This Week
Judge Barbie presiding. (Image via CNN)
Mattel released the Barbie Judge Doll, as the 2019 Career of the Year doll. For anyone who dreads the question, “what’s for dinner?” Get a dog, live longer. A look back at Diahann Carroll’s barrier-breaking career. All the single ladies, all the single ladies...are working more than ever. C’mon get happy and sing with other people. Candace Bushnell is back with a new book about dating — and sex — in your 50s. Phoebe Waller-Bridge did a brilliant job as host of SNL, but we think they cut the best skit. Speaking of periods, Samantha Irby shares every gory detail of her middle aged menstrual madness.
Obsessed: The Tenikle
There are so many ways to use the Tenikle!
I want to be a law-abiding hands-free driver, but I find it really hard not to clutch my phone when using a map app. Every type of phone mount has failed me: the vent grabber, the giant suction cup, the huge clear sticky sticker that sticks to my car or the phone but not both. I need three arms! And thanks to Tenikle, a ridiculous-looking but highly effective phone holder, I now do! Its three bendy octopus arms (get it? Tenikle?) have TEN small suction cups which can better handle curves, creating endless possibilities for holding the phone and still hanging on to the dashboard. I also use it at my desk to prop up my phone or rely on it as a tripod (there’s even a screw mount for real cameras hidden under the central suction cup). But ironically? It most often ends up in my hands — but not in the car — because I simply can’t stop playing with its super-satisfying bendiness.
— Stacy Morrison
TueNight 10: Carla Zanoni
Carla at a chateau in France, daydreaming about writing and baking pies
Age: 45
Quick bio: Carla is a digital strategist, writer and journalist in NYC. She is working on a memoir about the recovery of self worth, based on her 21-year journey from drug addiction to career and life success.
Beyond the Bio: "When I turned 40 I had a beautiful moment as I walked down the street: I liked myself. I realized I had managed to not only survive, but thrive. Now I feel a confidence, steadiness, and self love I hadn’t experienced before. This feels like the combined gifts of self inquiry, the power of age and experience."
1. On the nightstand: The Buly 1803 rose oil I put on my face and elbows before bed, a new 5 year journal where I keep a gratitude list, about 20 different pens, an azurite malachite stone I bought in Paris, and a tiny ceramic jar I reach for each night after I realize I once again forgot to take out my earrings before going to sleep.
2. Can't stop/won't stop: Listening to Russell Brand’s podcast “Under The Skin.” He is one of the best surprises of my 2019.
3. Jam of the minute: “Malamente,” by Rosalía
4. Thing I miss: Party-lines and prank calls
5. 80s crush: River Phoenix
6. Current crush: My dog and cat, Gertrude and Earnestine (insert Instagram handle? Instagram.com/gertandearnie)
7. Will whine about: I don’t really whine, but I do like to make plans and then complain about having plans.
8. Will wine about: No drinking for me, so I’ll shout out my other favorite podcast, “On Being.” I want to be Krista Tippett when I grow up.
9. Best thing that happened recently: I saw Madonna perform at BAM. Last time I saw her was 1990 when I was 16 during her Blonde Ambition tour.
10. Looking forward to: My fantasy secluded writing cottage in Upstate New York where I only wear caftans while baking pies as my husband Ben tinkers out in the shed.
Story: American Accent: Passing — and not Passing — as a Latina
By Carla Zanoni
One of my favorite childhood memories is of me sitting with my mother on her bed, recording ourselves reading articles to one another. She would look at me and slowly say, acutely aware of her Argentine accent, “I am prac-tis-sing my ello-cue-shon en Eng-lish,” and I would fall into a peal of giggles. I didn’t know my mother thought she needed to change her accent until that moment. I don’t know that I was even aware she had an accent until I was around that age. To me, my mother’s accent was just my mother’s voice.
My family moved to New York City from Buenos Aires on the winter solstice of 1975. It was one of the two coldest winters of the century; my father and mother were 26 and 25. I was 16 months old and my twin brothers just 4 months.
I imagine my parents shivering in their light wool coats and thin leather gloves meant for a mild Argentininean winter as we were ushered into two cars driven by my mother’s aunt and uncle and my godparents. They had moved to the States a few years earlier, pioneers who paved the way for our new lives.
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