Latest news with #DorothyParker
Washington Post
23-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Washington Post
The ‘Late Show' cancellation is terrible, but not because of Trump
When Calvin Coolidge died, Dorothy Parker is said to have remarked, 'How can they tell?' I felt the same way when CBS announced it was canceling Stephen Colbert's 'Late Show.' At some point, I probably registered that Colbert had taken over the network's late-night franchise, but if I did, I quickly forgot it. I never watched the show, because I literally can't recall the last time I watched network television, outside of presidential debates.
San Francisco Chronicle
12-07-2025
- General
- San Francisco Chronicle
The world is on fire, so I watch people wash antique wedding dresses
I have this weird, newly developed reaction to the news alerts on my phone. I blanche and recoil physically when I hear the pling of one of the apps. Then I slowly approach the device, hesitating as I dare to see, to quote Dorothy Parker, 'What fresh hell is this?' The Supreme Court ruled what? We're bombing who? How many people lost their lives in a preventable disaster? If the news is bad enough, I shrink back from the screen, hissing like Nosferatu greeting the morning sun, until the feeling passes. Once or twice, I've thrown my phone onto a chair as I cross myself. I know people who go on news breaks, switching off their notifications and avoiding checking their usual media sources. As a journalist, I don't have that luxury. But I have found a way I can numb my brain without entirely shutting it off after a long day. Lately, I've been anesthetizing myself with gorgeously ambient, happily low-stakes viewing. These terms are not meant to dismiss television shows like 'The Gilded Age' or 'And Just Like That…' These all just happen to be series where there's a lot of vibe, and nothing too terrible feels like it's going to happen. I'll be emotionally involved, but just barely. Among the biggest plotlines I've retained from the HBO Julien Fellows-helmed series 'The Gilded Age' are: will this rich girl marry a duke, and will people come to her mother's ball. It's not that I wasn't invested in these stories, it's just that the world wasn't going to end if either of these things didn't happen. And after HBO rebooted 'Sex and the City' with some major plot developments in the first season of 'And Just Like That…,' that series settled into a predictable groove of chic interiors populated by people wearing pretty clothes paired with the occasionally snappy dialogue over a meal. After 40 minutes spent with these people and their minor social dilemmas, my mind gets a nice little reset. I don't have to think too hard — just enough to vaguely follow what they all wore to the dinner party — so my brain doesn't atrophy. Often, while watching one of the aforementioned shows, I'll also scroll through Instagram reels of people doing very specialized productive things. This list includes refinishing badly painted antiques, conditioning old leather accessories, polishing silver and pressure washing just about any surface. There's a weird brain chemical boost of satisfaction from seeing people complete these tasks. Good for them! I'm currently taking refuge in watching people soaking and deep cleaning yellowed, antique wedding dresses. These videos are perfect — the goal is simply to restore the dresses to as close to white as possible. The time lapse shows the water go from clear, to dingy yellow, to brown. Once the dresses are dried, ironed and finally, modeled, I've seen a very condensed little three act play with a happy ending. In other low-stress viewing news, when I found out there's going to be another 'Downton Abbey' movie coming to theaters this fall, I smiled knowing I'd get to watch some very pleasant, low-stakes drama on the big screen. These films are so chill, it's like taking half a Xanax. Apparently, the big dilemma in this third film in the series is, 'Will Lady Mary be accepted in high society in 1930s London as a divorcee?' Oh, how delightfully not-anxiety inducing. I can't wait.
Yahoo
03-07-2025
- Health
- Yahoo
Why You Should Avoid These Alcoholic Drinks To Reduce Hangovers
Dorothy Parker once famously called hangovers "the wrath of grapes." Indeed, spirited Dionysians want to feel the buzz and bask in the glow ... any wrath can wait till tomorrow (and, always, it is patient). When it comes to hangover prevention, the best offense is a good defense: Avoid carbonation and drinks high in congeners. Beyond ethanol, one of the main ingredients in alcohol are congeners -- which most imbibers have probably never heard of by name, but are certainly familiar with. Congeners include methanol, isopentanol, and acetone, among other chemical compounds, and they're where the toxicity aspect of alcohol comes in. Congeners are a byproduct of the fermentation processes. To convert sugar into alcohol, the sugar feeds on yeast. Different spirits manufacturers use different strains of yeast; congeners are a byproduct of this conversion, and they are produced in higher or lower concentrations based on the type of yeast used. Congeners aren't entirely bad, either. On the palate, they give certain liquors their unique flavor and aromatic profiles, like the fruity notes of bourbon and dark rum. But, inside the body, congeners can also wreak fearsome havoc in the hangover department. After a night of drinking, as the starkly sober body (lies in bed and) breaks down the ethyl alcohol, congeners' separate breakdown can slow the process, making the ethyl alcohol (and its unpleasant hangover-inducing effects) linger in the body for even longer. That means more hours of the sorely familiar headache, fatigue, dizziness, and nausea. Read more: The 15 Best Value Vodka Brands, According To Experts Congeners are the reason why vodka is less likely to give you a hangover than other spirits, and why white wine is less likely to ruin your morning than red wine. Exact congener content varies from one type of alcohol to the next, so to reduce hangovers, know your liquor before you rip the shot. Tequila, whiskey, cognac, brandy, and red wine are all naturally high in congeners. On the flip side, vodka, gin, unaged rum, beer, white wine, and sake have comparatively lower congener contents. Also, look out for liquor brands that boast "triple distillation." The more distilled a liquor is, the lower congener content it has. In addition to steering clear of congeners, skip carbonated drinks to minimize hangovers. Carbonation speeds up the rate at which the body absorbs alcohol. So, stick to flat white wine over champagne. Or, the next time you order a highball, stretch that vodka with cranberry juice instead of fizzy soda water. To further mitigate nasty hangover effects, be sure to hydrate (with water) during a night out. Tomorrow's You will be thankful. Or, catch a buzz without the booze. Stick to THC-infused seltzers or mushroom chocolate instead and forego the hangover altogether. If all else fails, Anthony Bourdain's failsafe cure can beat even the gnarliest of hangovers. Read the original article on Tasting Table.
Telegraph
08-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
We fell in love over cocktails, and wine. Could our relationship survive when I went sober?
When we both ordered Old Fashioneds on our first date in 2012, I thought my husband might be the one. Dale told me that, when it came to cocktails, he had a sweet tooth, and he couldn't resist a maraschino cherry or a tiny umbrella. I felt exactly the same way. I was smitten. Cocktails defined our courtship. We went to the Ivy, the Connaught, the American Bar at the Savoy. Not long after we met, he whisked me away to Paris, then Venice, and we attempted to drink in every bar Hemingway hung out in – quite quickly, we discovered this was pretty much every bar we passed. We went to New York and stayed at the Algonquin – and stayed up at the bar. Dale was happy to indulge my Dorothy Parker fixation. I started to wonder exactly what Parker's problem was. I couldn't channel her cynicism, any more. I was drunk, in love. Eventually, we settled into a real-life rhythm. We moved in together and ticked every box on the newly cohabiting couple bingo card. We'd cook, we'd buy nice wine, we'd host and attend boozy dinner parties. We'd make noises about taking a week off drinking, then we'd meet in the pub after a particularly tricky day at work, drink more than we meant to, and buy chips on the way home. We'd attempt dry January or Sober October, with varying levels of success. We'd have a drink when we went to the cinema, or the theatre. We became engaged in the summer of 2014, and we married in the Autumn of 2015 – I reckon I was drunk on champagne for the best part of 18 months. However, as my 30s progressed, I started to question my relationship with alcohol. I was struggling to manage my anxiety, and drinking exacerbated it. My hangovers got worse – I'd wake up feeling afraid – it was as though my bones knew something dreadful was going to happen, even though my brain could find no evidence to back this up. I became hypervigilant about work, worrying obsessively about making a mistake and failing, checking my emails constantly and obsessively. My alcohol-related anxiety shrank my ambition. I turned down exciting assignments, because I convinced myself that I wouldn't be able to do a good job. I never did anything dreadful – my worst drunken stunt was usually ordering a large Dominos pizza and then trying to beat it home. The binge eating was another issue: I was gaining weight and always trying a new diet. I'd drink on an empty stomach, then eat the contents of the kitchen cupboards for dinner. Dale was patient and kind, but baffled. He'd always been better than I was at knowing his limits and calling it a night. Yet, the more unhappy and anxious I became, the more I drank. Sometimes I'd go out without him and come home hopelessly drunk. We'd argue in the morning , because he'd been worried about my safety. I'd feel terrible about what I'd put him through and promise myself that I'd never do it again. Until the next time. For years, I wrestled with alcohol and my mental health, in secret. I thought that if I could get my anxiety under control, I'd be able to drink happily, in moderation, like everyone else. I still loved drinking with Dale. We moved to the Kent coast – we'd walk off our hangovers beside the sea, and he'd tell me everything was going to be OK. But mentally, I was going to some shockingly dark places. I was scared to tell Dale just how low I felt, because I was scared to express my thoughts out loud. I started reading memoirs about sobriety and addiction. At first, I was trying to reassure myself that I was fine and I didn't have a real problem. Maybe I was going through a phase, but I was startled to discover how much I had in common with the people I was reading about. The books made me feel less alone and less ashamed, but I couldn't ignore the facts that were in front of me. I couldn't drink like other people – not even my husband. We'd fallen in love under the spell of a magic potion. Now it was poisoning me. Every day, I went back and forth. I couldn't quit. I had to quit. I just needed a month off. We were going on holiday, then to a festival, then to a fortieth birthday party... As soon as the calendar was calmer, I'd take a break. The holiday was our first post-Covid trip – starting in Copenhagen, then on to Malmö and Stockholm. I'd been looking forward to it for a long time. On our first night we went out for gin cocktails, before dinner with a wine flight. And on our second day, I started crying, and I couldn't stop. I cried all the way to Malmö. I was in the dark and I couldn't get out. I realised I had to try sobriety, because nothing else was working. For Dale, a lot of this seemed to come out of nowhere. It was hard for both of us. He was sympathetic, but frustrated. He knew people who had problems with addiction, and I didn't fit the profile. For him, the trip marked the end of a big work project – he wanted to celebrate and have fun. 'At the time, I thought 'Can't she just wait until we're back from our holiday?'' he told me, later. But he knew that I was desperate and frightened. Together, we took it one day at a time – some occasions were more challenging than others. At first, I struggled when I was socialising, and we'd bicker about when we could go home – if I had my way, we'd leave 20 minutes after arriving. We tried to go to bars together, and I turned into a whiny fun sponge, complaining that everywhere was too loud, too crowded and too hot. I suspect that we came quite close to divorce when I was about three months in sobriety, and I'd wake up every morning and give Dale a TED talk on how well I'd slept. We missed our favourite drinking rituals, but we found new ones. When I finished a novel, Dale bought me a bottle of Wild Idol non-alcoholic champagne to celebrate. Instead of seeking out new cocktail bars, we went on missions to discover the best gelato. And I started to realise that without booze, I was, on balance, a better partner. I still had dark days, but they didn't become dark weeks or months. I had more energy and enthusiasm for trying new things, from exhibitions to cinema trips. We went out for dinner less, but we went out for breakfast more. I often thought it was a shame that neither of us could drive – poor Dale missed out on the biggest potential benefit of a newly sober spouse, a late-night chauffeur. I asked Shahroo Izadi, a psychologist, addiction specialist and behavioural change expert, about the challenges that a couple in our situation might face and how you can both support each other when one of you goes sober. She told me: 'What often creates tension is the assumption that one partner's choice to stop drinking is a silent judgement on the other – or on drinking itself. In truth, it's usually about recognising the personal impact alcohol has on them – not alcohol itself being 'bad.' The key is to communicate your needs without moralising: 'This is something I'm working on, and here's how you can support me,' rather than implying anyone else needs to change.' Her words strike a chord: if I've learnt anything since I stopped drinking, it's that alcohol affects everyone differently. I feel as though I'm 'emotionally allergic' to booze – I wouldn't necessarily expect Dale, or anyone else to respond to alcohol in the way that I did. It's coming up to three years since I stopped drinking. I believe it's one of the best things I've ever done – I think I'm happier, and I think our marriage is stronger. But in the interests of accuracy, I had to ask Dale what he thought. 'It's been much easier than I thought it would be. Drinking together was always fun, and I never thought you had a problem, so I was a bit shocked and sad when you stopped. Maybe the hardest part was not knowing how much you were struggling in silence. But three years on, you seem calmer and happier and our life and our routine hasn't changed that much. We still go out and have fun together. I drink a bit less, and I feel better for it. For me, the biggest benefit is probably that I don't worry as much when you're out late without me.' Quitting drinking was hard. Having a supportive partner made it much easier. I don't know that I'd still be sober if I was with someone who pressured me to come to the pub, for 'just the one'. I know that this has been challenging for both of us, in different ways. I worried that without booze, I wouldn't be any fun. But before I quit, I wasn't fun at all. Just anxious and unhappy. Now I'm calmer, more confident and more energetic – and hopefully, nicer to be married to. Sometimes sobriety seems bittersweet. I miss getting tipsy with Dale, and I'm sad that there aren't any more shared Old Fashioneds in our future. But we can still toast each other if I'm holding a mocktail. And there's always gelato.
Time of India
03-06-2025
- General
- Time of India
Navigating the chessboard of courtesy
Our last article on the current state of courtesy and etiquette among the current generation elicited quite a few enthusiastic responses. These were divided into two clear camps. Camp 1 was those who say please and thank you even to AI in the hope of mercy from the overlords when the world turns over to technology in the hopefully very distant future. Camp 2 was people who spoke about how it is not a lack of courtesy, but that the current generation has overthrown the shackles of fear and restriction. The current generation is not afraid to speak their mind and therefore, comes across as discourteous. While we agree that today's children and young adults have the freedom to speak their minds and do put it to use, that is communication, not courtesy. Courtesy is not about age, and neither is etiquette. Courtesy and etiquette do not demand that you keep your thoughts to yourself or abide by someone else's rules. It is about holding your own space while also respecting that the other person or persons have a personal space of their own and honouring the basic rules of humanity. I resonate with Dorothy Parker's words, 'The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for discourtesy.' According to the now infrequently used Oxford Dictionary, the meaning of courtesy is polite and pleasant behaviour that shows respect for other people or a polite thing that you say or do when you meet people in formal situations. There is nothing here that indicates that freedom of speech is not allowed or that a younger person must blindly listen to elders. However, it does require that you treat the person in front of you as a member of the human race. This is not restricted to people who are older than you or above you in terms of designation. You can show courtesy even to those younger than you. It is a matter of respecting the value of the other person's time and effort. Sometimes, it may mean acknowledging the existence of a person. As Lewis Carroll himself said, 'Take more care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves.' The sense here is the respect for another person who is setting aside time for you or taking the effort to do something for you. It does not take too much effort to say a simple word like 'thank you,' 'sorry' or 'please.' But the benefits that it brings to you are multiple. However, like a lot of other things, this takes practice. If you do not practice courtesy on a regular basis, then it will not be what you do when you are in a situation of stress. That means it will not serve you when you need it the most. It is funny that in today's times pets are treated with more care and respect than people. People get offended when their pets are referred to in the neutral gender or as that dog/cat/animal they are bringing up. However, the same courtesy is not afforded to people. The descent of language into pure madness has also contributed to this situation. All right became fine, which became fn, which eventually descended into a single emoji. People now do not have time to type out complete words on their smartphones. These are the phones that can use smart AI to predict your words and your sentences on the basis of your usage. The phones can even translate your speech directly into text, and yet we would rather rely on single-letter abbreviations which can be so confusing to people from a different generation. Gifs and memes have become a part of formal conversations now. Communication is evolving, but sometimes the evolution feels like a curse rather than progress. And if you think courtesy is a restriction on expressing yourself freely, may we recommend that you watch how the Countess Violet Crawley from Downtown Abbey speaks? She is a masterclass in speaking your heart and yet confining to the, admittedly, very stringent restrictions of the Victorian period. Even the best of us could learn a lesson or two from her. If you have now understood the difference between courtesy and communication and would like to learn the basics or wish someone had a few tips for you, you know what to do! That is right – stay tuned for the next edition of this article. We hope to be back with some tips and tricks for you. Facebook Twitter Linkedin Email Disclaimer Views expressed above are the author's own.
