I have a confession to make. I may have been mild to moderately obsessed with the Olsen twins since I was a toddler. Even when I was a child, my friend Katie and I would play detective while mimicking those awful straight to video detective films starring MK and A.
While I still appreciate the latte-drinking twin moguls, I have to address something that has been bothering me for nearly twenty years concerning Mary-Kate and Ashley. Really, I want an answer to a question that has boggled my mind since I was about five.
The Olsen Twins were born on June 13, 1986. Yours truly was born on June 13, 1987. For funsies, we’ll state the fact that Tim Allen was born on June 13, 1953. Anyways, in the epic film To Grandmother’s House We Go, the twins give a character Eddie their birth date to buy a lottery ticket, with which he ends up winning the jackpot. They tell him they were born on June 13, 1987, not 1986. I have always been annoyed by this. Is six years old really less cute than five? If so, what are we telling children? To get started early on the proactive plastic surgery? Is that what we told the Olsen twins? Is that why when someone mentions MK and Ash, the only things that pop into my mind are Heath Ledger, Ambien and Klonopin? Surely the latter two are only because I am currently obsessed with Elaine Carroll’s inspiring web series Very Mary-Kate, but still, I’m convinced that Hollywood’s decision to make those poor poor millionaires lie about their age so young is what spawned the uber twins to become what we know them as today; disgustingly rich, dazed and confused.
Shame on you Hollywood!
At the suggestion of a friend, I ended up watching Skins the other night. No, not the lame MTV version, but the unapologetic, vibrant, disgustingly real British series. I simply couldn’t stop watching and got through the whole of season 1 in 1 evening. Much like Secret Diary of a Call Girl, Skins is completely honest, there is very little censorship, and you see a LOT of, pardon mon Francais, tits and ass.
Now, last week was the US premiere of MTV’s re-vamped Skins. I made it through ten minutes. Now, I’m all for artistic license when re-creating anything. My favorite staging of La Traviata has Violetta running around giant tomblike blocks in a graveyard… I get it. But there is something thrilling about the opening scene of the British series, with Tony waking up in his naked couple blanket, to his younger sister Effy coming home in the early morning clad in the previous days school girl uniform, improved slightly by heavy make up, jewelry and wild hair.
Within the first ten minutes of the MTV Skins, the network replaced Tony’s blanket with a spider covered down comforter, made Effy look a hell of a lot like Jenny from Gossip Girl (post her designer phase) and the worst fuck up of all? The popular character Maxxie, a gay male dancer, was now a lesbian cheerleader. OK bravo to Pretty Little Liars for keeping to your theme and introducing Emily as a lesbian within the first season. MTV, shame on you for not embracing the UK’s intention that a young gay male could in fact be one of the guys, part of a popular group of teens. And while we all love Glee’s Kurt, it would have been nice to see a young gay male go through this journey with Tony, Cassie, Michelle, Sid, Anwar, Jal and Chris while NOT having slushies thrown in his face every five seconds, but no, MTV gave us the stereotypical fantasy of a lesbian cheerleader… how fucking lame! We’ll see what happens when MTV runs into season 2’s “Sketch” difficulties. Good Luck and goodbye.
Why is it that I find British TV’s The Secret Diary of a Call Girl to be the most relatable show on television? No, I definitely do not share professions with Belle, nor am I planning to. In fact, I wish had some sort of job to alleviate my impending doom of student loan repayment. Mind you, I have just under two years to find a job that will allow me to pay the approximate $600-800 a month in loan fees, $1,000 or so for NYC rent, and not to mention everything else that comes with being alive, e.g., health insurance, phone bills, internet, the occasional subscription to do-it-yourself/ self help magazines…. ok now maybe that’s just me, but still!
I admire Brooke Magnanti: the real author of the famous weblog Belle de Jour which inspired three books and The Secret Diary of a Call Girl television series for many reasons. Here was a woman who literally took life by the bollocks. Dr. Magnanti (yes she has a Ph. D.), now works at Bristol University using forensic science to research the effects of pesticides in children. Now why would such a smart woman resort to such seemingly disgusting means to exploit herself? Well, as she has said in many previous interviews, she blew her savings and needed to make enough money to support herself while preparing for the viva examination. The result was three or so evenings out of the week working as an “escort”, a weblog read by millions and a secret to carry for nearly a decade as she started her post-Belle life.
Dr. Brooke Magnanti a.k.a. former call girl and weblog phenomenon Belle de Jour
What I guess I’m really trying to say is that although I don’t intend to moonlight as a gay prostitute anytime soon, and boy have I been confused for one (we’ll talk about that one soon), I do plan on finding some type of unconventional employment soon so I can actually stay in this horridly expensive city when I do graduate in just over a year. And who knows, maybe we’ll be reading about a beau de jour by then