November 2007

 Last night, Fiona and I went to see August Rush, starring Robin Williams, Keri Russell, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, and Freddie Highmore, that cute little boy from every good movie where they have a cute little boy. Seriously, this kid is the second coming of Christian Bale. He’s totally going to be that guy. Except this movie was a huge mistake. A movie about a musical orphan prodigy (Highmore) trying to find his parents (Russell and Rhys Meyers, who thought he was dead) before being taken in by an unhinged street musican (Williams) and getting accepted to Juilliard (HUH?!?). How can a movie with FELICITY and the HOT DRUNK MESS that is Jonathan Rhys Meyers (playing guitar to boot!) not be good?!? I don’t know!! He’s so hot with his blue eyes and his cozy sweater and his guitar! Look!

But the movie still sucks hardcore. You know it’s a bad movie when:

1. You liked the trailer better.

2. You keep exclaiming aloud “This really sucks” and no one tells you to shut up.

3. Robin Williams makes you physically uncomfortable and you want his character dead immediately.

4. You laugh hysterically at the touching ending. Ok, maybe this is a bit confusing. There is a super-gooey ending to the movie, and suddenly the screen is enveloped in this glowing white light! Which leads me, as an audience member, to conclude that after the happy ending, New York was hit with a nuclear blast and they all died anyway. At least, that’s what I WANT to believe.


So I’m in the middle of writing this pretty senseless feature article on the overkill of Jane Austen cinema, using the recent release of films such as Becoming Jane and The Jane Austen Book Club as my compass. While I’m not saying there should never be a film adaptation of an Austen novel ever again, I am pointing out that there are only six novels to choose from (bonus points if you can name them all without cheating) and it’s starting to feel like kicking a dead, corseted, well-mannered horse. Did you know that there are over 14 television and film versions of Pride and Prejudice alone? It’s crazy!

(Yes, I saw The Jane Austen Book Club. It’s got books. And sex. Of course I saw it, nerds.)

 Sigh. I’ll finish it tomorrow. It’s not due until Friday. Blaaaarrrrrghhhh!

The minute the food poisoning stopped (and while I’m feeling better, I still don’t have much of an appetite) I was ravaged with a new, much more dangerous affliction….WEDDING FEVER. Dum dum de dum, dum dum de dum!

Disclaimer: I’ve not become a Bridget Jones/Charlotte from Sex and the City/some annoying girl you know who is obsessed with getting married. I promise.

But it’s happening. I guess it would eventually. Today in the mail I received the wedding invite of an old friend (which I can’t make) and a request to serve as “Groomsmaid” at another (I accept! I accept! Yaaaaaaay!). Then I looked around Facebook (which is so much nicer than Myspace you guys, significantly less porn and spam) and found that yet another high school friend got married, while several others are engaged. And then I looked at another friend’s wedding photos (beautiful!) which she posted online. Seriously. It was gorgeous. There was late night dancing, and cupcakes and their first dance as husband and wife was (dammit! I would have totally used this myself) to Ben Folds “The Luckiest.” Dreamy.

Whew. Wedding fever wears you out.

It’s crazy. It’s this HUGE important day in the lives of your friends and loved ones, how can you not help but get swept up in the excitement of it all? There’s just this really intense crackling of energy through the air, the thought that maybe you can find the right person to spend the rest of your life with! And you get to wear a dress! And eat cake! It’s like the perfect day!

So I’ll go to your wedding registries and send my congratulatory cards out. Just somebody find me the cure for this fever! It’s taking me over! (And if you say the cure to wedding fever is “baby fever” then you can just go to hell.)

As much as I hate to acknowledge the existence of Fabio, I’m so flabberghasted by this “news” I had to talk about it.

Apparently Fabio and George Clooney are now arch-enemies!

Sayeth – Actor Fabio has branded George Clooney “a low-class scumbag” after allegedly insulting female diners at a Hollywood restaurant. The romance icon stunned diners at the swanky Madeo eaterie when he exchanged fighting words with Clooney on November 2. But Fabio insists he was defending guests at his charity function and was forced to take action when a female dining companion complained Clooney called her “a fat cow.” He says, “(George) was drunk and thought people were taking pictures of him. So I went to the table and explained to him that we were having a charity dinner and I said, ‘You’re more than welcome to come to my table and see if there was a picture of you.’ I apologized and he started being rude so I put him in his place. After I put him in his place – you know I’m three times his size – he got a little scared. I went back to my table and as soon as I sit down he paid his bill, got up and he started insulting the girls. He called the women names. At that point I lost my temper. I went after him and he ran out of the restaurant.”

Obviously we should all believe the….I’m sorry, what is it you do exactly Fabio?  Fake-butter salesman? Romance-cover freakshow? Remind me of the next time you use your “celebrity” for charity work like he does. Oh, I’m sorry. Am I keeping you from your press? From the adoring fans? Don’t you have to get back to the theme park? Promote that new roller-coaster? Let innocent birds explode from the high impact of your rather unpleasant face? (If you don’t get what I’m talking about, Google “Fabio rollercoaster bird death” for the laugh of your life)

So yeah, Fabio. Go crawl back into obscurity please.

Friends, if you’re looking to shed a few extra pounds in the course of, oh say, a weekend, then I have got the answer.

FOOD POISONING. It really works.

I had my first (and please please God last) case of FP this weekend. I’m not 100% positive of the source, but I’m pretty sure it came from a veggie burger. And oh my God I have never wanted to die so badly. I had eaten a few hours prior, watched a bit of a movie, and decided to hit the hay early (party animal that I’m not). I couldn’t sleep and shortly thereafter was slumped in front of the porcelain deity, turning my guts inside out. Also I blacked out and smashed my lower back up. That wasn’t fun.  I must really be adapting to British life because for a moment whilst sprawled out on the floor I thought “I should call an ambulance…, that’s too much hassle. Don’t want to be a bother.”

 Thank goodness it did pass. But recovery time is not swift. Not. at. all.

I spent all Saturday in bed, still praying for a miracle cure or a swift death. Today (Monday) I’m able to peck down two slices of toast. But my jeans are nice and loose! So if you want the most horrible discomfort of all time in exchange for maybe 4 pounds, then go eat some tainted food, now! Before you know it, it’ll be the new celebrity diet craze.

New album called “Blackout”
Word synonymous with “Drunk”
Maybe not best choice.

I’m not in the WGA (yet) but I support their strike 100%, even if it means my favorite TV shows (ok, there are only three I like, The Office, Heroes, and Lost) may be off the air until next season. Even if many films won’t get the green light to be made and will languish in dusty piles on desks. I feel terrible that some writers and their families will have to tighten their purse-strings over the holidays. But what is happening is important, especially in the continuing boom of the digital media age. The strike isn’t for the absurdly wealthy writers, it’s for those who have maybe sold only one or two small things, and are still waiting for that big chance. Those are the ones who really depend on the money from residuals. It’s for up and coming writers such as myself, who have yet to sell anything, and will need that financial help during less prosperous times.

If you aren’t sick to death of hearing about it, is a great and informative website.

Maybe I have Sally Field-style delusions of grandeur, where I’m standing in a big factory with a cardboard sign that says STRIKE over my head (I accidentally just typed STROKE which would have admittedly been a much funnier sign).

Also, just FYI, so many others are taking the hit due to the douchebaginess of major corporations such as NBC, whom I used to love. The entire crew of The Office has already been sacked in an attempt to force the writers to bend, and the same has been threatened to Jay Leno and The Tonight Show if they don’t cross (which he won’t. Leno is bad ass like that.)

Sign the petition. Because until we do, our entertainment options are going to begin to dwindle, and then we’ll be stuck with more Date My Dad and less…..well I already named the three good shows.

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