The Making of a Movie Buff

Today, we took Little A to see Kung Fu Panda, his first movie in a movie theater. This kid comes from a long line of movie lovers, so naturally he enjoys a good flick. He's already a big fan of Cars and The Incredibles, and even at his tender age will sit mesmerized through these rather long movies. But he's not yet had the complete movie theater experience, and this year we decided he would be old enough to have the patience for a full-length picture, to appreciate the big screen, and to not get freaked out at the dark or the volume.

By the way, how much does it bug me when parents bring age-inappropriate children to movies? Like an infant who invariably starts screaming or babbling in the middle of the film and whose parents seem to think the best approach is to try and calm the baby there rather than GET UP AND WALK OUT OF THE THEATER WITH YOUR SCREAMING CHILD. Or like the mother I saw with her two elementary-school-age sons at a showing of Jackie Brown because that's teaching them fabulous things about guns, sex, and profane language. Or like the mother we saw in line to buy tickets with her three-year-old daughter as we were leaving Iron Man at some time past 10 o'clock because that's an awesome time to see a movie with your toddler. Okay, sure I understand maybe not having the dough for a babysitter or maybe having a hard time finding a dependable one. But for crying out loud people, just suck it up and wait for it to come out on DVD.

Anyway, I digress.

We've been hyping this movie experience and Kung Fu Panda since I got out of the hospital after my first round of chemo. We've been watching the online trailers, reading the book, and we even got some Happy Meal toys. I've been pretty jazzed about this, my son's first movie-going experience. Once the doctors declared me no longer neutropenic, we got busy picking out a day and a showing. We packed snacks, put on a snazzy polo shirt with pandas embroidered in the corner, and set off to meet my mom at the theater.

Then due to a mix-up with the times, we ended up there an hour early. Snort. But it was good opportunity to grab a quick lunch.

Occasionally, there are moments when Little A does something that makes me wonder if he truly is the fruit of my loins. Today, for instance, he summarily rejected popcorn. My mom talked him into trying a piece which he promptly ejected from his mouth. Doesn't like popcorn. Huh.

We settled into our seats. Immediately, Little A seemed puzzled as to why we were being forced to watch commercials. I told him I wonder the same thing too some times. Once the movie started, Little A was mesmerized. The only time he talked out loud was to inquire about the usher who came into the theater to make his rounds ("What's that man doing?"). I loved seeing his big grin whenever he recognized a favorite line or scene from one of the trailers we watch.

But I think the whole event, coupled with the darkness and the fact that the sound was a little low, wore him down. By the last ten or fifteen minutes of the movie, he was starting to look drowsy, but I think the final battle scene roused him out of his stupor. All in all, he seemed to enjoy the experience. The scenes with the younger Tai Lung and Master Tigress being the most memorable so far.

Later, when talking about his experiences, Little A made sure to mention the "holes in the seats to put our drinks in." My kid remember the cupholders. Awesome.

The day's events have pretty well baked his noodle because it's taken me a good while to try and spin him down for sleepytime. Whew. I guess our big screen adventures will be few and far between, at least for now.

On one last note, I've got a bone marrow biopsy tomorrow. Just a reminder of my friends, the zombie leukemia cells. Let's hope and pray that the last scorched earth approach has kept them somewhat at bay. Otherwise, the Zombie Warrior's going to start investing in some nuclear goodies for her arsenal.

A Pleasant Fiction

Last night, the Mister and I had our second movie date night of my furlough.  We went to see the new Indy movie (which was fairly entertaining but lacking the sparkle of its predecessors, especially Raiders.).  Life has really been falling back into this semi-normalcy, despite Momma A's bald head and tubies and clinic visits. We were eating family meals, going on errands, and having a great time playing with Little A.   But it was a pretend normalcy

Because now I'm back in the Big House, getting chemo Round 2.  I'm back in the land of Cletus the IV, cavalcade of medicine, late night nurse visits, poking and prodding, and napalm mouthwash.  Good times peeps.  And of course, a bone marrow transplant is in my near future.  Whoop, whoop! 

Last week my bone marrow biopsy revealed refractory leukemia cells.  Some of these stupid cells dared show their faces after the Zombie Warrior and her chemo arsenal steamrolled through the halls of my bone marrow.  This news wasn't a huge surprise to me considering I'd already been informed that my flavor of AML is particularly aggressive and a narsty bugger at that.  So instead of those slobbering, shambling Romero-esque ghouls, the Stupid Leukemia Zombie Cells inhabiting my marrow are more like the psychotic infected from 28 Days Later or Zack Snyder's swiftly moving undead.  These are tough buggers, and Zombie Warrior's going to need a more powerful set of weapons, and that's why I am here.  Of course, arming her to the teeth may cause some further collateral damage to my body; give a gal a flame thrower, and she's bound to scorch the walls something fierce.

Keep me in your prayers as I take on this new, more intense round of chemo.  The poisons are being pumped in for five days.  If I don't react poorly (meaning no fevers or insane side effects) to the chemo, I might be released on parole after the chemo treatments ends.  That's our prayer goal now: That Zombie Warrior cleans up these vicious leukemia ghouls and that she doesn't completely trash my body in the process.

Yeah and my new attending doctor is a jackass.  An old fart doctor who cracked a joked about how I "looked good now but just wait until after they'd finished with me."  Yeah, who's been complaining about Dr. CrotchedyPants?

Did anyone else notice Aaron had a White Rabbit poster on his bedroom door on tonight's Lost season finale?

Spam sales are up 7%.

Finally, according to the US Postal Service, come December, I no longer live in Richmond, but Henrico.  Curiouser.

Off to catch my fleeting Big House zzzzzzz's.

Holiday. Celebration. Come together in every nation.

(No medical updates today, peeps. I had a great holiday weekend with the fam and want to focus on that. The news from Friday wasn't devastating, nor was it ohmygoshyouaremiraculouslycured. More details tomorrow.)

My holiday weekend started on Thursday. The Mister and I threw caution (and my neutropenic state) to the wind and took in a flick. The flick. Iron Man, baby. In honor of my fabulously supportive 'jibans, I donned my "Pajiba Bus(ted) Tour 2008" t-shirt, as well as my Jolly Roger do-rag over my bald head especially for the big event: The first real movie post Big House. It was as if the whole Pajiba crew was there to cheer and celebrate as I crammed my mouth full of movie popcorn and dark chocolate Raisinets.

Man, that movie was something else. It was in many ways the perfect comic book movie. Just enough back story and character development to make Tony Stark believable, but not waste vital screen time. Action sequences were kickin' but not overly long. Actors put in smooth, professional performances. And I laughed out loud more than a few times. I'm just delighted to have been able to see it on the big screen.

Plus, the trailer for The Incredible Hulk was intriguing. I think I might want to see this one. Who can pass up Ed Norton AND Tim Roth?

Saturday, Clan Amos headed over to the king of bog box toy stores, Toys-R-Us, on a mission to acquire some outdoor play equipment for Little A. The set we ended up with is perfect for our crazy toddler man. It's got a ladder, a slide, two walls with climbing hand holds, a cave, and... a steering wheel, the feature that ultimately sold us on this particular model. My little racer does love to drive. After his first few minutes on his new playground, Alastair announced, "This playground is neat."

During the time I was in The Big House, Alastair has totally moved out of babydom into little boyhood. Watching him play and listening to the things that come out of his mouth, I've realized how much he's grown in such a short time.

Adrian has taught him to exclaim, "Punk rock!" (which he sometimes gets mixed up and calls out "Punk up!" instead.), as well as to command someone to "Throw the goat!"

Tonight at dinner Adrian asked him where the million dollars was, and he replied, "Upstairs in bed sleeping." I explain that probably wasn't a wise investment of funds.

We have also established that "narcolepsy" is a magic word that sends Daddy to the ground with some voracious fake snoring.

Sunday, I enjoyed my favorite mom-shared pastime, shopping and spent most of the time digging through the Anthropologie clearance room. Hey, were I independently wealthly, I would be outfitted exclusively in their high-priced quirk.

Yesterday was full of outside playtime (resulting in some butt whooping allergy symptoms today), Indy car racing, and ice cream. I actually watched the entire race with The Mister, particularly enjoying Danica Patrick's minor hissy fit when a fender bender in the pits pulled her prematurely out of the race.

Listen to me. I sound like a freakin' race fan. Shivers.

Finally, I cannot express how excited I am to have So You Think You Can Dance back on television.

Mixed Nuts With a Seasoning of Marrow

Tonight I've been gimping about my house like a geriatric hip replacement patient. Now I can fully appreciate having gone through my four previous bone marrow biopsies in The Big House where I could laze about in bed and oxycodone was on tap. The biopsy went well; the doc performing it was actually a hemo-oncologist fellow and the pathologist observed and assisted. That's the double edged sword of being treated at a teaching hospital; there are lots of fresh minds on your case, but you are also something of a guinea pig. The fellow performed the biopsy fine, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that he was seriously digging for treasure in my pelvic bone. Plus he reiterated the findings of the two previous pathologists who did my other biopsies: I have bones of stone.

The biopsy results will be ready for my appointment on Friday. Here's hoping for good news.

Speaking of good news, my white counts are up. Other counts are holding firm. Of course, I forgot to ask whether or not this takes me out of neutropenic precautionary zone. A viewing of Iron Man is still in my near future, even if I have to wear my sexy mask and cover the seat in a surgical drape.

Other random news from down Amos Way:

My relationship with Little A has been firmly (and perhaps even stronger than before) reestablished. Yesterday, for the first time since my being home, he called specifically for "Mommy" after his nap. We spend lots of time snuggling and hugging and wrestling, and actually, he's gotten pretty lovey and cuddly lately. It's awesome.

He has also become obsessed with watching the online trailers for both Kung Fu Panda and Wall*E. Based on release dates, it looks like Clan Amos will have to betray their fierce Pixar loyalties and introduce Little A to the movie theater experience with a Dreamworks flick. Oh well. He'll love them both, of that I am certain. He can already sing the first few bars of "Kung Fu Fighting" complete with the "da da da da duh duh duh" part and can identify both Wall*E and his robotic girlfriend Eve.

I can't believe I've not posted this sooner, but my West Coast blogger buddy Girl With the Curious Hair is working with Team in Training, raising funds and preparing to run a half marathon in my honor this October. Mosey on over to her fundraising page and toss her some coin. The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society does some awesome work for folks like me and their families, acting as a support system and an advocate for people who are battling blood cancers. Hopefully, this time next year I will have successfully kicked leukemia's butt and will be training for my own race.

Speaking of events in my honor, the blood drive was apparently a success. Forty-four people showed up to donate, and thirty-eight were able. I only wish I could have been there to personally thank every single donor or potential donor. That's thirty-eight lives saved. Kick Ass.

It appears that the esteemed Senator Teddy Kennedy and I are rowing in the same boat. I'd love to send him a card saying welcome to The Cancer and just suck it up because you've had a long life, outliving your more esteemed brothers, and even managing to dodge that whole Chappaquiddick business.

What the hell was up with the House season finale? Could it be any more Debbie Downer? And why did it have to air on the same day I get a rotten prognosis concerning my particularly nasty brand of Stupid Zombie Leukemia? And my anniversary? Jeezie-peezie people. Way to stick it in and break it off.

I really need to post a baldness picture soon because I am very proud of my naked skull. It's quite lovely.

Where the Deer and the Antelope Play

Yes, indeed, I am home.

And home has worn me out. My house feels a little like a foreign land. The formerly natural daily routine has become awkward, like I've been thrust into a square dancing competition. My legs are sore from, I kid you not, walking up the stairs in my house. It's the most walking I've done in weeks. But I can tell you that it's a whole heck of a lot better than the heart palpitations that plagued me months ago whenever I went up the stairs.

Last night, I found it difficult to sleep in my own bed. I struggled for ages to get settled in what used to be a comfortable bed. I spend a month sleeping on a plastic encased mattress and pillows, with bed rails on either side, and no matter how much I lowered the dang thing, always on a slight incline. I was woke several times during the night by nurses to poke and prod me. Finally, I get home to my own quiet, darkened, comfy bedroom, and I turn into a freakin' insomniac. Then I woke at 4:30 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. Awesome.

So, this whole transition to life on furlough is going to take some time. Reestablishing my relationship with Little A seems to be turning into a process as well. There was a bit of a meltdown at breakfast this morning that depressed me, but by the end of the day we were frolicking in an empty box and imitating Dancing With the Stars. But I have to admit that it's mighty depressing when your toddler with whom you spent most waking hours is suddenly intrepid around you.

I go for my follow-up visit tomorrow morning. Before I left yesterday, the lab results were still inconclusive on my final neutrophil count. As a result, I am still on neutropenic precautions: no fresh fruits, flowers, plants, or veggies; strict hand washing; avoid public places where exposure to germs could be high. This is mildly frustrating since returning home and seeing all the blooming life in my yard and subsequently dying to get my hands in the earth and do some gardening. Plus, there's this little movie called Iron Man I'd like to catch. Here's to hoping that tomorrow's blood draw reveals a decent count that would allow me to get back more of my normal life and allow me to eat a freakin' apple.

Geez people. Give a girl a break.

In my last few days of incarceration, I added yet another book to my list, the hardcover Marvel Zombies, bringing my total tomes consumed to 15. Need some recommended summer reading?
For the next few days I'll be trying to ease back into my old routine and life around the house, unpacking my stuff (I swear it's like moving home from your college dorm room. I've practically got a whole new library which only contributes to my existing, ahem, problem with books.), and getting a small posse of sellables together for my church's yard sale Saturday. All this while I'm still trying to heal and my marrow attempts to get with the program of making my blood.

Overly ambitious? Or just me?

Glad to be back, folks. Stick with me; I guarantee this won't be my last medical adventure.

Maggots, Michael, you're eating maggots

The best way I can describe the sensation experienced while viewing the trailer for the fecal abomination known as Lost Boys 2: The Tribe would be that intestinal flu where you feel like you are going to blow chunks and have nasty diarrhea all at the same time.

I don't often give in to the "Raping of my Childhood" hysteria when it comes to remakes, but in my book Lost Boys is sacrosanct.

Behold, the power of an absolute cinematic VBF:



First of all, since when is Lost Boys considered a "cult phenomenon"? Aren't cult films supposed to have achieved notoriety long after initially bombing at the box office? As I recall, Lost Boys was pretty damn successful when it was released in '87.

The original Lost Boys cast contained some credible talent: Dianne Wiest, Edward Herrman, Jason Patric, Keifer, and say what you will about the Coreys but they were good child/teen actors (Don't take my word for it; rent Stand By Me and Lucas.). This new cast looks like a bunch of homogenized extras from One Tree Hill. According to IMDB, the Frog Brothers make their return (i.e. The actors need some cash.) and The Haim, despite all the hand-wringing and weeping on his goofy reality show, managed to weasel his way into a reprise of Sam.

While the makers of LB 2 have blatantly lifted scenes and even specific shots from the original (Did you catch the replay of that moment from LB when a wounded David shrinks from the light after the Frog brothers' attack on his colony?), they've also added a few new elements, namely lots of steamy sex and some illegal street racing action. I wouldn't be surprised if the vampires didn't break out into a hip-hop street dance off in an effort to appeal better to the tastes of the retro-worshiping halfwits that make up its target demographic (None of which were even stars in their mothers' eyes in the Eighties.).

Here's a real kicker, that blonde vampire that looks vaguely like a bargain bin Keifer? He's Angus Sutherland, half-brother to a one Keifer Sutherland. Sigh.

My lawd, they even remade "Cry Little Sister"! Who is responsible for this travesty and where can I send him a flaming bag of poo for his doorstep?

This dreck better go straight to DVD. Otherwise I'll be down at my local multiplex heckling all the jerkoffs in their American Appareal electric blue stirrup pants or fake vintage Target tees queuing up to see this hot tranny mess on the big screen.

It's just so sad.

Nobody better be messing with The Goonies. Or I might just have to pack up Little A and his throwing stars and take a trip to Hollywood. We'd put a hurtin' on some studio suits the likes of which no one has ever seen. By the time we finished, those jokers wouldn't even be fit for zombie consumption.

Bits and Bots of Oscar

A few impressions of Oscar '08:

-I wish there was a writer's strike before every Academy Awards. This year the ceremony was blissfully free of the filler bloated production numbers, but I did miss some of the funny skits and shorts of yesteryear. Amazingly, it clocked in at just over three hours.

-Jon Stewart looked lost. He had a few good bits, but he wasn't nearly as sharp as he was in '06. Having such a short time to work on the show took its toll, but hopefully he won't be ruled out as a future host.

-A lot of people have been complaining that this year was the most boring Oscars ever, which I think is a bit of an exaggeration. Unless you're talking about the fashions. Snore. Was every woman clad in either a strapless sheath or a flowing Grecian number? And so much black. I liked the outfits of the Italian set decorator and one of the short documentary winners the best. All the big name celebrities played super-safe. Maybe Diablo Cody's dress was Glamor Sheena Jungle Princess, but it worked with her Bettie Page hair, plus it looked darn comfortable. I wish she'd worn a little more of a heel though. Only Daniel Day-Lewis's wife and Tilda Swinton brought the serious fashion wackiness. And I gotta respect Tilda Swinton for owning her kooky, no makeup look because she is THAT awesome of an actress. Who's going to diss a woman who's both the Ice Queen and the Angel Gabriel?

-Watching all of those montages (And were there some montages! Sheesh!) reminded me of how many duds and turkeys have been awarded Oscars over the years. Really, the Academy should have been blushing with shame at some of the stinkers from the Best Picture retrospective.

-Those montages also revealed the magic of a truly great Oscar host, something we haven't had since oh, the days of Bob Hope and Johnny Carson. Even the great Billy Crystal pales in comparison.

-Jennifer Hudson has stretch marks on her upper arms....Damn....We have a kick ass television.

-When I get old, I want to be a Spanish woman, like Javier Bardem's mom, so I can rock some cleavage and shitload silver jewelry and not care a smudge what anyone thinks.

-Thank goodness Michael Moore did not win. That man scares me.

-I managed to predict most of the big winners. While I missed the mark on the tech awards, I did call that one movie would sweep them all. Nothing was really surprising. I even called the Foreign Film award while the nominees were shown because time and time again, Holocaust movie=Oscar.

-The Academy got it right this year; I can't complain about any of the major awards. All of the acting winners seemed honestly surprised and excited to win; their acceptance speeches were humble and heartfelt. The Coen brothers (aside from a few duds) are a couple of the best filmmakers we've got going on in Hollywood. No Country For Old Men was the first movie I'd seen in a really long time where I left the theater thinking, "Damn. That was a really good movie," and had me thinking about it for days afterwards.

-Now when are these asshats going to give some gold to Kate Winslet, Laura Linney, Edward Norton, and finally nominate Christian Bale?

Manda's Last Minute Oscar Predictions

In a few hours, I'll probably be sweating on the elliptical machine and stopping occasionally to hear Jon Stewart (Go Tribe!) make a funny. Even though I know that the Oscars don't mean crap when it comes to "good" movies, the Academy Awards are an annual tradition for me and my mom. We enjoy predicting the winners and watching the show and then kvetching the next day about who was totally robbed. Thank goodness for TiVo magic because now I don't have to suffer until the wee hours of the night to catch who gets the Big One. Plus, I can skip through the filler material and Old Person Wins Some Award.

Here's my attempt at predicting this year's major award winners:

Best Motion Picture of the Year
Atonement
Juno
Michael Clayton
No Country for Old Men
There Will Be Blood

I say No Country will take this one. It's a great movie and totally deserving. I have no interest in seeing Michael Clayton because its a corporate thriller; after working in Corporate Hell for many years, I think I feel the same way about corporate thrillers that my friends in the medical profession feel about shows like ER. Atonement is one of those sweeping epic historic love stories that the Academy loves to fawn all over, but I predict it will be the big loser this year. Juno is this year's Little Miss Sunshine, complete with the same backlash. There Will Be Blood looks weird and dark.

Lead Actress

Cate Blanchett in Elizabeth: The Golden Age
Julie Christie in Away from Her
Marion Cotillard in La Vie en Rose
Laura Linney in The Savages
Ellen Page in Juno

Supposedly, Cotillard is amazing, but LaVie en Rose is still sitting in its NetFlix envelope on my table. She's the dark horse to win this one, but I think its going to be Julie Christie. Generally Lead Actress goes to a young woman; most of the winners of the last ten years have been under 40. But with Helen Mirren's win for The Queen showed that an old broad could still take the award if she were a hot, old broad. And Julie Christie is definitely a silver fox. There's been a lot of talk about Ellen Page simply playing herself in Juno, but shit, Julie Roberts has made an entire career out of playing herself and managed to snag an Oscar too. Laura Linney was effortlessly wonderful in The Savages, and I wish she would win but alas this won't be her year. And apparently, Blanchett's performance is overshadowed by the level of craptasticness in Elizabeth.

Lead Actor
George Clooney in Michael Clayton
Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood
Johnny Depp in Sweeney Todd The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Tommy Lee Jones in In the Valley of Elah
Viggo Mortensen in Eastern Promises

Seems that everything I read says Day-Lewis has got this one in the bag; I've not seen the film, but the clips make this performance out to be Bill the Butcher Version 2.0. Day-Lewis is a fine actor, but I hope his award recognition is not limited to his more histrionic roles. The Academy loves Clooney and wants him in the front row grinning, a Jack Nicholson for the Aught's. Similarly, I think Depp's nomination, since he is so universally beloved, is an attempt to score additional viewership for the broadcast. Jones' nod is as much for Elah as it is for his turn in No Country. Mortensen is a quietly affecting actor, but despite a crazy nude fighting scene, his performance is being drowned out by Day-Lewis and his mustache.

I'm disappointed that Christian Bale did not receive a nomination for either Rescue Dawn or 3:10 to Yuma. But the Academy continues to ignore one of the best young actors (As they do Edward Norton). My mom thinks it is because his film choices are eccentric; he doesn't play Hollywood's game. I think it's because in the Lead Actor category, the Academy votes completely opposite from Lead Actress, meaning they rarely award a man under 40, especially a handsome one at that.

Supporting Actress

Cate Blanchett in I’m Not There
Ruby Dee in American Gangster
Saoirse Ronan in Atonement
Amy Ryan in Gone Baby Gone
Tilda Swinton in Michael Clayton

This one is tricky to call, but I'm going to put my money on Ruby Dee. She'll be getting the sympathetic You Are Old and We've Never Given You An Oscar Vote resulting in the Whoops, Our Bad award. Really, Amy Ryan should take this one; her Shittiest Mom Ever character affected me so much that by the end of the film I wanted to Napalm her uterus so she could never spawn again.

Supporting Actor
Casey Affleck in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men
Philip Seymour Hoffman in Charlie Wilson’s War
Hal Holbrook in Into the Wild
Tom Wilkinson in Michael Clayton

The nominees in this category are Javier Bardem and a bunch of actors who will lose to Javier Bardem. But I wouldn't put it past the Academy to pull a fast one and give another Whoops, Our Bad award to Hal Holbrook for being old and previously unrecognized, especially if Dee doesn't take her category. Just remember Alan Arkin's surprise win over heavily favored Eddie Murphy.

Best Director
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Julian Schnabel
Juno, Jason Reitman
Michael Clayton, Tony Gilroy
No Country for Old Men, Joel Coen and Ethan Coen
There Will Be Blood, Paul Thomas Anderson's

The Coen's ought to freaking take this one; there wasn't a wasted shot in that entire movie, a study in brilliant, economical film making. If there's a dark horse in this category, it would be Schnabel with the sympathetic artiste votes.

Adapted Screenplay
Atonement, by Christopher Hampton
Away from Her, by Sarah Polley
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, by Ronald Harwood
No Country for Old Men, by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen
There Will Be Blood, by Paul Thomas Anderson

PT Anderson might just take this one since I don't think There Will Be Blood is going to win any other major awards. Otherwise, the Coen's should nab yet another golden bald dude.

Original Screenplay
Juno, by Diablo Cody
Lars and the Real Girl, by Nancy Oliver
Michael Clayton, by Tony Gilroy
Ratatouille, by Brad Bird
The Savages, by Tamara Jenkins

Yeah, Juno's going to get this one, reinforcing its status as this year's Little Miss Sunshine. And it will be the movie's lone takeaway. In a perfect world, Tamara Jenkins should win; I just saw The Savages and was affected by its gentle but painfully honest humanity.

As for all the others: I don't see a clear sweep of the technical awards (sound, editing, and cinematography) as often happens, but I say those are between No Country and Blood. Score might go to Atonement just out of pity. Costume and art direction will likely go to Sweeney Todd, but Across the Universe looks just trippy enough to swipe the costuming award. The odds are stacked for Enchanted to take home an Original Song trophy or Once could be the surprise beneficiary of an Enchanted nomination overload. Makeup will probably go to Pirates because nobody could suffer through Norbit. I was shocked that 300 didn't get recognized for Special Effects while Golden Compass did (using the same CGI-heavy techniques), but Pirates might get it.

Animated Feature will probably go to Ratatouille (as an apology to Pixar for being robbed last year in favor of that stupid penguin movie), but I wouldn't count out Persepolis simply for having germain subject matter. Documentary Feature will either be a film about the war or Michael Moore (Funny how times have changed from a few years back when Moore was booed at the Oscars for his on stage comments about Bush and the war.); I used to be able to call this category because there was always a Holocaust movie nominated and it always won. This year, not so much. Finally, there's nothing in my crystal ball about either of the short film categories or foreign film.

There you have it folks. Tune in tonight to support my fellow alum and see how many I called correctly. Would I have walked away from an encounter Anton Chigurh?

Six for Sunday: Cool Stuff in Toddlertainment

1. Steve Martin wrote a children's book! How awesome is that? This begs the question, at what age would it be appropriate to introduce Little A to the comic genius that is The Jerk, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, or Bowfinger?

2. I like to peruse the Easy Reader section of the Children's Library while Little A does some post-story time socializing. I discovered amongst the more generic books about animals, counting, and ABC's are some books with fairly specialized subject matter ranging from deaf siblings, trailer living, divorce, as well indentured servants, mom losing her job, and George Washington's farm animals. If you're ever looking for some amusement and a dash of enlightenment, browse children's literature. There's so much more out there than just Curious George and Carl the babysitting Rottweiler.

3. More proof of the awesomeness that is Pixar: One of Pixar's main character designers is William "Bud" Luckey , the creator of Woody from Toy Story and the short film Boundin'. Back in the day, Bud wrote and animated a ton of shorts for Sesame Street including The Alligator King, a personal favorite. Remember the Alligator King and his seven sons? Here's a refresher:


4. And speaking of Pixar, my mom and I have decided that this summer Little A will be old enough to have and hopefully enjoy his first real cinematic experience. Considering his love of all things Cars and mechanical, I think Pixar's latest offering will be perfect.


5. Yesterday, Clan Amos visited a new furniture consignment store on Lakeside Ave. where we stumbled up a wooden train set and big train table for $150. It's sturdy and in near pristine condition. Considering that some tables alone are $150 and this particular set retails for over $200, I think we got a sweet bargain. While mom and dad have been building elaborate train track configurations, Little A enjoys finding new and exciting ways to inflict disasters about our miniature town and bring the whole set up crashing down.

6. This has absolutely nothing to do with Toddlertainment, but fellow blogger Girl With the Curious Hair, sent me a link to this article. Looks like those nutty Virtue folks have got some stiff competition in the Holy Body Products market.

A few more dresses

There's a funny little road that winds through my life, stopping off and picking up from the most incongruously connected places.

This weekend over at my internet treehouse hangout Pajiba a shitstorm erupted on the comment thread for Dustin Rowles hysterically bilious review of the rom-com 27 Dresses. The commenters went banana bread at Rowles' searing criticism of not just the milquetoast comedy, but of the movie's star (and frequent recipient of Pajiba-venom) Katherine Heigl. After trying and failing to inject some levity into the proceedings, I shrank away from Pajiba figuring I had better things to do with my time than bicker with people over a writer on a semi-obscure pop culture website and his seething hatred for a semi-talented television actress.

Along winds my life from a movie about copious bridesmaids dresses to my Gmail account. If you use Gmail , you are familiar with the content-related adds that populate the side bars. Well, I was closing an e-mail from Evie regarding a wedding shower this weekend, when I noticed the add at the top of the screen was for Modest Wedding Dresses. Of course I had to check it out, and discovered a business that must have the corner on a very niche market. That or there are a helluva lot of Mormons out there. It's a very interesting glimpse into Mormon culture. I can only assume based on the categories of "Temple Dresses" and "Reception Dresses" that the LDS church requires a modest dress code within the sanctuary, hence the desire for two dress options.

I also took a look at the "modest prom dresses"; they weren't bad, just the fashion equivalent of those little cups of vanilla ice cream you eat with a wooden paddle. Then it got me to thinking about what exactly is passing for prom dresses in this day and age. Back in my high school years (early Nineties), most dresses sold for proms were confections of satin, sequins, and bows. What I at the time liked to call Regurgitations From Vanna White's Closet.

Down the road again, leaving our modestly clad Mormon brides to Prom 2008. Yesterday, I did a little interwebs searching for prom dresses and for the most part, the dresses were your typical pageant-type sheath dresses, cocktail numbers (surprising number of which had those never-flattering bubble skirts), swing dresses, and ginormous ballgowns that would not be out of place at a cotillion on some Natchez plantation. As expected sequins, lace, and tulle were in abundance.

Here's one of the few dresses I found that I might have worn back in my day. Cute and kicky and not too glitzy:



But some of what I uncovered was borderline disturbing. Way too adult for a prom-type function. I saw a lot of plunging backs on dresses, but this little gem one was one of the lowest. It's just a guess, but I think it stops about a centimeter before ass crackage.


The front of the dress is even more exciting. Ree-ow! Vegas showgirl all the way:



Plunging necklines are all the rage as well:





Let's not stop at necklines! Let's cut a slit within an inch of our lady bits! 'Cause nothing says sexy like flashing the undies on Prom Night!



Same type of dress, but the hair and gobs of makeup on the model to the left make her look like an 80's-era coke whore. Perfect if the theme of your prom is Less Than Zero.



This dress is deceptive. Looks pretty tame, right? Long skirt, no serious boobage or crotch-revealing. Look closely; the top is see-through. It's like Gunne Sax meets Fredrick's of Hollywood:



Beyond the overly-revealing dresses, were the ones that were just downright bizarre.

If you are planning on attending prom for Belly Dancer High, here's what all the girls will be wearing:



In addition to the fact that this dress looks like a ballroom Latin dance costume, what's with the weird-ass pose? Who stands like that?



I swear this is a cast-off costume from some sci-fi show:



Finally, I add this picture not just because of the retina-scorching garment, but because the broken-down car in the background reminds me of my own prom. On the way back to my house to change, my date's car got a flat tire. I got to stand on the side of I-64 in my lovely black silk gown holding a hubcap full of lug nuts.



I really don't consider myself a prude, but is it appropriate for teenage girls to dress up like presenters at the Adult Film Industry Awards? My prom wasn't that long ago, but no girls needed to rely heavily on wig tape to keep their bosoms from popping forth from their gowns.

My great fear is for what girls will be wearing to my son's prom in fifteen years. Perhaps I should start teaching him now about the importance of prophylactics.

And to think, it all started with 27 Dresses.

Five For Friday

Thanks to everyone for their well wishes. Adrian's back on track, health wise (By that I mean only minor hacking and a sore knee.), and I've properly sanitized the bedclothes so I can sleep in my own bed again.

Today, Little A was in rare form with his bon mots, as well as being rather rambunctious during our outings. A few of today's gems to file under Funny Stuff That My Kid Says:

*This morning as I changed his diaper, Little A asked to see what was on the t-shirt I am wearing underneath my Invader Zim hoodie (Yes, I am a thirtysomething woman who wears clothing from Hot Topic. Shut your face.) It's a shirt given to me by my friend P'Nut and features a diagram of suitable behaviors in the event of a zombie attack. Little A pointed and said "Zombies". My boy. I am so proud.
*As we were walking out of the door, I had my sunglasses pushed up on my head. Little A looked at me and said, "Mommy's hair looks funny. Like Grammy's." Nice.
*When the car CD player switched from Mark Ronson's Version to My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade, Little A said, over the first few strains of music, "Mommy's favorite." Yep, good call kiddo. "Not BeeBoo's favorite." Well okay then; we're all entitled to our own opinions.

Five Things In Movies That Drive Me Insane

1. When a characters sits down to a meal in a restaurant and then DON'T EAT A DAMN THING. Or better yet, when a character leaves the restaurant before the food even arrives. How wasteful. Makes me want to reach into the screen and bogart those perfectly good fries left sitting untouched on the table.

2. When two characters, during conversation, constantly use each other's name. Seriously; next time you are watching a movie pay close attention to how many times in conversation the characters call each other by name. It's bizarre; who does that? If my friend repeated my name over and over when she talked to me, I think my response would be something like, "What the hell's wrong with you? Suddenly stricken autistic? I know my name, goofball."

3. Vomiting as an emotional response. Again, who does this? By my memory I've seen characters in movies (and television) spew chunks when grief-stricken, shocked, ashamed, horrified, disgusted, possessed by an evil spirit, nervous, terrified... You name it. Personally, I call that lazy acting. Instead of having to show an actual emotional response through facial expression and body language, let's just make a bunch of horking sounds and spit out a mouthful of minestrone. Oscar worthy!

4. Not saying goodbye at the end of a phone conversation. If hang up the phone without even a little "Bye!", then I'm pissed and the person at the end of the other line knows it. Either that or my crappy cell phone battery died on me again.

5. Sex scenes. Cinematic sex scenes in general bother me because for the most part they have little grounding in reality. How many of us were just more than a little "meh" after our first sexual encounters because it was nothing like the softly lit, well choreographed, athletic displays we watched on HBO (or Skinemax). But my biggest issue with the sex scenes in movies is that I've never seen one deal with the dreaded Spot in the Middle of the Bed or as I like to call it, Leakage. Never once has a female character immediately following coitus, scrambled for a handful of tissues on her way to the bathroom (By the way girls, every woman should pee after sex. That was some of my mom's best advice.).

Oh wow, I could go on and one here. I'm leaving out cell phones that work EVERYWHERE (X-Files: The Movie was one of the worst offenders.), people not turning on a light before wandering into dark rooms, all those Macintosh computers with Windows operating systems...

Curious Indeed

As an adult, returning to the beloved books or movies or television shows of our youth with grown-up sensibilities is always entertaining. We no longer find them as mind-blowing, awesome, or frightening as we did when we were children. Such were my adult viewings of Tron, The Dark Crystal, and The Secret of N.I.M.H. among others. However, I still can't watch Watership Down without having a good hardy crying fit.

Similarly, as a parent, it has been interesting to revisit classics from my own childhood. Glimpses of a long vanished world.

On my DVD collection of classic Sesame Street episodes there is one particularly interesting segment intended to teach children the concepts of "up", "down", "over", and "under". It features a group of children running and frolicking through a junkyard and a construction site. In a world where it seems children can't leave their damn house without a helmet, this seems practically medieval.

Last week, Little A and I picked up a copy of Curious George. Originally published in 1941, the book is an origins story of sorts recounting how George came to know and be cared for by The Man in the Big Yellow Hat.

I'm sure it's been a while for most of you since you picked up a Curious George book, so I'd like to take you on a little journey back in time. A time when things in the children's literature world were a wee bit different than they are now:

Our story opens with George, a good and happy little monkey living in Africa.

First, let me be a complete ass and state for the record that George is no monkey. Monkeys have tails, and George does not. George is more likely a chimpanzee. But this was 1941 and what the hell did they know 66 years ago anyway? Probably let kids chew on lead paint back then. And they certainly let them ride bikes without helmets.

One day George catches the eye of The Man in the Big Yellow Hat who decides that our curious little simian would make a great souvenir and sets off to catch him.

So The Man in the Big Yellow Hat is an effing POACHER. Sweet. Now I see the Stockholm Syndrome element inherent in the relationship that will develop between TMinBYH and George.

TMitBYH lures George with his yellow chapeau, and then stuffs him into a massive drawstring bag.

Because transporting wild animals in laundry bags is so safe and humane.

Once on board the ship home, TMitBYH explains to George that he's taking him to live in a Zoo in a big city. 'You will like it there,' he tells George.

Ah, nothing like the sweet aroma of colonialism with slight undernotes of imperialism...

George engages in his usual antics on the ship, resulting in his needing to be rescued from nearly drowning. In the illustration of the sailors pulling George back onto the ship, George is regurgitating a rather large quantity of water along with a few whole fish.

Clearly, I did not read this book as a child. Seeing as I had a paralyzing fear of vomit, an image like that would have haunted me for years.

At TMitBYH's apartment, George gets settled in by eating a nice meal, smoking a pipe, and heading to bed.

Yes, folks, bet you didn't remember old George enjoying a little terbacky! Smoking a pipe may not be the same as puffing away on a Lucky Strike, but I was nonetheless taken aback to see a reference to smoking in children's literature. With the way our current societal views on smoking are slanting, I wouldn't be shocked if in a few years I am no longer allowed to BUY cigarettes in front of my child. Rather, I'll be forced to make my purchase in a small back room, closed off from the rest of the store by a thick curtain. The clerk will put my pack of smokes in a discreet brown paper bag.

I am so prepared for some eager Tipper Gore-wannabe to come across this little gem and campaign fiercely to have it banned from library shelves.

After George watches TMitBYH make a phone call (to the zoo of all places, effing POACHER), he wants to use the telephone as well. He ends up calling the fire department who show up to the apartment and find no fire, only a naughty little monkey.

There is no mention, of course, of the fire department nor any of TMitBYH's neighbors taking issue with an illegally obtained exotic animal living in the building.

George is thrown in prison for his false 911 call.

The illustrations of the prison in which George is incarcerated looks like the Man in the Iron Mask would be in the cell next to George's.

George is a wily little one and escapes from prison. The remainder of the book deals with the George's shenanigans involving a huge bunch of balloons. Setting up a precedent which will run through all future Curious George volumes, TMitBYH saves George's ass. The book ends with George living happily ever after in a Utopian zoo where all the animals reside in harmony.

My son loves this book. He thinks monkeys are grand and is entranced by the picture of the fire engines roaring down the street in response to George's fake emergency call. He's also not yet two years old.

All this subtext I unearth as an adult, he probably won't notice until he is grown with a munchkin of his own. Until then, I will continue to be amused at how much the world has changed, but keep that amusement to myself because I want my kid to have a good time. And if that good time includes such antiquated classics as Curious George and glorious cheeseball fare like Tron or Gremlins, then what an awesome childhood he'll have.

As if I Needed to be Told

You are Andie Walsh from Pretty in Pink You are original and clever person. Although your family may not be able to buy you all the cool stuff you want, you are able to make cool stuff for yourself. Like a rocking 80’s prom dress. Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Though I will have to argue, that prom dress was anything but rockin'.

Gentlemen, you can't fight in here! This is the War Room.

Friday, Adrian and I went to see The Bourne Ultimatum (which was pretty good, entertaining but not great and in no way superior to the first two). Before the film, a trailer for In The Valley of Elah as well as The Kingdom. From the preview, I gathered that Elah was a murder mystery surrounding a solider returned from a tour in Iraq where it seems his unit did some pretty nefarious things (or something like that). The Kingdom is a big, ole action flick about the bombing of an American facility in Saudi Arabia. Both movies have current themes, but it was Elah that really got my wheels turning. In addition to this film, there are a few others coming out that directly deal with the war in Iraq, like Grace is Gone, and still others that tackle the politics that surround the war, for instances Rendition. From what I've read and seen on these upcoming flicks, they all seem to point a critical eye at the war and current policies and procedures endorsed by the government and its various agents.

This struck me as curious because the military is still actively engaged in the conflict in Iraq, and as far as my wee little brain could recall, this was a first for Hollywood: releasing films that paint a war or military action in a negative light while the war was ongoing. I mentioned this to Adrian on our way home from the theater and we ruminated on the subject for a bit. At home, I decided to do a little light research to see what I could come up with. I looked for films that dealt with specific wars that were and/or critical of the war effort, did not portray the military as heroic, showed battle scenes with realism, and did not use the war as setting for a love story, buddy movie, action yarn, etc. I excluded from my search shorts, foreign films, documentaries and television originals. Also, I was primarily interested in wars of the 20th century, ones that took place while the Hollywood machine was up and running. My goal was to find out when Hollywood first portrayed each war on the silver screen with a negative outlook.

Here's what I found, using the years of the beginning and end of each conflict with regards to American military involvement (I'm not a historian by any means, so please don't chew me a new asshole over the dates.):

World War I 1917-1919

The Big Parade (1925), What Price Glory (1926), and Wings (1927) were silent films dealing with World War I. While notable for their realistic battle scenes, the war was used mostly as a backdrop to the main plot line, which in all three was a love story. The first movie release by Hollywood to examine the true horrors of The Great War was All Quiet on the Western Front (1930), made some thirteen years after the start of American involvement in the war.

World War II 1941-1945

There certainly was no dearth of movies about WWII before, during, and immediately after America's participation. Most of these movies were fervently patriotic and supportive of the Allied forces. Soldiers were honorable, heroic men who fought with dignity and pride. Amongst the slew of flag-waving action flicks were also musicals, romances, and comedies set during the war. Hollywood was a literal propaganda machine, churning out these flicks to bolster American spirits and support for the war. It wasn't until Das Boot (1981) did American audiences get a taste of WW II in a less than glorious light. Granted, it's a German film, but it was showered with accolades and attention stateside. About ten years later, A Midnight Clear (1992) sloughed off the sugar coating of traditional Hollywood depictions of WW II, and I think opened the door for filmmakers to reconsider the way the war could be portrayed. Finally, the opening Normandy beach invasion scene in Saving Private Ryan (1998) was powerful enough alone to squash the legacy of every previous WW II movie. Mind you this was fifty years after the U.S. declared war on Japan and the Axis nations.

Korean War 1950-1953

There's not much on the record books for this one, folks. A sprinkling of action films here and there, but the only film to take on the futility and gruesome reality of battle in Korea was Pork Chop Hill (1959). Now there's also M*A*S*H (1970) to consider, but Altman's satire used Korea only as a replacement for the Vietnam conflict...

Vietnam War 1961-1973

Amazingly, for as long as this conflict lasted and for as much strife as it caused on the American consciousness, only one Hollywood movie made during the war that dealt with Vietnam: the ultra-propagandistic, pro-war The Green Berets (1968). Granted, some filmmakers chose other conflicts upon which to place their grievances about the Vietnam war, such as the aforementioned M*A*S*H and Johnny Got His Gun (1971). Five years after the war's end and seventeen years after the first troops were committed to the conflict in Vietnam, a spate of films showed the war in a harsh light: The Boys in Company C, Coming Home, and The Deer Hunter (all 1978). And it wasn't until Oliver Stone came along and started his Vietnam War trilogy in the mid-eighties did the war become fodder for a number of films.

Gulf War 1991

Perhaps because the actual conflict was so short-lived, there haven't been a many treatments about this particular war. The first was the Meg Ryan/ Denzel Washington vehicle Courage Under Fire (1996) and while it had a glossy Hollywood sheen to the movie, Matt Damon's hollowed-out vet revealed more about the grisly reality of war than any extended battle scene. A few years later, Three Kings (1999) went into the desert to tell its story of the immediate after-effects of the American involvement in Kuwait.

Somolia 1993

While this was not an actual war, I chose to include this in my list if only to call attention to Black Hawk Down (2001). Terrifying realistic battle scenes. Eight years after the fact.

Afghanistan 2001-current

Nothing has come out of Hollywood that specifically features the conflict in Afghanistan. The only thing I could find is Lions and Lambs to be released later this year. The war isn't the central theme, but two soliders' harrowing experiences in Afghanistan seem to the the fulcrum upon which the rest of the plot turns.

Iraq War 2003-current

So far there's been only one movie, Home of the Brave (2006). I haven't seen this film, but the reviews I read said it centered mostly on returned vets of the war and their lives post-combat. The reviews also stated that the film took a middle-of-the-road stance with regards to the war, neither wholly critical nor supportive. The there are the aforementioned films that will be coming out this fall, none of which look to be anything but critical of the war. In Elah, the missing solider's unit is involved in some sort covert military maneuver, and they sure as hell weren't saving Private Ryan.

So what does this all mean, that Hollywood is closing the traditional time gap on realistic and/or negative war movies? I know that for my grandfather's generation, the ones who fought in WW II, their experiences in the war were kept mostly private, rarely discussed. It makes sense that filmmakers amongst those veterans would want not to return to rehash their experiences on the big screen. I think the silence during the Vietnam era was self-censorship on the part of Hollywood who feared alienating a more conservative audience. Maybe beginning with the Baby Boomers, each preceding generation has become more navel-gazing and willing to air their dirty laundry and therefore more willing to examine life and its unpleasantries through art. Maybe its the immediacy of news in our culture what with the omnipresent 24-hour television and internet presence, plus the bleeding together of entertainment and so-called reality.

Hell if I know.

But I'll be curious to see how these movies fare at the box office. Personally, I'm in no rush to see any of them, especially Elah which is chocked so full of A-listers that it practically screams Oscar Bait. In fact they all looked pretty much like fodder for the awards circuit.

There you go. Talk amongst yourself.

Space Invaders

Thursday night, at about 10:40 p.m., Adrian and I were only 10 minutes away from the end of our TiVo'd season finale of So You Think You Can Dance. The announcement had just been made that Danny and Sabra were the last two dancers left in the competition. Such an exciting turn of events considering I've been rooting for Sabra to win these past few weeks.

Then the electricity went out.

FWOMP. We're sitting in total darkness.

The power outage did not come as a total shock. Some pretty horrific storms had been wreaking havoc over the city for most of the night, and we live in an area prone to outages. Just the timing was baaaaaad. It was also a typical RVA in August and hot as blue blazes.

Fortunately, my parents still had electricity and the next day, when we were still without juice and air conditioning, they invited Little A and I to spend the day at their house. As the day wore on, temperatures rose, and our house turned into a furnace, they extended the offer to an overnight for Little A so he could sleep in relative comfort. Adrian finally broke down and bought a generator so we wouldn't lose too much food from the fridge, a lesson we learned in the aftermath of Hurricane Isabell. We could also run a few fans and lights making our life a little less Little House on the Prairie.

After dropping Little A off, we hoofed it out to catch a showing of the Bourne Ultimatum. Sold out. The only other movie in the same time slot was The Invasion. While I was entertained by the movie and sufficiently creeped out in by the pod people, the political "subtext" was less than subtle and the science added too much pat explanation and ruined the jittery atmosphere.

Still, it was not the type of movie to see when your street is cloaked in pitch black. I only realized this while alone in kitchen doing the dishes by candlelight. Adrian had gone out to get gas for the generator, the roaring of which outside the kitchen window was drowning out all other sounds. Dishrag in hand, I turned to look out into the gaping black maw of my front door when it dawned on me that there was only a screen door between me and what ever lurked outside eager to attack. And with the din of the generator, I wouldn't hear it creeping up on me from behind as I washed my cereal bowl. Scared me enough to make me almost pee myself. Then I kept my paring knife handy.

Obviously, our electricity has been restored (as of 5:20 this evening), and today's temperatures were much milder and more tolerable sans AC. Despite the generator's assistance, our yummy Popsicles and my Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches were rendered un-salvageable.

And now, along with preparing for the zombie apocalypse, I am now practicing my emotionless pod person face so I can fool the alien invaders.

I Don't Get It

I've never read a single word of a Harry Potter book nor have I seen any of the movies.

Most of the time, when I tell people this, I get a reaction very similar to the one I get when I tell people I own a gun. Except stronger.

Sometimes when Harry Potter comes up in conversation, I go mute so as to not draw attention to my willing ignorance of the subject and thereby becoming a potential target for shock and awe.

This normally is an issue whenever a new book or movie comes out, and now it seems doubly so with the latest film and the "final" book being released within about a week of each other. (I am seriously doubting this is the last of the Potter-related fiction. Ms. Rowling surely will not slaughter her precious cash cow, especially not one who's made her richer than HRH Elizabeth II.)

There are numerous reasons why I've yet to board the PotterMania Train. One is that I've never been a big fantasy reader. Reading Tolkein is like trying to plod through those genealogical parts of the old testament. I couldn't even make it through the first 100 pages of Eragon which was supposed to be so brilliant. The Narnia series is the pinnacle of fantasy writing for me, and it's hard to do any better than my man C.S. Stephen King's Dark Tower series (what I've read of it) is not half bad either.

But for the most part, I'm a literary and horror gal who likes to mix high minded fiction with a strong shot of zombie action.

Another reason is my stubborn, compulsive non-conformist nature. The moment something becomes a national phenomenon I avoid it on general principle. Which is why I never got into Friends or The DaVinci Code or that chick lit crap.

While I am sure the Potter series is very compelling and well-written and imaginative, I just won't pick them up. The movies seem good and are probably entertaining, especially the commercials for this latest one, and each one boasts a cast that is like the Who's Who of the British acting world. I just won't watch them. I am She Who Is Not Like The Other Ones.

I certainly don't begrudge the Potter fans, even though the more ardent ones come across as a bit cultish and not unlike those people who get into Amway. Please don't try and convert me.

I just don't get it.

Five for Friday

My Five Favorite Movies About the South (in no particular order)

1. Gone With the Wind- Scarlett O'Hara is a mythical figure of the Southern Woman-beautiful, tough, resourceful, capricious, vain, man-crazy, fiercely independent. Vivian Leigh brought the character to the screen so masterfully, and women of the South have been emulating her ever since. What's not to love about a woman who can make a stunning gown with accessories out of green velvet drapes?

2. O Brother, Where Art Thou- Yes, it is broad slapstick comedy with characters that arguably make Southerns look like dumb yokels. But it's damn funny, highly quotable, with a killer soundtrack. Plus, it's great to see George Clooney break out of his leading man beautifulness by playing a lovable goof with a pencil mustache and an fastidiousness about hair products.

3. To Kill A Mockingbird- One of the greatest translations from novel to the screen. A beautiful book became a beautiful movie. As told from a child's memories, it's a powerful, tender examination of a South mired in the Depression and Jim Crow injustice. I really wanted to name Little A Atticus but somebody wouldn't have it.

4. The Apostle- Not only a wonderful movie about the South, but one of the few films to feature a complex Christian character. Robert Duvall plays a charismatic minister who, while deeply flawed, is still full of passion for Christ. Refreshing to finally see Christians portrayed not as one-dimensional idiots/sheep/crazed zealots/saints but as human beings, warts and all.

5. Sling Blade- One of my all-time favorite movies. Also extremely quotable (Seriously, I could go all day on Sling Blade quotes.) Billy Bob Thornton does a great service to the people of the South by creating truly Southern characters:warm, quirky, kindhearted, and soulful. This film is the pinnacle of Thornton's writing/directing/acting career; not long after his success, his ego took over, and he lost his mind.

I Am Lame

In his last two posts, my husband has written some compelling pieces on biofuel and issues with gun control and the FOIA. I write about pop culture, adventures in childrearing, and fashion. Yeah, my ass is shallow.

But to provide a brief commentary on his posts (Please read his posts as they are quite interesting.) in my typical mildly nutso fashion:

Looks like the miracle of biofuel is just a big ole' CF. So we're raping natural resources and destroying one of the Earth's most unique ecosystems to no longer be dependent on "foreign oil" and decrease our "carbon footprint" Look, this whole foreign oil B.S. is ridiculous (Except when it comes to any petroleum from Venezuela 'cause that Chavez dude is messed up.). Take a look at the clothes you're wearing, the various electronic products around the house, hell anything that doesn't move and I guarantee there's a label somewhere that reads MADE IN CHINA. And we're suddenly concerned about where our oil comes from?

I also wish that everyone would crawl out of Al Gore's ass and realize that harming the Earth isn't all about emissions and global warming. Crap, Indonesia (typical of a developing nation rushing into a money generating scheme without first heeding long term effects on their country and people) is destroying their rain forests so that they can grow corn to provide us silly reactionary Westerners with biofuel to assuage our gas hysterics. At this rate in twenty years there won't be a wild habitat for many species of animals. Not to mention the effect production of this biofuel crap will have on the world's food supply. Sigh. I know I'm no climatologist, but how did the Earth emerge from the Ice Age when there were no Yukon Denali's and Chevy Suburbans to heat things up?

Regarding the asshat who saw fit to post the name and address of every Virginia citizen with a concealed weapons permit (including a member of my family). It amuses me no end to tell people I own a handgun. Their reaction is sometimes very similar to one I might get if I told people that I killed children and then bathed in their blood to keep my skin looking youthful. See, I don't walk down the street with my gun tucked into the front of my pants just waiting to shoot someone in the face. Hell, I don't even take it out of its case on a regular basis. I own a gun for basically three reasons:

1. It's pretty.
2. I like to target shoot.
3. A handgun will be necessary protection from zombie hordes. At least until I can secure my very own AK-47.

So this notion that I as a gun owner am somehow a threat to society amuses me. Unless you are a reanimated corpse attempting to eat me or any member of my family or you are entering my home intending to harm me or my son, I will not shoot you. Should the day of the zombie apocalypse come and you unfortunately fall in with the flesh-eating mob, well then buddy, all bets are off. Until then, I'm safe as kittens! Whee!

Hey, Grindhouse opens this weekend. Tarantino AND zombies. I get the shivers just thinking about it.

Happy April everyone! Best month of the year!