Wednesday, March 17, 2010

That was pretty cool what I did. You wanna make out?

So it's the middle of Spring Break, most of which has been spent at my desk next to my bedroom window. It pissed down rain all through the weekend and Monday especially, but now it is approaching 60 and gloriously sunny. It looks great. You know, from here.

Monday I did have to venture out, however, for my physical therapy and French class. I had to wear my boots, since it was still chilly, which were really getting down to their last days. These are the uber-sexy boots my mom bought me in Himeji back in 2003. Considering their most excellent price, they sure did last a very long time. So the bottom of the right foot was getting a little loose, and no sooner did I leave therapy...well, it came off almost completely. It was still hanging on, and if I raised my foot, it flopped about. (I couldn't rip it off.) So I had to sort of drag my foot along to get anywhere. It was very Horace Pinker from Shocker. Seriously, it looked just like that. (Well, less dramatic, I suppose.)

Very luckily, I knew there was a DSW shoe store between therapy and school, so it took a bit, but I got there. I found cute shoes (open-toed, not the brightest move when it's pouring rain and chilly, but I wasn't going to shell out for expensive boots in late March, kwim?) and $44 later, still made it to French class on time. (Though my class-mate did remark on my brave shoes in the elevator.)

French class is going fairly well. There is one girl in the class who certainly exceeds the other five of us in aptitude, but I think she has a good amount of time (and certainly desire, good on her) to devote outside of class. She's also studying Finnish, which is neat. (You know, for her. Rock out. I have no desire.)

The teacher is quite nice and easy to get along with. On the down side, I get a little paranoid sometimes. I really hope that English is not her first language or that if it is, she just didn't understand the use of a word she recently used. We were working through some exercises that we all seemed to have a grasp on and she wanted to know if we'd just like to move on to the next thing. We all sort of looked around and muttered our accord. So we moved on to the next section and in choosing who went first she said, "Ellen! I heard your strident voice agreeing, why don't you go?"

Ok, maybe I'm wrong, but I always used "strident" to mean a piercing/obnoxious shrill voice, yes? I think my mouth visibly hung open but I regained composure and moved along. WTF? I'll show you strident, woman...

About to head out once again for another round of physical therapy (which sitting at my computer hasn't been helping, but it's amazing how much the exercises my guy gives me DO help) and French class. Then it's Restaurant Week here in Boston and D's birthday, so we have reservations near the waterfront at a surf-n-turf (ok, I wrote "turd," let's hope that's not the case) type place I ordinarily couldn't afford. NOM.

Sunday, March 07, 2010

I'm afraid to look at my ass. There'll be griddle marks.



She is the first female best director. And she fucking deserves it.


Look what Uncle Ed's got for you, you little fucker!

I admit it. I can't tell the difference between Rachel McAdams and Elizabeth Banks. And I'm okay with that; I just don't care.

I'm calling it. The Hurt Locker has it in the bag.

I'm officially getting older--I'm getting tired, let's wrap this shit up guys!

If you're thinking "Holy shit! Holy shit! A swordfish almost went though my head!" If so, then yes.

The first thing I ever heard about Inglorious Basterds back during Cannes was all about Christoph Waltz. So congratulations for a well-deserved Oscar. When all the buzz about the new Quentin movie revolves around YOU, you must be doing something pretty special.

YAY!! Best original song goes to T-Bone Burnett and Ryan Bingham for Crazy Heart. You know I'm in law school cause this is a Maggie Gyllenhaal flick and it's been down the street from my school for ages and I still haven't seen it. I can't help it, man, I saw Tender Mercies, y'know? Which I liked and enjoyed, but I'm not sure how different this one is.

"I love you more than rainbows, baby." Somehow, particularly for Crazy Heart, he made it work.

Did you know my husband doesn't like District 9? I know, I don't get it, either.

WOO!! Hurt Locker won best original screenplay. I think this is a sign of Best Picture things to come...

Molly Ringwald presenting? Goddamn why did she have to have surgery. Ah, is it time for In Memoriam? Holy shit, no! It's just a huge John Hughes tribute! Aw, goddamn, I wasn't expecting this, I'm drinking... Wow, they're really going out for this tribute, which they have never done before. I'm not saying it's undeserved, it's just...surprising.

I know they're trying to get younger viewers, but that's not really a younger viewers move. That's a my generation move...

You don't date a bloke who lives in a car.

Um. I feel real uncomfortable after watching Whoopi Goldberg do a commercial for FREQUENT AND UNEXPECTED WETNESS. O.o

I must be getting old, I just don't understand why they keep interviewing Miley Cyrus. Oh right, desperate for young viewers. Sigh.

Goddamn, Helen Mirren always looks stunning.

Yay, finally starting.

"Why does a prisoner drop the soap? 'Cause no one wants to do it alone!" SONG LYRIC WIN.

I secretly want to grow up to be one of those dancers on stage whose costume is nothing but tits, feathers, rhinestones and heels. Hmm, but ok, maybe not on ABC.

Do you prefer Margaret or "Satan's Mistress"?


Sandy may be in a honking steaming turd of a movie, but she is trying to make up for it by wearing the FOXIEST DRESS EVAH.

Yeah, this isn't it.

I mean, this shit's live, what can I say, I'm too lazy to break out the goods to capture the images. I'm sure Go Fug Yourself will have something tomorrow. (Along the "Well Played," lines thank you...)

It's a little frustrating that everyone keeps saying she (is going to earn) the Oscar because "she's done her time." Are you fucking kidding me? In what, Hope Floats? She's like the rom-com queen, she's hardly Meryl Streep. And really, I'm not trying to knock her, I do think she has range, but I just don't understand this sudden ubiquitous movement that Sandra Bullock is an Oscar-worthy actress. I'm not saying she's not, I just don't know that I've really seen her do a wide enough range of roles to merit that, kwim? It seems even less deserved than the knee-jerk Julia Roberts Erin Brockovich win.

Oh whatever, she's real cute and she makes me laugh, fuck it.

That was like watching paint do its taxes.

I can't say I care as much this year about the Oscars as I usually do. They nominated ten films for the first time, but all that did was just include more CRAP. I haven't seen all the best pic nominees and to be honest, I didn't even really try.

Everyone seems to think Sandra Bullock is a lock for The Blind Side (which oh holy jesus, I refuse to see), but I wouldn't be so surprised if Gabourey Sidibe snakes it for Precious. You know I love me some Sandy, but can she win for something that doesn't make me want to barf down my front?

Speaking of which, my friend J texted me the other week to see if I'd caught Bradley Whitford on CNN. (Why he was on CNN is beside the point, I couldn't begin to guess.) Somewhat newly divorced, apparently Mr. Whitford has decided to rock the pedophile mustache and J found it disturbing enough to send me the link. I say he lost a huge, huge bet.

Holy shit, how can Sigourney Weaver still look like she does? (She is rocking an awesome Chinese red dress, btw.) I am talking serious deals with the devil.

I'm also counting how many times Ryan Seacrest or whatever sycophantic star-fucker is on-camera to conduct the schmooze-festing says, "George Clooney."

And finally, just sayin', I want to reach into the screen and backhand every person who fawns over loving Avatar. They're a poser for lying or a tool for genuinely liking it.

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Something peed in your bed.

So my scariest law professor did kinda earn some points today trying to tell us a story about how while reading to his children when they were younger he realized that Dr. Seuss' Sneetches book was a great Equal Protection Clause story and YOU COULD SO TELL from the way he retold parts of it that not only had he had to read that fucker one billion times, but that he probably had about three children. Some of us (older people) appreciated it more than others. I thought it was really cute the way it was burned into his head, like Goodnight Moon is in my family.

Also, days and days have gone by where they predicted "rain and snow showers." Dick. Bupkis. Nada. And right now I'm sitting in the fifth floor library reading room. The southwest wall is floor to ceiling windows with a great view. I don't know how or why, but apparently everyone looked over at once--out of nowhere it just started positively shitting down snow. After a beat, everyone just started laughing.

And already the snow is dwindling back down. Sigh. I'm ready for spring of course, but if it's going to be cold it should really just snow already. Is this New England or what?!