Sed......uc......tion

I don’t do fancy lingerie. Like…at all. I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.

Prior to June of 2009 I owned a single item of “sexy” underwear. It was a black corset that had formerly been part of a Halloween costume (whip crack!). Sure, I had the usual assortment of lacy panties & thongs, but none of them were coordinated separates. I didn’t have what I would later refer to as any ‘little numbers’. Because I am an AARP member & I call lingerie ‘little numbers’.

My best friend decided to remedy this situation by organizing a lingerie/bridal shower. The invitation specifically stated that I was not a woman who owned any lingerie. It then listed my sizes & instructed all participants to buy me undergarments.

Extremely mortifying on every level.

So here I was, a (formerly) non-lingerie girl in a lingerie world. In the space of one day I acquired a shit-ton of lacey, ribbonny , see through-y things that I was supposed to wiggle into in order to perform the act of seduction. Seduction on a person who had already decided to marry me without the benefit of see through lace & ruffled panties.

I decided to take some of my new ruffles on a test drive. I picked out my favorite little number. White bustier with black accents, frilly thong, black garters, black thigh high hose. I simpered "give me a few minutes while I slip into something a little less comfortable..." at my soon to be husband. I thought this was extremely clever.

I got into 3/4 of the ensemble with no problem. Then came the stockings.

I tugged the hose on & started to snap the garters in.

A few minutes later I was still attempting to figure out the snapping mechanism. Black clasp. Black stretchy satiny fabric. Do I put this little strap in here & snap it? Does this bend this way? How does this stay on?

After about ten minutes I figured out the clasps...in the front. Now it was time to do the back.

I twisted back to reach the back of my thighs. I busied myself fumbling with the clasps & the straps. As the garters slipped through my fingers for the hundredth time I realized that I'd gotten shorter.

Nope! I was slipping. Into the splits. In my stocking feet. With my back garters a dainglin'.

I hit the floor with a grunt & screamed in frustration.

This was about the time the "are you ok!?" calls from the other room increased in frequency.

"GIMME A MINUTE!"

Off came the hose (still attached in the front). With the flaps of black silky fabric dangling in front of me I went to work on fastening the back clasps. Once I had finally achieved some sort of garter fastening it was time to climb back into the hose.

I hopped on one foot while attempting to jam my leg into the dangling stocking. By the time the first leg was done I was covered in sweat & my hair was stuck to my face.

I somehow managed to get the 2nd leg half into the other stocking before calling it a day.

I flopped back on the bed & called to Jared.

"Are you ok?"

"Consider yourself seduced. I'm going to rest."

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome. I'm tired."

Seduction.

On Glee, True Blood, Pan Am and Escapist Television

For the most part, there are two types of TV shows that my DVR is set to record: critically acclaimed single camera comedies (Community, Parks & Recreation, Modern Family) or critically acclaimed super-serious dark dramas (Breaking Bad, Sons of Anarchy, Boardwalk Empire). I don't watch reality shows (with the exception of Top Chef), I don't watch dumb sitcoms that have a laugh track (all of CBS's comedies) and I don't watch procedurals (again, all of CBS's dramas). But, like most red-blooded Americans, I am not immune to the occasional pleasures of turning off my brain to watch and enjoy a TV show. Until recently, I used to get my weekly fix of "escapist" television from two shows: Glee and True Blood.

Glee started out very strong. Its pilot episode was a mixture young, attractive people singing fun, upbeat songs and those same young, attractive people dealing with high school life in a small town in Ohio. Season one of Glee mostly built on its pilot, fleshing out these characters into people I cared about while still maintaining a fun vibe with an ever-present undercurrent of melancholy. Plus, it had Jane Lynch yelling hilarious insults at people. Who doesn't like Jane Lynch? Season two of Glee was, unfortunately, a complete mess. The character work was scatter-shot, the songs increasingly auto-tuned and Jane Lynch's character became an insufferable caricature of herself. After much hemming and hawing, I stopped recording Glee and, if this AV Club review of the Season Three premiere is any indication, I did the right thing.

I'm still sticking with True Blood, but damn, is that an infuriating show to watch. What started off as a quick hour of television that was campy, gory and full of nudity turned into a complete slog. There are too many side plots devoted to characters who are boring (Hoyt, Sam, Alcide) insufferable (Sookie, Bill) or both (Tommy, Tara). The average episode of True Blood now consists of spending interminable amounts of time with characters who are little to no fun to watch, followed by about five minutes of sex, blood or both. The characters who I enjoy spending time with (Jessica, Eric, Pam and sometimes Jason) are just compelling enough to outweigh the characters who are a complete waste of time. Plus: tits.

So, with my television schedule in need of a little bit of levity and after reading this positive review over at The AV Club, I decided to check out Pan Am and so far, so good. Mad Men is one of my favorite shows, so I was a bit apprehensive about Pan Am trying too hard to be Mad Men, but set in the world of air travel, rather than advertising. Luckily, that's not the case. For starters, Pan Am doesn't take itself as seriously as Mad Men. This is meant to be a show about the adventures of pretty ladies jet-setting about the globe in the 60s, not a weighty drama about secret identities, adultery and the implications of alcoholism.

If anything, Pan Am doesn't call attention to the time period in which it takes place as much as Mad Men did in its first season. We don't see pregnant women smoking or close ups of people's laps without seatbelts while they're riding in their cars. (Granted, Mad Men got away from some of these more gimmicky touches as the show progressed, but early on, there was a definite "Hey, the 60s sure were a crazy time, weren't they?!" vibe about the show.) Pan Am uses its period setting to show us that flying used to be a bit glamorous and that these women were able to use their stewardess jobs to see the world and empower themselves a bit. Pan Am has yet to air its second episode, so there's definitely time for flaws to present themselves (and indeed, one sub-plot involving Kelli Garner's character being an operative for the CIA is already a bit ludicrous), but I'm excited to see what the show has to offer in the coming weeks.

Also, I'm a complete sucker for Christina Ricci. I was 14 years old when I first saw her on the big screen in Casper and she immediately became my first movie-star crush. It will be fun to have her on my television on a weekly basis.

Movie Review - Conan O'Brien Can't Stop

I've been a big fan of Conan O'Brien's since college. When my schedule allowed me to do it, I'd go back to my apartment during lunch and catch the re-run of the episode of Late Night with Conan O'Brien that had aired the night before. Conan's self deprecating humor really spoke to me. He never felt like he was trying to be the coolest guy in the room. If one of his monologue jokes bombed (and every monologue was good for at least one or two dud jokes per show), he'd laugh it off and just move on to the next joke. He was constantly making fun of himself for being a tall, gawky redhead and, while I'm not a tall, gawky redhead, I did (and still do) have issues with my self-confidence. The fact that Conan was rich, successful and talented, yet still saw the flaws in himself made him very relatable. Needless to say, I was very excited for Conan to take over The Tonight Show from Jay Leno and pretty bummed out when Leno ended up taking it back.

Conan O'Brien Can't Stop is a documentary that picks up with Conan in the wake of his departure from The Tonight Show and follows him around the country on his Legally Prohibited from Being Funny on Television Tour. Since NBC, uh, legally prohibited Conan from being funny on television for six months, he decided to put together a live show that consisted of equal parts stand-up comedy, live music, video sketches and old bits from his Late Night show. (Although they had to be re-named for legal reasons. Example: the Walker Texas Ranger Lever became the Chuck Norris Rural Policeman's Handle.)

(Side note: Simona and I saw the Legally Prohibited Tour when it came through Los Angeles, and it was very funny. We had a blast.)

I had read a few reviews of the movie and many of them focused on how Conan could be kind of a dick to the people around him (most notably, his assistant, Sona). I was a little concerned that the movie would sully my image of Conan and make me not want to watch his show anymore. Fortunately, I thought the reviews exaggerated a bit. Yes, Conan is not always loveable and yes, some of his jokes are mean-spirited, but overall, the guy comes across as someone who is under a lot of pressure and has a lot of people relying on him. He very much trusts and appreciates the people that work for him and, although he's very hard on them, he's even harder on himself.

The title, Conan O'Brien Can't Stop is very apt. The guy cannot seem to survive without a large group of people applauding and cheering for him. Even on the tour's off-days, he has to go out and perform. He schedules a secret show for some of his fans in Nashville at Jack White's recording studio, brings his band on stage to perform at his 25 year college reunion talent show and gets roped into introducing every musical act at Bonnaroo. Conan spends his down time lamenting that he doesn't have enough down time and that his producer has over-booked him, but it all seems like a bit of a ruse. Conan feeds off his audience and seems incomplete when he's not in front of a crowd. He seems to go out of his way to interact with fans, pose for pictures, and sign autographs.

The one thing that disappointed me about the movie is that it seemed to be about "Conan O'Brien," the character and not Conan O'Brien, the man. Conan is keenly aware of the documentary cameras and mugs for them at every opportunity. There are a couple of scenes involving Conan and his kids and only then did he seem to let his guard down. Still, I didn't watch Conan O'Brien Can't Stop looking for new insights into Conan's personal life or even new details about how NBC screwed him. I watched it because I wanted to hang out with Conan and his crew for an hour and a half. Conan O'Brien Can't Stop is a fun, if superficial, look into the mind of my favorite talk show host.

Twerk It

Three moves on the dance floor. That’s all I’ve got:

The Electric Slide: This dance is fucking A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. It goes with almost any song ever. Never fails. You can customize it with little kicks! I have this move in the electric slide, when you’re going back (after touching the floor); I wave my hand around at the wrist. It is seriously bad ass. All other group dances are derivative from this multipurpose awesome-fest.

The weird dance floor booty thrust/shuffle side to side: Bopping along to any usual dance type music in a public forum usually involves the weird bouncy shuffle from side to side. If you’re a girl you can also groove that booty out a few times. A dude can try to dance up on that ass (optional) by thrusting his groin at said booty bumping. It’s pretty horrible for all involved. Multiply the horrible by 10,000 if you’re in a circle of people who aren’t deeply impaired by alcohol.

Half Track: Take the running man. Ponder on how one can make it more terrible. Realize that throwing your whole body from side to side is the solution. I learned the half track because there were some “cool” girls in my gym class in fourth grade doing it. I studied their slick moves. Went home. Proceeded to spend 9 months mastering it. Finally! I would be accepted into their awesome dancing clique! Alas, I never had the opportunity demonstrate my half-track skillz. I never got in with the cool girls. I also didn’t get fingered at 13, so you know. Take the good with the bad.

All of my other moves are like the bastard step children of the moves above. I sometimes throw awkward arm thrusts in with my booty popping shuffle. I occasionally drop it like it’s hot (this has never ended well).The cabbage patch makes its way into the repertoire occasionally, but I don't consider it much of a dance as my feet don't have to move about while embarrassing myself with that little number.

When I’m in the privacy of my own home I attempt to master other moves. The temptation to divorce me is typically at an all time high when I demand that Jared witness my sad attempts at Booty Poppin. They look less like the rhythmic shaking of said booty than a horrible medical episode.

So those are the moves. Beyond that I got nothing.

Even our wedding dance was less ‘dance’ than ‘sway & hope no one notices we don’t know how to slow dance’. Maybe someday I’ll take a dance class & figure out how to work it.

In the meantime I’ll stick with the slide.

Cat Space-Ass

Everything is way cooler when it has "space" in front of it. Could you hand me the space-ketchup? Quick! My space-glasses! I have a zit on my space-bottom.

Some things are more adorable with "baby" preceding them. That lamp is way teeny. A baby-lamp!

This also goes for the word "wee". My wee-sweater is much more fun to wear than a normal sweater because Jared will refer to it as "your wee sweater."

Speaking of small looking things, I read an article the other day about how global warming is creating smaller versions of animals that might mess with the the (already damaged) ecosystem as we know it. All I could think about was "aaaaaaawwwwwwwww!!! teeny animals!". Not exactly the hard charging environmentalist up in here. Wee animals!! Squee!!

Where was I? Oh yes - wee animals! Once I had a hamster named Fluffy, but she died. Prior to her dying we got a dog. The dog's antics revealed how fundamentally uninteresting a hamster can be. I will try to never own a rodent as a pet again. Even when she was rolling around in her hamster ball, desperately trying to escape the dog, she was terrible. Stupid rodents. They do nothing.

I'm afraid of getting an animal & committing myself to it & it being a dud. I'm terrified that I'll adopt a dog & it will be an asshole. Then I'll be stuck because I've already invested so much of my world view into thinking that I'm the kind of person that will adopt a dog.

That's why I don't understand people who adopt cats. Cats are known assholes. You are consciously choosing to add an asshole to your home. The likelyhood of your cat being cool is like....one in ten. Or less. Those are hard numbers that I totally did not just pull out of my space-ass.

Movie Review - Deadfall

Deadfall first came to my attention when I saw a clip on YouTube called Nicolas Cage Losing His Shit. I had no idea what the movie was about. I hoped it would be one of those “so bad it’s good” movies. I’d watch it for Cage’s hilarious over-acting and anything else the movie provided me would be a bonus. Little did I know that Cage’s overacting would be pretty much the only thing worth watching.

"They're in my eyes!"

There have been a handful of movies I’ve watched because I knew Nic Cage would be his usual hammy self, and that’s all I was expecting out of this movie. Sometimes, I am rewarded with a demented masterpiece like Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. Sometimes I’m punished with a piece of shit like Deadfall. The difference? Werner Herzog directed Bad Lieutenant. Something called Christopher Coppola directed Deadfall.

Which guy do you want directing your movie?

Christopher Coppola is Nicolas Cage’s brother (!) and Francis Ford Coppola’s nephew. When you’ve got showbiz connections like that; you can get some pretty big names to appear in your horrible movie. Check out the list of actors that appear in Deadfall: Michael Biehn, Nicolas Cage, James Coburn, Peter Fonda, Charlie Sheen, and Talia Shire.

In Deadfall, Biehn stars as a con-man who accidentally kills his father (James Coburn) during a grift gone wrong and ends up leaving town to work for his uncle. His uncle is his father’s twin brother, thus allowing Coburn to play both roles. Lucky guy.

The uncle is also in the con-game (because twin brothers always just so happen to work in the same industry), and pretty soon, they’re involved in a con that’s going to wind up in them all getting rich and blah blah blah, same thing that’s happened in a million other con job movies that have been made a million times better.

For some reason, Coppola decided Biehn should do a voice-over for this movie, and for some reason, Biehn decided to do the voice-over in the most boring voice imaginable. Seriously. The guy sounded like he came into a recording studio six months after he was done filming this piece of shit and decided to just be as dull as possible when recording the track. Ben Stein ain’t got shit on Michael Biehn in Deadfall.

Bueller?

I’ve enjoyed Biehn in movies before. He’s provided fun supporting turns in The Terminator, Tombstone and The Rock, so I figured he was a good actor. Turns out, he’s really not. I guess working with a hack director like Coppola brings out the worst in Biehn, because the guy is a complete cipher in Deadfall. He takes himself way too seriously and it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that all of his scenes were done in the first take. It seems like Coppola just said “Hey, no need to do a second take there, Mike. We’ve got what we’re looking for. Head on back to your trailer and enjoy a Mr. Pibb.”

Tombstone is so awesome.

I must usually take a movie’s score for granted, because Deadfall’s was so horrible that I couldn’t help but be distracted by it. Most movies that have decent budgets and are engineered by professionals have a score that is competent at the very least. A movie’s score should either be so unobtrusive that you just don’t notice it, or it should be so good that you go “Holy shit! What a score! I can’t imagine the movie without the music I just heard!” Deadfall’s score is obnoxiously bad. It sounds like it was recorded in a middle school gym with the middle school band performing the music. It adds no tension to the proceedings.

Here’s how tone deaf Deadfall is. At one point, Biehn challenges a hustler played by Charlie Sheen (in an extended cameo) to a game of billiards for a thousand dollars a point. Not pool, billiards. The scene is supposed to feel really tense and high stakes, but since approximately 14 people on earth know the rules to billiards, it’s a complete dud. BILLIARDS!

Nice jacket.

The only fun to be had from Deadfall is the aforementioned Messrs Cage and Coburn. Cage is delightfully over the top and seems to realize that he’s acting in a complete piece of crap. He wears terrible sunglasses, has a terrible spray tan, and has an even more terrible toupee. His wardrobe is straight out of Scarface if Al Pacino’s character had even worse taste. Coburn provides the emotional center (or at least as much of an emotional center as can be had for such a terrible movie), and his dye job for the character of Biehn’s father is truly a marvel to behold.

It's worse than you thought, isn't it?

I’ve watched several movies out of morbid curiosity and Deadfall is far from the worst. The direction is flat, the score is god-awful, and the performances are mostly terrible. It’s not offensively bad, just boring. The last third of the movie is especially a slog because Cage’s character gets killed off by having his face shoved in a deep fryer. Now that I think about it, that’s kind of the perfect metaphor for Deadfall.

Coen Brothers Project - Blood Simple

"I killed him for money - and a woman - and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman." - Walter Neff, Double Indemnity

The funny thing about Blood Simple is that it is steeped in the traditions of film noir, but it takes every opportunity to take those traditions and upend them. Its characters are stock for noir: the adulterous couple, the jealous husband, and the private investigator who is hired to confirm the cuckolded husband's suspicions of adultery. Once those suspicions are confirmed, the husband wants the P.I. to kill the couple. Standard stuff. Usually in these types of movies, the couple finds out about the plot to kill them and they spend the rest of the movie running from trouble that will eventually catch up with them. Not so with Blood Simple.

In fact, the adulterous couple, Ray and Abby (John Getz and Frances McDormand, respectively) doesn't even know the P.I. exists until the last five or so minutes of the movie. After Ray and Abby spend their first night in a motel room together, Ray shows up at the bar he works at, owned by Abby's husband, Julian Marty (Dan Hedaya) to basically own up to the fact that he's been with Abby and quits his job, thinking that will be the end of it. Meanwhile, Marty is eventually double-crossed by Lucien, the P.I. (M. Emmet Walsh), who shows Marty some phony pictures of Ray and Abby dead, then shoots Marty and leaves him for dead.

In Double Indemnity, which I quoted above, Walter Neff is persuaded by Phyllis Dietrichson to help her kill off her husband so the two of them can collect on his life insurance policy and live happily ever after. Needless to say, it doesn't turn out that way. Unlike Walter, Ray never wanted any money (except the two weeks back pay Marty owed him) and he never wanted Marty dead. He thinks that once he's fessed up to Marty about the affair, he can quit his job at the bar and he and Abby can be together. When he returns to the bar one night and finds Marty sitting at his desk having been shot in the chest, he naturally assumes Abby pulled the trigger, since he has no idea that Lucien even exists. See what I mean about the Coens subverting genre expectations?

Since this is the Coens' first movie, there is very little of the stylized dialogue that they would become known for. The characters speak in a very straightforward way that cuts right to the heart of the matter at hand. The movie is rather relaxed. Ray and Abby spend a lot of time just hanging out, as if their affair isn't going to go unpunished. The Coens ratchet up the suspense in two of their signature scenes: one where a character tries to clean up a murder scene and ends up making even more of a mess, and the scene at the end where one character ends up with his body in one room and his hand with a knife through it stuck to a windowsill in another room.

Blood Simple is a strong first showing for the Coens. The movie is stylish, dark and bloody. Ray doesn't get the girl and he wasn't after any money. That's just the way it goes when you're the main character in a film noir.

What Can I Get Y'all Tonight?

"Young lady, do we look like 'guys'?"

"Ma'am?"

"We are not 'guys'. Do not refer to us that way. Either say 'ladies' or say 'y'all'."

"Yes, ma'am!"

That was one of my first exchanges when I waited tables. Do NOT refer to a group of elderly southern women as 'guys'. Not eve when you're asking if you can get them a beverage.

I had other mishaps. I once spilled four glasses of iced tea into an older gentleman's lap. I then shrieked, dropped to my knees & frantically started dabbing at his crotch with my side towel. He & his family were not too pleased.

Good service in a restaurant can change the whole experience. Bad food can always be redeemed by an excellent waiter or waitress. A shitty server can ruin an entire evening, regardless of the quality of the food.

I went out with a friend tonight & we ended up with the best of all scenarios. Excellent company (thanks, Jen!), delicious food, reasonable prices & quality service. Our waiter was clearly delighted to be serving the food. He was knowledgeable, attentive & charming.

I wondered how I would have handled our table. I probably would have smiled too much, acted too enthusiastic, put a weird strain on the interaction. It's not knocking my old waitressing style, it's just how I rolled.

When I didn't smile, I looked like I was pouting. Best to compensate with a jack-o-lantern grin at all times. Slightly off putting, but I kept those iced teas filled, so there wasn't a lot my tables had to complain about.

Unless the iced tea went flying. Sorry, guys!!

Movie Review - Drive

In an era where action movies careen from one explosion to the next and scenes are chopped to oblivion, creating an incomprehensible mess (not to mention the over-reliance on shaky-cam, ugh), Drive is refreshingly restrained. Director Nicolas Winding Refn (whose name I can't say without sounding like the Swedish Chef) takes his time to establish a mood and a tone. Shots are held for longer than two seconds and characters don't prattle on for minutes at a time giving out expository information. Refn trusts us to figure out who the characters are and what they're after. He also enjoys it when people get their heads stomped into oblivion.

Ryan Gosling (a.k.a. Baby Goose) plays an unnamed stunt driver/auto mechanic who moonlights as a getaway driver for hire. He's very much the definition of a lone wolf until he befriends his neighbor, Irene (a very mousy Carey Mulligan) and her son Benicio (Kaden Leos). Thus begins quite possibly the most chaste romance in the history of R-rated movies. Gosling and Mulligan spend scenes driving around saying nothing, or hanging out in her apartment, saying nothing. The first half of the movie is very quiet, almost meditative. When Gosling isn't hanging out with Irene and Benicio, he's driving around in a muscle car, wearing his awesome white satin jacket with a bright yellow scorpion on the back while the film's 80s inspired synth soundtrack plays in the background. The film almost lulls you to sleep with its mellow vibe. Then someone gets shot in the back with a shotgun during a heist gone wrong and you nearly crap your pants.


The shift in tone from a quiet movie about two characters falling for each other to an ultra-violent thriller would feel almost jarring if Refn didn't know exactly who his characters were and how to establish and maintain the slightly off-kilter tone of Drive. Sure, Gosling is smitten with his neighbor, but he also works for Shannon (the great Bryan Cranston), who walks around with a noticeable limp you're pretty sure he didn't get from a botched surgery. Shannon introduces him to Bernie Rose (an extremely menacing Albert Brooks) and Rose's partner Nino (Ron Perlman, who is pretty much the scariest dude on the planet). These are not nice men. Refn ratchets up the tension between all the key players and then releases the tension with bursts of blood-splattering ultra-violence that border on cartoonish. Other people in the theater with me were laughing during some of these scenes, presumably because it was preferable to crying.

Drive is ultimately an exercise in style. Refn isn't interested in digging any deeper than is necessary into his main character; the jacket, driving gloves and ever-present toothpick in his mouth pretty much say it all. Gosling simultaneously exudes vulnerability and menace, while also being a bit of a blank slate. (I'm not even sure that makes sense, but I'm going with it.) The movie is all atmosphere and makes me want to buy a muscle car and a scorpion jacket and go for a drive. I don't think I'll be stomping any heads though.

Who's Cookin', Good Lookin'? Y-O-U!

Let’s learn how to cook!!

What you’ll need:

• Hand/Eye coordination….the vaguest semblance of it will work! Got that? Cool beans.
• Foodstuffs! Whatcha got? Water? Maybe a head of garlic? Some gingersnaps? A cucumber? Let’s just roll with it

Optional:

• Heat source! Not a space heater, silly goose! Some fire. Right. Fire. You will control the power of the flame to change the fundamental chemical composition of raw ingredients that will shortly go into your body. Power. Boom.
• Something sharp. Knives are best, but don’t let that derail you – you can use any ole’ sharp thing (even your Pop-pop’s grody fingernails!)
• Seasoning: don’t have salt? Improvise! Make your own seasoning! Stand over your heat source & jump around until you’re sweaty. Now collect that liquid gold & set it aside. We’ll use it later
• Sense of taste/smell: Have Anosmia? It’s ok – don’t cry…please? It’s ok! Shhhh…I didn’t mean to upset you. I just..yes. nuzzle against me for a moment. It’s ok. You don’t really need a sense of smell. We’ll make due
• Someone to feed! That someone can be YOU!
  

Steps:

1) Put your hand on your chin. Stroke it & stare off into the distance. Look at your foodstuffs. Ask yourself the following questions:

• Does this need to be cooked? As a rule we do not eat raw poultry or swordfish. You can flaunt this rule, but don’t come crawling to me when you have a 25 foot worm living in your intestines
• Now that we’ve determined what must be cooked, let’s figure out if we want to….

2) Harness the primal forces of fire!!!

• Do your eyes see? Do your hands move of their own accord? Can you hold a sharp object & move it through your foodstuffs? If you answered yes to these questions, congratulations! You can chop! Chop up your sources of sustenance!
• if you want to apply heat, you should try to focus on chopping everything the same size. Don’t go crazy, but if you have a piece of chicken that is one cubic centimeter & another one the size of your fist, one will finish cooking faster once you apply the fire that you’ve harnessed

3) Control your fire!

• Do you want to eat bits of things charred black as my soul? Yes? Have at it! Crank that fire up & go to town! Everything will be ready soon
• Do you want things cooked without being blacked & sad & being a scared child on the inside (oh g-d! someone help me!)….put that fire on low. Take it slow. No shame in your game.

4) Determine if your foodstuff is ready:

• Taste it! Smell it! Look at it! Use Pop-pop’s fingernails to cut it open & check inside! Is it slimey & horrible? Keep cooking. If not, time to season!
• Use that seasoning! Chili powder? Bring it on! Lemon juice? Inventive! A tiny vial of baby tears! Unconventional, but I'll give you points for ingenuity!

5) EAT!!

• Now that you've used knives & fire to batter some raw ingredients into a flavor explosion, it's time to jam it into your food hole!!

Rinse! Lather! Repeat! You'll be a cookin' fool in no time!

Chatterbox

I talk to myself. Lots. Way more than I should.

My favorite time to talk to myself is when I'm cooking. I love cooking when Jared isn't around so that I can babble endlessly to an unseen audience about softening onions or weighing your ingredients for maximum control over your baked goods.

I used to think I was crazy, but that's giving myself a bit too much credit & denying real crazies their due. I'm not sprinting down the street nekkid with a plumber's helper sticking out of my butt, screaming about the aliens who communicate with me via my 'satellite'. I'm just muttering about toasting your spices.

I also talk to myself when I'm cleaning, and driving. The only thing that stops my running commentary is music. If I'm puttering around listening to music...that means someone is around & I mustn't be caught explaining the cleaning power of baking soda to the counter top.

I started my soliloquies when I was a kid. As an only child I was left with myself to chat with during the majority of my playtime. I didn't develop imaginary friends because...well...who needs 'em? My constant patter fought back the niggling feeling that i might be lonely. When my family got a dog, I started directing my conversations to her. She listened patiently & even nodded in agreement sometimes (when I would prompt her by waving a treat up & down).

So here I am. 30 years old & yapping to inanimate objects.

Oh well - in the pantheon of odd behavior, this must rank at about the same level as obsessively smelling your hair. Not that I would do that.
That's just fucking weird.

Movie Theater Etiquette

So it looks like we're going to go see my most anticipated movie of the year, Drive, today. I love movies and I love going to the movie theater. I love sitting in a dark room watching a movie projected on the big screen with dozens of strangers. The problem is, sometimes the strangers I share a theater with can be real assholes. Talking. Texting. Checking the time on their cell phones. It drives me nuts.

Why would someone pay their hard earned money to go see a movie and then NOT WATCH THE DAMN MOVIE? The Arclight charges upwards of $15 for a movie ticket, for God's sake. Who in their right mind thinks it's a good idea to whip out their iPhone and text or play Words with Friends or Angry Birds? The whole point of seeing a movie in a theater is to immerse yourself in the movie-going experience. The theater turns off the lights for a reason. When someone's stupid cell phone screen lights up during the movie, it completely takes me out of the movie. I spend the rest of my time wondering when some other asshole is going to pull out their cell phone.

I hate confrontation. Loathe it. So when someone sitting in my general area starts talking during a movie, I do my best to ignore them. If they're behind me, I'll turn around and give them the stink eye, but that's about it. Simona has no problem with confrontation and will shush a person multiple times. This only makes things more awkward for me. I slump down in my chair and begin checking my watch, wondering when the movie will be over so we can get out of the theater before we are potentially stabbed in the neck by some crazy person who doesn't like the fact that they've been told multiple times to can it. I am no longer concerned with the movie itself, just when it will end.

So, since I will never summon up the will to say this to someone in person, I'll write it here, where nobody is likely to read it. The movie theater is not your living room. Shut up, put away your cell phone and show some goddamn respect to your fellow movie-goers.

Movie Review - Paul

The best thing about Paul is the friendship between Graeme and Clive, played by Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, respectively. It's clear that Pegg and Frost have been great friends for a long time and watching them nerd it up together at Comic-Con is probably not too far from how they would behave together off-screen (assuming they both weren't famous actors). Graeme and Clive are two Londoners in America for the first time, primarily to attend Comic-Con, but also to tour various places in the US where aliens are rumored to have landed, like Area 51 and Roswell, New Mexico. While driving somewhere in the middle of the desert in their trusty rented RV, a car speeds past them, swerves recklessly and crashes. Graeme and Clive go to investigate the crash and, wouldn't you know it, a little green alien emerges. He's Paul.

Paul is a completely CGI character, voiced by Seth Rogen and acts basically as Rogen would act if he were an alien. Paul smokes, drinks, swears and is fond of dropping trou and showing his little green ass whenever he gets the chance. He's on the run from the government, who have been holding him against his will for the past 60 years and he's trying to get back to his home planet.

Paul, along with Super 8 (which I haven't seen yet) is an homage to the Steven Spielberg sci-fi movies of the 80s, like E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, only with a lot more swearing. Pegg and Frost co-wrote the script and are clearly sci-fi nerds of the highest order. There are nods and allusions to countless other sci-fi movies, some of which I caught, most of which I'm sure I didn't catch. None of these "inside baseball" allusions feel cheap or gimmicky though.

While the sci-fi stuff is very clever and well put together, the thing I enjoyed the most about Paul was when the characters are just allowed to hang out and shoot the shit. Graeme and Clive are both, not surprisingly, extremely excited to have met an actual alien. The fact that he's actually a cool guy and wants to hang out with them is an added bonus. Pegg and Frost have a natural rapport together and Rogen fits right in. The dialog is very natural and there was probably a fair amount of ad-libbing going on during the shoot. I was finding myself a bit disappointed when the chase would resume, because I wanted to spend more time just hanging out with Graeme, Clive and Paul.

Still, I found myself very pleasantly surprised by Paul. Kristin Wiig is adorable as an awkward, sheltered Christian girl that the guys pick up along the way. Jason Bateman continues his career renaissance as the government agent tracking Paul, and Sigourney Weaver is a total badass as Bateman's boss. Paul is funny and heartfelt, a loving homage by Pegg and Frost to the movies they grew up watching and loving.

Artery Clogging Tokens of Love

I want to make everything! Cinnamon rolls? Bring it! Home made ketchup? The tomatoes are reducing! Crackers? Kneading the dough! Gazpacho? Chilling in the fridge! I want to make all of it!
In an ideal world I would have the time (and the inclination...and clean up crew) to make everything from scratch all the time. I love the idea of making my own Sriracha and baking bread every day.

However, I don't live in an ideal world. So my Rooster sauce comes in a squeeze bottle with a rooster & a bar code on it.

I go a little crazy sometimes. When I'm hosting Thanksgiving I go so far overboard that I end up walking around on the bottom of the ocean. It's cool - that holiday is made for it. Other times it's embarrassing.

I was raised by Europeans. In the Midwest. When serious company comes over you spend 2 day
preparing & the table is so crowded that it creeks. Everything is home made & delicious.

I now live in Los Angeles. The Euro spread I grew up with is the polar opposite of the blase shellac of cool that everyone must aspire towards in this city. Homemade food is the culinary version of heart on your sleeve.Awkward. Eyes brimming, emotion spewing. I LOVE YOU!

Horrible.

When we host friends the situation goes Bad News Bears. I'm able to make things that we can't eat all the time. Butter is used in obscene quantities. Things are deep fried. Chocolate is melted. Bite sized morsels are wrapped in bacon & dipped in cheese. I'll make my friends & loved ones fat, but hell if I'm going to clog our arteries with that garbage all the time. It's special occasion food! That's why all of it must be made!

Here's how the drill goes: We're having friends over! Huzzah!

I make a giant list of everything that I want to make. Jared takes a look. Balks. Suggests that I maybe pull back to 2 dips instead of 5. That I throw some ranch packets into sour cream, put out some Ruffles & call it a day. That maybe I deep fry wings OR shrimp. That I don't need to make the crackers - we can buy the crackers.

I rebel & make home-made Cheeze-Its.

He gently opposes the idea of serving cupcakes & cookies & brownies & a fruit plate. I bite my lip & pull back on the refined sugar.

He gets it. I still don't.

In a food sense, I guess I'm the one standing under your window with a boom box, declaring my love. He's cringing in the car, wishing that I'd followed his advice about sending a text message asking if you want to hang out sometime.

I don't know if I'll ever truly be able to scale all the way back. I'm too Midwestern. Too European.

My heart is on the table. Won't you have seconds?

Five Favorite Movies

I love lists, especially movie lists. Top 10 movies of the year! Top 10 movies of all-time! Top 10 comedies! Top 10 movies featuring talking animals! So, for no other reason than I just felt like putting a list together, I present my Five Favorite Movies. I would do a Top 10, but I love so many movies that they all get sort of jumbled. (Also, I'm super lazy and writing about 10 movies seemed like way too much work.)

The Big Lebowski
I plan on writing a lot more about Lebowski once I start my Coen Brothers Project, but I have to acknowledge that it is far and away my favorite movie. Every actor is perfectly cast in their role, from Jeff Bridges' iconic turn as The Dude to John Goodman's hilariously rage-filled performance as Walter Sobchack to Jon Polito's relatively small role as Da Fino. I see or hear something new every single time I watch it. As soon as the company credits have ended and "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" starts playing, I'm already giggling with delight. I've probably seen Lebowski 50 times and I'd happily watch it 50 more. I can't wait to watch my freshly arrived Blu-ray.

Zero Effect
There are two genres I'm a complete sucker for: private eye movies and heist movies. Zero Effect is writer/director Jake Kasdan's first movie and still his best (although I maintain that Walk Hard remains vastly underrated) and it's his take on the private eye genre. It's not a conventional hard-boiled detective movie, it's actually quite funny. Bill Pullman turns in a great performance as "the mysterious and elusive Daryl Zero." He's the world's greatest private detective, but when he's not on the job, he's a complete recluse and a bit of a nutjob. He holes up in his apartment (which has approximately 786 different types of anti-burglary devices) drinking Tab cola, eating from the world's largest bag of pretzels and writing terrible songs. His assistant, Steve Arlo, is played by Ben Stiller before he started getting typecast as the twitchy, awkward loser with a heart of gold he's played for the past 10 years or so. Arlo procures work for Zero since Zero never meets his clients in person. Zero's latest case involves Gregory Stark, a wealthy businessman (played by a wonderfully slimy Ryan O'Neal) who is being blackmailed. It's Zero's job to find the blackmailer and find Stark's missing keys. Along the way, he makes a connection with a paramedic named Gloria Sullivan, who is played by Kim Dickens. In true detective movie fashion, there are twists and turns along the way, but Zero is always one step ahead. Zero Effect is a wonderful little gem of a movie.

Out of Sight
Speaking of heist movies, here's one about George Clooney as Jack Foley, a bank robber who has done one too many stints in prison and aims to be in on one last score before he quits the life of crime for good. Sounds familiar, right? As the great Roger Ebert is fond of saying, "A movie is not what it is about but how it is about it." This isn't your typical "one last score and I'm out" movie. Director Steven Soderbergh fragments the narrative to tell his story. We start with Foley walking out of a building, ripping off the tie he's wearing and flinging it down on the sidewalk in disgust. What is the building? Why is he so angry? Why did he just throw away a perfectly good tie? The answers come much later in the film. Along the way, we meet Foley's partner Buddy (Ving Rhames), their idiot accomplice Glen (Steve Zahn), a former prize-fighter turned inmate Maurice "Snoopy" Miller (Don Cheadle, who is absolutely mesmerizing every time he's on screen) and the woman who is trying to put them all in jail, Karen Sisco (Jennifer Lopez, before she became an insufferable diva). Needless to say, you don't cast two incredibly attractive people like Clooney and Lopez in your movie and NOT have them get romantic. The two have an easy chemistry together, including one of the sexiest seduction scenes ever committed to film. Out of Sight is wonderfully directed, masterfully edited, sexy, funny and has a killer soundtrack.

Brick
A detective movie set in a high school where the kids all speak like they just walked out of a Raymond Chandler novel. Sounds gimmicky, right? It would be if writer/director Rian Johnson didn't commit so thoroughly to his vision. High school can be a scary place and Johnson recognizes that, shooting the movie primarily in cold blues, steely grays and icy whites. The tone of the film is dark and foreboding and never lets up. Johnson also deserves a ton of credit for casting Joseph Gordon-Levitt in the lead role as Brendan. Gordon-Levitt is absolutely pitch perfect. Brick was made before Gordon-Levitt became a certifiable A-Lister, so I primarily knew him as the goofy kid with the long girly hair from Third Rock from the Sun and he absolutely blew me away in this movie the first time I saw it. He handles Johnson's tricky dialog with aplomb and turns Brendan into a self contained ball of rage and fury. He is absolutely relentless in his pursuit to find out what happened to his dead ex-girlfriend. He takes beating after beating, but he just keeps coming and won't rest until his mission is accomplished. Brick grabs hold of you and doesn't let go. (Johnson's first movie, a short called Evil Demon Golf Ball from Hell!!! is also worth checking out.)

Die Hard
The best action movie ever made. Bruce Willis plays the iconic John McClane, a New York cop who is in the wrong place at the wrong time. McClane has flown out to LA to make amends with his estranged wife, Holly (Bonnie Bedelia) and drops in on her company Christmas party at Nakatomi Plaza. While he's upstairs in Holly's office freshening up after a long flight, Hans Gruber (Alan Rickman in his best role) and his band of terrorists seize the building in order to break into the Nakatomi vault and steal $640 million in bearer bonds. It's up to McClane to stop them. Die Hard is just a master class in action film-making. Fight scenes are well choreographed, shit gets blowed up real good and the hero and villain are both extremely well drawn characters played by actors who embody their roles so thoroughly that you couldn't possibly imagine anybody else in them. Die Hard is a hell of a lot of fun. Yippee kai-yay, motherfuckers.