State of the (Homebody) Union
Channeling my inner Massie Block to tally what's in and what's out for October.
IN: Concert films
You may think that only the biggest names in music can get away with releasing concert films and repackaging an experience that most of their audience already paid for and saw live, but you would be wrong. Imagine Dragons – a band known mainly for providing the soundtrack for the loudest car commercials you’ve ever heard – recently released a concert film of their own. All it takes is the audacity. In the immortal words of Gia Gunn: “My God, there’s … room for everybody, let’s just say that.”
OUT: Emotionally investing in sports teams
To know the triumphs and defeats, the epic highs and lows of high school football is, as we all know, to truly live. To care about how Joe Burrow and the Cincinnati Bengals are performing this NFL season is to die a slow, excruciating death. Don’t ask me to explain my fixation – frankly, I’m shocked it’s lasted as long as it has. Here are things about him that, in theory, should give me the ick:
blonde and blue-eyed
paid outrageous sums of money to incur head trauma
lives in the fashion intersection of ‘teen hypebeast’ and ‘substitute teacher desperate to be seen as cool by his students’
probably has veneers
from Ohio
And yet! Here I am, finding game streams riddled with pop-ups just to watch his team flop. The heart wants what it wants, and apparently mine wants to see Swole Kevin McCallister lift a Super Bowl trophy in this lifetime. It was already out of character for me to be this invested when he was playing well, but now it’s just humiliating for everyone involved: him and his injured calf that he refuses to let heal by sitting out a few weeks; Bengals fans, who are being dragged kicking and screaming back into the We Suck Shit trenches after a taste of success the last few years; and most importantly, me, who would stop caring if only I could.
IN: Tower 28 ShineOn Lip Jelly
I’m always on the lookout for products that look good without lip liner, are moisturizing enough that I don’t need to apply Carmex lip balm on top, and last for hours at a time. ShineOn Lip Jelly from Tower 28, an Asian American-owned clean beauty brand that my best friend (and patron saint of Homebody) Mbiye introduced me to, meets all three criteria and then some. You can choose a Milky option for more opaque coverage, as is my preference, or a Glossy one for a more sheer look.
“Milky rosy brown” Cashew was the first shade I tried and remains my favorite so far – it looks like a more lush version of my natural lip color.
OUT: Season 4 of Sex Education
The strongest selling points for Sex Education have always been: 1. A charismatic ensemble cast and 2. Frank, funny writing. With some of the original cast members not returning for the final season and the remaining ones mostly phoning it in, a crucial half of the magic formula is missing. The result is still better than most other Netflix originals (a low bar) but ultimately pales in comparison to the seasons that came before. I guess once the door to bigger and more exciting projects like Barbie is open, it’s hard to recapture the same enthusiasm. Ncuti Gatwa and Emma Mackey’s careers will fare just fine in a post-Sex Education world, but I fear Asa Butterfield’s IMDB page will return to logging a steady stream of projects nobody’s ever heard of, let alone watched.
IN: Mutual ghosting
When you go on a date so stilted and devoid of chemistry that you both just never text each other again afterwards, that’s amore.
OUT: Matrimony
Being a celebrity who’s married? In 2023? Grow up!
IN: Returning to the classics
Spring and summer are for trying new things; fall is for retreating to your comfort zone. Our favorites remain so year after year because they offer something new no matter how many times we run them back. Maybe it’s realizing how much of Jane Eyre is actually about Charlotte Brontë hating Christian missionaries and subscribing to bullshit phrenology psuedoscience, or marveling at the fact that Friday Night Lights more effectively launched Jesse Plemons (comedic relief sidekick) into the ranks of prestige TV than Taylor Kitsch (brooding heartthrob). Happy rewatch/reread season to all!
OUT: Award shows
You’re telling me that the most buzzworthy thing about the VMAs – which once gave us Lady Gaga singing as fake blood gushed down her body and Britney dancing with a real snake draped over her shoulders and “Miley, what’s good” – was Selena Gomez half-heartedly making faces from her seat in the audience? It’s so over.
IN: Chappell Roan
Ending on a high note (lol) to say that Chappell Roan’s The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess is a great pop record – rowdy, randy, and raw. As promised in the album title, Roan’s Midwest Princess embarks on a heroine’s journey that sees her flying to ecstatic heights of heretofore unimaginable pleasure and then crashing back down to Earth when the gravity of her self-sabotage catches up with her. Listening to this album encapsulates the self-esteem whiplash of being in your 20s, where one second you’re high off your own hype and the next you’re convinced that you’ve set a new world record for being a lowly, unlovable little worm. Roan never stays in the dumps for long, though. There’s always another girl to kiss, another ex to watch go down in flames, and another life-altering revelation on the horizon. Don’t be surprised if she ditches the tiara before her next album – this princess isn’t daunted by the prospect of reinvention.
Favorite tracks: Naked in Manhattan, Pink Pony Club, Casual, HOT TO GO!, and My Kink Is Karma
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