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I’ve been awaiting the new book by Julie Powell, author of Julie & Julia, with bated breath, so when an advance copy of Cleaving landed on my doorstop, I was pretty ecstatic. I harbor a not-so-secret fascination with butchery, and have been begging The Brooklyn Kitchen to let me into their always-full pig butchering class (WARNING: graphic content after link) for months now, and I imagined that the book would be full of interesting tips interspersed with quick-witted storytelling, much like Powell’s previous effort. 

To my immense dismay, this was not the case. Powell’s foray into butchery is a heavy-handed metaphor for the destruction of her marriage as a result of her affair with a man called only “D.” The segments on butchery were overly detailed even for me - and I’m fascinated with the topic, so I can only imagine how someone less carnivorously-inclined would feel - but it was the rest of the book that really got to me. It made me…well…angry. And perhaps this is because I felt like it was really cruel of Powell to chronicle the intimate details of her affair with another man for all the world to see, especially given that she claims to genuinely love her husband, but I suspect that it’s just because I found Powell’s obsession with sex surprisingly infantile. I felt like I was reading Twilight (boys boys boys boys boys) for the married set…and that’s just not what I was hoping for. I found Powell unlikeable and irredeemable, and by the end I just wanted her husband to tell her off and run away with Gisele or something, because frankly, he deserves it for putting up with her for all those years. 

Everyone in the world is going to buy this book this Christmas - and hey, it’s entertaining enough - but I just want to warn you: Julie & Julia Part Deux this is not. 

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Kendrick has been trying for months to convince me to watch The Rock. It’s odd that he’s had so much trouble with this, as Independence Day, ConAir, and Face/Off (“You want to take my face…off?”) rank amongst my favorites, and I pretty much think that Ed Harris should be president, but still: it seemed really testosterone-fueled. And it was, but in the best of ways: I totally, totally loved it. I must remember to listen to my husband more often.

Also? Ed Harris should be president. 

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Incredibly, it’s just about that time of year again. Thanksgiving is in just a couple of days (!), and since lots of you will get started on your shopping this weekend, I’ve put together a gift guide (including lots of guy gifts and earth-friendly/good cause gifts, per your request) to help you along. I’ll be adding to the gift guide frequently over the coming weeks, so be sure to check back! 

GO TO JORDAN’S GIFT GUIDE

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This is a Sponsored Post written by me on behalf of Jones Soda. All opinions are 100% mine.

Look what arrived in the mail this weekend, courtesy of Jones Soda! Tofurkey and Gravy Soda, and a very attractive turkey hat. I consider myself quite adventurous (as evidenced by my recent blood-sausage-eating foray to London), but I wasn’t getting near the stuff…so my intrepid husband generously sacrificed himself to the task. “Maybe it’ll be, like, savory and sweet, and surprisingly good?” He took one sip, declared it “sweet,” and may or may not have immediately run to the bathroom to dry heave - I’m not telling. 

I would suggest not purchasing this particular flavor for…well, anyone. Wait, scratch that: I imagine that it would make a great stocking stuffer for Kendrick’s niece and nephew (who are both under the age of ten)…you can’t deny that there’s a strong curiosity factor at work here, and kids would probably love it. However, for those of you who are actually thirsty and would like to drink an entire soda that doesn’t make you feel somewhat wretched, Jones does have several flavors that I absolutely adore, and that I would much rather receive along with a matching hat, including Cream Soda and Berry Lemonade. 

I must admit, though: the turkey hat is pretty spectacular. I will wear it often. 

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I’m laughing here because I was pretending I was starring in a Gap ad. 

A Gap ad featuring people with really big teeth who are PSYCHED about their new hats. 


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