I recently watched a wonderful movie called The Beginners, starring Ewan McGregor and Christopher Plummer (aka: Captain Von Trapp).
It was so good! God, I'm a great movie critic, aren't I. Seriously, it was funny and touching and moving without being sentimental or treacly.
I highly recommend it.
Here is the trailer:
Or if you are in the mood for mindless action and menz with gunz, then watch Fast Five with Vin Diesel and my favorite bad-ass mofo, The Rock.
Excuse me, I mean Dwayne Johnson.
Look at my Guns!!!
I surprisingly liked the movie, although I missed out on Fast and Furious movies 2-4. Don't worry, since all the movies are basically the same, you don't have to watch them in order.
Here's my conversation with Matt while watching Fast Five.
Me: Vin Diesel is weird. When he talks it kinda sounds like he's drunk.
Matt: I like Vin.
Me: Well, he does have a good name. But he's no Rock.
Later...
Me: What kind of car is that?
Later...
Me: I think the Rock definitely eats his Wheaties.
Matt: He's juicin'.
Me: Naw... that's all natural. And why are his muscles always GLISTENING? He's all shiny and moist.
Later...
Me: What kind of car is that?
Matt: His muscles ARE shiny!
Me: I know. I think he has his own personal "oiler". Someone runs up with a spray bottle and spritzes him in between takes.
This is not so much a movie review but the random thoughts that went through my brain when watching this movie. Actually, I think most movie reviewers should do this, but of course, nobody ever cares what I think.
Previews start.
My Brain: Goody! Goody! Goody! I love previews! When I watch them it ALWAYS makes me want to see the movie.
Five minutes later:
I want popcorn.
Seven minutes:
And junior mints.
Ten minutes of previews later:
I think I should pee before the actual movie starts.
Fifteen minutes of previews later:
Dear God, how many previews are there?
Half-hour later when previews are almost done:
I think my ass is asleep. I'm hungry. I have to pee again. Why can't we have booze in the movie theater? I need a beer or something.
An hour later the movie starts:
My neck hurts. Hmmm.... when is shit gonna blow up? I know that's Tom Cruise waiting to get out of prison. Why is Tom in prison? Oh, who the hell cares.
My thoughts during the rest of the 10 hour long movie:
Tom Cruise is a very fast runner. He can really run.
Fake.
Fake.
That's totally fake.
Why is it always the Russians?
Holy Shit, I really didn't see that part coming!
Fake.
That's fake.
You can't hold your breath that long.
Tom is very fast. I bet he's definitely the fastest A-list celebrity. He's gotta be the fastest Scientologist.
What kind of car is that? Is that a Volkswagen?
Not the masks again!
Oh good, the masks are stupid.
There's no way in hell I would do that.
That's so damn fake. That wouldn't work.
That goes against the laws of physics.
The desert is cool.
I don't think I like camels. They spit. And bite.
This is fake. You can't do that. You would totally die.
I wonder if Tom Cruise is a robot.
That's fucking impossible.
Hah! That's what they should call the movie. Fucking Impossible!
I'm a genius.
Are they gonna...? Of course, yes they are.
Yeah, I knew that was going to happen.
Jesus, Tom Cruise can really run! I think he's faster than me.
How old is Tom Cruise?
I bet he's a cyborg.
Good God, I really have to pee.
Hi, Ving Rhames, how much did you get for your cameo?
I think the next movie in the franchise should be: Fucking Impossible! Tom Cruise can RUN REALLY DAMN FAST!
So there's my movie review. The thing I liked best was watching Tom Cruise run. He's very good at it.
Me: It's a psychological thriller done by Darren Aronofsky.
Matt: Who?
Me: He did that movie Pi and some other weird stuff.
Matt: Nah.
Me: Apparently, it has a really smoking hot lesbian sex scene.
Matt: What?
Me: With Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis.
Matt: Really?
Me: Yeah, do you want to watch it?
Matt: Okay!
Lesson: If you want a man to do something he doesn't want to do, just say something like, "hot lesbian sex scene". It works, but not for everything. Like if you want him to go with you to church. It doesn't work for that. Unless you go to one of them freaky ass churches.
Holy Moly! I just saw the trailer for HBO's new series Game of Thrones, based on the book by George R.R. Martin. These books are awesome. Epic fantasy at its finest. Honestly, I like this stuff way more than Lord of the Rings. Partly because these are definitely for adults. Plenty o' sex and violence, which is probably why HBO is making the series.
Last night I finished book two in the series, which is Clash of Kings. 968 pages. Yeah, they are long and full of characters. The character list alone is a good 30 pages, which is why you should read the books before watching this show. Otherwise you will be completely confused by what's going on.
But here is a taste. Be warned, the beginning is scary. Scary good!
Unfortunately, I don't have HBO. Or cable. So I guess I will only have to wait a whole year to see it on Netflix. Ugh.
When I read they were making this movie, I wondered: "How on earth are they going to make a film about a guy who gets his hand stuck while rock climbing and has to cut his own arm off?"
Then I read that Danny Boyle was doing it.
Then I saw the trailer.
Looks incredible and it looks like a movie to see on the big screen.
Yesterday, Sunday August 15th, was our 12th anniversary. It went kinda like this:
Wake up at 6:15, hearing the Smooshy babbling in her crib. We call her Smooshy because she's, well, she's smooshy.
Realize it is no longer 100 degrees out. Thank Jesus and Buddha. Open all the windows and let that icy fresh Manitoba air clean out the funk.
Give the Smooshy her bottle. After two gulps she throws it down on the floor. Screams at the cat, who is lying on the rug. She wants that cat. Ever since she figured out this crawling thing she's been on a mission. Mission Impossible: grab that fuzzy cat and squeeze it.
Put Sena on the floor and watch her crawl over to the cat, who promptly jumps up, whines, and trots out of the room.
Notice a peculiar odor.
Change Sena's poop loaded diaper.
Eventually she finishes the bottle. Decide to be nice and let Matt sleep in. Me and Sena go outside and play.
Around 10 am I walk upstairs and yell at Matt, "Are you getting up, today?"
Matt grunts, "Happy Anniversary."
I say, in my best Cameron(from Ferris Bueller's day off) voice, "Haaaaapeeee Annaversireeee...."
We both start laughing like dorks.
That afternoon we drop the Smooshy at Grandma and Grandpas and go downtown.
We sit outside at Kieran's and have a drink and listen to the roar coming from the Twins stadium as someone hits a homer.
We go and see Eclipse at the movie theater. There are 2 other people in the theater and we pretend we are having our own private screening.
Laugh and make gagging noises every time Jacob, Edward, or Bella says something ridiculous and cheesy, which is about every 5 minutes.
Decide we both like the movie. As we walk out of the theater I say, "Jacob annoys me. Teenagers don't talk like that!" In my best moony voice say, "Bella, I know you want me, too! I can feeeeeeeeeel it!"
We laugh like dorks. Again.
We go out to eat at an over-priced fancy Italian restaurant. I order an overpriced bottle of Barbera. It is good. So is the meal. We both decide that every anniversary we will go out to dinner because we both suddenly realize that we no longer can go out whenever we feel like it. Or do whatever the hell we want whenever we want to.
Not that we ever did, anyway.
I think about this and decide I'm okay with it. I also decide I'm pretty lucky to have been married to someone who gets my jokes. Or at least does a good job pretending he does.
"What happened these past 12 years?" "I don't know. It went by fast." "Well, the first couple didn't." "Huh?" "You know what I mean. They were long years. Looooooong." "But not anymore?" "Nope." "Is that good?" "I don't know. I'm old." "God, we ARE old."
Matt is watching that movie, 2012 on the computer in bed as Mindy comes upstairs.
Mindy (flopping on the bed): Is this the apocalypse one?
Matt: Yeah.
Watching in silence as Danny Glover, the president of the U.S.A. gives his last speech to the public.
Mindy: Hey it's Sargeant Murtaugh!
Mindy thinks, "I wonder what Sargeant Murtaugh thinks of his old buddy, Riggs. Crazy, insane, batshit Riggs....
Mindy: If the world is ending, why are they getting on that airplane?
Matt: There's these ships waiting in China. They made arks.
Mindy: Well, that makes sense. The Chinese make everything.
Later on.
Mindy: Why do the dumb doors need to shut before they start the engine? That's dumb.
Matt: It IS dumb. Stupid. So they can have this dumb scene where John Cusack has to fix the problem.
Mindy (watching John Cusack swim underwater with a flashlight to unstick some giant gears): John Cusack CANNOT hold his breath underwater that long!
Matt: Nobody can.
Mindy: And in the dark, too! Underwater, in the dark. No way, Jose.
Later on.
Mindy: So now Wisconsin is the south pole? What? This movie is stupid.
Matt laughs.
Later on. At night. It's dark.
Mindy starts wondering about the Supervolcano that is in Yellowstone, that is supposed to explode any day now and destroy the earth. (I swear to God, you can look it up....Supervolcano.)
Mindy: Shit! There's a supervolcano.... I'm going to eat some ice cream for breakfast.
Mindy goes back to sleep, wondering when the movie, SUPERVOLCANO, is going to hit the theaters. Hopefully, it will star John Cusack.
As if it wasn't bad enough that I can't wait to see the next Twilight movie, Eclipse, coming out this June, I just saw the trailer for the new Sex and the City movie.
Is it sad that watching this just made my entire week?
So I was watching Oprah yesterday while folding laundry, and the subject was "amazing kids" or something to that effect. Stories about kids and babies that survived despite the odds. I think it was a rerun.
Then the story of Baby Eliot came on.
And I started to bawl.
Not just cry but really sob, the kind where snot comes pouring out of your nose like a faucet.
Even Oprah was crying.
The worst part is right in the middle of this Matt came home and says hello. All that answers him is a pathetic voice from the basement, so he immediately comes downstairs to see me bawling like an orphaned calf. "Moo? What's wrong?" Matt actually looks scared. "Snugghuggh...huhh-huhh...B-baby," I manage to blubber. "What baby?" "Baby on TV." "What happened?" "It d-d-died." I tell him I need a Kleenex and he looks happy for a reason to escape.
Lately, I've noticed that I can't stand stories or anything about babies and kids getting hurt or abused or stolen. Same thing with animals. It's always bothered me, but now it's at a whole new level. A few weeks ago I was reading the National Geographic and there was a picture of a starving baby and I immediately started to cry and had to close it.
So this video makes me so upset I want to chew my own arm off. Warning, don't watch this at work or around other people if you don't like making a scene. You'll be okay if you're a cyborg.
This is sad but true... my sister-in-law and I have already made plans to see New Moon on its opening weekend, though by that time I should have a week-old infant on my hands.
I told her, "I'm there! I need to find a baby sitter...Matt can do it!"
But Matt protested, his voice getting a little too shrill and anxious. "Hey! I want to see it, too!"
So if the baby hasn't arrived yet, we'll all go together, sitting with our popcorn and junior mints, screeching with delight.
With the thousand other twelve year-old girls.
I almost wish they hadn't come out with the trailer yet because I don't know how I'm going to wait till November.
As the light grows longer The cold grows stronger If Candlemas be fair and bright Winter will have another flight If Candlemas be cloud and snow Winter will be gone and not come again A farmer should on Candlemas day Have half his corn and half his hay On Candlemas day if thorns hang a drop You can be sure of a good pea crop
This is an old Scottish poem about Candlemas (February 2). And it looks like Puxsatawny Phil saw his shadow this morning, as did Jimmy the Groundhog who lives in Wisconsin. So that means there will be six more weeks of winter....
But there is always six more weeks of winter! I just hope the next six weeks aren't as bad as the last.
This is also the week I begin round 2 of my P90X program. I can't wait to see what Tony Horton has planned for me this evening. Last week I really enjoyed my recovery week, although I don't think that eating a huge pile of lemon chicken and shrimp lo mein while watching BALLS OF FURY counts as recovery. More like the slippery slope back down into couch potato oblivion. So I had a minor lapse; I'm still ready for the next level.
Mainly, I'm impressed within one month of doing this because my pants are not as tight. But what really impressed me is how MUCH STRONGER I am. At first I struggled with one pull up. I can now pop out 4 before it starts to get ugly.
I can now hold myself in a chattaranga pose, which is a yoga pose where you are holding yourself up on only your toes and your hands while you are down in a push up position, hovering 1 inch off the floor. I can now hold myself like this gracefully before I move into upward dog instead of how I used to do it: namely, crashing down to the floor like a water buffalo hit by a tranquilizer dart.
I don't think crashing water buffalo is a yoga pose.
So back to Groundhog Day... the movie version. I love this movie. And not just because Bill Murray's in it. If you have not seen it, I highly recommend investing two hours of your time. Same with the aforementioned Balls of Fury. If you like kung-fu (WHO DOESN'T LIKE KUNG-FU?) you will thoroughly enjoy. It is a classic style kung-fu movie, except they replace all the kung-fu with: PING PONG!
They say (who's they, I'd like to know) that humans are only born with two fears.
Fear of Falling Fear of Loud Noises
It takes a couple more months or years of living to turn into a shaking, stuttering mess of neuroses. Because, well, there's a lot of stuff to be afraid of.
I recently noticed my nephew Jack is not too keen on the dark. He does not like the lights turned off.
"Noooooooo! NOT DARK!!!!!!!! NO LIGHT OFF!!!!!!" This is followed by some high-pitched shrieking.
I think this is a pretty common fear. I don't recall being so much afraid of the dark when I was a kid, but of what THINGS might appear in the dark. THINGS I couldn't see. Things creeping under my bed, things waiting and drooling in the closet. THINGS!
I still have two distinct fears, one of which I recently had no name for, until I read about it on a local blog. It's called explodingdoughphobia.
Some of you already know what I'm talking about. Those tubes of refrigerated dough? The ones you slowly peel where it says PEEL HERE? The ones that are supposed to POP! when you get to a certain point on the canister seam?
I'm afraid of those. It's gotten better, through sheer use of them because Matt loves the Pillsbury crescent rolls and cinnamon buns. I've slowly been desensitized to what I refer to as dough grenades. But a few years ago, I wouldn't open them. I wouldn't even BUY them. I didn't even want to LOOK at that evil little doughboy smirking at me on the tube in the grocery store. He taunted me, that doughboy did. Little punk.
But Matt would buy them. I would pretend I didn't know how to open them. But one morning I decided to face my fear. It was Sunday morning and I did want those cinnamon rolls, so I decided to bite the bullet. Or pull the pin, as it were.
So what did I do? I started peeling the label, practically quivering with fear. I tried to close my eyes, but then thought that wouldn't be a good idea. I peeled the whole wrapper off. No pop. I looked at it, holding it at arm's length. It said to press a spoon on the seam. No way was I going to do that. I could already see the spoon ricochet from the explosion and embed itself into my skull.
Then I read that it said to tap lightly on the counter. I tapped it. Nothing happened.
So I threw it across the room. It hit the wall and POPPED! I picked it up off the floor, proud of myself, and tried to wipe the cat hair off. I think I got most of it.
My other fear is an actual medical phobia. Coulrophobia.
Fear of Clowns.
I chalk this up to reading IT by Stephen King when I was 12. That, and that horrible clown from the Poltergeist movie.
But honestly, even Ronald McDonald gave me the bejeezus.
My husband's fears are a little more common. Dentists and snakes. But he is truly terrified of them. If he were to go to a dentist that had a terrarium of snakes in the waiting room he'd probably have a stroke.
I try to tell him that snakes aren't slimy or scary, but who am I to judge when the idea of opening flaky, buttery crescent rolls give me nightmares.
So last night we were trying to watch Snakes on a Plane. Trying. And I didn't even want to see it; Matt was the one who put it on the Netflix queue. I figured the only redeeming thing about the movie would be Samuel L. Jackson.
As soon as the snakes hit the cabin Matt made a noise not unlike a six-year old girl being dangled above a pit of hungry crocodiles. That scared me more than the snakes. He actually said, "Turn IT off! I don't wanna watch this anymore!" Then he pulled the blanket over his head.
Last Sunday I was puttering around the house; too cold to go out for a run so I just was dinking around with the things I like to do because I'm a horrible Virgo.
I clean and organize. I do laundry. I fold the towels into perfect rectangles that all face the same way in the linen closet. All my towels and sheets are the same colors. White. Off-white. Except for the new steel blue sheets I got for Christmas, nothing messes with the sheer perfection of my closets. If you don't know enough about me already from reading this blog, know this:
I get excited about seeing perfectly organized closets the way that most men get excited by looking at naked ladies. Hot naked ladies holding a six pack of beer in one hand and a pizza in the other.
I organize my cd collection according to genre, then alphabetical order by artist. I dust the leaves on my bonsai plant. I make sure that the Campbell's tomato soup cans are stacked together labels facing out, not mixed with the cream of mushroom because I know the earth will fall off its axis if that travesty happens.
So as I sat on the couch Sunday afternoon folding towels, I turned on the TV, knowing that there are usually old movies on TV on Sundays. I was right. And that movie was Point Break.
I love Point Break! How can you not love this movie...it has everything.
Add a heaping helping of the dorky hotness of Keanu Reeves and mix with a dollop of smooth sexy Patrick Swayze. Sprinkle on a dash of crazy Gary Busey (man, he is bonkers!)
Then add all the other stuff that makes it great: Bank robberies, FBI intrigue, extreme sports like surfing and sky diving, romance, and great Zen Buddhist philosphy like: "Fear causes hesitation, and hesitation will make your worst fears come true."
So last Saturday we decided to go see Twilight; we don't go to movies that often anymore because of Netflix and when we do, we only go to matinees. Matinees are still only $5. I say only because when I was a teenager, $5 was the price for the night shows. Times have changed.
We call and ask Matt's sister if our nephew would like to go. Will is fourteen. A boy. A fourteen year-old boy. I look at Matt as if he's insane, assuming that no fourteen year-old boy would be caught dead going to that movie. Even though it has vampires in it.
Will, surprisingly, says okay. He possibly thinks that seeing a gross romance chick movie is better than seeing no movie at all. I also realize that my husband is excited to go see the movie, as well. So much for my theories about guys. I know nothing.
We are running late when we pick up Will. He is dawdling; perhaps rethinking the whole scenario. "Hurry, Boy!" I yell from the car window. He shuffles slowly to our car.
Because we are running late, Matt of course goes in the wrong entrance to Southdale Mall. He drops us off at Macys and tries to find a parking spot. Because I'm a dork and have anxiety attacks about being late for ANYTHING, let alone something I'm excited about, I run down the escalator, pushing past people as unobnoxiously as I can. I run past the Caribou coffee stand and look back. Will is calmly riding down the escalator. I look at him like, "Are you KIDDING me?" He tries to pretend he isn't with me because I'm so embarrassing. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away. TOO COOL FOR SCHOOL.
I start race walking through the mall, and Will tries to keep up without looking like he's keeping up. Thankfully there is no line at the ticket counter. I get three tickets and hand 2 to Will. It's 2:28. The movie starts at 2:30. I'm not waiting for my husband. "Here, give this to Matt."
A guy who looks like Methuselah takes my ticket. "Escalator to your right." I'm like, "Huh? There's an escalator?" I didn't realize how many different theaters are in here, and ours is in the most out of the way place. I must look totally flabbergasted and he looks at me pityingly. I'm frantic because, like I said before, I HATE BEING LATE!
Well, we manage to get there just as everything gets dark. I find a decent seat and my pulse slowly returns to normal. We watch various previews for horrible teen movies. Me and Matt start laughing so hard that he starts coughing. Will is sitting on the far end, probably wishing that someone would kill him and put him out of his misery.
Finally, the movie starts....Dun-dun-daaaaaah!
Okay, the review. Well, I liked it. I liked the cast, I liked the build up, I liked the romance stuff. I liked the action.
What I didn't like. Some of the vampire makeup looked bad. Too obvious. Some of the special effects were bad. Too silly and distracting. But I thought the movie worked well, especially since in the book it was slow moving for a long time in terms of foreboding action. The heart of the story was the romance and I thought they did a very good job with it. I thought the actors were wonderfully cast.
When it was over we walked out. Matt goes, "I LIKED it!" "Me too!"
Will was shuffling behind us. "Well, whaddya think?" Matt asked him. "It was okay," he begrudgingly admitted.
So there you have it. Here's the official trailer if you're interested.
And to add to my ever growing list of things I love about Britain is a dreamy Robert Pattinson. He's just 22. Does that officially make me a cougar?
So I get home last night and putter around. Since I finished Twilight I decide tonight I will start on the other books I bought. Namely, Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow. I've been meaning to read it and it's on my top 100 booklist that I posted about.
Then Matt comes home. "I got you a present!"
The first one is Chipotle.
The second one is a little chocolate dove bar.
The third is New Moon, the next book in the series.
I screamed with glee and snatched it up, looking, I'm guessing, like a crack head who just got a free sample from their drug dealer.
My husband is awesome.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I ask. "Can't I bring you gifts?" "Yes, but what did you do?" He just laughs and walks away.
Later I discover the real reason. I burned through the book last night, getting to page 275 before I realized I should go to bed. Around 10:30 I sense somebody sneaking up by my bedside. Unfortunately, it is not hot Edward Cullen coming to bite me. It's Matt, coming to steal my book again. He'd finished the first one and was just as spastic as me to read the second.
Well, I won't give anything away with the book, even though it's easy to look up. I did look up some information on the movie, though. Sounds like it has a kickass soundtrack to go with it. My favorite song is Supermassive Black Hole, by Muse. I guess they used that for the baseball scene in the movie. The video is bizarro. Freaky-deeky. Like someone was dropping acid and looking at too many Dali and Bosch paintings. Blaugh.
Yet, whatever it is they're selling, I'm buying.
And if you are completely taken aback by the baseball reference...yes, vampires playing baseball, then you'll just have to read the book.
Yes, it's sort of silly. Yes, the book is filled with a lot of hokey dialogue and characterization. Yes, it would be better if about 100 pages of this hokiness was cut out.
But... But...
I loved it. I couldn't stop reading it. I bought it Saturday afternoon. I sat down on my bed at 8 p.m. to take of my socks. As I took off my first sock I opened to the prologue. And hour and half later I was still sitting there with one sock off, hunched over and hitting page 147. I was infatuated with total dreamboat Edward Cullen. So what if he's a vampire? Nobody's perfect.
Yes, I'm pathetic.
And no, I don't care.
I was still reading at 11:30 when Matt came upstairs. "Moo! You're still up?" This is surprising because I'm usually sleeping by 9:30. Almost always. "It's good..." I blurbled. I had a crick in my neck and my eyes hurt but I kept going. "I can't stop."
Then I forced myself to put it down. It was one of the rare stories where I consciously had to slow myself down because I didn't want it to end.
The next afternoon I went to go pick it up again, but it wasn't on my nightstand. I found my husband downstairs but not watching the football game. He was reading my book. "Oooooh!" he told me. "I just got to the car accident!" "Oh goodie, it really starts to take off now!" We started giggling like preteen girls.
This is something I love about my husband. He's an unabashed romantic soul, and is not at all embarrassed by it. He's the type of man who'll light up his Marlboro Red, pour himself a whiskey on the rocks, and then sit and watch a movie like Beaches. And LIKE it. But he's not a girly guy. Far from it. I've never seen my husband cry. Never, ever. One time I asked him about it. "Are you a robot or something?" He's a walking contradiction. But then again, I guess I am, too.
So last night I finished the book. I even reread the last chapter over because I didn't want to be done. Then I read the chapter of the sequel, New Moon. I'm going to probably run out and buy the whole freakin' series this weekend. The book is a success, I think, not just because of its ability to keep you turning the page, which is the ultimate goal of any story, but the author's ability to articulate all the passion and tension and excitement and mystery of what it feels like to be a teenager. And teenage love. I remember that well....everything was so MOMENTOUS and DRAMATIC. NOBODY UNDERSTANDS ME! I LOVE YOU! I HATE YOU!
It's quite exhilarating, but my God, it's also exhausting.
So last night Matt comes to bed and snatches up my book. I'm tired and I want to turn the light off. "No!" screams Matt, a little too desperately. "Let me finish this chapter!"
And after watching this trailer, we're totally going to see the movie. The other funny thing about this book is that we've both been to Forks, Washington. We actually went there on our honeymoon. We spent time in Seattle, Port Townsend, went whale watching up in the San Juan Islands, and also drove to the Olympic National Forest, went up Mt. Olympus, went to the Hoh rain forest and Rialto Beach. That part of the country is sensationally beautiful. We stopped in the tiny town of Forks and had lunch at the local diner. I remembered it because it was a interesting little town with a peculiar name. The locals were very friendly though. Hmmm....
One of the fun things about traveling is airports. I know most people dread this part of the trip (for good reason), but I've always found airports fascinating. All these people coming and going across the world and you just never know what or who you might see. I can understand that people who travel regularly for business hate it, but I only travel for fun so I use it as an excuse to buy thick, glossy magazines in the airport bookstores, shop in the duty free, and eat a McGriddle from McDonalds. Those things are disturbingly tasty.
When Matt worked at the airport as a customer service agent he was always doing something different, working different flights and interacting with all kinds of people. This included celebrities. Matt is not the type of person to get all excited about that, except for the time the Dalai Lama was at his gate to board a flight for Salt Lake City, and Matt was determined to meet this holy man.
"Wasn't he surrounded by a bunch of people?" I asked him. "Yeah, bunch of guys." "How'd you know it was him?" "He was wearing his Dalai Lama dress." "I think it's a robe." "Whatever." "How did you get to him?" "I just walked up to him and stuck out my hand so he would shake it. I had to touch him." "Why?" "Duh, cuz if you touch him then you're blessed." "Really?" "Yeah, I'm blessed, baby!" "When does it wear off?" "Never!" He starts laughing because he is so pleased with himself. I hug him. "Give me your powers." "It doesn't work that way, silly."
Ah yes, I'M silly.
The other good celebrity airport story is about Ray Liotta. Ray Liotta is cool. Not only is he a great actor, he just kinda seems like a badass. Matt was working a flight to Milwaukee and sees that Ray Liotta is sitting by his desk near the window. He checks the flight manifest and sees that, yes indeed, it's Ray Liotta. Then a woman comes over to Matt's desk. "Is that Ray Liotta?" she whispers. "Yes," says Matt. "Can you get his autograph for me?" Matt stares blankly at her. "No." "Please?" "No." "C'mon..." "If you want it, ask him yourself." Apparently this woman is too shy to go up to Ray Liotta. She thinks about her options. "I will buy you a coffee if you do it." "Make it a mocha," says Matt. "Okay." She leaves and then comes back with his Starbucks mocha. "Here, give him this to write on." She gives him a napkin. "Okay."
My husband walks over to Ray Liotta. "Excuse me, Mr. Liotta." "Yes?" "Umm, some chick wants your autograph. Could you sign this?" Ray Liotta barely blinks and scribbles his name down. "Thank you, sir." "You're welcome," says Ray Liotta.
"Why was Ray Liotta going to Milwaukee?" I ask Matt after he tells me the story. "I have no idea." "So what did he look like?" "Kinda rough looking." "Well, that's Ray Liotta." "Yeah."
Now every time we see a movie with Ray Liotta in it, Matt says, "Hey, there's my good friend Ray!"
So I have to include this awesome clip from Goodfellas, one of the best mob movies besides the Godfather. This clip is impressive because it's one long continuous tracking shot. Film nerds will appreciate it.
Well, I recently joined Facebook. I'm one of those people who think things like Facebook, Myspace, Blackberries, and any new-fangled hand held technological device could very well be the downfall of mankind, and we are only a short step away from SKYNET and the rise of the machines. Yes, yes, I know, I have to stop watching Terminator, the Sara Connor Chronicles.
So I joined Facebook upon the advice of an old childhood friend. It is pretty neat in a way; to find all these people you used to know (as teenagers) and see what they are up to. I know friends who are living overseas in places like France, Scotland, and the Ukraine, as well as people living in the town I grew up in, people raising families, people still living the single life, and people scattered all across the U.S. Pilots, doctors, lawyers, teachers, musicians, artists, nurses, stay-at-home parents, world travelers, and everything in between.
Which brings me to the title. One of my classmates from Onalaska High School (Go, Hilltoppers) and Facebook friend is Mark Hefti, who is now based in Los Angeles and living the dream as an actor. I know a lot of people fantasize about going to out to California and making it in Tinseltown, but Mark is actually doing it. He wrote the screenplay, starred in, and helped produce his movie Tomorrow is Today, which has been nominated for and won several awards.
I was absolutely impressed when I saw it; I many times marvel that any movie ever gets made considering all the red tape and hoops one must jump through (I worked for about 6 years in earnest before I got my book published), so for Mark to stick to it and see his story fulfilled into a tangible piece of art is very inspiring.
I loved the movie The Dark Knight, but had one small quibble. I had a hard time understanding Batman when he spoke.
As we walked out of the theater, I even mentioned it to Matt. "Why does he talk like that?" "I don't know." Then we both say in unison, as the lightbulb flashed on. "Oh! To disguise his voice."
But he's a billionaire. With a bat suit, a bat mobile, bat gear, and every bat gadget you could want, couldn't he make a bat voice disguiser? Something sounding a little better. Like Sean Connery or Frank Sinatra? Something that didn't make him sound like he'd just smoked a whole carton of Kools and was sitting on the toilet with severe constipation.
It turns out that I'm not the only one who noticed this. Don't worry, it won't ruin the movie for you. It may only make you laugh hysterically when you do see it.
