Love Lift Us Up To A Higher Place

Not sure if I've mentioned our singing habits around here, but they include making up words to existing songs, making up entire songs around things like frozen foods ("Mini Beef Tacos"* is a classic) and other less romantic things. Also, Ben tends to sing falsetto pretty much always.

Yesterday he was singing the theme to Officer and a Gentelman in the aforementioned falsetto, thusly:

"Love lift us up where we belong
to a higher place
to the Asian race."

There were more lyrics after this that also rhymed with ace, and some of them were pretty funny, I'm pretty sure outer space was in there too, but I forgot the rest because I was still back on Asian race. Because - it seems like it almost means something... but it really doesn't.

*Mini beef tac-ohhhs
mini beef ta-cohs.
Repeat

Year of the Dog is Not a Comedy

I have never been able to hack it when bad things happen to animals in the movies.



When I was ten and saw Gone With the Wind for the first time, the only time I cried during the movie is when a horse drops dead from exhaustion.

So, in spite of knowing the basic storyline of Year of the Dog in advance of seeing the movie, I completely lost it when the bad thing happens near the beginning. I don't mean I got verklempt. I mean that kind of sloppy wheezy sobbing.

We have a dog now, as you know.

And he was curled up at our feet as we were watching this sad, not a comedy movie, and I just, okay he's a puppy still he's not a year and a half old really, but this dog in the movie was a puppy and bad things happen but I would seriously just die if any bad thing happened to our dog so I don't really even know why we're talking about it.

It's a good movie, by the way. And there are one or two funny things in it. But it's just not a comedy.

If I Could Get My Cash Back, I Would, But I'd Settle Instead For My Time

Ben and I watched this movie Cashback last night, which initially had a little promise, slowly became weird, and then became downright disturbing.

And let me say this about that: I am not easily disturbed. Not by movies, anyway. What disturbed me about this film was not what it was but what it pretended to be.

Briefly, this movie is supposed to be an arty/quirky indie film, a romantic - comedy? - of sorts that focuses on the an art student who had a bad breakup with his girlfriend. Early on it seems sort of gloomy, and as they're developing the breakup story there is some insanely heavy-handed orchestra music that seems like it got lost on it's way to the climax of an Oscar-nominated biopic. At this point, Ben and I are just in the "What the hell?" stage of watching. There was another sequence - I don't know what the film-techie word for it is, but it's that thing where one object (in this case, the art-kid) is moving in slow-motion and everything else is moving fast - and it's just - I'm sorry, but it was cool the first time I saw it but I just kept thinking - I LOVE movies that are creative and artful (I'm in the LOVED IT camp on The Science of Sleep) but I've seen this more than once before and at this point - you know - a great story doesn't require a lot of special effects, and all this so-called artiness was doing was just calling attention to the unoriginality of all of it.

It begins to take a turn for the more comedic when the sensitive art-student guy (who of course has a horny best friend) goes to work on the night shift at a supermarket, where we're introduced to a quirky cast of characters such as you might see on The Office - no, wait, such as you have already seen on The Office. And then the art student guy suddenly becomes taken with one of his co-workers, as indicated in the locker-room scene where he tries to help her get a bit of food off her face, which has only been done in about sixty other romantic comedies and/or sitcoms. Oh and there was one more bit that was dowright creepy - art kid finally wins supermarket girl with his debut gallery show - that's all portraits of her. Okay, in real-life, we call that stalking. My husband - my husband - has maybe drawn four or five pictures of me in as many years. This movie takes place over the course of a few weeks.

But mostly (can you believe I'm not even up to the mostly yet?), this movie got under my skin because of this: art guy talks a lot about how beauty has always meant a lot to him - beauty here being indicated by lots of lingering, slow-motion shots of perfect breasts and asses, and when I say lots, I mean - so many that it becomes offensive on multiple levels. One being that the point could have been made with, say, one or two pairs of breasts, but another being that the 'beauty' being discussed is pretty much a porn-magazine conception of beauty - round, pert boobies, flat bellies, round high, asses. I have the sense that the slow-motion was intended to make this 'artistic', but I'm not having it.

Tying this back to Showgirls, as much as I've heard that film was trying to be arty, it fails so spectacularly on that front, that the humor value is well worth it, and, more importantly, I am completely fine with a movie titled 'Showgirls' having a whole bunch of bare breasts in it. Cashback, not so much. Arty filmmaker, whoever you are, I'm sorry to harsh your mellow, I often save my negative reviews for my private life, but you lost me at beauty. Give me Russ Meyer any day.

Blue, Black, Whatever

Apparently I cannot tell black from blue.

Yesterday I bought a pair of pants that I believed to be navy blue. When I modeled them for Ben he informed me that they were black. I stood next to our black dog to show him that the two colors were not the same.

He laughed very hard and told me I had a problem and that I might be colorblind. I went around the room naming colors to prove that I am not colorblind. I got them all right.

He retrieved several more black items to hold next to my blue pants to prove to me that I had this problem. I continued to maintain that they were all different. Finally I could not refute the truth when one last black item was held next to the pants.

Although the issue comes back into some debate because after I decided to return the pants and retrieved the tag from the trash, the color, in tin-iny print, was listed as 'New Black.' Which to me either means that navy blue is the new black or I do indeed have a problem.

My New Old Career

Last week I made an appearance as “Elizabeth Crane” in a film called “Bubblerama,” based on a short story I wrote called “Stealer.”

I was cast without an audition. They asked me if I thought I could play the part. I said I thought I might be able to bring something to the role. Layers.

This was not my acting debut, but I’m pretty sure it’s the first thing I’ve done that will ever be seen (unless you were watching As the World Turns back in 1986 and were inclined to use the pause button). I had lines. I sat in a trailer. I had makeup. (One more reason I love me some Ben: he said “They gave you a smoky eye.” I said “How do you even know what that means?” He said, “I’ve seen America’s Next Top Model.”)

I am very much planning my wardrobe for Sundance right now.

If you would like to come see the magic, you can!

Click it or ticket: BUBBLERAMA

Every Now and Again My Faith in Humanity is Restored

Wonder Dog by Tony Fitzpatrick

I believe in artists supporting artists and when I find that other artists share this belief, I am happy.

That's all I have to say except look closely at this collage and read the poem. I think it might be the loveliest thing I've read in a while.

Business Time

Messenger - The Play: See It

Hey Kids!
Okay, I should have posted a reminder about this a while back, but the theatrical adaptation of When The Messenger is Hot is up at Steppenwolf's Garage theater right now, and there are still four performances left and you should go see it. Call this number for tickets: 312-335-1650. It's only fifteen bucks - a bargain! And it's amazing. I can say this because all I did was show up. Okay, well I wrote the book. But they play was adapted by Laura Eason, who dreamed up something I couldn't have, and if it weren't for the genius vision of the director, Jessica Thebus, it would never have gotten to Laura or onto the stage, especially not in just exactly the captivating way that it is. I can't say enough about how great the cast is. I will save for another time what a surreal experience it is to see your work, and elements of your life, more or less, acted out in front of you, but in these capable hands, it's mostly relief that those parts of my life are over and that I am crazy lucky to have a theater like Steppenwolf include my work in any way.

Here is a crazy good review from the Tribune.

And here are some photos:

Behold the beaded sweatery goodness!


Look, mom comes back from the depot!


A sweet moment I won't spoil.

Different Places!*

Okay, please don’t ask me the obvious question – which would be along the lines of – Um, and, why did you watch this movie?

Even though I’ll answer anyway: Because Ben hadn’t seen it?

It can be argued that the humor value, intentional or -un, holds up, anyway. I would argue that the cost of renting this movie, especially on Netflix, is worth it for the swimming pool sex scene alone, between Elizabeth Berkeley and Kyle “I’m just trying to hang on for dear life here” McLachlan. If it doesn’t make you laugh uncontrollably, I’ll send you your 2.99.

*Showgirl Nomi Malone's angry answer to the seemingly innocuous question, "Where are you from?"

All Buffalo Meat All The Time

Just got back from a week at this lovely place, Ft. Robinson, Nebraska. Here is a picture of the lodge we stayed in:




I noticed, in the weeks leading up to our family vacation, that when people ask you where you're going on vacation and you say 'Nebraska', the response is generally a puzzled look. In fact, Ft. Robinson, former military compound and the site of the demise of Crazy Horse, is quite a beautiful place, with well-preserved historic buildings, gorgeous western-like scenery (buttes and what have you) lots of stuff to do like swimming, horseback riding, hiking, tennis, kayaking, even a little Corky St. Clair-style summer theater (note for the next Broadway Revue: I'm not sure the song "I'm Just A Girl Who Cain't Say No" has held up so well). So it was the perfect place for my entire family, from 10 to 80, to convene.

Here is a picture of me on a horse, followed by my two nephews:




Here is a picture of the main ingredient in most meals at Ft. Robinson, Nebraska:




If buffalo meat isn't your thing, you might want to consider bringing along some food because non-meat oriented meals are hard to come by. They did have a 'salad bar', but there was a lot of mayonnaise involved in most of the 'salads'. Also, if you anticipate even a remote need for femininine hygiene products (perhaps this is in keeping with the 1900-military theme where there would have been few women around?) or Diet Coke, plan ahead. This is a strictly Pepsi-lovin' town. If you want a wooden gun that shoots rubber bands, then you're in luck.

Here is a picture of a kid from the rodeo:




Note: This kid was not the smallest one in the rodeo by a longshot. There was a little girl who could not have been two, who participated in an event called 'ride the hide', in which you jump stomach first onto a cowhide that's tied to the back of a horse, and get dragged. This little girl jumped onto the hide like she'd done it a hundred times, but watching her bounce up and down while being dragged behind a horse was more than a little disturbing.

Here is the sort of picture I like to take:





Here is the sort of picture Ben likes to take:




Finally and sadly, I do not have a photo of what was perhaps the most spectacular moment of the trip, so you'll just have to picture it: Ben diving, nay, flying, head first, Jackass-style, into a large hedge to retrieve a Frisbee. But let me just say this: if I had videotape, I would for sure win the big money on AFV.