Book Report: I Hate Everyone . . . Starting With Me and Murder at the Academy Awards (both) by Joan Rivers

Joan Rivers is one crazy bitch.  Of course, as a "Fashion Police" devotee, I've always known this.  But it wasn't until I got between the pages of her latest book, I Hate Everyone . . . Starting With Me, that I realized the full extent of her relentlessly raucous wrath.  A polarizing figure if ever there was one, Rivers doesn't hold back, aiming her trademark snark at everyone from children to the elderly to voice the things that most of us are thinking but never say.  This doesn't mean that there aren't plenty of cringe-worthy, crossing-the-line passages.  But I decided to dismiss them, focusing instead on Rivers's take-no-prisoners tone and side-splitting humor.  Another reason I liked this book is that I frequently say that I "hate" things, even if to the tune of the fiance's mock-censorious, "Now, hate is a very strong word."  But like any self-respecting woman of extremes, I find it the best one with which to describe traffic, inclement weather, craft mishaps, unexpected prime time reruns, marred clothing, housework, slugs, technology, exercise, expired coupons, expired food, boring people, overbearing people, and people who hurt my feelings.  Needless to say, I gulped down Rivers's 242-page diatribe in a single sitting.

Her murder mystery, Murder at the Academy Awards, co-written by Jerrilyn Farmer, took two weeks longer to digest.  The best things about it are 1) the caricatures of Joan and her daughter Melissa on the cover, and 2) Rivers's snappy afterward, which was so amusing that it made me rethink my long-standing preference for fiction.  Still, despite this whodunit's slow start and boilerplate plot, it's fun to read because its stylish sleuth is Rivers's alter-ego, the fabulous and lunches-openly-with-her-plastic-surgeon Maxine Taylor.  Killers, paparazzi, and undercover rehab stints don't scare her, yet the sight of a slain starlet clad in a TJ Maxx knockoff sends her screaming.

Her E! network cohorts would be proud.

Ice is Nice

Dot Spot Necklace

Top: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Tank: Mossimo, Target

Skirt: Boscov's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Fred Flare

Belt: Wet Seal

Scarf: JCPenney

I Heart the 1980s Necklace

Cardigan: Mossimo, Target

Tee: City Streets, JCPenney

Skirt: Boscov's

Shoes: Guess, DSW

Bag: Journeys 

Stormy Skies Necklace

Top: Kohl's

Skirt: Forever 21

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Eleven Peacocks, Etsy

Belt: Wet Seal

If I ever ran into Vanilla Ice, then I'd tell him that whenever I hear the opening bars of Queen's "Under Pressure," I hope that it's "Ice, Ice, Baby," but that, sadly, it rarely is.  Never mind that I have it on CD (13 Going on 30 soundtrack, thank you very much); the jolt of disappointment mixed with my unwillingness to fiddle with my CD case are just too much.  I bring this up because I heard it (Queen, not Vanilla Ice) on the radio the other day and was bummed.  

In keeping with this 1980s nostalgia, here are three new necklaces in search of a Walkman.  

Movie Moment: Silver Linings Playbook

I didn't think I was going to like Silver Linings Playbook.  But I always go to the movies on my birthday, and that was the only one out that I hadn't seen (or would consider seeing).  Also, I'd already gotten the idea to photograph my silver clothes and accessories to post with the review, and I wasn't about to abandon that pipe dream.

Football and ballroom dancing, strung together by the threads of grief and mental illness, shouldn't have made for a cohesive story, much less a moving one.  Also, I've never really liked Bradley Cooper on account that I think he's cocky.  Yet despite all of this, I was hooked.

We meet Pat Solitano (Cooper) as he is being sprung from a Baltimore mental institution by his mother.  Although the courts have discouraged the release of the bipolar Pat, who nearly beat his wife's lover to a pulp, they have allowed him to re-enter the world on the condition that he lives with his parents, namely said concerned mother and a just-laid-off Eagles fan fanatic of a father (Robert De Niro) who has plenty of problems of his own.

Still obsessed with his high school English teacher wife, Pat insists that his mother stop at the library on their way home (Philly, haven of hardasses and Eagles enthusiasts) so he can check out all the books on her syllabus.  Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms tops the list, and Pat devours it only to hurl it out the (closed) window in the middle of the night and storm into his parents' bedroom to rant about the sad ending and the unfairness of life and the refusal of Hemingway and all his ilk to give an already-suffering world just one measly silver lining.  It's an impassioned and funny scene (and one I appreciated, having never been a Hemingway fan) that shows just how much Pat is hurting.  It is this vulnerability, despite his violence, that makes him so sympathetic.

No second chance saga is complete without a love interest, and Pat finds his in Tiffany, a new widow and recovering nymphomaniac.  Not that he readily admits his attraction.  Tiffany gives him a run for his money in the hard words department, and he initially resists her friendship on the grounds that he wants to reconcile with his wife.  But Tiffany ambushes him one time too many on one of his trash-bag-clad (all the better to sweat in) runs, and after several unfiltered, in-your-face exchanges, he finds himself agreeing to be her partner in - of all things - a ballroom dancing competition.

Character-driven and introspective, Silver Linings is about two damaged people trying to make a go of it in this crazy, mixed-up world.  It's honest and unvarnished and makes sense of the idea that we're all just a little bit crazy.  Believe it or not, I left the theater in a much better frame of mind than when the credits rolled for This is 40.  Uplifting, indeed.

I Had Walked Nearly Five Miles (Or Something Like That)

And I could not walk just one more!  That was the song (or at least it was a version of that Proclaimers song popularized by Benny and Joon) playing in my head the day I took these pictures.  You see, the day before Christmas Eve I decided to take a walk on the beach.  The sun was bright and the air was less cold than one would expect on December 23, and I though it was a good time to do some thinking and sneak in some exercise.  So, when I reached my usual quitting point I kept going.  I passed a man with a kite and some people with dogs, and it being Brigantine, some people in trucks passed me.  I saw the Emerald City of casinos glinting in the distance and couldn't help but wonder how long it would take to reach them.  Not unlike our friend Forrest, I figured that I'd walked this far, so why not walk some more?
 

An hour or so later I slid onto the cool, smooth seat of the jetty that borders the water barricading the Revel.  It was strange seeing that (to me) unexplored stretch of beach up close and personal, and I spent a  few minutes taking some pictures and taking it all in.

And then it was time to turn back.

I took my time on the return journey, stopping to collect seashells, both in celebration and in deference to my protesting legs.

Then, once back on concrete land, I came upon this less picturesque but nonetheless much-loved Brigantine landmark:

Naturally, once back at home base I made a necklace from the seashells I'd gathered.

I call it the Mermaid Magic Necklace, and Tammy, minx that she is, models it here in her Venus swimsuit.  "That's one must-have mollusk," the fiance said as he was passing through.

I can only hope he was talking about the necklace.

Lemon Lights it Up

 Eastern Romance Necklace

Dress: Nicole Richie for Impulse at Macy's

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Nine West, Boscov's

Scarf belt: Nicole Miller, Marshalls

Scarf: Express

Hat: JCPenney

 

Junk Drawer Necklace

Blouse: Allen B, JCPenney

Tank: Worthington, JCPenney

Jeans: Candie's, Kohl's

Shoes: Rocket Dog, JCPenney

Bag: Gifted

Jacket: Decree, JCPenney

Long necklace: JCPenney

Canary Queen Corsage Necklace

Dress: I Heart Ronson, JCPenney

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Nothing says happening hippie quite like a big, floppy hat.  Unfortunately, another thing that says it is boring earth tones.  So, I like to infuse brooding boho ensembles with a shot of yellow.  Enter the canary clompers in the first outfit.  And, for that matter, the canary itself in the last one.  Although more ladylike than boho, that severe gray dress was just begging for a splash of sunshine. 

Movie Moment: The Guilt Trip

About this picture:

gold = gilt = guilt

luggage = trip

It's not every blogger who will go to the trouble of unearthing her luggage just to make a bad pun.  But then, this blogger makes bad puns her business.

So, Barbara Streisand and Seth Rogen.  On a cross-country road trip.  As mother and son.  Need I say more?  Not only does The Guilt Trip hit both the stoner and baby boomer demographics, it's funny and heart warming without being mawkish, infusing new life into the aphorisms "mother knows best," and "it's not the destination, but the journey."

Andy (Rogen) is a thirtyish, Los Angeles-based chemist-turned-salesman trying to peddle his home-grown, organic wonder cleaner to legions of unfeeling superstores.  His endeavor is heartbreaking, and Rogen is perfect in his go-to role of the put-upon everyman, even if minus his raunchy edge.  Joyce (Streisand) is a sixtyish coupon-clipping, frog collecting, Weight Watchers member of a widow from New Jersey.  Her husband has been dead for decades, and Andy is her only child - as well as her favorite project.  A well-meaning but unrelenting nag from the school of passive-aggressive mothering, she has always driven Andy crazy, a dynamic that reaches its zenith when he guilt-riddenly invites her on his coast-to-coast, door-to-door sales odyssey.  Clad in her signature track suit, she obliviously and hilariously spit cleans his face, criticizes his sales pitch, tracks down his high school girlfriend, and plays tourist - all while listening to the Oprah's Book Club-approved Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides.  (Brief detour: Although I'd heard of Middlesex before seeing this movie, I'd assumed it was about the underbelly of a quaint New England town, not the misadventures of a hermaphrodite.  Imagine my surprise.)  But she does it all in the name of love, a truth that Andy cannot help but accept by the time their story makes its bittersweet landing in a San Francisco airport.  

As I left the theater I felt hopeful and happy and a little bit sad.  Which was just the right cocktail of emotion with which to greet 2013.  

Hello, Princess!

 Strawberry Key Lime Necklace

Tee: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Candie's, Kohl's

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Glamour Damaged, Etsy

Coat: BCBG, Macy's

 A not for sale but still post-worthy Disney Princesses Necklace

Dress: Target

Cardigan: Merona, Target

Shoes: Material Girl, Macy's

Bag: Candie's, The Shoe Dept.
Scarf: Express

Lime Gelatin Necklace

Sweater: Kohl's

Tank: Worthington, JCPenney

Jeans: Olsenboye, JCPenney

Shoes: Bucco, Kohl's

Bag: Worthington, JCPenney

Coat: BCBG, Macy's

Scarf: Wet Seal 

Red Gelatin Necklace

Top: Wet Seal

Skirt: Candie's, Kohl's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Loop, Toilet Water, Ocean City

Belt: Wet Seal

Some people may say that two characters are two too many to star in one ensemble (and yes, those are the feline faces of Hello Kitty surreptitiously seared into the pattern of the dress in outfit number two), but I'm not one of them.  That's why I teamed my Disney princesses collage-style necklace with a frock kitted out by kawaii's reigning fat cat.  Not wangling to rip off Walt, I've opted to keep it for my own, instead serving up fruit and JELL-O (or, to be more appropriately generic, gelatin) to the masses.  Which works out well, because Ariel has always been my favorite princess, and she's featured prominently in this trio, which also includes the more conventionally royal Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty.  

Speaking of favorite (green) things, I'm also a fan of this fetchingly retro, so-nice-I-posted-it-twice coat, which I received for Christmas.  I'm told that it's what was called a channel coat back in the day, on account of its vertical seams.  I don't know about you, but I always think that fun names add an air of glamour to garments, even the hideous but cleverly coined ones, such as poodle skirts, polo shirts, leisure suits, and housecoats.  That having been said, I actually once had a polo shirt of which I was quite fond.  It was white with red, yellow, green, and blue stripes, and it was by that popular 1990s juniors brand Coolwear.  It came, unsurprisingly, from JCPenney, and was ever so slightly cropped.  I still think about that shirt.