HELP!
Everything we can’t stop loving, hating, and thinking about in pop culture.
Senior Editor, Obsessed
The only thing worse than a meme that completely floods your social media timeline is not understanding what in God’s name the meme means. As a burgeoning Old Person, this has become a frustratingly common occurrence. So in between refilling my acid reflux prescription and icing my sore knees, I finally broke down and Googled the provenance of the meme that had been assaulting me all week, and now I’m more annoyed than I was when I was just blissfully elderly, clueless, and out of touch.
All week, I logged onto Twitter, or X, or Absolute Hell—whatever we want to call it these days—and there were endless posts of random images captioned, “You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.” At first, I thought it was poetic, a rare instance of social media earnestness. Then I noticed some of the photos—a picture of Seattle Grace Hospital from Grey’s Anatomy, the storefront of Aeropostale at a mall, the log-in page for Tumblr—and wondered if the line was some nostalgic reference to millennial childhoods that I had forgotten about.
Then Monica Lewinsky participated in the meme, posting a photo of the White House along with the standard caption, and mainstream media started to notice and report on it. That’s how I learned that this whole meme is a reference to a Taylor Swift lyric from The Tortured Poets Department. Seriously?!
Look, I’m not typically one to harsh anyone’s buzz. People should have fun when they can in this miserable time right now. And I can’t really articulate why this bothers so much, other than understanding that I’m more irritated than usual by this particular meme. But there’s something so dystopian about the inescapability: Beyond the discourse that has overtaken every other corner of the pop-culture water cooler in this last week, Taylor Swift’s new album has now staged a coup over my social media timeline too.
I’m a Taylor Swift agnostic. It’s a typically peaceful existence. I like her music well enough and have no strong opinion about her life and celebrity one way or another. I have curated my social media to avoid the absurd arguing over her and her music. So to have this meme be unavoidable where I have tried to avoid everyone’s Swift obsessions entirely, well that’s going to send me to the asylum.
Anyway, rant over. I’ll go back to watching my reruns of Matlock and warming up soup.
There was quite the scuttlebutt this week when Glen Powell revealed in a New York Times interview that the speculation that he and Anyone But You co-star Sydney Sweeney were having an off-set affair was intentional and orchestrated by the duo themselves.
“The two things that you have to sell a rom-com are fun and chemistry,” he said. “Sydney and I have a ton of fun together, and we have a ton of effortless chemistry. That’s people wanting what’s on the screen off the screen, and sometimes you just have to lean into it a bit—and it worked wonderfully. Sydney is very smart.”
Some people thought this was hilarious and applauded the pair for pulling off such a clearly successful marketing strategy. Others felt duped and betrayed by a celebrity romance (and scandal) that they had invested in. Is it kind of insidious to play the public and the press like that? If we can’t trust extremely hot and rich celebrities with an army of publicists hired to manipulate the media, then whom can we trust!?
As for me, I totally get it. I too have been lying about a romance, though my paramour and I have been operating with the opposite tactic to Glen and Sydney. Rather than pretend to be in love in public, Jonathan Bailey and I have been keeping our torrid, sex-heavy relationship a complete secret from everyone. If you ask him about it now, he’ll still deny it. He’s really into this ruse. What can I say? That’s my guy!
Last week, I wrote about how the special, supersized episode of Bluey, “The Sign,” made everyone—myself included—cry. In the episode, the Heeler family is so heartbroken about the idea of selling their home and moving out of their neighborhood that, in the end, they stay put. It was a poignant portrayal of the meaning of home, memories, and community, and the scary uncertainty of journeying into an unknown that won’t guarantee you more happiness than you already have.
Everyone seemed to love and agree with that message. Everyone except, it turns out, the people and companies whose bank accounts rely on families actually going through with selling homes and moving, unlike the Heelers.
Zillow has, hilariously and shrewdly, released a new commercial in response to Bluey, hoping to convince buyers and sellers that they should still embrace the idea of moving—emotional cartoon dogs, be damned.
“Despite how a certain children’s show made us all feel recently, moving into a new home might just be a good thing,” an appropriately Australian narrator says. At the end of the commercial, which lists the positives of moving, four real-life dogs are shown and, in another nod to Bluey, look forlorn while sitting next to a For Sale sign. “Don’t look at me like that,” the narrator says. “C’mon guys, you’re killing me here.”
I honestly love this. Good for Zillow. Watch the commercial here.
It’s a miracle that this newsletter exists this week—or that any task was accomplished at all—because my brain has solely been preoccupied by one thing: the Spice Girls’ reunion performance of “Stop,” with the original choreography, at Victoria Beckham’s 50th birthday party.
Join me in watching it for the 479th time here.
The Big Door Prize: If there was justice in the world, this would have as much attention as Ted Lasso got. (Now on Apple TV+)
Thank You, Goodnight: The Bon Jovi Story: Spending several hours looking at Jon Bon Jovi is always a valuable use of one’s time. (Now on Hulu)
Challengers: At long last, my love of tennis is considered hot and sexy. (Now in theaters)
Unsung Hero: Even God can’t save this snoozy faith-based movie. (Now in theaters)
City Hunter: They have all the money in the world, yet Netflix can’t make a good anime adaptation. (Now on Netflix)
Senior Editor, Obsessed
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