped me.

On a last note: I can hear groans all around about the baby mention, but has anybody thought about the fact that either Holloman or Beals might be really pregnant and that this has to be worked into the storyline again? They both have three-year olds or thereabouts...

And WHY did someone have to blend the song "2Wicky" by Belgian band Hooverphonic with an Isaac Hayes song and turn it into an onslaught on our ears??? (I'm so vocal on this one, because it was the first song that SO and I shared as a couple, and part of the lyrics made up the title of my first ever post on this blog).

Here, as my parting shot for this season, is the song with the splendid vocals by Liesje Sadonius...

Now if someone would take the memorable Bette and Tina floorgasm and put this to this music, I certainly wouldn't object.

The hand that rocked our cradle

There's an urban legend that says that men think about sex every seven seconds. Women a lot less, I am told.
Who knows? Who cares?

When you're in a long-term relationship, however, this mere fact can tip the balance severely.

The impact of parenthood on any (lesbian) relationship cannot be underestimated as my SO and I have witnessed first-hand in our own relationship and the relationships around us.

To this date, we have knowledge of 5 lesbian couples breaking up, one being on the verge of breaking up and one couple that was on the verge. I won't even discuss the straight couples here.
What is it precisely that rocks the cradle?

I can only give my own take, as ours was the 'on the verge' relationship.

Three years ago we welcomed our munchkin into our lives. It was an event that had been discussed at length, planned at length and at the end of the day took much less time than we ever expected.
Cue, one year and two extremely tired mothers later. While trying to juggle the obligations of parenthood and work, we simply lost sight of the one aspect that had brought us this far in the first place: ourselves.
We drifted, on very different seas.

One morning, I looked at my SO and was forced to admit that when she said the sun is shining, and it was actually raining, I no longer believed her.
I took a long hard look in the mirror and realised that the same probably applied to myself. Where had those girls of the summer of 1997 gone? It was a tough discussion, one that occasionally still gives rise to some extremely poisonous barbs from my loved one.

As time passed, the subject lay dormant between us, and we circled it with some apprehension. Little did we know the answer would come from an unexpected angle.

Recently, my SO underwent some rather invasive surgery. The operation led to some minute changes in her appearance - a change of haircut, pregnancy clothes to alleviate the pressure on her scar - and an extended leave at home.
Gone were the circles under the eyes, the severe hairstyle, with hair drawn back, the uniform for work.
Eyes that had always been light sparkled once again in a rested face, framed by hair, that was, well, hair again. I rediscovered curves on her body that I had forgotten existed. I found myself wanting to be near her again, feel her skin touching mine at night, nuzzling up to her by day.
In short, I found her sexy again. Her external appearance enhanced all of those aspects of her personality that attracted me to her in the first place.

So a word of advice to impending mothers: while the care of your child takes a lot out of you, you should never lose sight of that other priority. Yourselves.

Holidays: the bane of the demi-goddess' existence

The Easter Weekend is upon us.
Some people make peep centerpieces. I bake.

The dough for tomorrow's hot cross buns is proving in the fridge.. Technically, we should have had them today but since SO and I were the on duty mothers in kindergarten this morning, running a breakfast restaurant for 27 toddlers and taking part in a 'jump' class with them - Don't ask, it's a Belgian thing -, they went by the wayside.

My mother is in charge of the paschal lamb and I of desert: coconut cake with physalis and ice cream as well as a lemon meringue cake.
Guess I know what I shall be doing tomorrow afternoon.

In the meantime the black sheep of the family, my uncle, has surfaced again today. My mother has as usual imploded and has retreated in floods. My grandmother of course has welcomed the prodigal son with wide-open arms. You get the picture.

This family just does not do holidays very well, I fear.

Thank God, it's a long weekend and we have an easter egg hunt, some snow and an episode of the L-Word to look forward to.

ETA: photo of cakes.
Because I have to live up to my reputation of domestic demi-goddess...
The hyacinth and narcissus in the background will hopefully flower soon.
The munchkin kindly provided the artwork.

Because I said so!

The William Tell Overture, as interpreted by Anita Renfroe. She might not have the greatest voice, and I know she is a comedian on the christian women circuit, but hey, she's a mum and it's all in a day's work...

current mood: deflated

Like so many other people at the moment, I'm alternately hacking, sniffling, barking, and wheezing my way through life. Only, I've had this cold since SO was operated at the end of January. So while SO is making a speedy recovery and more or less looks the paragon of health, I'm flailing next to her with pain in my chest.

Matters aren't helped, naturally, by the fact that, as usual, just before a holiday, everyone in the world needs work done.

And finally, add to this already explosive mixture, the coming of teenage age of our toddler. Honestly, some days we're really sure that she's three going on thirteen.
Every morning we start out on a happy note, only to find in the half hour that she has to get ready for school, that the only word she knows is *NO!*. In the face of such disobedience, her two mothers are literally wrecked. Because what can you do when a child says no and won't budge?

Also, this is the dangerous age, where they start feeding off an audience. My point was proven this afternoon in a store, where she was on the verge of meltdown no. 5 of the day and I was holding on to her for dear life, and I suddenly realised that she was actually looking at people around us while struggling against me and grumbling. Such fun. We have now become users of the time-out concept and have resorted to fish oil chews in hopes of calming her down a little.

Nobody said it was going to be easy. But if it's already this bad at three, what's it going to be like at thirteen, when you can't hold on to them like that?

So, we soldier boldly on. And I might consider going to see our GP tomorrow because I'm feeling past the point of repair.

The word Fierce was invented for them

In my ever continuing sage of dance in all its forms, and prompted by LesbianDad's mention of Carmen, I give you this little snippet of raw flamenco.

It's taken from Carlos Saura's Carmen, in which the eponymous opera by Georges Bizet is staged as an opera within an opera. Thus the dancer's emotions in their real lives (the subplot of the affair between Carmen and Antonio) blend in with the actual storyline of Carmen and the performance.

This powerful and vivid scene is the Tabacalera or tobacco factory: the stand-off between the two women (a splendid Christina Hoyos as the elder woman) leads to death.
I simply love the women sitting at the table singing.

I saw this movie for the first time in another life, when I was sixteen, and had a Spanish boyfriend named Rafael, who was a great Sevillana dancer.

The L Word S.5 Ep. 11 - Lunar Cycle

The longest breakup in lesbian film history is finally behind us. Yay! And oy vey, how tedious it was. Twelve stages of push and pull ending in a truly anticlimactic departure of Jodi, leaving Bette with an expensive Tag Heuer watch. I don't get it. There are so many more meaningful gifts to give... especially coming from an artist such as Professor Lerner. A work of your own (expensive) art, maybe? Or was this simply a corporate-imposed brand plug?

But let's rewind and go back to that ill-fated moment when Jodi walked into the Planet in an identical outfit to Bette's. I already remarked on the omni-presence of pink in this season (someone, please tell the stylist already that it's overkill). The scene in Bette's other status symbol, the Lexus, was too much: even the babyseat matched their outfits. And Angelica, in the last scenes was also wearing pink.

I know I should pay more attention to the events at Bette's house, but honestly: if that was me, I would have just pointed at the door. Being kept hostage in your house for half a day by a woman, who then, all of a sudden, starts acting normal and accompanies you to your office and then still refuses to get the message? I sense a bunny in the pot next episode. A core values bunny...

Moving on, Jenny finally met her match: Adele - cool as a cucumber - took over at the helm in an easy putsch. This just as everyone was beginning to realise la Schecter's a creative genius (if the dialogue in the Nina/Bev scene is anything to go by, I declare a bomb at the box office, but who am I, n'est-ce pas?). C'mon, a sex tape, a call to William, and voilà, she's in the director's chair? And do we really believe that she is doing it for Les Girls? All shall be revealed in next week's episode, I suppose. You would think that Jenny would have learnt from the whole Mark episode (a whole season of Mark, remember Mark? Where did samurai boy vanish to?).

Meanwhile Shane and Jenny are left to drown their mutual sorrows with a bong and a lot of alcohol. And where was Mollykins in all this? For a moment there, I almost suspected that the writers were ready for it: friendly sex and a final insight. But no such thing, as the oracle known as Max walked in. And Jenny declared Nikki to be dead to her, thus paving the way for *insert spoiler here*.

I did mention my reserves and worries about Tasha and Alice, and during this episode they were confirmed. Pretty young (soup-chef lookalike) Australian designer hits the Look and home, right into Alice's heart. Meanwhile Tasha and Alice seem to be on different wavelengths.

Kit, pushed into a corner by Denbo and her lovah Cindy, decides it's time to go all Foxy Brown on us. 'She won't budge when she carries a grudge'... Only little Angelica can sway her: first as the ringtone for Bette, and later when playing with Kit's gun. I saw that one coming too, but thankfully the writers that be decided on a positive outcome for that story arc. I will refrain from commenting on the idiocy of throwing the gun WITH YOUR PRINTS in the dumpster.

It was largely an uneventful episode this week after last week's sexanigans. Not a boob in sight. An episode that was written to showcase Marlee Matlin's acting talent and to wrap up some storylines in anticipation of the finale and season 6's eight episodes. But hey, maybe the writer's team's lunar cycles were all up in the air... or maybe there was some rampant PMS raging. I would have never guessed it from all the references to it...

PS - I kept thinking that the Clea character looked familiar, but it just dawned on me. She played the role of Pauline in Heavenly Creatures, that Mario Lanza murder extravaganza!
Fun moment: Kit and Max rolling their eyes at all the PMS-bitchslapping going on around them. Shane actualling reading something (the NYT no less). And on a final note, I'll admit to feeling sorry for Jenny this episode.

Borderline!

Why does this video always make me want to go out and get a tattoo? And a tie?

must-have: Magimix food processor 3200

I caved in.
Look at it: how could I resist?
Satin silver finish, sharp blades, and it mixes, whisks, kneads, slices, grates, chops, and liquidises too. And you can use it as a juicer too. And it has a button that reads 'Pulse'. Sigh.
I am now officially an appliance junkie.

oh they were gorgeous - the Ladies of Burlesque

These days the charming figure of Dita von Teese seems to be omnipresent, whether at a Dior store opening or as the face of a new MAC lipstick.

But in effect, Ms von Teese is not doing anything new.

Doreen Lord was the original girl in the champagne glass.

Sally Rand pioneered the feather dance.


And of course, who could forget about the bold and brash Gipsy Rose Lee and her legendary memoirs? Her mother allegedly run a lesbian boarding house and ended up killing her lover who is alleged to have made a pass at Gipsy...

Other Ladies of Burlesque include the pioneer of the genre, Little Egypt, who danced at the 1893 World Fair; Mae West, the madam of double entendres (is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?); Lili St Cyr who is said to have inspired Norma Jean's makeover and of course Bettie Page.

What these women have in common, is that they all conveyed sophistication and mystery. A voyeur's delight, shall we say?

Enjoy!