Yesterday, when I tried to like something on Instagram, I got a little boxed message that said I could not take that action. No reason and no means of further discussion. I pretended it was just a glitch, but the box meant business.

I went to google why this had happened and learned that it usually meant they thought I was a spammer or a bot or some other kind of menace. But why? Apparently, if you leave the same comment too many times, it trips some algorithm.

Did I write “LOVE!” too many times?? That’s my typical comment, along with “Beautiful” and “Gorgeous.” That’s probably because I only follow photographers, stylists, tattooers, designers, models and jewelers. And I like to be supportive.

Occasionally, if it’s a really cute guy with long earrings and tight leggings, I comment “TOO HOT FOR ME!” with some little flame emojis. Is that so wrong??

Fucking Instagram.

Why am I even there? Why do I scroll through it incessantly, even when I’m watching TV? What is so addicting about my feed? Besides my effort to avoid having thoughts, is it a desire to be liked? Do I “like” stuff in order to be liked back or to indicate that I’m a really nice person? I truly have no idea. I know it’s something about occasional rewards that causes and maintains addictive behavior.

I didn’t think of Instagram as a negative entity like Twitter, which is just a rage-and-hatred recycling machine, but clearly it is not a plus in my life. My sense of anxiety and discomfort at being locked out is proof enough.

What if I could give up Instagram! All those hours could be applied to something else. Theoretically. Maybe I would actually read the things I have bookmarked, all those essays about serious matters like “Gen Z Shopping Habits” or  “Rumination: An overview.” Maybe I could at least put my phone down.

I plan to write more, because it forces me to organize the few thoughts I still have. It may also help with my waning word retrieval function, which caused a ten minute blockage of the word cucumber when I tried to remember what a pre-pickle is called.

Would you like to help out while you’re sequestered at home, wondering where to find bread or chicken? You can either help me figure out how to get right with Instagram, or suggest topics to write about.

Thanks! LOVE! BEAUTIFUL! TOO HOT FOR ME! (flame emoji flame emoji flame emoji)

By popular demand, I’m going to do a halfhearted and highly truncated review of the show, focusing on the musical performances, okay? Here we go:

Janelle Monae opened the show and even though it was a wildly all-over-the-place showbiz mishmash, she is a great performer who deserves our praise. She’s come a long way from an obscure fashion darling with a great Rockability look, to queer-spokeswoman Superstar. If she’s good enough for Prince, she should be good enough for you. She can sing, she can dance, she’s really pretty and she still has great style. You go, Janelle.

Idina Menzel is still someone who I don’t know anything about. I don’t like her name. It sounds like a marriage counselor who won’t be able to solve your problems. Whatever. She has great big pipes like an American Idol contestant and she wore a questionable Princess dress. I don’t know why there were a hundred other singers onstage who shouted along in foreign languages. Do you? It was stupid. Sorry, Rosetta Stone and Babble users.

Elton John was probably good but all I could focus on was the big lacquer red piano. It was so beautiful! I want one. Who doesn’t love lacquer red, especially in a piano or home appliance? I like the purple suit with the red, one of my favorite color  combinations. We will miss Elton when he’s gone, even if we’re sick of him at the moment. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Cynthia Erivo was fantastic, singing the song from her movie about Harriet Tubman. I had no idea that she was a singer! And Tony-winning Broadway star! Her performance was flawless, unlike her acting in the stupid Steven King series I’m watching on Netflix. What’s it called? She plays a weird psychic detective. It’s a terrible role and not her fault.

Crissy Metz is too fucking fat. Come at me, body-acceptance militants and fat-apologists! Too fat is too fat. It’s scary and unhealthy. Just admit what your eyes are telling you. I can’t say anything about her performance, obviously, because I’m such a big meanie that I didn’t notice her voice.

Billie Eilish singing “Yesterday” was surprisingly great. Surprising to me, since I have been braced to dislike her, given all the hype about her and her kooky green hair. But what a talented girl! She’s clearly on a bummer, and I can relate. At only 17, it’s quite a mature bummer, bringing to mind the young Fiona Apple. I think Billie will be a force in music much longer than Fiona was. I hope so.

Eminem was a big deal, apparently baffling the entire world with his appearance. Personally, I wasn’t baffled, just thrilled to see him, even though he could lose the beard, right ladies? He’s still a thrilling presence on stage, and dynamic as ever, even though someone criticized him for being winded at the end. I will have sex with him ANY DAY. Here’s what I wrote about him in 2011, and I’m standing by it:

Eminem confirmed his status as the rapper we’d most like to have sex with. An angry ball of rage, Eminem is on fire! He is the Ryan Gosling of rap. Talent plus intensity plus physical charisma = YES.

If there was anyone else, too bad for them.

There you have it. I hope you’re satisfied, you, the people!

I know I’m late but the Exegesis must go on, so here we go. As usual, the show was a boring waste of time but let me say that the ONLY thing I wanted was for Lady Gaga not to win. Sometimes a negative wish is enough to encourage a sense of involvement, right? And I stand before you a happy camper.

Why the animosity toward Lady Gaga? I just can’t stand her. But I think I have crystallized my revulsion for her with this insight: She is too needy. Her neediness makes me anxious, and it reminds me (subconsciously) of my own neediness, which I can’t face. Okay?

Anyway, her loss was my gain. Likewise, I enjoyed (i.e., hated) the sight of Bradley Cooper as Colonel Sanders, with his girlfriend du jour, a Russian prostitute/model.  I liked Nicole Kidman‘s fillers, while I disliked whatever Charlize has done with her face.

Taylor Swift‘s surprise appearance was like the Wicked Witch in Show White. When Idris “Please have sex with me!” Elba told Taylor that she was looking good, she replied “Thank you.” WHAT ABOUT “YOU TOO,” TAYLOR? ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND? Maybe she just has no manners.

Olivia Coleman was by far the most charming winner, just as she is the best actress alive. She can do no wrong. Go and watch all her movies and British dramas if you don’t believe me. Alfonso Cuarón was another deserving winner who exhibited unusual modesty in a sea of gushy idiots still telling Liam and Isabella to go to sleep.

Catherine Zeta-Jones was the winner of my Most Well-Preserved award, with Jamie Leigh Curtis taking the coveted Most Badly Aging prize. Patricia Arquette was amazing in her role of a lowlife prison guard in Escape at Dannemora, but her boobs were truly disturbing as they tried to explode in her face.

Regina King looked gorgeous and gave a delightfully joyous acceptance speech. Mahershala Ali looked inexplicably sad. Don’t be sad, Mahershala, we love you!

Why did the Versace series keep winning when it was such a trashy piece of shit? Anyone?

Most incandescently beautiful was Saoirse Ronan in a Gucci dress that revealed her perfect satiny skin. I will be her in my next life.

That cute guy whatsisname who everyone loves. Chalmet or something? He took the prize for most daringly queer beaded halter over a black on black outfit. But Billy Porter was by far the most glamorous man on the red carpet or anywhere else.

God, just kill me. It’s too boring to relive. The show ended on a high note, with Gaga getting snubbed beyond my wildest dreams. Yay! Let me know what I left out. xoxo

This is my annual Academy Awards Exegesis but I can’t let Warren Beatty get away with his behavior. Good for him for being a hall of fame loverboy, he is not a gentleman. He handed that card to poor Faye like, “You do it, I’m not taking the blame.” Almost on a par with Winston yelling “Do it to Julia!”

Man up, Warren, you fucking cunt. And then, after the mistake is revealed, he insists on taking up time to grab the mic and explain that it wasn’t his fault.  What vanity, even in Hollywood. Awful.

Okay, let’s do celebrity fashion and get the hell out of here.

Best dressed was Ruth Negga, stunning in bright red lace.

Most hideous dress, a tie between Scarlett Johansson and Charlize Theron. What’s wrong with them? Is Scarlett still trying to live down her sexpot image? Done deal, Scarlett, we see that you can look unattractive! Stop it already. And Charlize, stop buying up the black babies and look in the mirror. Come out of the closet or don’t, but face the fact that the days when you could wear just anything are long gone.

Brie Larson looked like a John Singer Sargent painting, so I’m giving her second place after Ruth.

Dakota Johnson looked awful, but her penance for those Shades of Black movies will never be over. Meryl Streep showed Chanel that Karl can go fuck himself, she will wear pants under her dress. Team Meryl all the way.

Way too many actresses wore gold column dresses, so they canceled each other out. Judd Apatow’s wife whatsername wore a welcome Pop of Color but looked like she was trying out for a Disney cartoon. Karlie Kloss wore an awful white shroud and Salma stuffed her boobs into a dated black beaded thing. Halle Berry wore a ridiculous wig that fooled no one on Black Twitter.

Now let’s do the men.

Ryan Gosling, please, please have sex with me. Please.

Dwayne Johnson and Samuel Jackson wore blue velvet jackets, I guess it’s a pimp look and if so, nice  y! Tarell Alvin McCraney looked gorgeous in a white tux and is my choice for second place. Casey Affleck needs to wash his hair.  Dev Patel‘s hair looked clean and fresh. People were hoping that Dev would make out with Andrew Garfield but that’s just mean.

Justin Timberlake always looks nice in Tom Ford, but the question remains, Why did he marry that awful Jessica Biel???

That’s it, it’s been a long day. I went to my eye doctor today, long story for another time, but while reviewing the Oscars with me, he noted, “Faye Dunaway is one of my patients, so I know she had no trouble reading!”

Wow, right?

Okay, let me know if I left out anything important.

I think it’s time for me to trademark this feature, that’s how much I like it.  Remember the last time we played?

My first reaction to this guy was YES! I might have even made some kind of noise. My brother-in-law used to groan aloud at the sight of his favorite female news anchor, and it drove my sister crazy. I have to find out if he still does it.

Anyway, this is my type of man to ogle: young, androgynous, provocative. But on the other hand, guys who wear hats are pretentious and douchey. I’m not crazy about little (or big) beards, either.

And yet.

What is your vote?

or

Here are the new houseboys for spring. Even if you’ve already done your spring cleaning, there is always more work to be done.

I like a  houseboy  who is sensitive but slightly feral.   Strong enough to move furniture but delicate in his facial features.

A good houseboy is comfortable enough in his masculinity to wear a veil or sarong or even high heels if necessary. It doesn’t hurt if he looks like Jimi Hendrix.

I don’t know all of their names, because names are just a distraction.

Do you see anything you like?

Remember the last time we struggled with this?

On the one hand, this guy is dressed like a clown. On the other hand,   he projects intelligence, confidence and a rakish challenge.

Do you want to grab his jacket and run? Or would you rather go back to his studio and play with his hair?

This is Dimitri Alexandrou.   Some of you prefer more rugged, masculine houseboys, so help yourself to the new candidates.

Here’s a hunk of tattooed burning love. Don’t know his name, don’t care. He’ll need to keep his hands off my earrings.

Sylvain Norget looks like he means business.   I can imagine him with a vacuum cleaner. I like it.

Daniel is a model and not really my type. But when I look into his eyes, I see him serving drinks and fluffing pillows.

What about this guy? Long hair to play with but enough manly pride to fold laundry with  military  precision.

Shah Rukh Khan is an Indian movie star ( I think) but I would like to see him lounging around after washing my hair.

I can’t resist a man in a dress. This may actually be my ideal houseboy. He doesn’t look judgemental: a plus!

Houseboy Sasha Marini is kind of sickening on the one hand, yet one might enjoy a scuffle with him as you try to get him to shave. I don’t know. Your call.

Now we’re talking. Francis Lane is the exact combination of youth and androgynous beauty that my house needs. I’d like to see him wearing  embroidered  satin slippers as he sweeps away the dog hair. I would even get him a feather duster!

Let me know if you found anything you like.

I don’t know where you live, but Los Angeles is hot and sweaty in August. I need a Houseboy to fan me while I sip a cold drink. Jo Dong Hyuk looks like a highly accomplished Houseboy, don’t you think?

But look at Greg Kheel.

Greg seems like a versatile Houseboy who wouldn’t mind dressing up if the situation demands. In fact, I would be happy to let him raid my closet when he’s done with his chores.

Finally, there’s Renato Ferreira.

He’s young, sure, but I think he would bring a spirituality to his tasks. He can even wear the necklace if it  doesn’t  get in the way.

See anything you like?

*If you know of any worthy houseboys of this caliber, feel free to submit pictures to sisterwolf666@gmail.com and I can include  them  with  the next batch.