Now where's all that bubble wrap?!

WE'RE MOVING!!!!!!!!!!

We are moving to POPCULTUREYAY.COM

Come with! All of our blog friends--and by "all" I mean Amanda and Pete--please visit us at the new site! We are still figuring out how to make it look pretty, but there's some content there already.

Well, this is a lucky break...

because now you can definitely use the Lake Como villa for the wedding.

Your senior year is almost halfway through...

so here's an assignment. It's pass/fail.



Get a time machine, go back to 9 PM EST, and watch Veronica Mars.

More on the JK-RJ rumors brought to our attention by this girl who was Lindsay's friend--until she told us about the rumors

GMMR!! We love you so much! Keep up the good work. And we know that rather than perpetuating those rumors, you were just lamenting their possible truth.

Lindsay found herself experiencing similar emotions yesterday after hearing about the possible John-Rashida connection.* But her sorrow was based on suddenly discovering the gap between fiction and reality. We were on the phone, and she said--hesitantly, as though speaking the idea confirmed its truth--"I'm beginning to think that John isn't REALLY Jim." It's like as a child when I first got the idea that maybe Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, et al weren't exactly who I thought they were. I didn't know for sure, but the first taste of disillusionment was crushing. I mean, my dad is really great, but Santa is awesome in this mythical way. To think that Santa wasn't real but was just a role played by this really-great-but-normal guy...it was a hard pill to swallow.

Not that John Krasinski isn't cool--he loves David Foster Wallace and he did karaoke on Ellen!--but it's like, Jim Halpert is the tooth fairy. And John Krasinski is my dad.

OK, that comparison just took a really bizarre turn. But my message is this: Lindsay, don't fret. Christmas will still come every Thursday at 8:30, no matter the true identity of the guy who's delivering the presents.



*Not because Lindsay has anything against Rashida Jones. She's obviously talented and seems perfectly nice. It's just...she looks just like this Karen girl with whom we have a problem.

Are you ready?

An approval ratings boost: Now available at Sephora.

Apparently these days you can't just buy a new perfume...you have to buy a new way of viewing the world. Consider this description:

From creative fashion designers Viktor & Rolf comes Flowerbomb, an explosive bouquet with a host of sweet floral layers, mingling jasmine, rose, freesia and orchids, underlined with patchouli. A lingering fragrance, which leaves a very chic, swirling trail. Flowerbomb is more than a name, it's a way of seeing life, an antidote to the reality against which we have only one weapon: dreams.

Now that's some powerful stuff. This blog has taken a political turn in recent days, noting the ways fashion, beauty, and the electoral process are inextricably tangled. Now, in the wake of the election, we draw a line from fragrance to foreign policy. A November 2 New York Times editorial claimed that "Mr. Bush is inventing a fantasy world in which to campaign on phony issues against fake enemies." And there's that unfortunate quote from Bob Woodward's State of Denial, when Bush said of the Iraq war, "I will not withdraw, even if Laura and Barney are the only ones supporting me." Now that Rumsfeld is out of a job and the Dems are poised to take command, Bush is backpedaling on his "stay the course" rhetoric. He needs a new message. "Mission Accomplished" is a distant memory of wishful thinking, "The War on Terror" has lost its bite as a catchphrase and the press hasn't bought into "Operation Iraqi Freedom," favoring the politically neutral "Iraq war." If voters were indeed trying to replace macho politics with a Mommy vibe, Bush might gain some points by renaming the Iraq conflict. My vote is for Operation Flowerbomb. While the "bomb" part allows Bush to maintain some of his cowboy swagger, the underlines of patchouli will appeal to those neo-hippies who hope the ouster of Rumsfeld is a prelude to peace. Flowerbomb might just be the oxymoronic rhetorical device that gets the public to reinvest in Bush's fantasy. An explosive bouquet with a lingering, swirling trail, it's the antidote to the reality against which we have too few weapons and no real strategy.

Now that the election is over...

you have another opportunity to make the right choice, America.

The breakup trend should continue...

I wish Britney would divorce this hat.

Oh, that's a family name.

Lindsay, when you were tiny, you received a baby doll from our grandmother, Tootsie. As you recall, you named the doll "Baby Tootsie." I was thinking about Baby Tootsie today, and I decided that if Pete and I ever have a daughter, we could name her Marianne and call her Baby Tootsie. And hope she doesn't have gravity-controlled eyes.

Related Thought: Did you ever think it was strange to name a toy "[type of toy][name of giver]"? If Dad had given the doll to you would you have named it "Baby Daddy"?