Mean and Catty, Inc.

Nana Trollface will be thrilled

2010-02-25T12:22:00.001-05:00

PS your hair has never looked better

2010-02-24T13:37:00.003-05:00

Is it wrong to want an entire series of these? Up next: Madame Bovary!

AAOOA #3: Luis Tosar

2010-02-22T21:49:00.005-05:00

I don't normally recommend choosing a celebrity boyfriend based on one film. That's like buying an album for the one song you like. It can go very badly.

But what if you like two songs? What then? I figure you buy it.

And if it also turns out that an entire country (in this case, Spain) already has a crush on the guy, you can trust your instincts on this one. Even if, the first time you spot him, he's wearing the most elaborate mutton chops this side of the Civil War.

Thus it was for me and Luis Tosar, who had been completely unnoticed by me until Unconscious. It apparently premiered briefly with acclaim, but didn't come to my attention until Netflix stepped in. If you happened to be an English major in the last twenty years, this movie lets you finally use your knowledge of Freud for good and not evil. And you will laugh giddily while doing it.

You will also think, Catch me, I swoon! Despite (or maybe because of? I don't know your id) the mutton chops. You will think,
Here is the only reason to watch Michael Mann's Miami Vice.

But is it necessary to expose yourself to Colin Ferrell just to confirm a crush? I'd recommend Flores de otro mundo as a second song, instead. It lacks unpleasant Irish thugs and absurd facial hair, and with that good view of his face, I realized who Luis Tosar reminds me of -- George Clooney.

I know, I know -- but in a good way. Not in a "dating women he should probably be dropping off at day care" way. (Well, at least as far as I can tell -- my Internet Spanish is poor.) Rather, I mean, he has that same way of looking at someone. That held-breath pause, where his face is still but the eyes are longing, regretting, hoping, despairing, desperate but not yet daring. You know, how Dr. Ross used to look at Nurse Hathaway.

Yes, Clooney can still do it now, but first of all, you'd have to timeshare him with the Fug Girls (if they'd let you -- unlikely), and secondly, you'd have to accept some responsibility for Leatherheads.

Luis Tosar only has his side project, The Ellas, to apologize for. Search your conscience, people. I think you'll make the right choice.

AAOOA #2: Alexander Skarsgard

2010-02-18T01:22:00.005-05:00

I know, I know. This isn't breaking news or anything. Alexander Skarsgard is beyond smoking. Ehhhverybody's already noticed this. "True Blood" blah, blah, blah, shirtless Viking vampire, blah, blah, blah.

But have YOU noticed? Have you really noticed? Have you Google Images noticed? Have you "watched his disarming interview on Youtube" noticed? Have you "watched a Lady Gaga video because he was in it and now you can't get the chorus out of your head" noticed?

Maybe you have. Maybe I'm just repeating something you already know about the delicious man with the swimmer's body, slightly accented English, and celebrated acting lineage? Maybe you already knew he was age-appropriate* -- and that's the last thing "appropriate" about him, ROWR... (Yes, I just wrote that. It's probably the Gaga thing -- I feel very swinging 70s and disco all of a sudden.)

Anyway, I'm sorry I interrupted you. You can all go back to writing fan fiction about him now. I know that's what I'm going to go do.

* And the AAOOA stands for --? I forget.

AAOOA #1: Dylan Moran

2010-02-18T00:38:00.007-05:00

I'm half tempted not to talk about this first AAOOA*. He's a little bit of a secret over here in the States, and I'm not sure I quite want to share him with everyone.

And yet I must. Because I am spearheading a movement of more more more Dylan Moran. I want him never to stop saying clever things with a wine glass in his hand, and if he has to become a big American sellout to make that happen, then by God, it's the price I'm willing to pay.

I stumbled upon him by way of "Run, Fat Boy, Run". Yes, I considered his bare bum the highlight of the movie. Also there was his smoking while biking and shouting things at the alleged "fat boy". Certainly, I was wooed by the hair. (You will be too.) Serpentine? Thicket-y? I'm at a loss to describe.

I proceeded from there to hunt down his BBC series "Black Books" -- which has the distinction of being the only thing near to as funny as "The IT Crowd" (which if you haven't watched that -- well, you're also missing out on another AAOOA, Richard Ayoade. Or do I mean, Moss?)

And then it became serious. With the assistance of an enabling friend (blessings be upon you, luzcruz), I began importing Region 2 DVDs of his standup routines. DVDs that can only be watched on the special machine. (Luckily, at luzcruz's house, the special machine happens to be hooked up to a Texas-sized TV.)

And I have to tell you -- Dylan Moran is the funniest thing since early Eddie Izzard. I can quote out of context -- "And then the cage came down! Full of Spanish fighting spiders. And she struck a match on her forearm and lit her cigarillo and sent you out to the living room to dance for the money" -- which is silly enough on its own, and even funnier when embedded in the long and winding context that is his casually intense delivery.

And he's sweet and self-deprecating and cranky and hostile and gregarious and the opposite of gregarious and without even a speck of ruth. He is never afraid to look ridiculous, and often does. He's been with his wife since his early 20s, near as my cyber-stalking can tell, and his take on parenting is clear-eyed and absurd, so he's also a keeper. And yes, it may complicate your adoration to know that you can never, ever have him, because he's not single. (Yes, that's the only reason why.) But think of it as the Tom Hanks factor -- don't we all like him better for having been with Rita Wilson so long? Yes, we do. Dylan's like that.

He's a bright, funny, oddly graceful man with mischievous hair. With an Irish accent. What more do you need?

* What's an AAOOA again? Oh, right.

Introducing the Aaaah! Oooh! Aaaahs!

2010-02-18T00:14:00.009-05:00

I'd like to make this the inaugural post of a new feature I've been writing in my head ever since a Facebook quiz assigned me a frickin' twelve-year-old as my celebrity boyfriend.

All valid questions about the wisdom of taking seriously anything Facebook quizzes have to offer, and all insinuations about my protesting too much aside, let's face it: I am old. Srsly. When I was a kid, I used a rotary phone to call the time. Because my pet eohippus needed to know whether he was late for the Renaissance. OLD, IS WHAT I'M SAYING.

But even the aged need celebrity boyfriends. They just need age-appropriate ones.

Thus: Age-Appropriate Objects Of Affection. AAOOAs. (Pronunciation above.)

Men in their 30s. Sexy men. Smart men. Clever men. Men who DO things with their time, or at least seem to, and have things to talk about, or things to not talk about. Men. Who are not boys.

Men who are my celebrity crushes. Perhaps, one day, they may be yours.

#1 Dylan Moran
#2 Alexander Skarsgard
#3 Luis Tosar
#4 Duncan Jones (coming soon)
#5 Chiwetel Ejiofor (coming soon)
#6 Peter Dinklage (coming soon)
#7 ...

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

2009-12-23T16:59:00.000-05:00

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That is all. Just: NO. (And maybe a little weeping.)

A sign that maybe I've been watching too many police procedurals

2009-11-21T20:09:00.002-05:00

During a walk by the Bay, I spot something on the ground: It's the skeletal remains of a human hand coming out of the mud!

Or -- it's a bundle of bleached-out twigs. Oh. You know, whichever.

Why is Luke Wilson trying to sell me on AT&T?

2009-11-20T16:22:00.003-05:00

And why is he doing it while disheveled, slightly bloated, and wincing in pain?

I'm going to go watch Bottle Rocket now and pretend this never happened.

Can we please talk about "V" and "Fringe"?

2009-11-16T15:57:00.006-05:00

The rebooted "Battlestar Galactica" ruined me for new scifi in two ways: it started out so freakin' good, and it ended up so freakin' bad.

Since BSG, I inevitably end up comparing the first part of any new scifi series to that feeling of amazement and excitement I felt over the quality of BSG's beginnings -- and thanks to the horror that was its finale, I get to fear committing to any series that seems as if it might be good, because what if it takes me down the same path of heartbreak, where I have to pretend that an entire season didn't happen just to get by?

Which is why I've been late to start watching "Fringe" -- hello! season 2 -- and why I waited a couple of weeks to finally catch up on "V". (It might not hurt that the news that "Dollhouse" is cancelled came down last week -- I now have a slot open for disappointing scifi in my schedule.)

Oh, "V", "V", "V". You were my favorite in your original incarnation. I made my whole family watch you when you had been reduced to a series mostly about Robert Englund's mad affair with a lizard woman in a cave. (Why a cave? I can't remember.) It didn't hurt that you had the Beastmaster as your lead, though I would have recommended partnering him with some ferrets to really capitalize on his talents. And your cutting-edge 80s makeup effects! Lizard-eye contacts and plasticine skin suits, does anyone ever get tired of you? I do not.

And now "V" the reboot. At least you have the guts to be mostly dull and deeply cliche right off the bat. You're giving me lame terrorist cells now, not making me wait four seasons to listen to some nonsense about Mitochondrial Eve. You're stealing a page from the BSG book using some fabulous actors -- clearly, network folks have been reading my petition to have Alan Tudyk in every broadcast show -- and hey, how about that sly casting of a Cylon as a possible V? Nice. It's nice to see the guy from "The 4400" getting work -- even as a priest who is so clearly throwing over his religion for a chick. And Morris Chestnut, shirtless lizard? More please.

The casting directors are the smartest people on this show. All the cleverness seems to be confined there. It is only one step above your average ScyFy offering, because the actors are better than your average ScyFy thespians (yes, even Scott Wolf) and the special effects were clearly not created as cheap computer animation on the director's third cousin's computer (the shuttles are, admittedly, a little too "Welcome to Disneyland!" at this point, but maybe that was on purpose).

But even with the cleverness of the casting, even with players from a handful of other more successful scifi series, the scripts are not giving them a hell of a lot to do. There's not a scene that's more than three exchanges of dialogue long. And they're all the same scene. Get yourself a bingo card for each time the priest distrusts and then believes the other priest or the FBI agent tells her son not to get involved with the Vs, which causes him to moon over the photo of his V love interest in his camera phone. Variation? Nay. Emotional range? No opportunities allowed. (Chestnut does pull off some good conflicted longing, but I have a soft spot for him -- dude, he was totally gunned down in "Boyz 'N the Hood"! how can you not have a soft spot?)

Also, there are accusations that the show's being all hatey on Obama -- equating him with the invading reptiles providing horreur! horreur! universal healthcare. Having watched it, I can now tell you that I don't think it represents some concerted conservative viewpoint -- it represents a bunch of bad writers in a room pulling buzz words out of a hat and randomly applying them to a script. They might have thought they were being current and relevant -- and no, it's just sloppy.

So my point is, "V", you're clearly trying to BSG this one. You're not trying to embrace the cheese that was the original. The original was terrible, but it was GOOD terrible. It was quality terrible. It was terrible in an earnest way. My read is that you, "V" the reboot, are terrible in a bland, cynical way. You were sprung from the sentiment, What else are they going to watch? "Lost"? "Fastforward"? Please.

I say, watch "Fringe". And as I say that, I'd like you to adjust your expectations slightly. It is not the most robust scifi series out there. It owes a lot to -- let's call them "influences". But it's an entertaining weak, like "X-Files" weak. (Yes, I just called "X-Files" weak. It got by, ultimately, on a lot of not answering questions and then when it started answering questions, those answers were, in my subjective opinion, stupid.) It is certainly not as anemic as "V".

Fox has judiciously placed "Fringe" after my true addiction "Bones", so I've started watching a half-hour of it before my other true love, "30 Rock", is on. The test of a series's watchability is certainly whether, having watched part of an episode, I will make the effort to watch the rest. And "Fringe" two weeks ago began passing this test. Apparently, I only require that you come up with cool shadows from outerspace that turn folks into powder or scarrrry, red-headed, mind-controlling triplets in order for me to type your name into Hulu's search engine.

What else does "Fringe" have going for it? Emotion. Actual emotion. And in particular a father, who having screwed up raising his child, is now doing his best (his wacky, schizophrenic, genius best) to forge an adult relationship with him. I mean, where else have I seen a father being so vulnerable about his son on TV lately? (Also, the son is Joshua Jackson, and if you think that doesn't help, you're not paying attention.) Plus, the show has a strong female lead in Anna Torv, as competent and compelling as Scully, but she smiles a lot more.

I'm saying, "weak" has the potential to grow strong -- and "Fringe" is showing that. "Terrible" has the potential to make you take up hobbies that do not involve television.

And as Movieline so rightly put it, "never take your favorite sci-fi Fox program for granted."

THAT is the moral of the story?

2009-11-14T20:56:00.008-05:00

I'm of the opinion that there should be far better websites that turn up in Google when you type in the words "feminist movie reviews" than currently do. So, I'm mad about that, for starters. In my ideal world, there would be a feminist review site of great depth and at the top of the list would be an analysis of the creepy misogyny of Junebug, which no mainstream movie reviewers happened to mention. I'd write that myself, right now, but I'm not particularly in the mood to expound on the deeper meanings of blow jobs in independent cinema, and I'm more immediately mad about something ELSE.

I just caught a matinee of An Education. The moral of which movie is: Ladies, stay in school. Even though school is hard and dull and will make you hard and dull like the poor, benighted spinsters around you.

Why, you ask, should you settle for such a gruesome fate? Why should a young, pretty, lively girl like yourself go to useless, antiquated college? Well, because the smooth, thieving con artist you've found your lovely teenage self engaged to might turn out to be a serial adulterer with a wife and child living a block away from you, that's why. Men are scum, so you should get a degree. Not because you as a very smart woman might enjoy that education. No, no, beautiful women don't really enjoy education -- that's the consolation prize for the spotty, pasty virgins. No, the beautiful women, it's all jazz clubs and new frocks and poor vocabularies for them; that's all they need, bless 'em.

(I think I'm just as mad at the movie for dissing female academics as anything else. Yes, we spend all our time thinking and reading because it's not remotely rewarding.)

I don't know what I expected when I went to see this movie, but certainly not a simplistic morality play. Certainly, not THIS morality play asking, Why should women get educations at all?

What the movie lacks is the second part of that question -- the historical part of that question. In 1961, when the movie is set, why should women get an education when even your academic stage parents prefer marriage to an unsuitable suitor over Oxford for you in the end? When there are no jobs open for you except teaching inattentive teenagers literature -- or the ominous-sounding "civil service"? When there's plenty of talk about the stature of male academics (in this case C.S. Lewis) but not a single mention of a female academic who might serve as your model, who might give you hope?

The film doesn't spend enough time on how claustrophobic, how regimented the class and gender roles were in that era -- aw, hell, still ARE -- to explain why the question was even a valid one. Nor does it acknowledge that in the several millennia of people asking that very question -- should we educate women? -- the answer has predominantly, oppressively been "No." There's no acknowledgment that Jenny's most rebellious act very well could be that decision to go to Oxford. No -- joyless, muted, she goes off to study, her act of "rebellion" over. (What "rebellion" was there really in her following a normative narrative path of getting married?) And the film never explains how it is that her conservative parents conceived of her education in the first place. They sure put a hell of a lot of effort into something that they'd then lightly toss aside on essentially a whim.

There's a strange dissonance between the dialogue in the film -- which sounds as if someone behind the film knows what it's like to be a smart perceptive woman in the contradictory world -- and the narrative focus of the film, which glamorizes and romanticizes what I think of as the path of least resistance (become a woman, ladies, by attaching yourself to a man). The movie asks Jenny to choose between being Rosamund Pike, a dumb but sweet and happy fashion plate, and Olivia Williams, grim, isolated in her incidentally chic apartment, and burdened with very severe hair. (Which is an extremely false dichotomy anyway, because we know that both Pike and Williams in real life are smart and sexy and talented.)

The film proposes to favor one outcome (yay! school and self-reliance for girls!), while clearly being in lust with the other outcome (oolala, attaching yourself to sexy boys who lie to you). And even if it weren't ambivalently presented, the takeaway on this one would still be: Girls, put yourself, put your schooling, before the exciting boys. And maybe you can be at an age where that's a new thing to hear. If I were twelve, I might have needed to hear this; granted, when I was twelve, I was growing up in an enclave of reactionary Victorianism. More importantly, though, I'm not twelve now. This movie wasn't made as a PSA for twelve-year-olds who are daily having their senses-of-self assaulted. This movie was made for and by grown-ups whom you hope would have a more sophisticated -- dare I say, educated? -- take on the world.

And I am cranky because they clearly do not.

(P.S. I'll be the first to admit that the actors and actresses themselves make the movie so much better than this simple-minded moral. The performances of Carey Mulligan, Peter Sarsgaard, and Rosamund Pike -- among others, but not including Alfred Molina, who you won't be able to understand because of all the chewed scenery in his mouth -- are smart and subtle and deft. But encouraging you to see this movie for the performances is like encouraging you to vote for a candidate because she's a woman. So, no.)

He's da man!

2009-09-14T11:10:00.003-04:00

Both my husband and I swoon over this man. In our house, we call him THE PIMP!

Needless to say, this has been on repeat. Oh, I swoon. I swoon!

Roger Federer in action

Trekkies up in arms!

2009-05-06T19:03:00.001-04:00

The Onion provides the latest coverage of this breaking news story.

When's the last time you laughed at a promo?

2009-02-05T13:19:00.002-05:00

Me? LONG time.

Dare we hope for consistent quality for the series? Or if quality is consistent, that said quality show will stay on the air? Nope. Too jaded for that.

(P.s. I'm not sure when I became a shill for the networks, but whatever. "Better Off Ted," Wednesday, March 18, 2009 at 8:30PM, on ABC. )

As if I could love Hulu more ...

2009-02-03T14:29:00.003-05:00

Though that could be my banana-soft brain talking.

Adding to my Goodreads list ... POST HASTE

2009-01-30T13:03:00.002-05:00

Pride, Prejudice & Zombies. Yes, you're reading that right.

As elaborated upon on Salon:

One obvious question, of course, is what would Ms. Austen think of this unconventional adaptation? To this, I turned to Salon book critic and Austen fan Laura Miller, who replied:

"Well, she'd be astonished, of course, since her age was, sadly, as bereft of zombie movies as it was of indoor plumbing. However, I don't doubt that Elizabeth Bennet would adapt quickly to the imperatives of a zombie attack and in time prove one of our ablest leaders in the war against the undead. The real question is: If Mr. Darcy became infected, would Elizabeth have the fortitude to behead him in time?"

Does it get better than that? I think not.

Couch potato's log, supplemental

2009-01-11T14:51:00.000-05:00

I was just yesterday chatting about my austere TV-watching habits with some lovely folks (you know who you are), and noting how, since the writer's strike, I'm down to three regular shows, Bones, 30 Rock, and the rotating Bravo show du jour Project Runway/Top Design/Top Chef.

The strike broke my connection with a lot of shows, and I've never gone back. (Though Heroes lost me slightly earlier than that for reasons related to writing, but not the lack thereof.) Not that I didn't fill the void with more casual viewing relationships -- the original CSI, doing the lather-rinse-repeat cycle on the Spike network; Reba, watched when there was a CSI repeat; the USA junk food that is Monk and Psyche; and for when I wanted to die a little bit on the inside, the VH-1 roster of Celebrity Rehab and, worse, Charm School.

But these are not shows I would record if I were not home to see them. They are shows I watch when I'm eating dinner. Cause I'm classy like that.

I know I could have been watching Mad Men. I know I could have been renting The Wire. But the writer's strike was also the best thing to happen to my own writing. To say nothing of my reading. (Books, you know, are the bomb.) So I did those things instead, and when it came time to hook back into those shows with which I have an emotional connection, there were only the select few that had any siren call left.

But come February 13th at 9 pm, I fear I shall have to add a fourth (FOURTH!) show to my list of regular shows: Joss Whedon's new series Dollhouse on Fox.

Because my crush on Joss Whedon is not small. It's not small at all.

And if it displaces any of the VH-1 viewing I've been doing, the world will be a better place and I a better person.

I take it all back, Hollywood!

2008-12-17T14:09:00.002-05:00

I will never poke fun at Hollywood baby names again.

Way to make a birthday cake a hate crime, ordinary citizens!

A supermarket is defending itself for refusing to a write out 3-year-old Adolf Hitler Campbell's name on his birthday cake.... The Campbells ultimately got their cake decorated at a Wal-Mart in Pennsylvania, Deborah Campbell said Tuesday.... Heath Campbell said he named his son after Adolf Hitler because he liked the name and because "no one else in the world would have that name."

Yes, he just "liked" the name. Which is why they named the poor kid's sister, "JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell"

And now go peruse the Southern Poverty Law Center's website to reboot the world's karma.

You call it: Miserable or miscast?

2008-12-03T18:20:00.003-05:00

George Clooney in Michael Clayton: an overhyped actor who seems to be undergoing a messy divorce from nuance on-screen OR a sparkling comedic actor in the wrong role? Discuss.

(Not up for discussion in any way -- Tilda Swinton or Tom Wilkinson, who wipe the floor with any weak-sauce thespian thrown mercilessly into a scene with them.)

Makeoverz? ur doin it wrong

2008-11-24T13:45:00.004-05:00

As a working stiff, I don't ever actually get to watch the Today Show, and now I'm glad. One of my favorite things in the world (yes, I'm a complicated feminist being) is a good makeover. It's an imaginative act -- a new haircut, new clothes, a new look. And when done well has internal and external implications. Seize your personal power! Communicate who you are on the inside via your outsides? Wear clothes that fit, damnit!

Plus, if you do it right, you get to hang out with Stacey and Clinton or, dare I say it? Tim Gunn. (Cue angel choir.)

On the other hand, there's the aptly named "Ambush!" feature on the Today Show. In which they take beautiful women who might need a bit of a haircut -- and ugly them up with bad dye jobs and extreme pancake foundation. Cause you know what you want out of a makeover? A frosted, unflattering look that makes you look twenty years older than you are.

Judge for yourself, kids. I'm off to corral Nick Arrojo and Carmondy for an intervention.

Something about fish and a wooden cask of some sort?

2008-11-21T17:08:00.004-05:00

Really? I mean, really? Bronx Mowgli?

Ashlee, Pete -- are you really trying to style yourself as the ersatz Posh and Becks? At least when they named their kid "Brooklyn," I could look away and pretend it was some foreign affectation (if by "foreign" you mean "ever so slightly extraterrestrial").

And it's a well-known fact that the hero of the Jungle Book is Baloo. To say nothing of how we might want to reconsider naming our children after characters in the works of imperialism's pithiest apologist. I'm sorry -- was Gunga Din taken?

And nothing says, "Hi, I'm a very minor celebrity!" like a fauxriginal name. You might as well get this kid a show on VH-1 right now. Maybe Flavor Flav can help you with a nickname or two.

This whole thing is so minor, in fact, I can't even call what I'm feeling "outrage". It's more "mild bemusement at a particularly sad grab for national attention." If it's attention you want, kids, name the kid Motor Oil Roosevelt HappyThoughts -- you know, something that has a surrealist art to it. If you're going mad, go big mad, you know what I'm sayin'?

Most! Attractive! Use! of Hyperbole!

2008-10-17T13:25:00.004-04:00

Click for the title alone:

10 Most Biographically Inaccurate Movies

You have to love an analysis that gives genuine consideration to a Yahoo Serious movie.

And just of the top of my head, I can add: "The Passion." Any adaptation of the life of Christopher Columbus. And as a nod to MeiMei, "Becoming Jane." (Though I continue to reserve the right to spend too much time with that film because of James MacAvoy. I think his charm short circuits my critical faculties or something. Wait, what were we talking about? I was too busy reliving scenes of his earnest passion. Shh. Not done yet. Ahhhh, le sigh.)

Required reading

2008-10-15T15:25:00.001-04:00

How To Beat Up Beloved Actor Tom Hanks

Really, any words I could add would be pointless. Except to praise this great universe of Interwebs for bringing such brilliance to my door. Hee.

Really, girls?

2008-09-24T08:58:00.003-04:00

What a waste of a catfight. Something tells me that both Kiki and Drew know how to THROW down, but really, over Mac? Really?!

No Kidding!

2008-09-24T08:45:00.002-04:00

Congrats to Clay Aiken on his little bundle of joy, but really, Clay? You felt the need to announce you're gay AND a dad? Why not just say you're a dad? Because guess what: we already knew you were gay, thanks to Rosie on The View a couple of years ago. (And Kathy Griffin.) Old news, buddy.

(If we were less catty, we would applaud him for coming out to his family and fans, but I met the guy three years ago and he was a complete douche, so no lauding from me. Sorry.)

"If there's one thing I would have changed about my campaign ..."

2008-09-16T14:32:00.001-04:00

"I would have wanted it more."

This season's shameful pleasure

2008-08-29T14:49:00.007-04:00

I know it's big nowadays to admit "guilty pleasures." Oh, look how hip and ironic and post-guilt we are! Wink, wink! While secretly we really think we're better than the people who just don't "get" the indulgence and inspiration that are Lifetime Movies.

But I think there's another level, a level beyond guilt, a level of enjoyment which, if admitted to your close friends, the ones who have forgiven you any number of errors in judgment, would make them question the wisdom of continuing to know you at all.

I'm talking shameful pleasures. I'm talking Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team.

For the season that I watched, I cringed even as I thrilled at the spectacle of young women of average intelligence and too much mascara crying their newly-broken hearts out.

I am not a better person for admitting it. I am not a better person for indulging in it. Though if that show were the greatest of my walks on the dark side, my immortal soul might still be safe as houses. Houses with cat doors and a couple of broken ground floor windows, but houses just the same.

But now there's Tabatha's Salon Takeover, and I find myself writhing in the vicious joy of watching the downfall of others. I breathe in deeply and sweetly as Tabatha dresses down a man who, I think, can best be summarized as a fuckwit, though that is the only perjorative I don't think she threw at him. I take consolation that he is, through his own efforts, driving his own business into the ground.

I am, in short, booking myself an express train to hell. Won't you join me? It's delightful.

If you don't ... then you SHOULD

2008-08-29T14:44:00.001-04:00

Be reading the genius Project Rungay for such brilliance as this:

When we grabbed our seats for the screening of the Shear Genius finale, the last ten minutes or so of PR was running on the screen - without any sound. It was infuriating seeing who was in and who was auf without being able to hear any of it. "He's crying!" we shrieked hysterically. "Why is my man crying?!?"

"Wait. YOUR man?!" And then we hit each other with our beaded clutches.

I'm officially working the phrase "beaded clutches" into every conversation today.

(Thank you, John Majors via Eddie Izzard, for the paraphrased post title. As in, "If you don't think England is the greatest country in the world ... [long pause] then you should.")

It's called an "airport", Keith

2008-08-28T14:45:00.003-04:00

Dear Keith, late of Project Runway:

Look. I get it. Utah IS rough. I served 23 years hard time there myself.

But it is not MANDATORY. Winning a reality show contest is NOT the only way out.

SO

SHUT

THE HECK

UP.

Coolest. News. Ever.

2008-08-14T12:38:00.003-04:00

Julia Child was a spy.

Can we jumpstart a new Bond-like franchise, please? In which she Matahari's (or I suppose we can now say, Julia Child's) her way through the mustache-twirling French collaborators, blinding them to her real purpose with her divine sauces? I see: Fight scene, feast scene, love scene, and Julia smuggling an Albert Einstein-like genius across the Swiss border, hiding him in a very large soufflee of some sort.

I would show up for that movie.

Dear Anonymous Caller

2008-08-11T15:08:00.002-04:00

If you have $9,000 in monthly net income, $200,000 in savings, and $300,000 in a retirement fund...

And you're calling in to the "Can I Afford It?" segment of the "Suze Orman Show" to see if you can "afford" to buy a $5,000 handmade wooden puzzle ...

YOU ARE JUST CALLING IN TO BRAG. GET OFF THE PHONE.

Saying it like it is

2008-07-18T13:12:00.005-04:00

My Welsh aunt in her 80s has a neverending infatuation with Mr. "Wet-T-Shirt-Contest" Darcy, and I think we can all see why. It's Colin Firth's brutal honesty:

"I think it's time we all came out," he said. "I think you either like ABBA or you're lying."

He continues:

"There are so many reference points in ABBA's songs . . . . You remember the first time you got beat up in the disco, 'Dancing Queen' was probably playing. You'd get an ABBA song stuck in your head and would hear it over and over while taking exams or when your girlfriend was dumping you."

Yes, "The Matchmaker" is still one of my favorite movies -- you wanna make something out of it?

2008-06-26T13:26:00.003-04:00

I don't know which delights me more -- evidence of Janaene Garofalo being her deliciously honest self or the photo that shows her back amongst the brunettes.

I'm going to go with BOTH.

From an exchange between Garofalo and Jennifer Tilly (who I always unforgiveably seem to forget is so funny and smart):

Tilly said[,] "I think among the networks, it's like, 'Women like to watch women while they're at home washing the laundry, with the Tide that gets laundry whiter than white. And at night people want to watch edgy guys.' Didn't you experience that, Janaene, when you were at Saturday Night Live? That there was a tremendous sort of... not misogyny, but a sort of boy's club?"

[Garofalo answers]..."[w]hen I was there, the show was just awful. It didn't matter if you were a guy, girl, transvestite, transgender — whoever you were, that show just sucked it that year. ... I personally was awful. I failed miserably, plus I was a horrible drunk at the time; that's all my fault."

"I just assumed the man was keeping you down," Tilly said.

"The man and a woman," Garofalo said. "Me, myself, as a woman, kept me down."

Long live the Colbert!

2008-06-11T14:39:00.004-04:00

It's just as well that the Democrats voted to keep Stephen Colbert off the primary ballots. (Apparently, he was polling higher than any other candidate. Hee.) But I ask you, would the office of president really be big enough for Stephen Colbert? Nay.

msnbc chats with the legend himself.

My favorite quotes?

“When a fictional person declares something news, is it responsible for you to agree? Isn’t that interesting?” wonders Colbert. “But so many real people declare fictional news and the press agrees. For instance, the surge is a success, don’t you think?”

“Jon Stewart can say he doesn’t influence all he wants, but you know what? I’ll take up that mantle. I’ll pick up that sword,” Colbert says archly. “That’s the big difference between my character and Jon’s persona. Jon would demur that responsibility, but my character gets right at the head of the lynch mob and he goes like, ‘Let’s go get the monster in the tower!”’

A reason to go on living

2008-04-24T20:40:00.002-04:00

Baby's breath? Whiskers on kittens? No. The IT Crowd.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fet0SCt7uGg&NR=1

(If anyone knows how to get their hands on a No.Amer. Region DVD version, I shall swoon.)

My new motto

2008-04-10T13:51:00.003-04:00

In a lovely interview with Thomas Hayden Church, I ran across this line:

A year after moving to the ranch full-time, Church was clearing a fence line, the only person for at least 30 miles, when he had what he calls "an epiphany, if an epiphany can be sad. I suddenly had this notion that somewhere, right then, Tom Cruise was making a movie. I called my agent and said, 'I need to refocus.' "

In other words, he realized that somewhere in the world, evil was being done, and he had to put on the superhero tights and stop it. The world with one less Tom Cruise movie, a better place? I think it's possible.

So look at your surroundings today and think, Are my actions preventing a Tom Cruise movie? If not, we need to refocus, people!

So, it's NOT just me?

2008-03-20T14:00:00.004-04:00

So, I haven't been posting out of -- what? ennui? disgust? vague nausea? -- over the rabid, relentless hurtling of celebrity "news". It used to be so fun. Fun! And then it wasn't fun. It's become slim pickings and no sense of discovery and just grief at the real dramas that we're supposed to be jeering and sniggering at. I don't find it fun to watch addicts or the mentally ill or the morally addled teeter around on stilleto heels with cocktails in their hands. And it's always about the girls, isn't it? It's about some sort of deeply rooted misogyny in our culture being normalized through repetition. This is what you're worth, women; this is what you're worth.

It's like, let's focus on Diablo Cody's stripper past but not her awesome writing present? Boo. Seriously, BOO.

So I moved away from surfing the websites and reading the celebrity rags, which meant I couldn't comment about the ongoing developments here. And mostly I just thought it was me. Maybe I was just naturally becoming a better, deeper person by doing my own writing, reading all those novels I'd been meaning to read, watching documentaries from the library for hell's sake. (My continuing, gleeful participation in CSI and Law & Order marathons seems to contradict this assertion, somewhat.)

Then, there was last night's South Park, one of the most disturbing ever. Suffice it to say, it turned the Britney Spears travesty into material for a redo of Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery", reminding me of the scary intelligence behind the boys' potty humor. It was the best piece of horror I've seen in a while.

And today, this article about how the "celebrity culture" of the last few hectic years has gotten less fun and a bit more deranged:

So where does that leave those of us who enjoyed a few halcyon years of mindless celebrity coverage? For one thing, I find myself longing for a return to some old-fashioned canned stories cooked up by publicists and pegged to movie releases. I'm over stars being just like me, or worse off than me. I would like them to be different, and more glamorous, and better at not spilling food on themselves than me. I would like to read about their attractive homes and perfect relationships and healthy but satisfying Zone diets and think to myself: "Well, easy for them! They're celebrities!"

People recently published a calming cover story about Drew Barrymore -- how she lost 20 pounds, gave a million dollars to world hunger relief, and is just as blissfully in love with her new boyfriend (they're talking babies!) as she has been with every other guy she's fallen blissfully in love with. This story made me happy, in precisely the same way that a 1950s Photoplay story about Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher might have: I don't care if it's crap. For the course of my morning subway ride, I was perfectly entertained.

What's missing, I think this article diagnoses correctly, is the happy part of celebrity watching. This madness is making no one happy. Not me anyway. And not the real creative folks, I think.

And this on a day when I had to comb through the news with a fine-toothed comb to find out about Anthony Minghella's unexpected death. That is as sure a tragedy as there is. Twenty bucks says he gets a one-sentence mention in People this week. If that.

Inconclusive

2008-01-23T13:34:00.001-05:00

More news on Heath Ledger. At this point, the autopsy is inconclusive, and it sounds as if they're waiting on lab results.

This story says "accidental" a lot. At this point, isn't it really just some macabre game of assessing which is the more tragic scenario? Yesterday, the bandying about of the term "drug-related" cast it in the addiction direction, but there were also mentions of suicide, which just left me hollow inside. And now, potentially, an accidental overdose of sleeping meds?

I'm having a hard time figuring out which is the sadder inheritance for Matilda.

A friend yesterday argued that she wasn't old enough to know him and so she won't remember him enough to lose him. But she's two (thanks for the correction, LLA!). I know I'm a freak, but I remember things from when I was two. There are base level memories of her father that she'll have, that she won't even have words for. And even if she didn't remember a thing about him, she'd still have this narrative she'd have to figure out, wrap her growing mind around: I had a father, my father died. All that grief will always be a part of her.

And Michelle -- my God.

I know I don't know these people, but this one, this story, just hurts. I remember when River Phoenix died, and I found myself thinking, So this is how people felt when John Lennon was shot. Between this, Benazir Bhutto, and the freakin' election, my emotional ass is officially kicked right now.

WHAT. THE. FUCK?!

2008-01-22T17:59:00.000-05:00

Heath Ledger?!? Heath ... Ledger?

I don't even ... WHAT?!?

I'm just in pain for his daughter. Is she even a year old?

Support the strike!

2007-11-19T19:29:00.000-05:00

You know how we heart the well-written word over here at M&C, whether it be televised, streamed, or projected and accompanied by the scent of fake butter. So you might imagine how cranky we are at the AMPTP right about now, and thus, how pleased I was to have the awesome blog, United Hollywood, recommended by Blogger. It links to this petition you can sign to show your support for the striking writers, and if you're feeling particularly cranky about the Daily Show reruns and the potential derailing of the Scrubs finale, there's a multitude of links providing information on showing your support in more material ways. In particular, I like one of today's posts that recognizes the impact of the AMPTP's unwillingness to negotiate on the rest of the folks who make the shows and movies we love. In response to the strike, production crews are being summarily fired, down to the folks who make the copies of the scripts.

I like the writers, and I like the folks who take care of the scripts, and I like the grips and best boys and third assistant camerapeople and the food service folks who feed everyone. I'm betting you do, too.

So let us consumers of the end product do something about it. Let's help the little ways we can. Let's pay attention, sign petitions, donate where we feel it'll make a difference.

Or we can just go on consuming rubber stamp reality shows and ad nauseum examinations of celebrity budgets (hint: they're bigger than yours!) and surgical alterations (again: bigger or smaller or more sucked!). It made me a little queasy just typing that sentence, imagining a world without Bones banter, so it's pretty obvious what my choice is going to be.

Sometimes, they're not just like us

2007-10-18T16:09:00.000-04:00

I'm coming out of retirement from public snark to thank Britney Spears.

You read that right.

Maybe you've been like me, and the whole Britney debacle has gotten so out of hand that you avoid as many updates on the declining state of her quality of life and wince all the way through the updates you can't miss.

So, yes, I don't comment on Ms. Spears because she makes me cry. Because she reminds me of people I've tangentially known and watched do things to their minds, bodies, and families that I wouldn't wish on George Lucas. (Oh, did you think the fact that the new "Clone Wars" is getting such good advance buzz would result in bygones being bygones, George? Did you?) And as someone who can't always get herself and her body chemistry on the same page, I have to say, I empathize too much with being a bit helpless against your own impulses.

So, really, when I holler at Britney or Lindsey to change course, to pull that swerving, bucking vehicle around onto firmer ground, I'm really hollering at myself. Drive, Britney, drive like your hands are on the wheel!

Which is more than just a metaphor, in this case, and the reason for my surprising gratitude.

Because I just saw the tape on Britney's little hit-and-run in the -- was it a Petco? -- parking lot. And, whoa, I feel her parking pain.

Because two weeks ago, I too managed to misnegotiate a parking spot or, rather, found myself thinking, Why won't my car back up, goddamn--oh, because that car I've just nudged with my fender isn't imaginary.

I did what we all do. We ask ourselves: Do I do the responsible thing and leave a note on this car that I just -- let's call it "abraded" -- or do I pull out with a screech of tires and disappear into lunchtime traffic, chanting, noonesawthat, noonesawthat, noonesawthat?

Well, this may come as a shock, but I do have a conscience, I do consider myself to be an upstanding citizen, and I'd like to remain that way, so I did leave the note -- rather calmly, actually, which, on the way back to work, I immediately followed up with pulling over to the side of the road to have a meltdown as impressive as ice cream on a July blacktop. I wept like a babe because I could see all the consequences reeling out in front of me -- an angry phone call from the owner of the car, paying the deductible to fix my own car, seeing my insurance rates spike. I found myself wondering, Is this necessary, is any of this really necessary, couldn't you just have pretended it didn't happen? Couldn't you for once, Seren, have tried to get away with something that thousands of people get away with every day?

Turns out what I got away with was no jail time. Turns out I wasn't just doing the right thing, but the hey-guess-what?-this-has-serious-legal-consequences thing.

Which is what Britney taught me.

So I thank her for her example. I thank her for showing me what could have been in that parking lot. Though, admittedly, there were fewer videographers documenting my little whoops.

Also, thanks to her, no bad hair extensions for me. I've seen what happens when they attack.

Bittersweet with a side of relief

2007-05-08T21:55:00.000-04:00

I have to admit when I read that the Gilmore Girls would go the way of Dawson's Creek and Felicity (fellow WB favorites of mine), I didn't feel sad as expected, but relieved. My first thought was of my suddenly free Tuesday nights. I would no longer be held hostage every week, wondering when the torture would end and in turn, torturing myself remembering better days. (Yeah, I could have stopped watching, but honestly, the masochist in me asks, "What's the fun in that?") To me, the Girlmore Girls was that awesome, pitch perfect best friend in grade school, who turned your world upside down from the first moment she asked for, no demanded, your Nestle Crunch or proclaimed that the world literally ran on the sugary power of powdered donuts. Yeah, you know who I'm talking about. Every girl has that kind of best friend. And just as every girl remembers that friend fondly, every girl also knows that kind of friend starts to get old after a bit. After a few years, her charm and sparkle start to become tedious. Every fresh bite of wit starts becomes a sound byte and you wonder how can you break up with this friend, the one that you outgrew, yet remain steadfastly loyal because of the history. Oh, the history! The rich, powerful history that still makes you laugh after seven years. You can't turn your back on that! And so, that was the Girlmore Girls to me. I adored them at first: Lorelei's fast talk, something I could relate to (a therapist told me once I am difficult to understand because I talk too fast. But I like to think that like Lorelei, those who really got me would understand my fast speech.) and Rory's blue, blue doe eyes and rather charming, large forehead that seemed to represent idealism on the WB. (See Dawson's Creek and The Beek's abnormally large forehead.) However, I slowly started to get impatient with the Girlmore's. They ceased to tell satisfying stories or even have satisfying moments and isn't that what TV is all about? Their epiphanies either came too late or not at all. Amy Sherman-Pallendino increased her fondness for story cheating: ending the episode right when it should've began or worse yet, having the most important moments occur off camera. This wasn't the friendship/viewership I signed on for. I had met an intelligent, witty, charming show and slowly I was getting the slightly retarded younger sister. No, no, no!

Then, in grad school, I had a resurgent love for the Girlmore Girls, thanks in part to Seren, Pari and A's love for the show. Tuesday nights became fun again, mainly because I had newer, more sparkly friends to poke fun at the Girlmore's with. We made lemon-studded tofu and salad and sat on Pari's floor playing with her cat, chatting through comnercials and even sometimes through the first act. Then, I moved away, and I maintained the Tuesday night tradition on my own, but my love for the show never quite regained its full potential. Girlmore Girls now was like a former lover, one I watched out of obligation to the history. I couldn't quite forgive the whole Rory moving in with her grandparents, then moving out without a word in a grand hypocritical gesture and Lorelei's too quick forgiveness of her bratty daughter without the "Rory, decisions have consequences" talk. Such sloppy story telling! Such lazy character development! The Girlmore Girls had lost their craft, and so when I read this past Monday it had been cancelled, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet ... as I sit here typing, I reach for a box of tissues. Because god damn it, Rory graduated from Yale. Stupid, naive, annoyingly perfect, bratty, everyone-loves-her-and-I-can't-figure-out-why Rorygraduated from Yale and broke up with Logan in the same episode. And I can't stop crying. Crying! And Luke bought Lorelei a necklace! And Emily and Richard Gilmore serenaded Rory at a graduation party! And Rory took a picture of Paris' annoyed face! And Doyle loves Paris! Did I mention I can't stop crying?

Damn it. Damn it all. It has to be my hormones. Definitely. No other explanation. :)

I stumbled upon this interview with Lauren Graham after I watched her on Ellen today. Methinks she's pretty relieved the show is over, too, and felt the show creatively just needed to say goodbye. It's a good interview and the only thing to make me stop crying. Damn hormones.

Lauren Graham speaks!

But ... we'd only just kissed and made up

2007-05-03T21:56:00.000-04:00

This time last year, if you'd told me that the very last episode of Gilmore Girls ever was going to be broadcast in two weeks, I would have said: Well, that's two weeks too many for my tastes.

But now? That is not a thing that I can say. Instead, you will find me, on May 15th, curled up on my bed, hugging my pillow to my chest, weeping, Michel! Suki! Emily! How will I live without you? How can I sleep not knowing what job Kirk will hold next?

I admittedly had serious reservations going into this season, and sometimes it has been awfully wobbly. This week, for example, the episode wobbled so much it just tipped right over. Folgers replaced my regular Lane with instant crystals Lane, and I totally noticed the difference. And also: karaoke, really? I mean, really? That hobby so hip and happening that even Gwyneth Paltrow made a movie about it, what, ten years ago?

But on the other hand, there was last week. As Luke and Lorelei bickered their way through used car shopping, I found myself smiling almost as much as Lorelei -- because just like her, I felt it. The feeling was back. The fight was over, and maybe, just maybe, we were both stronger for the contentious last year. Maybe we knew each other a little better, GG and I. I'd seen it fall down and, miracle of miracles, pick itself back up, maybe a little scraped up, maybe a little bruised, but it sure stood on its feet again when I didn't think it could.

Maybe after all that, I'd learned that when you love someone, you love them even when they're stealing boats or issuing marriage ultimatums or introducing illegitmate children in such loud and aquatic-predator-metaphor-tempting ways.

So, I'm glad we had this season, GG. So that I could bid you farewell with a catch in my throat. Adieu, darling. Adieu!

Let's call this a warning

2007-03-30T22:43:00.000-04:00

So, I can either give you some long explanation about where I've been (short version: Jake, Fiji, enough said) or I can just get to the heart of the matter: Kal Penn is breaking my heart.

Well, him and the freakin' wig-stylist on The Namesake.

Oh, no wig-stylist on The Namesake, you say? To which I can only say: You clearly haven't seen it yet. I am not talking about the 1980s teenager hair; that at least had a context. No, I'm talking about later in the movie when he's supposed to be hip, happening, and dating the woman who cannot maintain the consistency of her "British" accent for the length of a vowell. I am hoping when I say it's a wig, because if that's what they did to his actual hair, I won't be able to sleep tonight.

What, I ask you, happened to the sexy hair from Harold and Kumar? And that swoony voice? And the charm? What the hell happened to Kal Penn's charm? Not to put too fine a point on it: the blunts in Harold and Kumar were the least of the things that were smokin'.

In The Namesake, the Kal that we know and love (and bicker over to the point of bloodshed in movie theatre parking lots) is almost entirely extinguished. He has a single good moment in the marketplace in India, and like a brief meteor shower, its brilliance flashes and is gone. Other than that? He is totally ... damp.

I mean, maybe it's not all his fault. It's not just the wig, is it? He is saddled with the worst role in that narrative. A luckless enough part in the novel that was in no way improved by the translation to the screen. And even worse? Dude has to act up against Irfan Khan, who neatly, gently, lovingly mops the floor with him. (These people said it better than I could.)

The reasons to see the film -- because of whom I do recommend that you see the film -- are Irfan Khan and his luminous costar Tabu. (See how I just used "luminous" with no sarcasm intended? When does that ever happen, I ask you?) These two actors do not flash the seams of their performances at you; the characters, the human beings they are, simply exist, in all their sweetness and mortality.

And so, could we really ask Kal to compete? Could we? It hardly seems fair.

We would forgive him his youth, his inexperience, his folly -- we're sure that Ashoke and Ashima could convince us to forgive him -- if not for the guest appearances on Law and Order and 24. Cause, seriously, those really, really blew. To say nothing of the non-speaking part in Superman Returns. As MeiMei so eloquently put it, "What the hell was he doing in that movie?" To which I could only reply, "What the hell was anyone doing in that movie?"

And so, Kal, I'm afraid we here at M&C must issue a warning: John Cho is sooo looking like our favorite now. You might consider working it like the rent is due in the sequel.

Don't drink the water in Hollywood, unless you want a baby

2007-01-20T12:05:00.000-05:00

The stork has been very, very busy lately in celebrity land this week.

"Dharma is having a baby without Greg

Jessica Lynch moves on with her happy, normal life

Felicity is having a baby; who's the daddy, Noel or Ben?

Just another baby to add to this week's news

Those darn acceptance speeches

2007-01-16T13:57:00.000-05:00

It was a difficult choice when it came to TV watching last night: 24 or the Golden Globes ? Ultimately, 24 won most of the 8pm-10pm slot, peppered with the Golden Globes during commercials, but the stuff I did see during the Golden Globes were enough to tide me over until next year.

Having been to at least one media awards banquet, I'm hardly the expert, but I do know enough to imagine what the Golden Globes are like: A big excuse to get drunk and say what you dare not say otherwise, with the convenient excuse of hey, it's the Golden Globes! It's GG! We sit at tables full of liquor instead of a stuffy auditorium! Hey, it's supposed to be the informal, let loose awards show!

Yeah. Whatever.

I'm willing to bet one year's salary that it's still a kiss ass fest combined with constipated nerves, complete with the strain of, "Did I come off as funny or as a jerk?" or "Was I too saccharine or insipid or just suave?" Stuff that runs through one's head daily in this business, only on a grander scale with liquor and fancy clothes. I did say once my "devil" wear Armani, only he's not a devil anymore, more mischievous gremlin. A suave gremlin.

Anyway, that said, my three favorite moments of the evening had some nerves, lots of class and a certain, yet respectful "fuck you" that most in the entertainment business would appreciate.

1) America Ferrera wins Best Actress in a Television Musical or Comedy. America experienced her own Betty moment after her teary speech as she stood awkwardly beside Maria Menudo, waiting for Maria to finish her commercial promo. America realized she shouldn't be in line sight of the camera, so she moved, only to have Maria pull her back and ask her a series of stupid questions. Maria is lucky America was nice enough to stop and talk to her. I would've kept walking, and later claiming I didn't know I was supposed to stop! Oopsie! :)

2) Meryl Streep wins Best Actress in a Movie -- Musical or Comedy. To be honest, I enjoy Meryl's work, but I was never one to fawn over her. But last night, with her witty speech and decidedly classy yet "I'm going to do whatever I damn well please" attitude, I became smitten. Smitten!

3) And now for the man whom I really adore: Sacha Baron Cohen. BEST ACCEPTANCE SPEECH EVER! Here's a part of it:

"This movie was a life-changing experience. I saw some amazing, beautiful, invigorating parts of America but I saw some dark parts of America. An ugly side of America, a side of America that rarely sees the light of day. I refer, of course, to the anus and testicles of my co-star, Ken Davitian...

When I was in that scene, and I stared down and saw your two wrinkled Golden Globes on my chin, I thought to myself, I'd better win a bloody award for this.

And then when my 300-pound co-star decided to sit on my face and squeeze the oxygen from my lungs, I was faced with a choice. Death, or to breathe in the air that had been trapped in a small pocket between his buttocks for 30 years. Kenneth, if it was not for that rancid bubble, I would not be here today. Thank you."

Oh my god. How can you not love this man?! 24 may get my heart pounding with its suspense and all that, but the Golden Globes? Serious heart pounding for America, Meryl and darling Sacha.

Again, providing a public service

2007-01-04T02:19:00.000-05:00

Look, I know it's ridiculous after not posting anything substantive or new for-freakin'-ever for me to be looking at our stats to see who all's checking in. But sadly, I do.

May I, first, just say thank you to our dear regular readers, select group that you are? In the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, you keep stopping by to see if we've bothered to get ticked off or outraged at anything new lately.

Your optimism is enough to bring tears of joy to these jaded eyes of mine -- that is, if I could remember what is this "joy" of which I speak. Is it something like the sensation I feel when I hear that someone has given Donal Logue yet another shot at achieving a popularity akin to his greatness? (Will it ever really happen or must I continue to scour YouTube for old clips of Jimmy the Cabbie for eternity?)

And, that is, if I hadn't already cried the last tear in my ducts over losing Britney to Paris.

But mostly checking the stats reminds me of how random folks sometimes get here, too. And a lot of them get here by searching Google for the phrase "what does catty mean."

If I wasn't previously appalled at the state of education today, I am now.

If people don't know what catty means, they're unlikely to recognize the phenomenon in the wild. And if they can't spot cattiness, how can they learn to be catty themselves? What this means is that there are people out there who, every day, live their lives ... wishing well on their fellow human beings. I know. I can hardly stand it.

So, while I think you might be able to derive a definition by perusing this site (catty has something to do with knowing everything and being right all the time, hello), I'd like to point all you lost little sheep to the following:

What catty means at Dictionary.com.

Learn; grow; reeeeerrrr.

Kneejerk!

2006-12-14T17:16:00.000-05:00

I can't help it. I want to help it. I want to remember the Gilmore Season of Pain, the repercussions of which I feel every Tuesday night as I watch the screen through my fingers, wincing at reminders of what once was, contenting myself with what is now.

And yet? My heart skips a beat: Amy Sherman-Palladino has a development deal for pilot with the Fox Network.

ASP, make it up to me. I'm apparently willing to forgive you.

Fox, you? Not so much. Cough *O.J., Arrested Development, American Idol* cough.

No more needed, Santa, we're good now!

2006-12-11T00:50:00.000-05:00

We here at M&C tend to hang around in the rage-fury-despair bands of the emotional spectrum most of the time, but once in a while we feel the love. It's usually a furious love, a little bit wrathful, but it's love all the same. And when two things we love occupy the same space at the same time? There aren't even words.

So just pretend that there's like choir music and angels and haloes of sunlight and stuff while I announce this: A song by one of our favorite favorites, Matt Nathanson, finally (finally, Zach, jeeeezus) appeared on one of our other favorite favorites, Scrubs, on Thursday.

Matt's got the clip up at his MySpace page, for your enjoyment. (While you're there, check out to see when he's playing at a venue near you. Do it. Trust us.)

And also, while we're on the topic, let's just consider this a public service announcement: All you folks who got to our little BFE of the Internets via the search terms "Matt Nathanson's wife" (and there are so many of you that I'm a little scandalized), we know Matt Nathanson's wife (through a friend) and she's awesome, so step off. Thanks!

Wham-my!

2006-12-11T00:31:00.000-05:00

So, I'm listening to the dance music station (yes, I know, credibility shot, blah, blah, blah), when I hear the DJ announce that Wham! are . . . getting back together.

I'll pause here for the screams to subside.

When I heard it, I found myself hollering at the radio: "Andrew! You know better than this!"

The Andrew to whom I referred (and to whom my special magic two-way radio immediately rebroadcast my shouting) was, of course, Andrew Ridgely, the sensible member of the group.

Because it would be no use talking to George Michael about it. This crackpot idea is right up George's current alley, if you don't mind my saying. Wham! getting back together would totally seem like a good idea if you were, say, slumped, stoned, behind the wheel of your luxury automobile in some London backwater.

I have searched the Internets for confirmation of this news. I find rumblings of a reunion concert and George wisting after Andrew (I told you it's so George's idea), but no outright confirmation.

There may still be time. Everyone, pray.

Actually, I do know how to quit you

2006-12-10T23:32:00.000-05:00

Entertainment Weekly, O, EW. We must have a word.

You and I have been like old friends. Those early golden years were glorious. Your weekly arrival was a point of anticipation -- and even contention between my brother and me. Fights broke out over who got to read first, who got to quote what to whom first. You were a thick, heady, densely-packed beauty of insider trivia and careful analytical introspection.

Then came the falling out. Photos replaced text on your pages, then advertisements replaced photos. You transformed from the textbook of "You are here, Hollywood" to a series of love notes crafted by and to celebrity publicists. Even worse, you were routinely behind the Mr. Showbiz curve. I left you, EW, for that whore the Internet, and she was good to me, very good to me, for a long time.

But, unexpectedly, you and I reconciled. I re-subscribed, not even out of some sense of how much I had missed you, but to make some extra points with a coworker whose child needed to up her headcount in the annual magazine drive. I agreed that, indeed, there was original content within your pages the equal of which I could not get from Defamer. You agreed to continue to fill at least some of your pages with insightful, informative, even snarky text, rather than just the same photographs of the celebrities over and over again. In the last year, I have grown to love you again.

Which makes what I'm about to say even more painful for me. But here goes:

1) Putting Mel Gibson on your cover is not exactly taking a neutral position on the whole anti-Semitic rant question. "People won't really refuse to work with you?" you ask him, disingenuously. EW, have you not already put him on your cover? Have you not already interviewed him? Have you or have you clearly not refused to work with him? You make the point ever so finely yourself: If there's profit involved, honey, anyone will work with him.

2) The Holiday Gift Guide? I expect shopping advice from Lucky. I find it less acceptable from you. And then? In the midst of it all, you go and call Masi Oka "pudgy"? No. You. Di'n't. Back off my new crush, bitches. The word you were looking for is "smokin'."

3) And while you're backing off, I was wondering if you could stop ragging at least once an issue on my favorite film of 2006, Stranger than Fiction. Unless "soulless piece of Charlie Kaufman lite" is supposed to be high praise, by which you mean that it's a film that doesn't make me want to cut my wrists immediately? Because if the difference between Charlie Kaufman and Charlie Kaufman lite is that I actually leave the theatre not despising humanity and conscious existence in general, then I will take me some lite any time.

EW, thanks for reminding me that you're selfish and materialistic. And also that you're mean and not in a good way.

For all you JD and Turk lovers out there

2006-12-01T13:58:00.000-05:00

Finally: the moment of truth! I laughed, I cried. Truly beautiful moment.

Enjoy! Watch the love story unfold. They're my favorite couple on primetime.

More disturbing ... or just plain silly?

2006-11-20T13:10:00.000-05:00

They actually did it. Katie didn't run screaming from the castle nor did Joshua Jackson scale the walls, give her some strong coffee to revive her and together run out, a la The Graduate. Nope. They actually got married

I can't deny how pretty Katie looks, but honestly, that dress seems like a throw back to prom, especially the neckline. And would it kill her to stand up straight? Maybe she needs to take more vitamins to strengthen her back. :)

From the disturbing to the silly ... but still disturbing

2006-11-15T13:40:00.000-05:00

When I heard about the silent birth thing, I thought, speedily, "draconian," but this has me floored for an adjective. Reuters is running with a story of Scientology's traditional wedding vows:

In the old-fashioned language that marks the Traditional version, the groom is reminded that "girls" need "clothes and food and tender happiness and frills, a pan, a comb, perhaps a cat" — and is asked to provide them all. The bride, in turn, is told that "young men are free and may forget" their promises.

It's so ... insane. No, that's not quite entirely it. Infantilizing? Yes. Fetishistic? Yes.

It all sounds so much like the accessories that would come with Scientology Bride Barbie, doesn't it?

What?!? And also, what?!?

2006-11-15T13:23:00.000-05:00

Could someone please explain this to me? Fox is broadcasting an interview with O.J. Simpson, with the sterling title, "If I Did It, Here’s How It Happened".

When I saw the commercial for the show in the midst of (a more-than-usually preposterous) House last night, I thought for a brief second that I was watching some MadTV parody. Like, seriously, O.J. Simpson would go on national television and tell us hypothetically only how he theoretically, allegedly, supposedly committed two horrifically violent murders?

Could someone please explain to me how hypothetically, theoretically this does anyone anywhere any good? And how does this rhetorical exercise not amount to admitting perjury?

P.S., Dear, LA District Attorney's office, please TIVO this. I won't be watching, but it'd be nice if you did.

So it isn't just that I'm bitter that they stole Nate Corddry

2006-11-13T14:51:00.000-05:00

The whole will-it-or-won't-it-cancellation saga of Studio 60 has been settled, in favor of won't -- which just pains me deeply.

Not that I could have really told you why. Other than crying to the heavens "This from the man who gave me Sports Night?", I haven't been able to put my finger on exactly why I find that show not only dismal, but offensive to me in some basic way.

Proving both her writing and analytical chops (as usual), Linda Holmes (Television without Pity's MissAlli) gets it absolutely, sparklingly right:

Despite aiming for intelligence and meaning, the show simply shows no signs of knowing enough about comedy to be credible.

Television and the internet are all full of beloved comedy institutions analogous to the fictional one in the show. Obviously, there is “Saturday Night Live” itself, but don't forget “The Daily Show,” “Late Night With Conan O’Brien,” and other outlets like The Onion. Even a moderately media-savvy viewer has read a lot about them. Every time Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert is interviewed, every time we see the endless list of writers when Conan’s staff is up for an Emmy, and every time another book about “SNL” is released, we learn a little more about what these environments are like. And what have we learned? They are explosively creative, collaborative, jealous, and fixated on one thing to the point of madness: being funny. . . .

The show has been criticized for pretending the stakes could really be as high on an “SNL”-style show as they are in the White House, which is clearly nonsense. The stakes are enormously high for creative people, who drink, cut their own ears off, and go mad because they want so badly to be brilliant.

What "Studio 60" needs in order to be successful is a working vocabulary and understanding of the kind of workplace in which it is set. Without that, it cannot work. It's not that viewers aren't willing to care about comedy, but because no one in the audience can care if it isn't even compelling to the characters.

Blue light special on white trash exes!

2006-11-07T17:26:00.000-05:00

I shouldn't be as excited about this as I am. But I am.

Britney Spears is divorcing Kevin Federline!

Yes, I just used an exclamation point. Apparently, I am less jaded than previously reported.

Or is inter-network dating frowned on?

2006-11-05T14:49:00.000-05:00

Neil Patrick Harris comes out.

Also, tells T.R. Knight: "Call me!" (Or maybe that's just what I'd be doing if I were a gay actor in primetime right about now.)

Worst news day ever?

2006-11-02T16:05:00.000-05:00

Dear News Media:

Did you not get the message that I was having a rough day?

What is UP with the displeasing revelations, then? In the immortal words of Culture Club, do you really want hurt me? Do you really want to make me cry?

Mission accomplished, then, you heartless, heartless fiends.

Topher Grace is "dating" Ivanka Trump.

Does anyone mind if I go lie down?

2006-11-02T13:30:00.000-05:00

I feel kind of nauseous and a little dizzy.

"Brooke Shields, Katie Holmes now fast friends".

They've gotten to Brooke. It's only a matter of time before they take Grier out. The battle is lost! The battle is lost!

And does anyone buy that, among other things, Grey's Anatomy brought them together? If Grey's Anatomy is code for "the men with the bright lights and the sensory deprivation," then yes, I believe them.

Is it possible that this is a case of "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer"? I'll think about that while I lie here with the washcloth on my head.

It was bound to happen...

2006-10-30T15:34:00.000-05:00

...but still I'm actually sad. I was rooting for these two, ever since Reese met Ryan at her 21st birthday party and drunkenly slurred, "Are you my birthday present?"

Reese and Ryan are splitting up

The article says no specific reason was given as to why their marriage is ending, but I'm betting it was because Ryan was tired of being Mr. Reese Witherspoon. However, I really believed him when he said he was happy for his wife's success...Unless that was some damn good acting and in that case, give Ryan an Oscar!

Uh, finally!

2006-10-26T13:09:00.000-04:00

Seriously, how long does it take to apologize?

Isaiah says he's sorry. Shonda is sick of talking about it and has moved on.

As confirmed by several other gossip sites and by my own informants, Isaiah is not the easiest person to get along with on set (the word pride was thrown about), so the late apology is not surprising. That's too bad because I like Burke. As Seren and I agreed last night, Burke alone is not interesting but Burke with Christina rocks. That alone negates any reason Isaiah has to be be grumpy at work.

"How hard is it to show up to work and make out with Sandra Oh? Not hard," Seren says.

Wise woman, that Seren.

The invitation must still be in the mail

2006-10-24T13:33:00.000-04:00

TomKat to wed November 18th in Italy.

Tragically, I'm busy that day. My calendar clearly says, "November 18: LOOK THE OTHER WAY."

Seriously, it could've been worse

2006-10-23T17:04:00.001-04:00

Queen Elizabeth as a Cabbage Patch doll

Sure, I used to hate the doughy-faced suckers and wanted nothing more than to drop kick them across the muddy football field and I'm totally a My Little Pony girl, but if I had to choose over being depicted as a doll from a leafy vegetable or as, I don't know...Satan, I would choose the doll.

Props to the snark when the props are due

2006-10-23T16:16:00.000-04:00

Television executives are guilty of many things (I'm looking at you, NBC with your Studio 60 on the kill it, already! just kill it! it saps my will to live and I only watched two episodes! Strip).

Once in a while, these things include a wry and pithy remark that encapsulates all these illustrious television decision-makers should be feeling so guilty about. This one comes care of Stephen McPherson, ABC:

[A]mid a discussion of how hard it is to draw viewers into new programs, McPherson joked that ABC might take a cue from CBS. “’Grey’s: Miami’ is coming,” he quipped.

It's no mea culpa, but it's a start.

Of course I saw this

2006-10-20T16:58:00.000-04:00

A few folks have emailed me about T.R. Knight today. I didn't realize my George love was that well known, considering I'm a relatively new fan to the show.

Thanks to all those who emailed me, my fellow George admirers.

Quelle suprise

2006-10-18T16:09:00.000-04:00

Tim Burton has cast Helena Bonham Carter as one of the leads in his upcoming movie adaptation of Sweeny Todd. Everyone act shocked now.

And I sigh.

I count myself as an admirer of Helena, ever since her Lady Jane debut and that issue of Seventeen where she wore stripey purple and black stockings and complained about having to comb her hair in the mornings. (When Helena and Tim got together as a couple, I knew that I had that article to thank for some of the feeling of "Oh, that makes sense," that I had about them.) Other reasons to love her? Her Merchant-Ivory phase. Room with a View AND Howard's End? I mean, really, top that.

You would imagine that I would have hit a rough patch in my pro-Helena position right about the time she was the other woman in the Kenneth Branagh-Emma Thompson breakup. But thanks to some Internet scuttlebutt and having met someone who'd met someone who'd worked with Ken (apparently, two words: ass hole), I was able to get past blaming the woman for the adultery and assign responsibility firmly to Mr. Branagh. (Which is why I know that he's made films since Frankenstein, but I haven't gone out of my way to see them. It's hard for me to get past the spitting scorn I feel for the man who mistreated Emma Thompson. Wasn't there a musical somehwere in there?)

So, you would think that, given my ability to forgive Helena for her involvement in that particular moral debacle, I would be able to get beyond her proceeding to break up Tim Burton and Lisa Marie. Who you ask is Lisa Marie, other than Tim's ex? I only know because I think it was some issue of Premiere that convinced me I should know her, by featuring her in a suitably gothic layout with her now-ex-enamorata. Did Lisa Marie make Henry V at age 25? She did not. So far as I can remember, Lisa Marie's primary claim to fame is that she either luckily looks like she was drawn by Mr. Burton or transformed herself accordingly upon beginning to date him.

The point is -- Ken had Shakespeare and his ego to keep him warm at night, and Emma had Austen and Greg Wise and her lovely child and the good opinion of millions to cuddle up to. Lisa Marie? I vaguely have some memory that, post-Burton, she dated a Quaid. (Am I just making stuff up now? Probably.) The point is -- this particular break-up struck me as unfair. Not to mention that it smacked of a repeat offender: like seriously, H., couldn't you for once take up with the grip on set? The cinematographer seems to be turning out beautifully for Julia.

Worse than any of these off-screen shenanigans, however, is the fact that -- I propose this almost blasphemously -- Helena doesn't really seem to shine in Tim's movies. I know the equation should be Crazy Animator Goth + Quirky British Goth = Awesome, but for me, it just doesn't. During pretty much every Burton-Bonham Carter collaboration, I find myself imagining other actresses in the roles -- the mistress in Big Fish (though, way to put that out there, kids), the mother in Willy Wonka, one of the apes in the Planet of the Apes remake. Other actresses who would, for example, base their performances on more than their obvious joy that they are beautiful women wearing funny teeth.

I love her. I do. I just can't think of a Helena Bonham Carter performance in her Burton phase that I don't describe with qualifiers and excuses.

So, you can imagine that I find myself sighing now. Sigh.

Edited to add: I was promptly reminded by concerned parties (Pari) that I had perhaps overlooked the brilliance of Helena in The Corpse Bride, which I concede. I do ask, however, will Sweeney Todd be stop-action and co-directed by someone other than Burton, as Bride was? Because then I might be appeased.

Child services on speed dial

2006-10-14T20:49:00.000-04:00

Jonathan and Victoria, the Ike and Tina Turner of The Amazing Race's Season 6, are now parents.

How badly do I think this child will fare with these two as guardians of her well-being? I think she'd be better off at Suri's place. Or, to put it another way, if Madonna wants to snatch this one, more power to her.

New this season: The Gaultier onesie

2006-10-13T13:13:00.000-04:00

Remember when Madonna used to set trends? Like, remember when we all just rushed out and bought satin cone bras and got knocked up by our personal trainers and then killed the careers of promising British filmmakers? Good times.

But no more. Nowadays, trying so hard to keep up with the Jolie-Pitt kid count, Madonna's not even waiting for a kid to become an orphan before she bestows the "benefits" of a celebrity upbringing.

OMG, Madge, haven't you heard? Acts of imperialism in Africa are soooo five minutes ago.

Trying to care

2006-10-13T13:11:00.000-04:00

Failing.

Next on Grey's: Surgeon v. Surgeon

2006-10-11T20:53:00.000-04:00

Rumble on the Grey's Anatomy set. In short, Isaiah Washington picks Patrick Dempsey up like he's a little doll and shakes him.

But before you go all, You, go, Dr. Burke! (as I almost did), note the Defamer retelling of the tale alleges that Mr. Washington threw a little mean at T.R. Knight, too. You did not go snarling at George, now did you, Dr. Burke? Don't make me go Callie on your ass, sir. Because I will.

Defamer's source would also like us to believe that the dust-up had something to do with Mr. Washington's pride about his theatah training and how it should be recognized over Mr. Dempsey's up-through-the-B-movie-mill-ness. To which I can only say: Am I the only one who watched Ghost Ship last night on Spike TV? Any man who snogs a CGI ghost as Gabriel Byrne drowns in a vat of seawater in the background cannot be all throwing around his acting credentials. Cannot.

And to think that all this time, I had my money on Chandra Wilson to clean somebody's clock. (I'm not saying who, but I'm saying said clock-cleaning just might have taken place while someone was doing a whiny voice-over.)

Hey! I'm an (imaginary) celebrity aunt!

2006-10-04T19:18:00.000-04:00

Mazel tov me, everybody!

Jake just called with the news: Maggie Gyllenhaal and Peter Sarsgaard just welcomed into the world my (imaginary) celebrity niece, Ramona!

A normal name, people! A normal name! How?!? When?!? Thank heavens they're raising her in NYC, because can you imagine how hard those Hollywood kids would come down on her for her freakishly sensible name?

And if you tell me her middle name is Quimby, I shall swoon.

Because I'm a spoiler whore

2006-09-26T11:38:00.000-04:00

The incorrigible Michael Ausiello of TV Guide has a very cute interview with Lauren Graham on the homepage. Check it out if you want to see how much Lauren infuses herself into "Lorelei" and if you want Studio 60 scoop (but I'm betting you'll want to watch for the cuteness that is Michael and Lauren).

And, because I'm a spoiler whore, here is a link to a preview of tonight's GG episode. Don't say I didn't warn you. (Make sure you scroll down to get past 7th Heaven, unless you like that sort of thing. And no, there's no judgmental tone here whatsoever!)

Gilmore Girls tonight!

Oh, I know what day it is. Do you?

2006-09-25T22:15:00.000-04:00

Squeeeeee!

2006-09-25T21:48:00.000-04:00

Which I mean in a very mature way. I do.

But -- squeeeeeee! New photos from the upcoming Order of the Phoenix!

I dare you to convince me that you do not want that photo of the inestimable Imelda Staunton as Dolores Umbridge printed on a t-shirt that you can wear everywhere and point to at significant conversational junctures. Does it or does it not signify all that is I beg your pardon, young man?!

Plus, looks like all the boys have gone and gotten judicious haircuts. This much we know about the director, David Yates: strong tonsorial decision-making.

We now return you to posts not slumming in Teen Beat territory.

Fish in a barrel

2006-09-25T21:32:00.000-04:00

Scoop notes that Mr. and Mrs. Federline will be singing a duet on K-Fed's upcoming "album." The name of the tune? I kid not at all: "Crazy."

Sometimes, you don't even have to try.

Six Degrees for Brothers and Sisters

2006-09-25T13:21:00.000-04:00

These new shows were so lackluster, I can barely stay awake to write this post. And I'm so under-enthused that they don't deserve their own post each. Pretty much, it's the game of six degrees at Brothers and Sisters. Follow me:

Calista Flockhart as "Kitty" interviews for a TV job, potentially working and falling in love with Josh Hopkins, last seen on "Pepper Dennis" and who co-starred with Calista on "Ally McBeal."

Balthazar Getty, who plays "Tommy," works once again with Ron Rifkin, "Uncle Sal," who was also evil Sloan, boss to Balthazar's "Agent Tom" in Alias. Bathlazar and Ron also worked with JJ Abrams, who created Alias as well as Felicity, where Sarah Jane Morris, who plays Balthazar's wife in Brothers and Sisters, was Noel's bride in the finale. And JJ Abrams is the guy who hand-picked the producers and writers for Six Degrees, which is such a snooze fest that I can't even remember what happened.

Gee, Shonda, could the theme be ... time? (Part 2)

2006-09-22T11:01:00.000-04:00

Our continuing coverage of the Grey's Anatomy season premiere ...

9:31 pm PST /12:31am EST
Seren: I thought bubonic plague was, like, treatable with penicillin? How is that these folks are doctors and don't know that? George! Unknot your panties!
MeiMei: Zzzzz...oh what was that? Poorly contrived moment in the locker room?

9:32 pm PST / 12:32am EST
Meredith: Dark and twisty.
Seren: Meredith? Shut up. No, seriously.
MeiMei: Hee hee. I know what you mean, Mere! It's okay! Dark and twisty can be fun. Fun, yes, fun. Oh, I think I'm delirious.

9:33 pm PST / 12:33am EST
Seren: Thank you, Callie, for that sneer. And the flaring nostril? Nice. And I'm calling it -- best line of the episode: "I'm that girl in the back of the class who eats her hair." Aren't we all? Except for McMelty Face. Boo, McMelty Face! Boo!
MeiMei: Hee hee! (As MeiMei removes hair from her mouth) I love Callie!

9:34 pm PST
Seren: Izzy's on the bathroom floor? Like, how have people been peeing all night?

9:36 pm PST / 12:36am EST
Derek: Just . . . one . . . second . . . (cue ticking and, then, flashback)
Seren: Oh, wait, I'm sorry, I don't know if I've quite figured out. What's the theme of the episode? Something having to do with . . . nope, it's gone.
MeiMei: Is this a true flashback? Because Meredith looks so pretty here, like she hate a hamburger. I bet her locker was the one that didn't have food in it. I'm not surprised Izzy's had food. She's beautiful.

12:38am EST
MeiMei: Poor Bailey. She's having a really bad day.

9:39 pm PST
Seren: Bailey is not going soft. Bailey is not going -- Bailey is not -- oh, dangit. Well, Omar is making me a little verklempt, too. But, Bailey? Dang.

9:40 pm PST / 12:40am EST Commercial break
Seren: No, seriously, penicillin. That's it.
MeiMei: Well, the show has a really good medical advisor, so it's bound to be pretty accurate.
Seren: Really? Really? Is it possible that I've been underestimating the threat of the bubonic plague all this time? (Contemplative pause.) Hey, also, why is Richard avoiding his wife? I knew I should have re-watched the finale. Wasn't there something with his wife revealing she knew about the affair to blackmail him into the prom?
MeiMei: Oh, yeah, I remember something like that. Hey, are these real flashbacks? Like to the the first season?
Seren: I have no idea. I didn't watch that season.
MeiMei: They must be from earlier episodes. McMelty Face looks pretty in them.
Seren: I'm beginning to think that maybe we're not the best qualified people to be blogging this show right now.

12:45am EST
MeiMei: Bailey wishes she could turn back the clock and make it yesterday. Oh, Grey's writers! Do me a favor: that cliche ball you're running with right now? Drop it. DROP IT!

9:46 pm PST
Derek: Seriously, no.
Seren: Not willing to touch George's fevered brow? George, honey, call me. I'm right here, with my wrist prepped.

12:47am EST
MeiMei: George called Derek an ass! George called Derek an ass!

9:48 pm PST / 12:48am EST
Seren: Callie is my favorite.
MeiMei: Oh, Chris O'Donnell. I remember you as Robin. Fly, little birdie, fly away!

9:50 pm PST / 12:50am EST
Seren: Oh, it looks like MeiMei's going to be right about the girl with the glasses, and -- no! whoa! The girl with the glasses was a red herring! It's the girl with the striking blue eyes I never really noticed!
MeiMei: I may be right! I may be right! Oh, doh. Neither one of us is right.

9:57 pm PST /12:57am EST
Derek: I was going to come over this morning, but --
Meredith: I heard. The quarantine.
Seren: I wish my life were so exciting that I could just casually say, Oh, well, I would have been there, but -- the quarantine.
MeiMei: Why didn't Meredith express more concern for Derek? I mean, Callie flew into George's arms and he's her McDreamy. God, there's such a difference between the way Callie expresses her feelings and the way Meredith expresses hers. They both are not shy, but Meredith says things in such a self-absorbed, pitiful way that makes me want to smack her and say, "Grow up!" while Callie is so earnest that I want to hug her.

9:58 pm PST /12:58am EST
Seren (hearing the first few bars of final montage music): No! No, it can't be! It is! MAT KEARNEY!
(Seren fumbles for her cell, can't find a signal, and spends the final montage lurching around her apartment trying to find one.)
MeiMei: This sounds vaguely familiar ... where have I heard this song before? And Time. Time. Time. How many fucking times are they going to say that word? Shonda, we get it!

9:59 pm PST /12:59am EST
Christina: Don't ever die.
MeiMei: Stupid show. (Grabs nearby tissue box.)
Seren: Oh, dangit. (Stops lurching to sob briefly. And then, more lurching. Finally, a signal!)MeiMei, MeiMei! Do you know who that -- (The music credit comes up.)

MeiMei: He's everywhere! Seriously.

Gee, Shonda, could the theme be ... time? (Part 1)

2006-09-22T10:38:00.000-04:00

To celebrate the opening of the TV season, we here at M&C decided to assign our entire staff to covering the Grey's Anatomy season premiere. Thanks to a little judicious DVRing on the East Coast (combined with a good deal of self-control on MeiMei's part, and a well-timed nap), we are able to bring you breathless-second-by-breathless-second commentary -- in stereo.

Spoilers below. Not many, unless finding out that Callie gets 80% of the awesome one-liners ruins the mystery of the episode for you. But still.

One hour before showtime

MeiMeiLn: You'll never guess who I keep seeing everywhere. Everywhere.

Seren: Elvis.

MeiMeiLn: Mat Kearney.

Seren: No freakin' way.

MeiMeiLn: Yes, here and here and here and here.

Seren: Oh, and here.

And . . . the curtain rises.

9:02 pm PST/12:02am EST
Seren: Well, of course it's George who goes in. I love George.
MeiMei: His hair looks so good. And hee hee: Meredith the prez of people with crappy lives. Hee hee. The way her friends looked at her like she was crazy and the way she looked knowing that she was is so familiar to me--I totally identify with that. Oh my god. Did I just say I identified with Meredith?

9:04 pm PST / 12:04am EST
Bailey (over Denny's body): I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.
Seren: And now I'm crying. Four minutes in.
MeiMei: I hate that I'm teary.

9:05 pm PST
Christina to Meredith: Oh, what did you do now?
Seren: And there's my first cackle of the season.

9:06 pm PST/12:06am EST Commercial break
Seren: What happened to McMeltyFace? She looks even worse than last season.
MeiMei: She lost ten more pounds. Even her hair, which I love, looks gross.
Seren: Does that explain the old skin, too? I think we need Madrid to make the call on the BMIs of American television actresses, too.

9:11 pm PST
Christina: All McGuilty . . .
Seren: How much do I love Sandra Oh? I am of the Church of Oh.

12:11amEST
Alex working on the dumpster baby...
MeiMeiLn: That's a great mechanical baby. Much better than what we use at work.

12:12am EST
MeiMei: The use of the ticking timer is already tedious and it's only twelve minutes into the show!!!

9:13 pm PST / 12:13am EST
Seren: Those are some creepy Village of the Damned Catholic school girls, all dead on the inside, plaid on the outside.
MeiMei: They look way younger than fourteen. In the game of Who's My Mommy?, my bet is on little four-eyes. It's the glasses. Dead giveaway. It's always the homely looking one who has the darkest secrets. (JUST KIDDING!)

9:14 pm PST
Seren: The baby belongs to the silent one.

9:15 pm PST / 12:15am EST
Quaranting guy extra workin' his ten seconds of screen time like the rent is due: "You two are quarantined."
Seren: Two may enter, but only one leaves. My money's on George.
MeiMei: How frickin' convenient that George and McDreamy are thrown together. Shonda, have you ever heard of subtly crafting a plot moment? What's that? Oh, I didn't hear you.

9:16 pm PST/12:16am EST Commercial break
Seren: I can't help it -- Open Season looks good.
MeiMei: Doesn't George's hair look significantly better?
Seren: Good call.

9:18 pm PST
Seren: Why is Richard avoiding his wife?

12:20am EST
MeiMei: I love Callie. I love how awkward yet determined she is. I love that she OUTSHINES Meredith.

9:21 pm PST / 12:21am EST
Christina: No clean clothes.
Seren dabs her eyes.
MeiMei: (REFUSING TO BE EMOTIONALLY MANIPULATED BY THIS SHOW AND BLINKING RAPIDLY LEAST SOMETHING LEAK OUT OF HER EYES) There's something so appealing about Izzy on the floor and how her friends lie on the floor with her. It's visually arresting and also gives the actors a freebie, meaning it automatically establishes a sense of despair even before the actors have to act. (Yeah, you heard me, Pompeo. I mean you.)

9:23 pm PST /12:23am EST
Seren: Man, they're making me like Addison.
MeiMei: Finally, we see the moment when the Montgomery/Shepard marriage fell apart. Interesting choice of the costume department to put Addison in nothing but panties and a black t-shirt. Why do I have more sympathy for Addison than Derek right now? And seriously, how gorgeous is their NYC brownstone? Ugh, I hate this show...hate how Seattle looks so smart and stylish and how NYC looks so sleek and modern. I've lived in both those places and they're NOTHING like that.

9:25 pm PST
Seren: Now that you mention it -- the sound of ticking is oppressive.

9:29 pm PST Commercial break /12:29am EST
Seren: Do there seem to be more commercials than usual?
MeiMei: Yeah, like, every two minutes.
Seren: I just can't be happy about Callista Flockhart returning to television. I can't.

9:30 pm PST /12:30am EST
Seren: Hey -- "Gone Daddy Gone" -- I call continuity error! Oh, wait. Not the Gnarls Barkley version. The original. God, I love the Femmes. But also, by all that is holy, what is up with the ticking?
MeiMei: Poor George. I would seriously so dump Meredith as a friend if I were him.

Checking in with the other guy who ran "West Wing"

2006-09-20T12:11:00.000-04:00

Smith, the second show I've watched of the new fall season has a lot in common with the first I watched. It has a multi-name cast that leaves you cheering (How, for example, can you not get behind seeing Jonny Lee Miller every week?), one of the folks who ran West Wing writing and exec. producing (John Wells, also of ER, or as you also might think of him, the man who gave us Clooney, amen), and a ton o' hype.

But there is a crucial difference: This show is the awesome.

(Whereas Studio 60, well, y'all know how that one struck me. )

All my remarks should probably be prefaced with the reminder that I don't have HBO, so it may be that my experience with gritty crime shows is not sufficiently broad. But even if this one is HBO-lite, I don't care. In fact, HBO-lite on broadcast TV is all the good and minimal of the things that make me squeamish. (For example, I totally loved Kill Bill, Vol. 1, on TNT this last weekend: All the fun of Tarantino, none of the wooziness of an uncut version. Turns out, when it comes to ultraviolence, I like to be sheltered.)

Smith has a movie feel, as well. Maybe it was the criminals-behind-the-heist ethos or the fact that a character got shot and then blown up on a boat, but it felt akin to The Usual Suspects. And I mean that in a good way.

Notes on the new season (so far)

2006-09-19T13:19:00.000-04:00

So, I watched my first show of the new fall TV season: Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. And I'm sorry to report that my response was not so much exuberant. I mean, this from the man who gave me Sports Night? I don't think so.

To start with, what up with the pacing? Whole scenes meandered and occasionally outright stalled. For example, was the ten-years-of-my-life-I-want-back shot of that inconsequential alleyway behind the inconsequential club really, really important? That kind of lingering on scenery I expect from CSI, because there are clues and a crime victim somewhere about, but the only thing murdered in that alleyway last night was my attention span.

Even the title seems slowed down and weirdly imbalanced. Whyfore "on the Sunset Strip"? What is its purpose, its significance? I just -- why?

Worse, there was very little zing in the dialogue -- it was underwritten and underdelivered. Yes, I just said that about a script allegedly written by Aaron Sorkin and directed by Thomas Schlamme. It was as if guest star Felicity Huffman had been directed to give her three whole lines as if she were addressing really inexpert lip readers -- and I've seen that woman chew through Sorkin-speak like it was candy. Poor Bradley Whitford seemed drained of all color, mono in tone, mono in emotion. If I weren't so busy blaming the script, I'd go so far as to say he was miscast. That's how much chemistry he lacked with his fellow performers.

The only person who managed to make something of the dialogue at times was (am I saying this right?) Matthew Perry (who seems to be falling nicely between Fat Chandler and Scary Thin Chandler these days, though clearly somebody needs to stage an intervention on the hair gel). But then maybe that's because Matt's character gets to do more than one thing: he starts out addled and amusing, but then surprises with the delicacy of his response to his friend's fall from sobriety. And then there's his sudden, almost reptilian professionalism when he starts running the show. I don't remember there being a Mean, Hard-nosed Chandler, and whoa, Mr. Perry nails it.

But is that enough to recommend the show? When the show makes everyone else seem like pale facsimiles of their former selves? (Have I even mentioned Timothy Busfield, Amanda Peet, Sarah Paulson, D. L. Hughley, or Nate Corddry? There's a reason for that.)

No.

By which I mean, one more episode, because that's the kind of TV romantic I am.

Also up this week: Grey's Anatomy is back! Mmmmm.

Go, Sarah, go!

2006-09-15T16:59:00.000-04:00

I love Sarah Polley. Followed her career for years from the Road to Avonlea to The Sweet Hereafter to Go to Guinevere (with Sandra Oh!) to My Life without Me (with Scott Speedman!) and Dawn of the Dead. The girl can sing, too. I have soundtracks with her original songs. And now she can add director to her list.

Sarah Polley kicks ass

She's fresh, unpretentious and totally hates the celebrity thing. But she's on my celebrity radar. Oh yes. As bright as any other star, only not as crazy...like, say, her co-star from Go, a certain Kate Holmes.

Consequences

2006-08-27T03:42:00.000-04:00

A blogging friend: Do you guys ever worry that someone you've blogged about will get back to you about it?

MeiMei: You mean, like how in 10 years, Seren will be dating Bryan Singer?

[Imagine unpublishable discussion here about why an openly gay director might be dating a snarky female blogger who's said nothing nice about him since The Usual Suspects. Let's just say we came up with a theory as to why this might be plausible.]

Seren: And then he'll ask me to go to the Oscars, and I'll go out and I'll buy a fabulous dress and get my hair done, and I'll be on his arm as we walk up the red carpet, and at the door, he turns to me and says, "So, who's the whore now?"

Because we can't mention Harold without Kumar

2006-08-22T10:26:00.000-04:00

While Harold went bowling in NYC last weekend, Kumar is doing what seems to be the requisite stereotypical role that most actors of color do at least once in their careers. So, yes, I am knocking Seren's boyfriend most current acting choice, but you know I'll shut up when 24 premieres and enjoy the hotness that is Kal Penn on my television screen.

Wonder Years become the Birthing Years

2006-08-08T13:56:00.000-04:00

As a follow-up to this post, Fred Savage is now a daddy

You may now begin the voice-overs!

Refreshingly Normal

2006-08-08T07:50:00.000-04:00

In the 90's, when Kurt Cobain killed himself, my friend Corinne sketched a picture of him, pinned it on the wall above her bed and rocked herself back and forth, moaning, "If I could ask one question, it would be why. Why, Kurt, why?!" My thoughts went to Courtney Love and Frances Bean, wondering how they would deal with such a loss. Well, Courtney soon lost my sympathy and tried my patience with her oh-so-classy antics, but Frances Bean still had my condolences. After all these years, though, it's good to know she's okay , maybe even well adjusted. Probably a lot better than those Stewart girls. :) If I had to place a wager, my guess is that being raised by her grandparents had a lot to do with Frances' outlook. Thank god for small miracles.

Catch and release

2006-08-06T00:54:00.000-04:00

We here are M&C, Inc., have adopted a certain policy that I thought I'd mention just briefly. You may have noticed that we are not CNN. Nor are we Defamer. (I'm kind of glad we're not Perez Hilton, because he's getting some bad press lately, perhaps rightly so.) We at M&C, Inc., expect that we're not your only virtual source for gossip and attitude. We figure that you, our readership, are probably (at least some of you) surfing as much as we are. So, our policy on the big stories is kind of an Opposites Day catch-and-release, by which I mean: If the story's too big, throw it back.

Like, the whole thing with Mel Gibson? Seriously -- that's been covered. (MSNBC has an entire section of their Celebrity news devoted to it.) What do I have to add, other than "Shut up, Mel. No, seriously, shut up." Which -- consider my disgust added, in spades and in triplicate.

And then there's the latest national passtime: Spot Suri Cruise. Which I know that I should be engaging in whole-heartedly -- except doesn't it just feel like we're still being manipulated into giving Tom the one thing he thrives on? Our attention. (Since all other human appetites are denied him.) Staring in horror at the TomBot and his bride hasn't helped anything; it just makes him preen. So, let's just stop, shall we? Let's shun, at this point.

Admittedly, I will be shifting celebrities to my Spoooooky List one by one as they swear oaths that the child exists and shower her with contractually-obligated superlatives (Jada and Penelope, I'm looking at you), but that's just updating my celebrity rolodex really. That's just looking ahead to the time when Hollywood and all of humanity must square off on opposites sides of the Kodak Theatre as Suri and Grier catfight over our collective souls. That's just good planning.

In the meantime, I'm going to recommend we all look away. At least until such time as there are actually photos of the baby. Come on!

This week's reasons why basic cable just isn't sufficient

2006-08-06T00:31:00.000-04:00

Reason #1. Laura Kightlinger co-writes and stars in new comedy on IFC.

Since I won't actually be viewing the show (due to Reason #1 why basic cable is sufficient: it is free with my apartment), the best part of this article is the part where somebody finally says something about the fact that Laura and Jack Black broke up (apparently, amicably, which is not exactly how I felt about it).

All those stories about him getting married and having a baby -- nobody bothered to mention what happened to his long-term relationship with Laura, which as far as I was concerned represented at least 25% of his awesomeness. (50% was based on the final scene of High Fidelity alone. 20%, his other roles. And, I'm just going to say it, 5% was based on Shallow Hal; if you haven't seen it, don't judge.) So, now, I can sleep nights and not worry about her, because she's dating a Groundling. That's all I needed to know, people. Was it too much to ask?

A little snippet from the article, for your enjoyment:

She grew up in Jamestown, N.Y., on food stamps, the child of a single mother who sent flowers to herself on special occasions. She recalls being the sort of kid predisposed to making wisecracks that spurred the other kids to say, “You’re weird!”

But at Emerson College she found kindred spirits in a comedy troupe called This is Pathetic.

Then, after graduation and a quandary over what should happen next, she chose standup as her profession. “It seemed like the most frightening, self-abusive thing I could do.”

Go, Laura!

Reason #2: Dave Chappelle and Maya Angelou to chat on Sundance Channel's Iconoclasts series.

Repeat: Dave Chappelle and Maya Angelou? Sells itself.

An Open Letter to Mat Kearney

2006-08-05T22:32:00.000-04:00

Hi, Mat,

I saw you perform recently. I hadn't heard your music prior to that evening, and the concert was free, so I didn't have any expectations. Admittedly, Pari and I had misidentified your guitarist as the lead singer of your act based on his retro-Western shirt and his truly stylish instrument, versus your trucker cap (yes) and white polo shirt (what?). He looked like a star, and you -- not so much. But my main concern here is not really about the strong words you should be having with your stylist.

What concerns me is what happened when you started -- let's call it performing.

Seren: He's not.

Pari: Not what?

Seren: He's not. He is. He's white man rapping.

And you were. And you did. You proceeded to rap through pretty much every song in the set -- except for the choruses, where you sang (and I say this unreservedly) beautifully.

White man rapping. I don't mean Eminem rapping. Eminem just raps. White man rapping is something else. White man rapping to an acceptable level is, like, Shawn Mullins going temporarily spoken word on "Rockabye." (He endangers his project with the whispering, though, it must be admitted.) White man rapping to an unacceptable level is William Shatner on "Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man."

The concert experience was like riding with a student driver: my enthusiasm would start and stop and start and stop, depending on the frequency with which you would sing. ("Nothing Left to Lose," for example, all singing -- love. Or as Pari said it: "There's a reason that one's on the radio.")

Start. Stop. Start stop start. Stop. For more than an hour. I was a little bit seasick, to be frank. (And then the reason we were there came on stage and made it all better.)

The next weekend, I happened upon your new CD at a sharp discount at a used CD store. I thought, Okay, I liked that one song. And the choruses. Five bucks.

And here's the thing: I cannot stop listening to your CD.

Against my will. Against the advice of friends. Against my better sense and all my aesthetics and artistic integrity. In my mind, when I listen, somehow I sort out the parts that I hate (see: white man rapping, above) from the parts that I love (choruses, whole songs where you knock my socks off with the quality of your voice). But I want to love the whole, not just the parts.

So I ask: Why? Why the white man rapping, which you clearly believe is rap rapping?

To start with, you're from Eugene, OR. I'm from Utah, originally, but I live in Oaktown now, so I know the difference. And Eugene -- not really a ghetto. There's a river and a university and it's really clean and really white and -- maybe I'm sheltered, but I'm not so familiar with the rap community in Eugene.

Secondly, geographical considerations aside, you are bad at it, whatever you consider "it." In this case, white man rapping. You are not good. You rhyme "heart" with "heart." And also, heads up? You cannot "impart" a "heart." Just saying.

And as bad as the rapping is on the CD -- dude, you are so much worse live. I speak from slightly nauseated experience.

Is it because you've been listening to too much Fort Minor? Because I have. And you sound nothing like them. (I know this critique is anachronistic -- your album predating theirs, but still.) And also, having two different voices, one singing, one rapping, seems to make more sense to my ears. You singing and you rapping? It's like, Get over it. You're no Billy Corrigan, and it's not like his penchant for playing every instrument made him very popular either. And also? The rapping. You are not good.

The singing? Yes, you are good. The singing? Yes, more, please. The rapping? No.

(I'm going to carefully put to the side the issue that your undersophisticated rhyming is meant to glorify Jesus. I'm not going to touch that. Except just a little: Really? You'd take a bullet for Jesus? And now I'm going to hell.)

I'm not a musician. I am not a music critic. I'm just a music listener, and I don't always have the most urbane and justifiable of musical tastes. Why should you take advice from me? It doesn't hurt that I'm not alone in this dismay over your rapping. But the real difference between me and the critic from Rolling Stone -- I'm still listening to your music.

So, please. For my sake, just sing.

Gilmore Girl gossip

2006-08-01T22:41:00.000-04:00

Amy Sherman-Pallindino jumps to Fox with a new show!

Lauren Graham defends Dave Rosenthal when a reporter asks him about his obsession with Heidi Klum!

TV Guide gets a sneak peak at the season opener script and proclaims it good, keeping in tone with what we have grown to love--the fast-paced, quirkiness of GG.

You can read all about it here as Michael Ausiello blogs about the press junket.

This website haunts me

2006-08-01T00:11:00.000-04:00

Not so much mean and catty as it is the scintillating discovery of other people's dirty laundry, yet this website has such an honest, almost earnest, confessional tone that borders on reverence. It's like going to group confession if there was ever such a thing.

Basically, this website haunts me. I'm addicted to it.

Post Secret

Intermission

2006-07-28T17:39:00.000-04:00

Again, we break into your celebrity snark for a brief interlude of Rocking MeiMei's World.

The scene: Co-cynic MeiMei has made the mistake of having a life again, like, a vacation and a promotion and etc. The bad news? Less of her around here and other Internets. The good news? I get to rock her world with casual tidbits related to our favorite virtual celebrities.

Oh, and there's some dialogue embellishing going on here, but as it turns out, MeiMei is a huge fan of the unfounded elaboration, and it's not like it's not totally the way we would have said if it hadn't been 2:00 am EST.

Seren: And now what are you doing?

MeiMei: Packing for a spa.

Seren: Yeah. Well. I'm going to lock myself in the house and watch all of Firefly this weekend, so ha, I say, ha! Top that.

MeiMei: Um, no. That's so not toppable.

Seren: No, it's so not.

MeiMei: [packing noises]

Seren: So, did you know Dooce has cancer?

MeiMei: [packing noises replaced by sitting down and hyperventilating noises] What?!?

Seren: Skin cancer. Carcinoma, not melanoma. The non-malignant one. Though she does have two more spots she has to get checked out.

MeiMei: [breathing] But -- how -- I -- how is she?

Seren: Well, she's Dooce, isn't she? She f'ing hilarious. She named her tumor Ed.

MeiMei: I was only on vacation a week!

Seren: I know. And this is what happens.

MeiMei: A week!

Seren: Oh, and DJB is one of the striking writers at ANTM.

MeiMei: What?!?

Seren: I know! From recapping the show to writing for the show! I know!

MeiMei: A week! I was gone a week!

Seren: Yeah, maybe you shouldn't go away this weekend. Things happen when you do.

Start your ambivalence

2006-07-26T01:12:00.000-04:00

So, you may have already seen this. You may have already marked it on your mental calendar. I have -- with a big black funereal X. (Okay, maybe it's a little star, but still.)

The new season of Gilmore Girls premieres Tuesday, September 26. Normally, I would add: And there was great rejoicing throughout the land.

This year? Not so much. Because, to sum up, Amy Sherman-Palladino hates us.

Or maybe I should say "hated" because everything surrounding GG is feeling very past tense for me. As in, I adored that show, and I worshipped ASP. But then I endured last season and wept for what was wrought.

And now, I am struggling to come up with a sentence involving a future tense, other than I will watch the opener. Holding my breath -- and a medicinal cocktail in one hand.

All hail the king of the nonsequitur

2006-07-26T00:51:00.000-04:00

So, clearly, I've sprained something connected to my snark bone (the doctors tell me it will heal, with time, rest, and exposure to the new fall TV season), because I'm posting to praise someone again.

But, people, my excuse is: Fred Willard.

I dare any among you who have viewed Best in Show or Waiting for Guffman to do less than bow down. In fact, you can't even manage to bow down right now because you're so busy belly-laughing at remembered brilliance that you've fallen right off your chair and are making an utter spectacle of yourself in your cubicle and/or home office, rolling around, making noises like an epileptic dog.

And you haven't even read this awesome interview yet. Imagine how much more impressed your coworkers (and/or young children) will be when the snorting and writhing in glee increases. I recommend it.

For example:

"My mother used to have a saying when she came out to visit us; she'd see someone dressed kind of fancy and she'd say: `Boy the things you don't see when you haven't got a gun.'"

Holy philately, Batman!

2006-07-20T15:59:00.000-04:00

Superheroes on stamps!

Maybe he just saw a dead person in the road -- or maybe not

2006-07-20T15:42:00.000-04:00

Hey, Haley Joel, inexplicably I have not held AI or Pay It Forward against you (mostly because I avoided watching that second one, which -- phew, stinker, I hear). So, out of this strangely lasting affection I bear you, I'm going to put together a little former child star PSA for you here.

Before:

Haley Joel Osment hospitalized with minor injuries after driving into a brick pillar at two in the morning.

After:

Daniel Baldwin hospitalized with serious injuries and arrested after threading the eye of the needle through traffic while going 80 and, oops, slamming into two parked cars.

Lord knows, every teenage boy I grew up with did something similar, Haley Joel, usually something involving garbage cans or lamp posts or, tragically, someone's cat, and there's no evidence that you're doing anything less than wholesome, Haley Joel, but -- Former Child Star. And not that Daniel Baldwin is a former child star (he has the equally heavy burden of being a Baldwin), but you can see what I'm getting at, yes?

Eyes on the prize, Mr. Osment. (If you cannot yet perceive the prize, have Elijah Wood point it out to you.)

How big the pond

2006-07-18T13:32:00.000-04:00

I have some trouble with people who take themselves a little too seriously, people who do not realize that their significance, their importance, shall we say, has a context.

Let's just say: Fish, know thy pond.

I'm waiting for M. Night Shymalan to figure this out. Turns out, so is everybody else.

Newsweek is recommending somebody step in with some strong advice. (And even indirectly shouldering some of the blame for the situation, by citing accusations that their own hyperbole over his earlier works contributed to the current circumstances.)

The NY Times is suggesting that the wink-wink of the director's participation in the hype machine is less nudge-nudge and more sincere arrogance.

In short, Night thinks he's Moby Dick and the history of film is a wading pool.

I just can't help comparing what I'm reading about the director with the words of his astonishing star, Paul Giamatti:

"I don't think my thinking will ever switch from that of a supporting actor. I would have a hard time ever thinking it's all about me and I'm the most important thing in the scene. I can't think that way."

Real talent doesn't grandstand. It doesn't have to. Not to be too Zen about it, but: the pond is always bigger than you.

Warm and fuzzy (my bad)

2006-07-18T13:21:00.000-04:00

I warn you: If you liked Paul Giamatti before, you will read this interview and find yourself laid utterly low with admiration of his charm and humility.

AP: You live in Brooklyn. Do you think any ladies are hiding in the water there?

Giamatti: (laughs) They'd have to be in the Gowanus Canal, unfortunately. So they're probably not alive if they're in there! I mean, I don't know. There's no swimming pools, is there? "Lady in the Toilet in Brooklyn."

Under the warm glow of Paul Giamatti, I find myself saying "Village? What Village?" So great is the power of the Giamatti that he has me forgetting the darkness of Night.

As if I needed another reason to dislike Kate Bosworth

2006-07-16T14:04:00.000-04:00

According to ABC News, she and her rib cage are hurting the children.

Tapeworm considerations aside, skeletal celebrities + pro-starvation websites = 80 percent of 10-year-olds afraid of being fat (when clearly, what 80 percent of 10-year-olds should be afraid of is: junior high) and taking extreme measures to it from happening.

And also, about the round of actress denials specific to dietary habits, the article has this most excellent response:

Jim Karas, a trainer at the Equinox Fitness Center in New York, said he was not so sure about the denials. "I would respectfully say they are not telling the truth," Karas said.

How civilized is that? I'm using that one, hereafter, as in:

Dear starlets at large, I respectfully say eat a freakin' cupcake. Trust me.

Thank heaven for the Emmys -- yeah, I said it

2006-07-16T13:29:00.000-04:00

At long last, it seems that the Emmys are worth something: South Park's "Trapped" nomination serves as chiropratic to Comedy Central's spine. The episode will be re-broadcast.

I recommend all my friends set their VCRs, simply to pre-empt another one of my personal recreations. ("And then Travolta gets in the closet with him. Hee, hee, hee. Hold on, let me catch my breath. Heeeeee. And then R. Kelly ...")

Also, I show gratitude to the Emmys, because you know I love me any excuse to listen to the SP creators talk. And even my enthusiasm pales beside my friend Katie's -- I'm sorry, I meant "Mrs. Trey Parker." She especially likes her husband speaking in public forums, because reading about him is pretty much the only thing not currently restricted, you know, legally, for her.

So I'm giving you two takes on the recent round of interviews with the Television Critics Association, because every word is precious to us:

"So first of all," Parker told the roomful of reporters, "there can't be any questions about Tom Cruise or Scientology or 'South Park.'

and

“So there are two things we can’t do on Comedy Central: show Muhammad or Tom Cruise,” Trey Parker said.