jennsylvania

Scorsese Strikes Again

Today I performed canine intelligence tests for your viewing pleasure. 

First up... Maisy!  Will she be smart enough for Princeton? 

Watch and find out!

Next up, Loki!

Explode!  Explode!

Sigh.

Looks like the University of Illinois for you, dogs.

You Know What's Nice?

What's nice is when something turns out even better than you'd hoped.

http://www.jeremylawsonphotography.com/blog.cfm

(Tell me the shots of the dogs don't make your heart smile.)

(Also, my crow's feet?  What crow's feet?)

I found Jeremy on Yelp and hired him to do my headshots because people looked like they were having fun in every single photo he took.

And when he came to my house last week, I figured out why all his clients seemed so happy.  He and his makeup artist Nika made laugh until I cried off all my eyeliner.

Point?  If you're not using Jeremy to photograph your next Chicago-based event, then you're working with the wrong guy.

Taylor, Show Me On The Doll Where The Bad Cougar Touched You

(Caveat: Yes, this is another Twilight post, and no, I'm not going to bust out the action figures.)

(Should you have already tired of my obsession, you might want to stop reading here.) 

(Also, I've gotten a lot of shit from people about digging the series, but come on!  Worldwide, Stephenie Meyer has sold EIGHTY-FIVE MILLION BOOKS.  As an author, how do I not get behind that enterprise?)

I'm finally finished with my edits, so I celebrated by seeing a New Moon matinee.  I'm fairly pressed for time the rest of the week, so I was delighted to have the opportunity to go yesterday.  Otherwise, I'd have had to wait until next week, which is fine, although there's something vaguely exciting about catching a movie at the beginning of its run. 

I got to the theater early and had plenty of time to collect my trashcan of popcorn and bucket of Cherry Coke before choosing a good seat.  (I never finish more than a third of either, yet having ample qualities of both is key.) 

As I settled into my chair, I began looking around at the rest of the crowd.  Normally weekday matinee audiences encompass all ages and sexes - there are the retirees who stop in to see a show after hitting the bookstore, college students killing time between classes, high school kids skipping class, Bally's members who just worked out so hard they're too rubber-legged to make it to the parking garage, the unemployed, and the underemployed. 

But yesterday I noticed the only people in the theater were women in their thirties and forties.

"Wow," I thought.  "Welcome to Cougar Town."

(I interrupt this New Moon post to say I just received seven pies via FedEx.  SEVEN PIES.  My friend works for FoodsAcrossAmerica.com and she's coming for Thanksgiving, so she said she'd take care of dessert... apparently for the rest of our lives.  She wasn't sure what everyone would like, so she sent one of everything.  Which is SEVEN.  Seven pies should go fairly nicely with the THIRTY-SIX pounds of wine I'm having delivered tomorrow.  Turkey?  Screw turkey, there's no room in the fridge for a bird.  Pie and wine for dinner it is!) 

(Would not be the first time.)

Ahem, ANYWAY, the second the movie started, the theater went quiet.  No, scratch that - dead silent.  I've never been in such a crowded place with so little noise.  People weren't even shifting around in their seats.  No one was pulling out cell phones to text message, nor was anyone whispering amongst themselves.  I'm talking utter, rapt, undivided attention.

Which made it all the more obvious when the entire audience gasped as Taylor Lautner removed his shirt. 

Which then made the entire audience laugh in embarrassment, and suddenly every Cougar for Cullen in that room started doing the kind of math that does not lead to any answer other than shame and possible jail time.  The great irony is when Robert Pattinson went shirtless later in the film, the audience didn't let out a peep.  You, with the pasty English belly - out of the way for the werewolf! 

I'm not writing this as a review, because despite how much I enjoyed the film, parts of it were just silly.  I mean, the CGI werewolves were supposed to be terrifying, not hilarious.  And regardless of accuracy, Jacob removing his shirt to staunch Bella's blood is only going to spur on gratuitous head wounds every time this poor kid walks in a room. 

I guess my point is if I were Pattinson, I'd be on the phone with my agent, like NOW, demanding that I have more face time in the next movie because the kid completely stole the show.  What's funny is Taylor Lautner's chemistry with Kristen Stewart was so much more palpable than hers with Pattinson, and they were actually dating at the time. 

I'm going to put the prediction out there that if Lautner continues to choose roles as well as he has, he's going to end up the biggest star of this whole enterprise.

He's got that kind of charisma.

And pecs.

I wonder how he feels about pie and wine?

(P.S.  Team Jacob!)

(P.P.S.  Team Age of Consent?)

(P.P.P.S.  Team Shame.)

New New Moon

Setting:  Our kitchen, last night.  I'm accidentally burning the steaks while Fletch goes around opening windows to let the smoke escape.

Fletch:  So, are you ready for Friday?  You have everything together?

Me:  Yeah, I guess.  I don't really know what I have to get together, though.  I think I just need to show up, right?  Maybe get some popcorn and milk duds?

Fletch:  We'll need any new receipts you have for fourth quarter.

Me:  Why the hell would I need receipts to see the very first showing of New Moon on opening day?

Fletch:  Um, Jen... you understand we're meeting with our accountant at 11:00 on Friday, yes?  We've got two hours blocked off with him.

Me:  Wait, that's this Friday?  11/20 Friday?  New Moon Friday? 

Fletch:  Yes.

Me:  NOOOO!!!!!

* * *

So apparently I'm going to be busy being an adult on Friday instead of seeing the first showing of New Moon.  

However, if you're in the same boat, fear not for I have come up with a rather elegant solution to our dilemma.  Thus I present to you New Moon... the Jennsylvania edition.  (Beware, spoilers abound.)

* * *
The Cullen Family:  "Happy eighteenth birthday, Bella!"

Bella:  "Oh, dear - I seem to have given myself a paper cut.  Wait, everyone stop trying to kill me!  It's just a flesh wound!"

Edward:  "Well, shit."

Edward:  "I cannot be with you but I will not destroy your soul."

Bella:  "Huh?"

Edwards:  "It's over.  I'm Audi 5000."

Bella:  "Just because your family tried to kill me?  Oh, please, that happens at everyone's family gatherings.  Remind me to tell you about the Swan 2006 Arbor Day Massacre.  Wait, hey, DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME, MISTER!"

Edward:  ***

Bella:  "I can't believe that motherfucker just walked away from me."

Bella:  "I'm probably going to need some elastic waist pants after this.  But I'll rally.  I'll totally rally.  I am woman, hear me roar!"

Bella:  "Yeah, I kind of didn't rally."

Jacob:  "I'm going to need Kleenex, four boxes of wine, and Meg Ryan's entire body of work on DVD, stat!"

Bella:  "Hey, Jacob... have you been working out?"

Bella:  "When I play with dangerous stuff, I can hear Edward's voice in my head, almost like he's standing behind me, surrounded by an iced tea pitcher.  Hey, you know what would kick ass?  Cliff diving."

Jacob:  "Do you see that bloodsucker saving you?  No.  It's me.  I saved you."

Bella:  "Do you suddenly feel the urge to have some soup?" 

Jacob:  "No, but here's a towel."

Jacob:  "So, let's totally live happily ever after now because, seriously?  Your old boyfriend was kind of a creepy stalker."

Bella:  "Well... okay.  You wanna play Grand Theft Auto?"

Jacob:  "Absolutely!"

Bella:  "It's not really the happily ever after I'd hoped for, but I guess it's fine."

 Victoria and Laurent:  "I'm sorry, but there are still 300 pages left in this damn book.  This ain't over."

Laurent and Victoria:  "End of the road, bitch."

Jacob:  "Run, Bella, run!"

Bella:  "I can't run!  They'll totally kill you!"

Jacob:  "Pfft."

Bella:  "I won't let you die!"

Jacob:  "Seriously, it's not an issue because I'm a..."

Jacob:  "... werewolf."

Bella:  "Cool."

 
Bella:  "Hey, Alice is back!"

Alice:  "I thought you were dead."

Bella:  "Nope."

Alice:  "You do have man-hands though."

Bella:  "Speak for yourself."

Alice:  "Oh, P.S. Edward's going to try and kill himself.  We've got to head to Italy.  I'll drive."

Alice:  "How do you feel about grand theft auto?"

Bella:  "It's my favorite game."

Alice:  "Sweet."

Bella:  "Hey, is Edward still trying to kill himself?"

Alice:  "Yep, he's meeting with the Volturi right now."

Bella:  "Who?"

Alice:  "The Italians."

Edward:  "I feel such sadness, delicious, delicious sadness."

The Volturi:  "Maybe you should take your shirt off."

Meanwhile, on the road to Volturra...

Bella:  "Ohmigod, we're going to be too late!"

Alice:  "I suddenly regret stopping to buy these snappy accessories."

Bella:  "Whew!  We're here!  Let me just dash through this fountain and save Edward."

Bella:  "Hey... s'up?"

Edward:  "Nothing... I was just fixing to take off my shirt.  And die.  But now that you're here, I shall do neither."

Bella:  "Damn."

Edward:  "Listen, the Volturi want to chat before we leave."

The Volturi:  "FYI, you kind of need to kill Bella or make her a vampire.  Your choice."

Bella:  "Which choice will get him to take his shirt off faster?"

Edward:  "Woo, that's a real puzzler.  I can't live with you but I can't live without you.  Maybe we should get the hell out of here and discuss it on the plane?"

Alice:  "Shall I bring my accessories?"

Edward:  "Naturally."

Edward:  "Will you marry me?"

Bella:  "Will you take your shirt off if I say yes?"

Edward:  "If I must."

Bella:  "Done."

Alice:  "So, yeah, I guess this worked out nicely for all involved and there are absolutely no loose ends.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have a wedding to plan.  I call maid of honor!"

Jacob:  "NOOOO!!!!"

The End

(until Eclipse and Breaking Dawn)

* * *

I guess the good news for me is that technically I can write off the action figure purchases now.

So there's that.
 

Opening Day!

The most frequent question I got while out on tour was what I thought about the new Sex and the City movie.  I guess when you start your second book with the opening line, "Carrie Bradshaw is a fucking liar," people tend to think you have a problem with the SATC franchise. 

Untrue.

I worship Candace Bushnell.  I loved the book first and then the show, and I've adored Sarah Jessica Parker since her Square Pegs days. 

(However, I'm slightly less enamored with SJP now because I heard a true story about her being rude to someone I know and it makes me mad.) 

(Also, here's some advice if you ever plan on being rich/famous/in the tabloids - BE NICE TO THE GUY DRIVING YOU.  I learned over the past few weeks of getting rides to book events that limo drivers are the new Page Six and all it takes for them to spill the dirt is sliding into their backseat wearing a conservative sundress and pearls and asking, "So, which famous people are assholes?")

(And I swear I'm not making this up, but want to guess who's universally hated?  Yep, that's night.  Rachael Ray.  Like we didn't see that coming.  And Sean Penn is super nice - I actually didn't see that coming - but apparently you can't ask him not to smoke in the car.  It's like asking him not to breathe.)

Asides aside, my one regret is that I have an event tonight and I can't get together with girlfriends, swill a bunch of cocktails, and see the movie on opening day.  Here's the thing - I can love the writing and appreciate the acting and enjoy the styling even though the reality depicted in SATC is nothing like most of our own real lives in the city.  The movie is a fantasy.  But that's just fine.  I don't really want to see a movie about fighting with neighbors and shopping at Target.  Escapism suits me nicely.

However, since the show came out and whenever groups of girls gather together, the discussion inevitably becomes, "Which character are you?"  Everyone's all, "Oh!  I'm a Charlotte because I'm a good girl!" or "I'm an attorney so I am all about Miranda!" or "I'm a Carrie because I write!"  (No one ever says, "I'm a whore so I'm a Samantha," BTW.) 

This is the part that bothers me.  I hate seeing women trying to pigeonhole themselves into one of those roles. 

Because you know what? 

There are plenty of gals out there who have healthy self-esteem and solid relationships and they don't spend all their money on $400 Manolos and waste all their energy fixating on whether or not he's going to call.  Rather, they're of the mindset that, "Of course he'll call.  Why?  Because he knows he'll be fucking lucky to have me."

These women don't trawl the town every night.  Rather, they enjoy sitting at home alone or with their partner, watching reality TV in their pajamas and good jewelry, and drinking wine.

Not every woman who appreciates the show/movie is a Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, or Samantha.

Sometimes they're a Jen.

And Since When Did "Actress" = "Pundit" Anyway?

I just unearthed this little gem in an article by Peter Allen in the UK Daily Mail:

"9/11 Attacks Made Up," Says French Best Actress Oscar-Winner

Actress Marion Cotillard sparked a political row yesterday after accusing America of fabricating the 9/11 attacks.

The 32-year-old French actress, who received an Oscar last month for her performance as singer Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose, openly questioned the truth behind the terrorist atrocity in an interview broadcast on a French website.

"I think we're lied to about a number of things," Cotillard said, singling out the 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center as an example of the US making up horror stories for political ends.

Referring to the two passenger jets being flown into the Twin Towers, Cotillard said:

"We see other towers of the same kind being hit by planes. Are they burned? They [sic] was a tower, I believe it was in Spain, which burnt for 24 hours. It never collapsed. None of these towers collapsed. And there [in New York], in a few minutes, the whole thing collapsed."

She added that the towers, planned in the early Sixties, were an outdated "money-sucker" that would have cost more to modernise than to rebuild altogether, which is why they were destroyed.

She said: "It was a money-sucker because they were finished, it seems to me, by 1973, and to re-cable all that, to bring up-to-date all the technology and everything, it was a lot more expensive, that work, than destroying them."

The article goes on to mention how she's not really buying the whole idea of astronauts walking on the moon either. 

So, let's sum this up, shall we? 

According to Cotillard, our space program is a lie, which must mean the 1,400 different inventions that stemmed from the technology developed in our quest to get to the moon, e.g microwaves, kidney dialysis machines, CAT scans and MRIs, cordless power tools, modern athletic shoes, water purification systems, Tang, and my Tempurpedic mattress are all MYTHS, which really sucks if you want to go for a run, take a nap, build a shelf, or not die while waiting for a kidney transplant.      

And, because a starring role as Edith Piaf automatically fills you with the kind of structural engineering knowledge that allows you to absolutely determine cause and effect by simply hearing about a building collapse, we can rest assured the events of 9/11 were nothing more than an elaborate scheme to give the Twin Towers a much-needed makeover.

Wow.

Perhaps you'll consider these statements before you add any of Cotillard's movies to your Netflix queue?

UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE, OOH!

OH, HOLY SHIT, THE MOVIE THE ADVENTURES OF FORD FAIRLANE IS ON ENCORE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!

 

WITH ANDREW DICE CLAY BEFORE HE GOT ALL OLD AND CREEPY!

AND A KOALA!

AND LAUREN HOLLY IN THE ROLE SHE'D RATHER WE NEVER, EVER MENTION AGAIN, THANKS. 

GO! 

TIVO IT! 

GO! 

RUN!!

(I cannot be held responsible if you hate it.)

(Actually, I haven't seen it in fifteen years.  It's possible I may hate it now.)

(Am willing to take that chance.)

I'd Even Settle for Men in Black at This Point

Since my parents sold their house with the pool last fall, this is the first Fourth of July in years that I won't spend wallowing in the shallow end with a trashy novel and a banana daiquiri. 

Honestly?  I'm fine with that.  I'm thankful for the decades I had to enjoy the pool and I'm happy my parents moved within walking distance to their grandchildren, even if it means there's no place to wallow in their backyard now. 

(OK, fine, technically there's a lake in their backyard, but it's a non-swimming lake and please don't get me started on how you can have a lake and not be able to swim in it because it's a freaking LAKE and that's MADNESS, I tell you.) 

(Although it may have something to do with the snakes.)

Anyway, I figured I'd simply indulge in my second favorite Fourth of July tradition, which is watching Independence Day starring the divine Mr. Will Smith.  I love every single thing about this stupid movie - the stripper with the heart of gold, the ridiculous special effects, the heavy-handed environmental messages, the hilarious stereotypes, the completely implausible coincidences, etc.  But regardless of the cheese factor, and despite having viewed it no less than fifty times, I never fail to choke up when President Bill Pullman gives his big speech in front of the new civilian Air Force about today being our Independence Day. 

USA!  USA!  USA! 

And oh, beautiful for spacious skies!

For amber waves of grain!

And God bless America and...

Ahem.

So, after I unloaded the new blender and banana daiquiri fixings out of the car (see?  I improvised!) I ran to the TiVo to figure out which of the inevitable fifteen different re-broadcasts I'd watch.  I scanned the guide and was surprised to see it's only airing once, which is fine.  Once is all I needed. 

I clicked to record and only then did I notice something odd about the show's description.

It was written in Spanish.

Which means the only television station to see fit to broadcast the very best Fourth of July movie ever is Tele-freaking-mundo.

Somehow I feel like the terrorists just won.