Wine and Whine, Ep 9: Sosie Bacon

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In this episode we whine with this year’s Miss Golden Globe, Sosie Bacon while we drink some Pinot Grigio she stole from her parents’ wine cellar. 

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Expect to hear:

Golden Globes stories!

Us breaking down whether or not we’ve dated sociopaths!

Kathryn working through her patchy history with dead dogs!

And then more talk of people with anti-social personality disorders!

Find us on iTunes and Stitcher! Rate/Subscribe!

Twitter: @wineandwhinepod

@KathrynG

@DaraLaine

and follow our guest @realsosiebacon but please do not hold that Twitter handle against her, it was an accident.

Instagram: @wineandwhinepodcast

and @SosieBacon

Oscar Best Picture Challenge: “American Hustle”

Last year during Oscar season, the only nominated picture I saw was Argo. Though it was fun making Oscar predictions based on an affinity for an actor’s hair color or previous movies that they’ve made, I’ve decided to challenge myself and see each Best Picture nominee before the winners are announced, then give you a little review!

So, luckily, I had already seen one of the movies during Christmas, American Hustle. Even luckier, I did not sneak wine into the theater on this one occasion, so I can recall the beginning, middle, and end to an extent. Here is my review:

american-hustle-poster-636-380Great breasts, both male and female, throughout the film, from all parties. Special mention to Amy’s side and middle breasts. Hair. The other half of that guy’s face from Boardwalk Empire. I could have done without the entire first hour of the movie. Louie CK can just play himself in every movie if he wants, I’m fine with it. Jennifer Lawrence, who? Amy Adams is the unsung hero in my book, do you remember that she was in Drop Dead Gorgeous? Carmine’s wife was pretty legit. Nail polish. Am I the only one who is afraid of David O’Russell based on the stories the actors tell about him on late night shows? The 60’s, who? The 70’s is the unsung hero of all the decades in my book. Disco and perms and whatnot? That was the point of the film, correct?

Overall, the American Hustle was nice to look at, especially the breasts belonging to all parties, male and female.

Agree? Disagree? (Only tell me if you agree, this is my blog, don’t be rude).

Wine and Whine, Ep. 5: Kathryn Gallagher

Well, we had to take a week off from W&W, but now we’re back with a little shake up:

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Dara is now joined by new co-host, Kathryn Gallagher!

Why did Gabi leave?

Is Dara impossible to work with?

Was she sent to live on a farm full of other podcasters she could play with?

Did Gabi decide to take a crack at a second career and is now too busy taking night classes in mortuary sciences at the local community college?

You’ll have to listen to find out!

Meanwhile, WINE: Friexenet cava WHINE: Kathryn Gallagher

Tweet us at @wineandwhinepod, @kathryng, and @daralaine and tell us what you think of Wine and Whine 2.0 (#WW2).

Happy Friday, Gwyneth Paltrow!

That goop article you’ve been slaving over can wait until Monday, so put down your hemp seed detox smoothie and pick up a cold glass of Sauv Blah because it’s the weekend, Gwyneth!
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I’m excited, too!

BTW Gwyney, you fill out a snake skin bikini like a dream.

I’m working today, but I started my weekend festivities yesterday at a party celebrating the opening of a Warby Parker store in The Standard Hotel in West Hollywood. Was it worth staying out so late when I had to wake up so early for work the next day? Well, I got a free canvas tote bag containing a one-size-fits-not-me pair of slippers, so you be the judge (and duh. Of course it was worth it because all women inexplicably love free tote bags that we pack our lunch in once and then never use again).

Plus Mischa Barton was there. It was coolish to have Mischa Barton at that party, but maybe not cool to be Mischa Barton at that party. Like I said, free tote bag, but basically the event was just a bunch of hipsters in affordable glasses and skinny ties standing next to a pool. And wasn’t it just The OC’s 10 year anniversary? Surely there’s some Buzzfeed article about it floating around that might give her popularity a little resurgance granting her access to cooler parties. Or maybe she could just stay home. I’m not a fan of hers or anything so I don’t know her substance abuse history like I do Lindsay Lohan’s or Laurie Forman’s from That 70’s Show (RIP), but she definitely feels like someone who shouldn’t be drinking. Regardless, being in her presence is just cool enough to my hipper East Coast relatives that when they point out that I could be a secretary in New Hampshire too, I can counter with the lie that I live a fabulous LA lifestyle.

Plus, I can’t be a secretary in glamourous Beverly Hills in New Hampshire, can I? Uh-no.

Baby’s First Hollywood Pool Party

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All my life, I’ve been the kind of person who clings tightly to her principles and convictions.

I am also the kind of person whose principles and convictions can be bought with blended margaritas and movie theater style nachos.

Do I consider myself a feminist? Absolutely. Will I speak up and defend myself or a fellow woman when I see a sexist injustice occurring? I believe it’s my duty. Am I so poor that I will throw all of this away so I can get my buzz on foh’ free at a Beverly Hills pool party? Within reason. But mostly yes.

The dissolution of my moral compass began when my roommate and I were invited to a pool party celebrating the birthday of Jesse from that Super Bowl GoDaddy commercial:

2349077637I’ve talked about it before, but if you’ll allow me to mount this high horse again, the commercial was sexist because it perpetuated the idea that women are supposed to be beautiful and men are supposed to be smart. Also it had a fat guy making out with a hot girl. What hope do us averages have of finding a man on our level if the media keeps telling boys and Kevin James that they are entitled to a woman who is 80% boobs and legs??

So, despite my reservations, I still wanted to go to the party because the poor kid was just in a GoDaddy commercial, not a Spike TV show. And I was promised free booze.

My friends and I arrived before Jesse got there, and after being handed a free(!!!) margarita, we were informed that they were filming a documentary on Jesse. The producer wanted a very specific shot of Jesse when he entered the party. He handed my girlfriends and me an armful Hawaiian leis and told us to go up to Jesse one-by-one and ask, “can I lei you?” Okay, so obviously this dude had no idea that this group of women included one who had read Hillary Rodham Clinton’s Living History. 

This request made me thoroughly uncomfortable, but it all happened so fast! I suddenly found myself doing an awkward Target Lady-esque shuffle, mumbled a “here you go” and threw the lei around his neck like I was doing a county fair horse shoe toss.

I felt like an idiot, but I just gave it to Jesus and prayed that if this documentary ever surfaced that my future moms Amy and Tina wouldn’t recognize me thanks to my giant mosquito sunglasses.

I drank another Jesse-rita and felt better.

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A few minutes later, the same guy asked if we would rub Jesse down with sunblock. To this I replied, “feminism!” and moon walked on my cork wedge heels back to the margarita bar. Listen, am I being a little over sensitive? Maybe. But there would never be a pool party thrown in honor of an overweight, 25 year-old woman just because she was in one popular  commercial. How about this? If any hot man reading can tell me he was once asked by a producer to rub down Nikki Blonsky with some SPF at a pool party put together by her publicist then I will just delete this post.

Anyway, as my blood blended with the Jesse-ritas, I realized what a surreal situation I had put myself in. I’m 90% sure that the house we were at is also rented out to shoot porn. I’m also 90% sure that most of the guests at the party have shot a porn in that house. Please don’t misunderstand, though, this was not a trashy party. It was an absolute who’s who of Hollywood extras. There were some big G-list stars too: the cook from 2 Broke Girls, the nerdy guy with the Jew-fro from Glee (I can say that because we have the same last name), and most exciting, Yolanda Foster’s ex-husband Mohamed.

I only ever left my spot on my beach chair to get more nachos or to go to the bathroom (if I looked a little harder I bet I would have found a cocaine dispenser next to the hand soap), but it was a real trip, and it was certainly worth going to.

Next stop, the Playboy Mansion!

Feminism!

Should We Be More Worried About Quvenzhane Wallis?

I think I’m doing enough worrying for all of us, but what will become of Q. Wallis and her puppy purse?

Ok, apparently this dog purse is a thing. She has a different one for every event. All is already lost, see ya later.

 

Wait, though.

What was in that purse, anyway? A Lip Smackers chapstick and a baggy full of dry Cheerios? Could her mother not hold on to that, or was her purse too full of her daughter’s money that she’ll hold on to until she’s 18 or legally emancipated, which ever comes first?

I apologize for all the questions, but I don’t think any of us, including that child’s mother, are looking out for this girl.

We’re all realistic about Honey Boo Boo and where that is headed, but just because Q isn’t swilling Go-Go Juice and snorting pixie sticks at her mother’s behest, that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to end up the same way (being exploited by Dr. Drew).

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Have we all just forgotten Tatum O’Neal? She’s not just that awful lady who shoe-shames Carrie on that one episode of Sex and the City. She’s Tatum O’Neal, 10 year old Oscar winner for Paper Moon. By 12, she was with Melanie Griffith having hash fueled orgies in Paris. That’s a pretty quick turn around. Grant it, I’m pretty sure since Drew Barrymore left rehab you’re not allowed to give 10 year olds cocaine and a Manhattan for a job well done at the Spy Kids wrap party, but I still don’t trust Q Wallis around those Hollywood vultures.

Even if she never touched a bottle of Go-Go Juice her entire life, I still don’t have high hopes for her as an adult. You can’t nominate a 9 year old for an Oscar and not expect her to be the kind of person who throws Quinoa salad at her assistant because she forgot to ask for chickpeas on the side. By 9, you’re beginning to enter your character building years where you develop a sense of humor or other pleasing personality traits that distract from how crooked your teeth are. Q has an Oscar nomination. That’s her compensatory personality trait. She can basically just stop developing and maturing as a human being right now. She probably has already dropped those “please” and “thank you’s” from her vocabulary all together. She can just say “HUNGRY” and bang her Austin Film Critics Association Award on the table until some PA magically appears with a Happy Meal. Someone should have told her that making muscle arms when they say your name at the Oscars is unseemly and doesn’t display a lot of humility. Instead, Giuliana Rancic goes on and on about how adorable it was sealing her fate as a future high maintenance, disagreeable grown-up child actor.

Maybe I’m worrying for nothing. Or maybe Elle Fanning is offering Q her first frozen pina colada at The Rainforest Cafe while we sit idly by thinking nothing’s wrong.

LA Woman

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I have some fun news to share with you all today (just as a warning, it really only affects me, so feel free to just start skimming at this point). I’m moving to LA next month with my friend, Jillian from college!

FAQs:

Q: Do you have a job lined-up yet?

A: You are aware that I want to be a comedian, right? So, no, I do not have anything lined-up yet. I’ll be sure to let you know when I land a job scanning membership cards at the front desk of a 24-Hour Fitness.

Q: Where will you be living?

A: This must be your first time here – I would never post that. The hallmark of this blog is my paranoid stance that everyone is stalking me. It’s what gives it such a strong sense of narcissistic charm.

Q: What are you going to do once you get there?

A: First, I’m going to start taking classes at an improv theater. I guess from there I’ll just do my best to hold on to my morals and identity in a town where friends wouldn’t hesitate to betray you for the chance to star in a Kotex commercial.

Q: How are you getting there?

A: My mom and I will be roadtripping there, stopping in Nashville, Oklahoma City, and Phoenix. Along the way, I’ll be blogging here and on my tumblr in case you’re interested in pictures of me eating regional fast food. If you know of any places I should see in those cities or along Route 40, let me know in the comments, and please keep in mind how much I appreciate quirky, Americana ambiance and biscuits. Most importantly, if you have any leads on jobs in LA please keep me in mind. The only thing I love more than biscuits is money to pay for biscuits.

How I Get Ready for a Night on the Town

How do I go from looking like this: lindsay-lohan-crack

to this vision of class: 36510_4215369902773_2132590753_n

before a night out?

READ ON FOR THE SCOOP!

4 Hours Prior to Leaving the House: Get a craving for some kind of take-out food for dinner. I will generally rationalize the fact that I’m about to eat some sort of heavy meal before wearing some sort of spandex/cotton blend dress by telling myself that eating a huge meal before drinking is the responsible thing to do.

3.5 Hours Prior to Leaving the House: Curse myself for eating Indian or Greek food before going out. No amount of Listerine Total Care Mouthwash will hide this smell because now the chicken tikka masala is just seeping out of my pores. I make peace with myself and God and the fact that I’ll be talking with my hand discreetly in front of my mouth for the night.

3 Hours Prior to Leaving the House: Finish the last 45 minutes of Clueless on Comedy Central.clueless-lipstick

2 Hours and 15 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Remember that time exists and who I am as a person and realize that 2 hours and 15 minutes is cutting it close if I want to be ready on time.

2 Hours Prior to Leaving the House: Stop watching a 10 year-old episode of Law and Order: SVU on TBS and get in the shower (unless it’s the episode where Olivia goes undercover at the women’s prison, in which case, all is lost).

1 Hour and 15 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Start in on a glass of wine while I dry my hair. Drinking while getting ready to go out and drinking while cooking are my two favorite hobbies besides drinking outside during the day.

1 Hour Prior to Leaving the House: Weigh the pros and cons of leaving the house. Think of ways to get out of these plans. Curse myself for making plans. Screen shot 2013-02-12 at 10.51.31 AM

45 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Realize that drinking before putting my eye make up on was a bad idea. Go through 8 Q-tips trying to clean up the mess I’ve made with my Urban Decay Naked Palette.

30 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Take a break because make up is tiring. Walk around the house. Pick at whatever food I didn’t finish from earlier. Pour myself more wine. Decide it’s too late to cancel now. Consider canceling, again. No, I’m going, I have to go.

15 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Look at my phone and see that I’m supposed to be at my destination in 5 minutes. Apply mascara and curl my eyelashes.

10 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Put on the outfit I decided on earlier.

5 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Put on a different outfit.

1 Minute Prior to Leaving the House: Curl my eyelashes.

30 Seconds Prior to Leaving the House: Text friends that I’m on the road.

5 Seconds Prior to Leaving the House: Curl my eyelashes and tease my hair.

1 Second Prior to Leaving the House: Look longingly at the couch.

As you can see, there’s so much more to getting ready for a night out than most men realize.

313625_2124322667899_111874875_n Cheers, haters! Nobody looks this good in their New Balances!

My Advice to LiLo After Moving Back With Her Mom

Lindsay, let me first preface this post by saying that as I write this, I am sitting in my childhood bedroom.

photoThis is what I’m working with right now.

I know this looks bad. And sure, I’m making myself low-calorie margaritas at my desk for dinner, and I don’t know if that qualifies me for an eating disorder or a drinking problem. And yes, I’m spending my Thursday night in New Hampshire writing in a blog that I don’t get paid for. The “I” on my keyboard is so worn out that I have to warm it up before I start  writing (I’m serous… seriiious), and I’m starting to think that when your “I” key is over-used it points to a Real Housewives level of narcism. And yet, I continue to write in this blog that nobody pays me for because there isn’t much left to do.

So, with that kind of full discloser, it may not seem like I’ve got it together enough to give you advice, but I’ve never done meth before, and like, no offense, I kinda think you have, so maybe I have some wisdom to impart. Besides the meth, I’ve also been living with my parents for about a year and a half after college, so maybe you can learn something now that you’ve moved back into your Long Island pre-Parent Trap home. 

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Okay, so first, you probably feel really bad about yourself. You should. I’m not trying to be mean, but I think you need to take some responsibility for screwing up your life. You were a child star, and that definitely sets you up for some problems. Your mother was a failed show girl or something and your dad was a money-hungry coke fiend, and that’s just the perfect storm to create a… well, a you… Basically, you are the new industry standard for a screwed-up child star. No one remembers Dana Plato, anymore. It’s all you.

You’ve kind of hit rock bottom, so let this be a time of reflection. Reflect on what you’ve done wrong, and what you can do in the future to be better. Make a game plan. Take an acting class. We all saw Liz and Dick, and I’ll grant you, you had your moments, but you could use a brush-up. Take this opportunity to chill and get back to basics. Don’t worry too much about what your peers are doing. I know you must hate Jennifer Lawrence so, so much right now, but just worry about yourself and what you can do to come back swinging. There’s no shame in moving home, we’ve all been doing it. Lena Dunham did it. It’s the thing, it’s chic! This is a bad economy, and snorting your entire fortune up your nose happens to everyone. I say “everyone” with the assumption that everyone is Stevie Nicks. And look how well she turned out!!

Just remember, if Robert Downey Jr. can make a come back, so can you. He professed his friendship for Mel Gibson with a weird kiss during the Golden Globes in a room full of Jews. He cannot possibly be smarter than you.

Just know that I believe in you, Lindsay.

Stars, They’re Just Like Us! Stupid!

How did you let this happen, Katy Perry?

It is so troubling to me that a woman who looks like Zooey Deschanel but with bigger boobs and millions of dollars isn’t immune to the charms of a troll like John Mayer (and also that she wears flats and carries her heels until reaching her destination like a COMMONER with mortal feet). I find John Mayer repulsive, and the original mascot of crazy, dramatic male artists (or as I like to call them “handfuls”) that are emotional murderers of woman. And now, surprise, surprise… he has broken the Alabaster  Princess’s heart.

I can’t even feel bad for her– we all told you, Katy Perry! We warned you that he was bad news and we didn’t do it ‘cuz we’re jealous!

Katy, did you think that Jennifer Aniston was making all this stuff up? I get that maybe you weren’t sold on Taylor Swift’s opinion or God forbid, anything coming out of Jennifer Love Hewitt’s candy lips and bubble gum tongue, but it’s Rachel Green we’re talking about here!

All of America was telling you this dude was bad news, and you wouldn’t listen. We were just trying to protect you, one gal to another. Next time I hope you heed our advice. Maybe consider dating a nice lawyer or something. Or just a guy with short hair. I think that might help a lot.

Now let’s kiss and forget about this whole thing.

Oh, you’re not into that anymore? Totally, sure, nevermind!