Birthday Card Philosopher

Leap Year

2012-01-28T23:13:00.002-07:00

Last night, I had one of those fabulous single girl retreats. I stayed in by myself and watched a chick flick. I had high hopes, but they were dashed. Leap Year should have been a great movie: Ireland, Matthew Goode, falling in love during forced togetherness, Matthew Goode, and Ireland.

But no. Too much slap-stick comedy, not enough affection between the leads, and a mundane reason why she should hate her cardiologist boyfriend all add up to me wishing I had watched a tried-and-true romcom instead of venturing into the unknown. The old guys are a poor imitation of the old men in Return to Me, there's NO WAY she had to go from Wales to the west side of Ireland, and they should have spent more time in his pub. Plus, Matthew Goode badly needs to shave. Ultimately, the notion of a woman proposing to a man is rather dumb, and I don't really think that a guy would walk away without saying a word after a woman proclaims his love for him if he really intends to ask her to marry him ten minutes later.

But it did make me yearn for Ireland as I haven't in years! I swear, if I'm still single in five years, I'm going to grad school in Dublin, no matter the cost. See below for reasons why.

Instead of going to Leap Year for your Ireland or Matthew Goode fix, I recommend a Maeve Binchy novel for the Ireland and a better Matthew Goode road trip movie, Chasing Liberty. Hey, at least there's Venice in that one.

I suppose I'll have to wait until 2013 for a story that does right by the woman-proposes-to-man storyline. I first read the lovely Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society novel a year ago, and when I found out today that a movie is in the works (starring Kate Winslet and directed by Kenneth Branagh) I also yearned to return to Guernsey island. Which I intend to do, at least on the page until the movie arrives.

As a final thought on Leap Year Day and women proposing, I have this romcom script wandering around in my head about a couple that elopes in Vegas on Leap Year Day, and thus only has to celebrate their anniversary every four years. And that's all I've got so far, so don't steal it...although I can't really stop you since ideas are not copyrightable--the way they're put together is.

Which means that Hayden Christensen and his brother are crazy for suing USA Network for "stealing" their idea for a series about a concierge doctor and making Royal Pains. Hayden, if you want the credit, you should go to the network with a pilot, not just a plot line.

And while we're on the subject of movie scripts I'm going to write someday, here's a few more ideas I have bouncing around in my head and off of each other.

The love story of Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning; a Victorian romance a la Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice with the added bonus of being "based on a true story." The poet who penned "My Last Duchess" finds his first wife in a reclusive, sickly, home schooled girl, and she begins counting all the ways she loves him and his ability to get her out of the house.

A romcom writer's love story: Oddly, this is partly inspired by one of the most overplayed-on-TBS romcoms ever, The Wedding Planner (featuring, who knew, Pete Sampras's wife as Matthew McConaughey's soon-to-be-left-at-the-altar fiancee). Remember the line when J.Lo says she's a wedding planner because she can't get married herself? Well, this is the same idea, but with a romcom screenwriter who knows all the tricks and turns big screen love is supposed to take and is therefore skeptical when the pattern begins happening in her own life. I see this movie as a fun but also satirical way to comment on the failings and successes of the romcom genre.

Murphy's Law: This is a joint effort with my mom and my sister, planned sometime over the summer. A young woman goes by her last name, Murphy, amongst her mostly male friends, but never seems to have romance in her life. She works in some dinky job (e.g. dollar store clerk) but wants to break free, blah blah blah. I'm kind of drawing a blank right now, but this was a really great story when we originally conceived it. Do you remember any more, Cardigan Girl or Front Porch Friend?

Blarney: A woman living in Ireland reluctantly goes with her girlfriends to visit the Blarney Stone (perhaps on a regular basis? yearly?). She meets a man whose talk is full of flattery for her, but she thinks its just blarney. This movie will also feature a kiss that comes after great obstacles, since the Blarney Stone is notoriously difficult to kiss.

Photogenic

2012-01-07T03:10:00.000-07:00

Late-night insomnia being what it is, I try to find new uses for it when it arises. Just now, I looked through every single picture I am tagged in on Facebook. And I noticed a few things.

For one, I never take pictures. I own a camera, but I think the last time I used it was March 2011 to snap two quick shots of a pizza making date. Which, ironically, are not posted to Facebook. If someone had to put together a profile of me based on my Facebook pictures alone, that person would surmise that I only care about vacations (London, Houston--not technically a vacation--Michael Buble concert), holidays (only the 4th of July, if I remember correctly), and my dogs. Oh, and that whole set of family photos.

And looking at my Facebook pictures, I can tell you exactly why I never take pictures, particularly of myself. This is not going to be an "I think I'm fat" rant, although that was the insecure thought that sent me running for my Facebook profile at 3 in the morning.

No. As I look at recent pictures of myself, I have complaints about them, places I want to airbrush or photoshop. My arms that look wide in that horizontally striped sweater, my all-too-prominent acne scars, my ever-widening thighs.

But the funny thing is, those are the same things I complained about in the older pictures, snapshots from two or three years ago. At that time, I'm fairly certain I also had moments when I thought I was fat, but I look at them now and think, "Wow. I was so skinny. How could I have ever thought I was fat?" I just can't comprehend it.

Now, yes, I have gained weight between those two time periods, but I don't think this phenomenon is indicating that I will continue to constantly get larger and only appreciate photographs of myself several years after they are taken.

On the contrary. It actually makes me appreciate the more recent photographs more right now. I compliment myself on a hair day well captured on film. I remind myself that I had a terrible cold that day, so who cares if I went a little light on the makeup?

And finally, I look at who else is in the picture with me. Mission companions, old friends, new friends, puppies, a mom, a dad, a brother, a sister, mere acquaintances. Since I'm never the one insisting on photographs, I know it was the other person who demanded that photograph. They wanted a picture. Of me.

Not because I have perfect skin. Not because I have an impeccable sense of style. Not because I am famous or have a famous boyfriend. Not because I have a popular song on the radio or a popular movie in the theaters or a popular show on TV. Not any of the reasons that the "beautiful" women of the world get their pictures taken.

No. But because those people (and puppies) have spent actual time with me and love doing it and want to remember doing it when they're not around me. (The feeling's mutual, by the way.) And all of the sudden, I'm not looking at the photograph as myself, hyper-critic and something-of-a-perfectionist that I am.

I'm seeing myself the way they see me and the way I see them in return.

Gilmore Guys

2012-01-04T23:02:00.000-07:00

Well folks, I reached a decision. I figured out who my favorite Gilmore Girls boyfriend is. And before you say, "Duh, Luke!", let me tell you that he was a given.

Because "Duh! He's Luke!"

But lately I've been catching spurts of the series posted on thewb.com, often in the form of episodes I haven't seen before. (I know, I shudder at the thought, too.)

In junior high, I lived for the Gilmore gals. Although my family did not have at home access to the WB at the time, my best friends supplied my addiction by taping each episode and delivering it to me at school the following day. It was like Hulu mixed with DVR, but before either of them existed.

So when Rory told Dean, "I love you, you idiot" next to his green pickup truck at Chilton, I was there.

When Tristan said his final goodbyes during the every-series-has-a-Romeo-and-Juliet-episode episode, I was there.

When Jess stole a kiss from Rory at the Independence Inn during Sookie's wedding, I was there.

And when Dean and Rory broke up at the 24-hour dance-a-thon, I was also there.

And when we got to take a nerdy trip to the University of Connecticut the summer after eighth grade, you bet your life we tried to buy cornstarch at a local market and played "1, 2, 3, He's Yours" with an actual person named Kirk in the vicinity and took pictures of the guy named Dean at Six Flags and held what I consider to be the first official Gilmore Girls fan convention.

I have to admit that I haven't seen many of the Logan episodes, and sure the guy is good looking and has that whole bad-boy-from-good-money thing going for him. And sure, he paid for Rory to spend Christmas in London with him. Yada, yada, yada. I'm telling you right now, Logan can never win this argument in my mind because I have no 13-year-old emotional connection to his character.

Which means it's basically a Celebrity Death Match between Dean and Jess. And you might be surprised who wins.

The first inkling came when I recently rewatched the "Bracebridge Dinner" episode, featuring everyone's favorite recurring character, Rune. (Not. Well, the episode does feature him, but no one likes him.) This episode features both Dean and Jess, but circumstances being what they are, Rory finds herself on a sleigh ride with not her then-boyfriend Dean but her hopefully-soon-to-be-boyfriend Jess. And that was the first moment when I realized that at 13, I was right to like Jess over Dean. Because Jess could read. And did so of his own volition. Unlike Dean who was spoon fed Anna Karenina.

And then there was the "Oasis" episode, a.k.a. the episode where Lorelei and Rory get a crazy neighbor who lives at the 21st century equivalent of a tiki bar mashed with one of those crazy game kiosks in the mall. Okay, so I think Dean and Jess actually get into a fight in this episode, but that doesn't lessen the fact that Jess comes running to turn off the water at Crazy Neighbor's house when she can't do it herself. And then turns it back on with a grin when Rory says Dean will be coming over to fix it any minute.

The final nail in the coffin? Today I watched a never-before-seen-by-me episode entitled "Luke Can See Her Face," wherein Luke buys himself a relationship self-help book ON TAPE and realizes Lorelai is his It Girl. Jess also makes an appearance because his mom is about to get married to the uber-weirdo T.J., and while in town he admits to Luke both that (1) last time he saw Rory he told her he loved her and (2) he didn't want to come because he might run into her.

So, there you have it. The three things I want in a guy.
1. He reads of his own volition.
2. He fixes (or unfixes) things when I need him to do so.
3. He can't get over me.

Hey, at least it's better than the list I had when I was actually in junior high. That one was totally shallow and mostly based on Tom Welling.
1. Must have blue and/or green eyes.
2. Must be taller than me.
3. Must not be a Yankees fan.

But here's the rub, kids. The basic problem of economics: scarcity. What if guys of the reading-fixing-liking me type already ran out? What then?

Christmas on TV: ABC Family style

2011-12-28T03:41:00.004-07:00

I know, I know. Christmas is over. And it's been weeks since I posted a made-for-TV holiday movie review. But there was a little thing called Finals Week, followed by a littler thing called Post-Finals Week which led up to actual Christmas. But you'll be happy to know, I didn't forget you, faithful readers. I'm back.

Today's post (tonight's? it's almost three in the morning as I'm writing this) spotlights the best and worst of the movies made by ABC Family. (Channel tagline: A New Kind of Family. Does anyone know what they mean by that? I sure don't.)

This year's fare was actually quite satisfactory because they followed the tried-and-true formula of picking attractive, well-known, but still B-listed actors to portray virtually flawless male leads opposite women that you hate not just because you want to be them but because they're actually annoying.

Case-in-point: Desperately Seeking Santa stars That One Guy from That One Show with Amanda Bynes and Jennie Garth, commonly referred to as What I Like about You. And if you're like me, what you like about that show is That One Guy, legally referred to as Nick Zano. (Vince, if you're still lost. And if even that doesn't help, just see the picture below.)

The premise of the movie is gag-able, so I won't apologize for it. A shopping mall in a low-income area of Boston replaces the traditional Santa by holding a talent search for "Sexy Santa." Of course, Nick Zano enters to earn the attached $10,000, wins, and then has to have desperate housewives sit on his lap all December long while wearing a Santa suit and no shirt. Don't ask who approved this.

In Desperately Seeking Santa, Nick plays a character with these flawless qualities: he's trying to save his family's Italian restaurant (think Return to Me knockoff), he's saving for med school and is a licensed EMT, he's good with kids, he can dance (well, he tries), he's nice and sweet, and, oh yeah, he looks like Nick Zano. His counterpart is one of those corporate ladder-climbing type ladies too blind to see that her boyfriend is not worth her time and doesn't like her for who she is. You won't like her, but you aren't watching because of her.

Best scene: Let's just say I'm adding "private carousel ride" to my list of romantic kiss locales.
If you liked it: Check out Nick Zano in Everything You Want, another made-for-TV holiday movie with a major B-list cast: Eric Matthews from Boy Meets World, Darcy from the pink Pride and Prejudice, K.C. Clyde of The Best Two Years and A Golden Christmas 2. But be warned: this movie is about a girl who literally dates her imaginary boyfriend.

Of course, in the world of B-listed actors with major fan bases, you can't get much bigger than Mark-Paul Gosselaar, aka Zack Morris of Saved by the Bell. And if you didn't know that already, shame on you. He's the male star of ABC Family's second attempt at made-for-TV magic this season, The 12 Dates of Christmas.

The premise of this one is basically just a Groundhog Day reboot with one down-on-her-luck career girl reliving Christmas Eve twelve times in a row, including her blind date with Mark-Paul Gosselaar. The only thing I couldn't figure out was why she was complaining about repeatedly going out with Zack Morris. Next time I have the chance to go on the same date with him twelve times in order to get it perfect . . . Sign. Me. Up.

In fact, Mark (or is it Mark-Paul? That sounds like a brand of sunglasses) is the best part of this one, since he's the perfect first date and you automatically feel for him since they've written him as a widower. (Wise move. Who would believe that he's still single? And if he were divorced, I'd be so mad that he walked out on Kelly Kapowski. So. Mad.) And he's a landscape architect. And a hockey player/hockey coach to underprivileged kids. So what if it's not realistic. It's made-for-TV.

Amy Smart is actually a much more tolerable female lead than the actress in Desperately Seeking Santa. The major failings of 12 Dates are that it fails to make the conventions of how she gets back into Christmas Eve less predictable and formulaic like Groundhog Day. I was so sick by the end of the movie of her falling asleep watching the home shopping network and waking up on the floor of a department store.

Best scene: No amazing ones here, but it did make me wish I'd been able to go on that ice skating date this summer.
If you liked it: Check out some Saved by the Bell DVDs from your local library. Or find the reruns on TBS.

These two are only this year's offerings. Along with Hallmark Channel and Lifetime, they're the biggest contributors to this genre, so they have plenty from years past. Of those, I've ranked them and given you a quick blurb, but if you're anything like me. You won't be able to just take someone else's word for it, even on the Stay-Aways. You'll want to suffer through every painful minute until you just can't take it anymore.

Must-Sees

Holiday in Handcuffs: I actually don't think this movie is all that great as a made-for-TV Christmas movie, but I just love the concept of Sabrina the Teenage Witch kidnapping A.C. Slater for the holidays. And forget the creepy-weird Stolkholm Syndrome Mario Lopez experiences. Just watch it because you know you want to. I won't tell.

Not-Too-Shabbys

Christmas in Boston: Long-time pen pals discover that they'll finally be in the same city and decide to meet--except they each sent pictures of their best friend. You can surely see what's coming, but this is a great opportunity to see Gia from Full House (don't even attempt to watch her in The Gift of the Magi, even though it has the guy from Nickelodeon's Snow Day) and that blonde super spy chick from The Famous Jett Jackson and assure yourself that they're not entirely starving actors just yet.

If-Time-Permits
Snow and Snow 2: Brain Freeze: Once again a version of Santa Claus leaves the North Pole and finds true love, this time chasing a stray reindeer to a zoo and falling for a zookeeper who, the following year, must save Christmas when Santa gets amnesia. As with most franchises, the original is better than the sequel, but Tom Cavanaugh fans should really just watch Hallmark Channel's Trading Christmas to get their Ed fix.

Santa Baby and Santa Baby 2: No, you're not experiencing dejavu. And you don't have an amnesia-like brain freeze. ABC Family did, in fact, make two Christmas movie series that are exactly the same except one stars a man and one stars a woman. The Santa Baby movies are basically Santa's daughter trying to decide if she wants to join the family business and stick to her roots. Even Jenny McCarthy can't make this right, and once again, avoid the sequel since her boyfriend changes from That Cute Guy who was on Crossing Jordan to Some Guy You've Never Seen Before. And as a note to all made-for-TV Christmas writers, if the conniving elves didn't work in The Santa Clause 2 and 3, why would they work on television?

Stay-Aways
Christmas Cupid: Christina Milian gets the Ghosts of Girlfriends Past treatment on the small screen so she can end up with Chad Michael Murray. At least, I think she ends up with him. I never made it to the end. Just watch the Tristan episodes of Gilmore Girls if you need a CMM fix. This one is just a no.

Snowglobe: Christina Milian gets trapped inside a snowglobe. Double no.

And I love how this picture captures the substance of two equally bad made-for-TV Christmas movies with one image. Christmas Cupid in a Snowglobe.

Gifts and Giving, Mistletoe Style

2011-12-20T03:02:00.001-07:00

I don't think I've kept it exactly a secret on here that I'm still anticipating my first kiss. And lately I've been contemplating that first kiss as if it were a tangible item, something that can be wrapped up in a box and handed over to me. Like someone owns it and just refuses to hand it over.

Maybe it all stems from one too many listens to the Justin Bieber Christmas album and its inordinate number of references to mistletoe and all related activities, but I don't think I can blame it all on the Biebs.

I'm past thinking there's something wrong with me, imagining that I'm just fundamentally unattractive to men, even men who are supposedly my type. You know, college students of similar moral fiber and religious affiliation, experiencing the same phase of life that I am and harboring similar desires for the next.

But they haven't noticed me, and I'm leaving in a few months.

I ~~don't~~ didn't want to be one of those girls who believes that Mormon love can only be found in P-town or Iceburg. But I'm staring in the face of evidence that says I am. Sleepless nights. Conflicting desires.

Like any normal college student anticipating graduation, I'm starting to look for employment in the near future. My chosen career path means big city adventure, a prospect which excites me and actually seems fairly probable from my preliminary searching. I'm going to be in a place that many Mormon women don't get to be in. I'm getting a degree, and I'm going to use it. And just to be clear, I like that.

How amazing is it that in six months I could be interning as an editor for Smithsonian Magazine, in a city and at an institution I've wanted to work for since I saw a TV special about this museum of museums when I was six years old? Or copyediting and proofreading DC Comics in the metropolis of New York City? Or writing and editing a variety of content for an online women's magazine based in the city by the bay, a song that a favorite band of mine promises could "save me"?

Why should I not be excited for that?

I'll tell you why. Because I can't shake the feeling that taking a job like that in a city with a limited Mormon dating pool is a death knell for all possibility of me ever getting that kiss. Even just one.

So for all nine of you out there reading this, all I want for Christmas from you is for you to tell me I'm crazy and remind me that my prospects for romance are only going to improve once I leave my small-fish-in-a-big-pond status behind for a big-fish-in-a-small-pond one. After all, isn't it a basic rule of most romcoms that successful, big-city career girls find true love because of that life situation, not in spite of it? I should know. I've watched plenty of them. I happen to be the variety of girl who needs validation and reassurance from her friends every once in a while. And I'm not apologizing for it either.

Also, I recognize the inherent flaws in the theory that some guy is holding my first kiss hostage. My theory of kisses believes that both parties own the kiss, so it's just as much mine as it is the lucky guy who'll someday (sooner than later) receive it. From me.

Actually, it also makes me realize that I've probably been metaphorically standing under the mistletoe for years, just hoping someone would pass by. And that's wrong, too. I have more control over this situation than that. So, unlike Justin Bieber, I'm done "waiting under the mistletoe."

Christmas on TV: "A Golden Christmas 2: The Second Tail"

2011-12-07T20:28:00.001-07:00

Before I get into the meat of this post, I need to express how much I dislike putting the tale/tail pun in the title of a movie. Okay, moving on.

I was intensely excited to see that A Golden Christmas has a sequel, so last night I made my roommate sit down and watch it with me. I had high expectations for The Second Tail to be as awesomely bad as the first one. After watching the sequel, I'm here to tell you that bad story lines should only be taken so far, and in the case of made-for-TV Christmas movies, that "so far" equals approximately one movie.

I've complained before about Christmas movies that are obviously filmed in the middle of the summer, and this one (set in retiree-heaven Florida) falls into that category. All the extras in the background are wearing bikini tops and short shorts (women) or cargo shorts and no shirt (men). Obviously it wasn't that cold.

But beyond just masquerading as a cold-weather Christmas movie, this movie shows even more definitively than its predecessor that these films probably originated as a "matchmaking dog" franchise. They had to add the Christmas element before anyone would agree to produce it.

As matchmaking dog Christmas movies go, this one is deeply flawed. For one, it is intensely SSSLLLLLOOOOOOOOOWWW. The main couple spends more time expressing their feelings about each other to others than actually expressing them to each other. And while you could argue that such is the case in most romcoms, this one takes the cake. And then has a dog run into it for comic effect.

Even so, the movie also leaves plenty of things unexplained. Ten minutes into the movie, a random 10-year-old blonde girl wanders into the movie, and it takes them fifteen more minutes to explain how she even knows these people. Also, I asked myself several times during the movie why her love story (with a Justin Bieber/Zac Efron wannabe) was better than the film's actual love story.

Actually, this film brings up more questions than it answers. Questions like

1. Why would a guy roll up his jeans like "man-pris" while popping the question?
2. Why is the materialistic crazy girlfriend suddenly all nice and huggy at the end?
3. Why would anyone propose with a ring from a vending machine?
4. Why do these people think the story behind why someone would propose with a vending machine ring is touching? (Because it's not. And the background music doesn't help sell it. At. All.)
5. Why do these people share their life stories with old people they met less than five minutes ago?
6. Why do these old people act like therapists if they trained as lawyers?
7. Why do the young people treat the old people like therapists?

And, the most important question of all: Why do people think that by adding more puppies to a movie franchise you will improve upon it? Because experience has shown (Air Bud 2-17, 102 Dalmatians, Beethoven's 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th) that more dogs just make bad movies worse.

If you sat through the original, this movie is worth a watch. But if you didn't, do yourself a favor and quit after you hear the reggae/calypso version of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"about ten minutes in. Made-for-TV Christmas is better than this. At least, it can be when it wants to.

Star power: Chad Michael Murray's original girlfriend from A Cinderella Story falls in love with the main missionary from The Best Two Years despite his best intentions to get engaged to Lydia from the pink/Mormon Pride and Prejudice--a made-for-TV movie full of "B" movie stars

Use of made-for-TV Christmas conventions: random characters resembling Santa Claus, Christmas tree lights turning on for dramatic effect at key moments, rekindled love amid drastic circumstances, child characters with no actual purpose

Christmas on TV: The Worst of the Worst (With Honors), Part 1

2011-11-30T22:02:00.001-07:00

By now it should be apparent that I don't mind kitschy movies. Particularly in the made-for-TV Christmas category.

But I'm here to tell you that even I draw the line somewhere. Some movies are just too bad to watch. And unfortunately, most of these are the ones available on Hulu. I have started at least three movies on Hulu in the last few days that I just cannot get into. And I tried.

For instance, I just clicked on The Santa Trap, somewhat skeptically, because this one is less in the romance-for-the-holidays and more in the let's-prove-Santa's-real sub genre. It's also one of those Christmas movies clearly filmed in the middle of the summer. This one's not even trying to hide it; instead, it opens with a voiceover of "this is going to be the hottest Christmas Eve ever, hardy-har-har." You didn't fool me, people.

I thought this could had potential when I discovered the star power, but it quickly turned south. Shelley Long as the mom is at her worst; it's one of those Shelley Long roles that makes you forget that she was ever considered good on Cheers. Corbin Bernsen plays the villain town sheriff locking up all the potential Santas. You know this type of villain: all foolproof plan followed by dunderheaded failure. Basically every Power Rangers villain ever was of this type. Even the cameo appearance of that girl from Motocrossed (a movie I happen to love) couldn't make this watchable.

The lynchpin? When I scanned my mouse ahead in the time scroll along the bottom and realized that the climax would feature a scene with pseudo-spy elves. Um, no. It may have worked in The Santa Clause but only because of a perfect premise and a great soundtrack to match.

Another movie I don't recommend sampling is A Christmas Romance, which again features some fairly big names in the cast but still falls very short of producing a satisfying made-for-TV Christmas experience. Even Olivia Newton-John and that one guy from everything (Gregory Harrison, see below) can't save this one.

The comments on the bottom of the Hulu page are spot on. One reviewer calls it "a boring, hollow attempt at recreating A Holiday for Love," and I couldn't agree more. Olivia plays the single mother (this time with two daughters) down on her luck and out of her money, and Gregory plays the heartless banker coming to evict them on Christmas Eve. Naturally, a snowstorm causes him to get trapped on her farm where they inevitably fall in love. Ultimately, Newton-John and Harrison just lack the chemistry and warmth of Melissa Gilbert and Tim Matheson.

Another Hulu commenter writes, "I got so sick and tired of the kids yelling 'Emily Rose' that I switched to something less painful." Too right. One of Olivia's daughters gets lost in the snowstorm, and I'm fairly certain there were five solid minutes of "Emily Rose! Emily Rose! Emily Rose!" with wind intermingled. Do yourself a favor and avoid this one.

Trust me, based on what this blog says, I'll have plenty more to say on this subject. By the end of the season, I hope to crown the worst made-for-TV Christmas movie of all time.

Christmas on TV: "A Holiday for Love"

2011-11-30T10:45:00.002-07:00

As made-for-TV Christmas movies go, this one is fairly quintessential. Let's just say if you were going to write the stereotypical made-for-TV Christmas movie, you would probably arrive at this one. If you were lucky. Because it's actually pretty good.

Here's the formula.

Take one widowed single mother in a small town in the Midwest.

Give her daughter an unimaginative yet holiday appropriate name, such as Noelle.

Add one single, secretly troubled corporate executive on a business trip to said small town.

Remember that widowed single mother has been engaged to the town sheriff for who knows how long, but will not commit to a date.

Have the executive get trapped in a snowstorm that causes him to spend his first night at the widow's home.

Add appropriate amounts of romantic banter, gently falling snow, glowing firelight, and almost kisses.

As the romantic tension between widow and executive builds, make sure he doesn't revealed his top-secret business plan to downsize the main tractor factory in town so there will be additional conflict.

Mix for thirty to forty-five minutes, until well jumbled.

Reveal said top-secret plan immediately after widow realizes she is in love with executive.

Have executive move return to the big-bad big city and express his last-minute, Christmas-spirit change-of-heart to the evil board of corporate executives.

Have executive return to small town on Christmas Eve, just in time to reveal his new plan to save the factory, find his long-lost father, and reveal his love to the widow.

Make the widow just stubborn enough to not accept his first admission of love.

End with a kiss in the lightly falling snow.

As Christmas on TV goes, it doesn't get much more formulaic than that. But with that said, I think the acting level in this movie and the excellent pacing counteract its utter predictability. After all, people watch these movies because they want to watch something predictable. At least, I know I do.

So if you're looking for a snuggly holiday movie, look no further than A Holiday for Love.

Star power: Melissa Gilbert from Little House on the Prairie, Tim Matheson (I definitely had a crush on him when he played the oldest brother in the original Yours, Mine, and Ours), Michelle Trachtenberg from Harriet the Spy, and even country "star" Travis Tritt
Use of made-for-TV Christmas conventions: villainizing corporate America with a small town, reuniting long-lost family members

Also, the following comic, also entitled A Holiday for Love, I found while searching for images. Just read it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

The Coat Makes the Man

2011-11-28T19:52:00.002-07:00

With colder weather coming on soon, I ended up wearing one of winter coats all day today even though in hindsight it wasn't necessary. Still, I like wearing my coats because for me it's like spending time with a celebrity crush. It's the same idea as wearing your boyfriend's letterman jacket in high school, except I'm not in high school and none of these guys are or ever have been my boyfriend.

But seriously. Most of my coats were purchased in response to movies or television personas.

For instance...

I bought a red puffy winter coat (the one I wore today) after Matt Damon wore a similar one during the first few minutes of The Bourne Identity. (At the time, he was stalking me in my dreams, so we were practically married.)

I bought a pseudo-vintage military-style jacket after Matt's best friend Ben Affleck appeared in Pearl Harbor.

I bought a thin khaki jacket during the height of my addiction to Tom Welling in Smallville.

As for future additions to my closet of men's coats, I've always wanted a coat made exclusively for an Olympic athlete (not that the athlete would be me, but my boyfriend/husband could be). Like this one...

The romance, the beauty, the world of men's outerwear.

Christmas on TV: "A Golden Christmas"

2011-11-27T21:49:00.002-07:00

This will be the first post in my holiday season blogging trend of the best and worst made-for-TV Christmas movies. I happen to be addicted to these things because (a) they are so predictable, (b) I know they will end happily, and (c) they usually have a VERY CHEESY romance involved. Love it. There's more to come about this topic in general, but I'd like to review one now that I just watched, because it's too good to pass up.

A Golden Christmas is a holiday romance about two adults who knew each other as kids and are brought back together by the dog they played with as children. The main female character is a big-time Grinch almost the entire movie, scheming and plotting and sabotaging ways to keep her male counterpart from buying her parents home that she suddenly wants. Of course, she doesn't realize that he wants it for the same reason she does: it's right next to the woods where they carved their eternal love into a tree as nine-year-olds and buried a time capsule in a tin lunchbox. Seriously, my roommate and I both kept saying that if we didn't know this woman was going to turn out good, we would have stopped watching. We kind of hated her.

But there was one element of the plot that cracked me up. Instead of telling each their real names as children, they pretended to be Han Solo and Princess Leia--and those are the names they carved into the tree! The best line of the movie was when the sister declared them to be "Star Wars–crossed lovers."

Of course, there were the obligatory children from previous marriages (the woman was widowed, the man was divorced) and sentimental speeches from well-intentioned family members (mom and sister on her side, daughter on his side), but I found this movie to be not as predictable as most made-for-TV Christmas fare. At least, I couldn't see exactly how they were going to get together, mostly because I couldn't see why he would want to be with her period.

If you're a die-hard like me, this is a must-see, but otherwise I recommend it only for those who (a) love dogs, (b) love movies with characters you love to hate, or (c) love contrived flashback sequences.

Star power: The supporting cast provides most of it here, with the mom from The Wonder Years, that redheaded chick from Sabrina: The Teenage Witch, and the real-life brother of Griffin from Party of Five.
Use of made-for-TV Christmas conventions: romance doomed for success, family conflict surfacing based on death of a loved one

Soundtrack of My Life: My Private Nation

2011-11-23T18:23:00.001-07:00

This album is still comfortably in my top ten. The lyrics are so catchy they sometimes come back to my mind like lines of Elizabethan poetry should. This album will be forever linked in my mind with the year I was madly in love with Tom Welling's portrayal of Clark Kent, perhaps because the first single from the album, "Calling All Angels," was featured on Smallville, perhaps because one of the best songs is called "Save the Day." But after the Welling has faded, the lyrics have remained.

Half the fun with Train lyrics is the incorporation of pop culture references and sophisticated syncopation or rhyme. For instance:

From "All American Girl": My dad used to tell me I was lazy / I got dance moves like Patrick Swayze / I'm the leftover turkey for the world's mayonnaise / Yeah, the star next to the moon

From "Save the Day": I get the crowd goin' when I sing the hokey pokey / I shake it to the left and then I shake it to the right / What's not to love, man I'm on tonight

But in between all the lyrical fun, Train employs unique turn-of-phrase to be glad for people in our lives.

Also from "Save the Day": I know you don't see me like a movie star / But you're my favorite thing by far / That's gotta count for something

From "Counting Airplanes": I don't spend my time with anyone who doesn't think I'm wonderful

From "Your Every Color": You wear the day around you / Like it's yours to stay around you / Maybe I could stay around you, too / If that's all right with you

And later: You look like my first day of summer / When the spring is on the run

As a writer, there's one Train lyric that every time I hear it seems like it contains an entire story in just twelve words. Brevity is the soul of good writing.

From "Lincoln Avenue": This feels like the place between what is and might have been

Finally, having saved the best for last, I'll admit that I had a hard time choosing just one lyric from the following song. To me, this song could be about an everyday relationship that's still going on, a long-lost love that never got started properly, or a requiem for a departed friend. The images and scenes it present are beyond words--at least beyond mine. They speak for themselves.

From "When I Look to the Sky": And every word I didn't say, caught up in some busy day / And every dance on the kitchen floor we didn't have before / And every sunset that we'll miss, I'll wrap them all up in a kiss / And pick you up with all of this when I sail away

Break A Leg

2011-11-12T06:26:00.001-07:00

I'm graduating from college in less than six months. It's kind of a big deal. Despite this short timeline, I recently added a second minor to my undergraduate education, Theatre Arts Studies. Basically, this means I go to a lot of plays. But even I'll admit that seeing my university's production of White Christmas two nights in a row is a bit excessive. But it sure makes for a great story.

Because of my minor, I'm taking several theatre classes right now, one of which is taught by the director of this production and another of which gives students insight into the production concept so we can evaluate if the performance lives up to designer and director desires.

For this show, the director wanted the audience to go on a nostalgic journey back into the world of the time period and the original film. Which means dozens of gorgeous vintage costumes and a set reminiscent of an old Hollywood soundstage, complete with moving staircases and pianos to be danced on.

The first night met all of my expectations and even exceeded many. I was ecstatic to go again the following night. But apparently I had White Christmas on the brain. On the night between the two performances, I had a dream about the show. Almost a nightmare, really.

I dreamed that during the second night of the show, one of the lead male characters--the Danny Kaye role--fell off the piano while doing his tap dancing routine and broke his leg. The show had to be cancelled after everyone's hard work because, as I vividly dreamed, a guy cannot tap dance or lift his dance partner or do toe touches with a severely broken leg. Believe me. In my dream, he tried.

The memory of this dream lingered with me into the next morning, feeling like an omen over the day. On a smaller scale, it was like imagining your dog dying. Even though you rationally know it's not real, you still feel the hurt of it.

I'm the kind of girl who dreams and tells, and as I recounted this night vision to a coworker the next morning the brilliance of the dream came into view and thankfully calmed my nerves (mostly) about the coming performances.

As I told her about this actor breaking his leg, I recognized that I had dreamed a pun. You know, that old superstition that you shouldn't say "good luck" in theatre: instead you say, "Break a leg." That's what happened in my dream. Freud would say that subconsciously I felt that the performance was so good that the performers had figuratively broken their legs.

All day I couldn't stop telling people about my clever dream. Even during my REM cycle I'm witty.

Rest assured, the actor did not break his leg (at least not literally) during my second time at the show either, although my friend can tell you I did screech a few times when I thought he was going to trip on the stairs or fall off the piano.

Also, I'll have you know I actually passed him walking home from class the day after the dream. I assume he was on his way to get ready for the show. He looked at me; I looked at him. And as we passed, I thought, "Break a leg."

Biblical Dating Tips: "Feed My Camels"

2011-11-07T21:59:00.000-07:00

Today, I found this article putting forth one woman's theory about why some women have difficulty getting dates. It prompted quite a Facebook conversation between me, my mom, and several good friends. We really didn't agree with it. Really.

Immediately after that conversation, I went to lunch with a different friend, and we too were discussing the article and the short-sighted thought process behind it. While in line, we ran into a friend of hers.

And when I say friend I mean Polynesian college football player friend of hers.

So we sat at his lunch table. And without us even starting it, the conversation turned to dating. This is where it gets good.

Because Polynesian football player friend told us a story about a recent church meeting where his stake president compared seeking out your spouse to the story of Isaac's servant finding Rebekah to be Isaac's wife.

If you're not familiar with this biblical gem, see Genesis 24. The basic gist of the story is that Isaac's dad, Abraham, insists that Isaac marry within the family religion, but none of the local girls live the standards. So they send a servant out with a caravan of camels to find a more fruitful dating pool . When the servant arrives at a well, he makes a proposition to God that would go something like this in today's vernacular.

"Hey, I've got an idea. How about I stand here by this well of water with my thirsty camels, and the first girl who offers to water them for me will be the woman destined to marry Isaac. Kapeesh?"

And that's exactly what happens. Rebekah offers to water the camels and in exchange gets to marry Isaac and be the mother of many nations. (Looking at the picture, she didn't need to have God set her up with Isaac, though. Look at the feminine tilt of her head. Irresistible to men who need to feel needed.)

But back to our football player friend. He said that, according to his church leader, guys will know a girl is the one when she "feeds his camels." (Yes, he said "feed," not water. I didn't correct him. I was trying to create an atmosphere of trust. He also thought it was the story of Ruth and Boaz. I didn't correct him there, either. According to the article, men like to feel like women trust them. Even when they are wrong.)

I then straight-up asked this football player I met 15 minutes before, "So, how does a girl feed a guy's camels?" No answer. There weren't crickets in the background or anything, but he skirted around the issue with attempts like, "Oh, I don't know" or "It's different for everyone" or some such nonsense. I offered up possibilities: "Is she willing to do your homework for you? Is she cooking for you all the time? Does she give you backrubs?" Honestly, I just wanted to know what feeds a guy's camels. At the moment, he seemed like a more reliable source than the dating coach.

Finally, he escaped answering the question by turning it around on me. "Well, what about you? What feeds your camels?"

"A guy asking me on a date."

"But what about after that?"

"Him liking me and asking me on another date. And then liking me more and asking me out again."

I'm not trying to be facetious; I mean it. That's what feeds my camels (who haven't been fed or watered in several months, thank you). At this point and in this dating market, that's what I like. A guy who's willing to take the initiative and not make me feed his camels before he'll make the sacrifice of asking for my number or opening a door for me.

In case your wondering, no, this Polynesian football player friend did not decide to feed my camel and ask me out. But he did prompt what will prove to be a whole new goldmine of blogging topics. Come back soon for dating tips from Jacob and Leah, a couple who know that good things come to those who wait.

Reaching a "Fever Pitch"

2011-11-02T15:21:00.004-06:00

Confession: I have an unhealthy crush on Jimmy Fallon. Unhealthy because (1) I'm too old

to have a crush on a celebrity who is (2) married and (3) a former SNL cast member. They aren't exactly known for their moral fiber.

It all started when I watched a super-old (from 2005) romcom this weekend, Fever Pitch, starring Fallon and Drew Barrymore. I usually identify with Drew Barrymore in romcoms because she has a more normal body type and quirky hair and isn't perfect. But I was not

prepared to like Jimmy Fallon.

Of course, in the movie, neither was Drew Barrymore's character. She had a flourishing career as a mathematical analyst in Boston and he was just a nervous high school geometry teacher. So beneath her, right? WRONG! And he has an unhealthy obsession with the Boston Red Sox. So ditch-able, right? WRONG! And her friends keep shooing her away from him. So they should be trusted, right? SUPER WRONG!

In Fever Pitch, Jimmy Fallon has all the charm of Cary Grant showering in a suit in Charade, but in a movie that perfectly integrates the modern shattering of the dreaded Curse of the Bambino. Let me tell you why:

1. The nerves he exhibits when asking for the first date. This is not a guy who is so self-assured he thinks women worship him, nor is he a guy who lacks so much self-esteem you wonder if he can even spell his own name without checking for approval.

2. The way he takes care of her when she gets sick on their first date. We're talking, she throws up everywhere so he cleans her bathroom and gets her Gatorade and rents movies to watch when you're sick. Talk about being a nice guy.

3. The scene where he gets down on one knee and asks her to go to opening day with him. I really have no words for this. Just know that I would totally fall for this.

I could go on, but basically I think this movie does a perfect job of playing with the romcom formula while still ultimately conforming to it. Fallon and Barrymore play the average couple who are surprised to find each other and surprised to find love with one another, in a way that I haven't seen in a romcom in a long time. Plus, this movie also ends with a Barrymore baseball field kiss. So there may be hope for me yet.

So, back to my crush on Jimmy Fallon. I recently joined Twitter for one reason: Jimmy Fallon's late night talk show has a weekly segment called "Late Night Hashtags." Every week, Fallon starts a hashtag on Twitter and the best responses get read on the show.

I WANT TO GET MENTIONED ON LATE NIGHT WITH JIMMY FALLON.

Yesterday, I submitted my first hashtag for #traveldisaster. I recalled a moment several years ago when I took a shuttle from my hometown back to my college town and sat next to an old woman who gave me acne advice for three hours. I noted, in the hashtag, that this was "Not helpful."

And now, thanks to the magic of connecting with complete strangers via Twitter, some dude tweeted me a link to help with my acne. Well, @guyIdon'tknow, that was also "Not helpful." Well-intentioned, but not helpful.

But the whole thing makes me wonder--just for a moment--what if this guy is my Jimmy Fallon geometry teacher?

And then I realize this guy is wearing a gold chain around his neck in his Twitter profile picture, and I proceed to judge him as NOT being my Jimmy Fallon geometry teacher.

Maybe he's my Joe Junior?

When You're a Jet, You Stay a Jet

2011-10-19T15:13:00.003-06:00

If Blogger had room for a subtitle, this post would be subtitled: "Or, Why You Should Like Random Old Things on Facebook."

Because today liking random old things on Facebook paid off for me.

I like West Side Story. Actually, that's an understatement. I LOVE West Side Story.

And here's why:

1. This moment of the movie. 'Nuff said.

2. I have a vague, blurry memory from childhood of my mom borrowing the VHS of West Side Story from the local library. At that time, I was too young to sit down and watch the whole movie and all it's dazzling dance moves, but I associate this dance masterpiece with my mom. (Who, coincidentally, minored in dance. Not too shabby.)

3. Ten years ago, during the 40th anniversary year, I attended my first live performance of West Side Story, put on by a community theater in a small town in Idaho. Despite it's amateur cast and design, that day will forever live in my memory. Because on the way to see that play, my parents told me and my sister we would be adding another member to our family. That member was my brother, who just this week celebrated his tenth birthday. (Also, at the end of the performance, we went to our favorite local burger joint and got autographs from half the cast on napkins. My sister got one from Chino. Classy.)

4. And today, I looked at my Facebook feed and what did I see? An announcement from whoever/whatever is in charge of updating the Facebook page of West Side Story that the film will be shown in theaters once again, ONE NIGHT ONLY, on November 9. You bet I'll be there. You bet I'll be snapping in the aisles. 'Cause when you're a Jet, you stay a Jet.

And to think, just minutes ago I thought Glee would be the only avenue I had for celebrating the 50th anniversary of this landmark musical that brings Shakespeare to the ghettos of New York City. I love you, Blaine and Mike, but Ice will always have my West Side Story heart.

What to say...

2011-10-04T22:19:00.006-06:00

I feel a need to blog this day into words. In terms of cosmic significance, this day is unsubstantial. But in terms of personal resolve, this day is monumental.

Two weeks ago I wrote a fictional but autobiographical play about a girl who thinks too much. It was called Ruminate. I wrote it in hopes that it would act as an impetus for me to stop thinking and take action. Based on events over the weekend, I finally did. I made a choice. I decided to say NO MORE to that potential romantic interest (read: bottom-dweller who recently belittled by existence) who stepped right out of the lyrics of The Supremes' "You Keep Me Hangin' On" and the pages of the Old Testament when it was still okay to collect harems of women.

I vocalized that resolve today at 11:01 a.m. And by 2 p.m. I had seen Facebook evidence that he had also most likely vocalized his resolve to date someone else to that someone else. And it should have hurt, considering how long he's kept me hanging on. But it felt more like a breath of fresh air. So much of what I felt reminded me of something I'd read in a book. This was my Up a Road Slowly.

In the book, Julie gets her first boyfriend in high school but doesn't recognize that he's just using her for the homework help she provides. Their romance sours, lucky for her, and in the first-person narrative she writes these beautiful lines, a perfect description of how I felt today.

"I had gone to sleep in sorrow and longing; I awoke the next morning--and something had happened.

". . . It wasn't until seconds later that I realized how I was lying, cool and relaxed in my bed, with a sense of serenity and quiet happiness enveloping me. I made myself think of [him] as one might touch an old wound to determine whether or not it is healed, and the thought of him miraculously did not hurt. I was neither angry nor contemptuous.

". . . I wondered why so much had been written about love's pain and so little about the glorious relief of being delivered from love's pain."

So this post is about glorious reliefs and bright tomorrows and how, at least this once, ruminating saved me the pain of saying something I might regret to someone I'll concede brought out the worst in me. I am neither angry nor contemptuous.

Good night, dear void. I await the morning with serenity.

(And if you were playing along, did you catch all 4 You've Got Mail allusions?)

I'll Be the Fortune in Your Cookie

2011-10-03T21:30:00.003-06:00

I must say, I like a certain amount of organized chaos in my life. And by my life I mean my wallet. And by organized chaos I mean ticket stubs and fortune cookie sayings in said wallet. They each have a designated compartment, but other than that, contrary to my genetically inherited librarian/accountant tendencies, I don't attempt to put them in order.

I still have every fortune cookie slip from the year and half I spent in Houston, Texas. And just now, it struck me to examine them as a blog subject. After all, they are one of the briefest places to write. The only smaller one I can imagine is coming up with paint and crayon colors. Very birthday card philosopher.

Here they are, my fortune cookie fortunes, broken into major categories.

PROVERBS--The key to any fortune cookie proverb is using a common object and making it even more common, er, universal.

Doors are an especially good candidate. "Do not wait for others to open the right doors for you." Or, "Opportunity is knocking on your door--answer it tomorrow." I've never met Opportunity personally, but I don't know how much it resembles the Postman in the Always-Rings-Twice area. All I know is, if it's knocking on my door, I'm answering today.

This proverb I actually like. "The best mirror is often a good friend." In other words, don't actually look into a mirror to check how you look. Ask a friend who can be both honest and caring to act as your mirror. Because sometimes we are too honest with ourselves when looking in a mirror and hardly caring at all.

But I have no idea what life lesson this next proverb is trying to put forth: "If the table moves, move with it." What does the 'table' symbolize? And why would it move? And if all your friends moved with the table off a cliff, would it really be in your best interest to move with that table?

CHARACTER TRAITS--This type of fortune tells you one of two things about yourself. Either it tells you something about yourself that you already know. Or it reminds you of an admirable quality you in no way possess. So it can be either useless or insulting.

"You have sound business sense." I don't think this is true of me, but who am I to denounce the Fortune Cookie gods?

"You are humorous and cheerful with good friends." I hope so. Otherwise I'd need new friends.

"Everybody feels lucky for having you as a friend." I hope so. Otherwise they'd want a new friend.

The best way to write this type of fortune is to say nothing by saying a very vague something. As in "You are gifted in many ways."

PREDICTING FORTUNES--These fortunes actually act as fortunes, by predicting an upcoming even in your life. They usually include time words or the future tense.

"Money and luck are favorable next month." Good, because my alleged sound business sense hasn't been helping me much during this one, and I can't answer the door to Opportunity until tomorrow.

"You will finally solve a difficult problem that means much to you." I like this one. I remember exactly when I got it, and I can think of many difficult yet meaningful problems I have solved since then. I can also think of many difficult yet meaningful problems I have yet to solve. But I know I will. My fortune cookie said so.

"You will advance socially without any special effort." I also like this one. I remember when I got it, too, and it was a lot more recently. This one is intriguingly motivating because it is both vague and positive. How will I advance socially? By getting a boyfriend? By getting my dream job? By getting both? Plus, it doesn't require any special effort on my part, so it validates what I am already planning for my life. Which involves both of those kinds of social advancement. Just so you know, Universe, I'm not putting in ANY special effort. None at all.

"You will travel far and wide, both pleasure and business." Is there anyone who doesn't want to get that fortune? An aspiring Olympic correspondent loves getting it.

FILL-IN-THE-BLANK FORTUNES--This category could also be called Form Fortunes: sentence structures that can be used repeatedly by altering key words (usually nouns) to create different fortunes. These are the Mad Libs of fortune cookie sayings. In the following examples bolded words can be easily replaced.

"Remember yesterday, but live for today." Remember high school, but study in college. Remember your Social Security number, but don't count on collecting Social Security. Remember to advance socially, but don't make any special effort.

"To be content with little is true happiness." To be unhappy with politics is true democracy. To be pleased with one's self is true peace. To be blessed with family is true joy. To be at Wimbledon with Roger Federer is true living.

"Do not mistake temptation for opportunity." Do not mistake a friend for an enemy. Do not mistake Sean Penn for Dustin Hoffman. Do not mistake that knock at your door for the opportunity of a lifetime--at least until tomorrow.

Soundtrack of My Life: Chariot

2011-09-29T18:57:00.003-06:00

Is it weird that my favorite songs are still the songs I couldn't stop listening to in junior high and high school? Along the road from then to now, I have discovered some new favorites, but I can't escape the nostalgic feeling that rises in me each time one of those songs plays--or the fact that it doesn't feel like nostalgia: it feels like it did then.

But I'm willing to say these albums contain some lyrics that are just plain great, so I'll be highlighting some of the lyrical gems here in the next little while. Stay tuned.

Today, we're starting with Gavin Degraw's Chariot album. Here are the top 5 lyrics that won't escape my mind.

Many of Gavin's lyrics are about the need to express suppressed feelings or the fact that expressing feelings accurately and eloquently is nigh-impossible (although Gavin usually does both when expressing that sentiment). The first two examples fit into that category. I guess I'm still working on the communication thing.

5. From "Just Friends": "It's not my style to lay it on the line / But you don't leave me with a choice this time"

4. From "More Than Anyone": "What can I say to convince you to change your mind / Of me?"

This next lyric...I have no idea what it means. But one day I'll figure it out. So I think the mystery of it keeps drawing me in. I think I'm pretty good at putting the story to the lyric, but this one has me stumped. Still, I like it. It's a tad "Tender Buttons" in the way it uses words almost more as sounds than as meanings.

3. From "Belief": "Tonight, you arrested my mind / When you came to my defense / With a knife in the shape of your mouth / In the form of your body, with the wrath of a god"

The first two words of the next lyric would almost be enough. Gavin demonstrates the ability to set the scene with brevity. And brevity is the soul of wit. Plus, it makes me think of the scene from The Goodbye Girl when Richard Dreyfus serves dinner on the roof. Magic.

2. From "Meaning": "Situation candlelight / Enough to see the bits around you / But it's never very bright"

And finally, the lyric that makes me hungry every time I hear it. Almost like "chicken cherry cola" from Savage Garden, but more delectable-sounding.

1. From "Chariot": "Your favorite fruit is chocolate-covered cherries / and seedless watermelon / Nothing from the ground is good enough"

Don't Worry, Baby

2011-09-07T20:19:00.005-06:00

As I contemplate my impending 24th birthday, I keep worrying about things I thought I would do by age 24. Josie Grossie-type things. I makes me want to throw a "let's be 17 again" birthday party and stage a do-over (at least in the relationship department).

On my 17th birthday, two of my best friends had me watch Never Been Kissed since Drew Barrymore's character repeatedly exclaims, now that she's back in high school, "I'm seventeen. I'm seventeen."

But I'm not 17 anymore. And I am working towards becoming an editor like Josie Grossie, and I am still waiting for a few rites of passage to occur.

As I wandered past the ferris wheel set up on the campus quad today, I had my don't-worry-baby calming epiphany, which I now share with you.

Epiphany: The point of Never Been Kissed wasn't that Josie hadn't been kissed. It was that she should have been. Her personality, her quirky charm, her super intelligence--the audience loves her and she deserved to have a man who did, too. People weren't stunned about her virgin lip status in a sideshow freak kind of way; they were stunned in a you're-too-good-for-that-to-be-true kind of way.

As am I.

Here's to 24 and not being Josie Grossie. And many upcoming kisses on baseball fields with The Beach Boys serenading away things that have been building up for, oh, I don't know how long.

U.S. Open: Love Is All Around

2011-09-06T20:24:00.002-06:00

I think I'm in love. Tennis love. 6 feet 9 inches of tennis love.

His name is John. He's a southern gentleman, who can hit a 141 mph serve.

He looks good in Banana Republic.

And he participated in the longest tennis match ever. And won.

Just one more reason to get that job next summer in London at the Olympics.

I know, John. I don't want to wait that long either.

The Equation of Attraction

2011-08-08T23:40:00.003-06:00

For the record, I think guys who can do math--really hard math--are sexy. Here's a visual presentation of why.

And one I just thought of tonight that I should have recognized a long time ago...

Hair Idol: Minnie Driver

2011-08-08T23:16:00.003-06:00

I came home tonight to my roommates watching one of the best romantic comedies ever: Return to Me. And as Minnie Driver started dancing with David Duchovny in the garden-in-the-middle-of-the-city, I remembered something. I want her hair in this movie.

I mean, look at it.

So, despite the fact that she constantly wears florals with florals, I want her hair.

And I realized tonight that I also want parts of her life.

1. She dated Matt Damon.

2. She played Bennie in the film adaptation of Circle of Friends (which is not as good as the book, but still has Chris O'Donnell).

3. She gets to capture David Duchovny's heart, even if it was only in a movie.

4. A man followed her all the way to Italy for a kiss, even it it was only in a movie.

5. She dated Matt Damon, and that was not just in a movie.

Who dates Matt Damon and then stops dating Matt Damon? Women who have hair that's too good for Matt Damon, aka Minnie Driver.

Song Lyrics Interpreted: MMM Bop

2011-08-02T21:58:00.004-06:00

This is the first post in what will hopefully be many more. I think my college training in literary analysis has seeped into my enjoyment of pop culture. Because I can hardly ever listen to a song without imagining the story behind it.

I also have a deep and abiding love for the greatest work of humor writing this side of Jonathan Swift, Dave Barry's Book of Bad Songs. If you know anything about 60s and 70s pop rock, do yourself a favor and read this book.

In the book, Dave dedicates a whole chapter to "Songs People Get Wrong," a ubiquitous category of music wherein songs have lyrics but even the lyricists aren't sure what they are. Famous examples include "Help Me, Rhonda" by The Beach Boys and "Louie Louie" by The Kingsmen.

For my generation, there's "MMM Bop" by Hanson. I remember when I first heard this song on the radio. My mom thought they were like the Jackson 5. As in, African American. Come to find out, they weren't. But them boys sure had long hair.

If you had to write out the lyrics to "MMM Bop" right now without the help of the internet, I doubt that any but diehard Hanson fans could do it. I looked them up tonight, and they stunned me. I've been singing them wrong for so long. But I kind of like my lyrics. They've grown on me.

Compare.
Whitty's lyrics: "Yes, I made it in an ancient chimney's night, but he wanted to relax."
Actual lyrics: "You have so many relationships in this life, only one or two will last."

Whitty's lyrics: "And it goes through the fence."
Actual lyrics: "And they're gone so fast."

Also, the chorus is probably just what you think it is--a string of nonsense words over a great melody and danceable beat.
Also, there is an entire verse which acts as an extended gardening metaphor.
Also, there is a line that wants to be from "When I'm Sixty-four": "When you get old and start losing your hair, can you tell me who will still care?"

The Hanson brothers can. They have decidedly less hair nowadays, but still plenty of fans to attend their concerts. Like me in about a month.

Mixed Signals

2011-08-02T05:13:00.005-06:00

I broke down and contacted him. It had been a month. I figured he would at least want to be friends. He did.

He also wanted to rush home from his weekend away and ask me on a last-minute date on Saturday night. I said yes. I didn't realize I was so quick to forgive.

His car was playing Michael Buble when he picked me up. What are the chances that he was just listening to that? Slim. I was tickled. (Not literally. That would be weird.)

It took ten minutes into the date with a group of people we barely knew (he barely knew; I knew not at all) for the romantic tension to be shattered with a "How'd you guys meet?"

And I knew he wasn't going to hold my hand. Because he was seeing me as Sister What's-Her-Name again, even if only for a moment.

I guess it didn't matter that I changed out of that shirt I wore as a sister missionary.

Photoshoot: Ron Weasley

2011-07-30T16:39:00.007-06:00

I met him today. The man of my dreams. He's just my height, he has a British accent and red hair, and his only flaw is that he can make only one facial expression in photos. See for yourself.

All mine.

My protector.

Dance with me tonight.

A painting of true love's first kiss.

One Ron to go, please.

Preview of Coming Attractions...

2011-07-24T10:35:00.004-06:00

I'm going to do an experiment. It will be something like this...

and this...

and this...

and both of these...

and, well, you get the idea.

I'm not sure how to pull that last one off.

Implode and Explode

2011-07-10T21:30:00.002-06:00

I love the TV show Ed. It wasn't on for very many seasons, but it had that zany hometown rom-com feel that I have loved in other shows like Gilmore Girls. There's a bowling alley with crazy employees, some funny high school students, and the drama and awesomeness of Ed Stevens chasing his former love Carol Vessey.

Carol Vessey had a best friend named Molly, who was a teacher and later became the high school principal. Molly is great: she's funny, she's there when you need her, she's the perfect best friend. She also is seldom the subject of her own romantic plotline (which may add to her ability to be the perfect best friend, because unlike the ever-popular Carol, you are never jealous of Molly's love life).

But once upon a time in Stuckeyville, Molly started dating a guy. And he really liked her. And she was starting to like him. And then she met another guy. And she really liked him. And he was starting to like her. So she decided she wanted to get more serious with guy number two and drop guy number one. But guy number two didn't want that, and then guy number one just felt bad.

And Molly told Carol, "I think my love life simultaneously imploded and exploded."

Which is what just happened to me. I was on-and-off dating one guy, went on a date with a different guy, and thought I liked one more than the other. But now one has moved across the country and the other has stopped making contact.

I think my love life simultaneously imploded and exploded.

So now I'm back to normal.

A Sabrina

2011-06-23T21:48:00.013-06:00

Some days you just need a Sabrina.

You know, an opportunity to fly off to Paris to escape your current life. A chance to write nonsense in a journal by a European river for three months.

Because when you come back from your Sabrina, your hair looks like this,

and you can crack an egg with one hand.

When you come back from your Sabrina, the male suitors are pursuing you:

driving you around in their cars,

or calling you on the phone,

or dancing with you at fancy dinner parties,

or taking you on boat rides for two.

When you come back from a Sabrina, you no longer think sad thoughts

like that one.

But...

Today, I needed a Sabrina.

My Sweet Baboo, Times Three

2011-06-03T20:50:00.007-06:00

According to School House rock, three is the magic number. If something great happens, you give three cheers. And everyone knows the third time's the charm. Of course, three's also a crowd, three strikes and you're out, and be sure to let leaves of three be.

Today, three is good. For me. But bad for Charlie Brown.

Yesterday I found this great website that pays tribute to my favorite comic strip, Peanuts. It calls itself 3eanuts because the founder of the web page realized that Peanuts is very depressing if you only read the first three panels. Check it out.

There are many reasons why I love Peanuts, certainly more than three, but I think my favorite is Linus, the blanket-carrying child philosopher. I like his name, too. I would have no qualms about naming my children Linus and Lucy (except that Linus rhymes with sinus, and I love my unborn children more than that.) Even so, here are two more reasons to love the name Linus.

Sabrina. I've actually never seen the Audrey Hepburn version all the way through, but I think the 1995 version with Julia Ormond is classy and classic. Greg Kinnear always makes me laugh, I love Sabrina's hair and wardrobe--but what I love most is Harrison Ford as Linus Larrabee, also known as "the world's only living heart donor." They say in the movie that Linus Larrabee is lonely, but I can't imagine why. The man lives in a tux, went to Yale, and is quite the charmer.

Ocean's 11. There are three Ocean's movies, and there are three handsome reasons to watch them--George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Matt Damon. But only Matt Damon is named Linus. Only Matt Damon has that slightly insecure new thief act going for him. Only Matt Damon can make getting your wallet stolen on the L train in Chicago seem like a fun activity. Only Matt Damon can wear a fake nose with dignity. Thievery never looked so good.

But Linus from Peanuts is still my favorite Linus. Do a little dance with your blanket. Three cheers for Linus, my sweet baboo.

When Happy Is Sad

2011-03-22T23:48:00.005-06:00

I never cry in movies. Never. Often, I am deeply moved, intellectually stirred, or emotionally jarred. But my eyes refuse to spill their tears.

Except for tonight, when I went to perhaps the happiest movie in the theaters right now, Tangled. It's Disney; it's a princess; it's true love. What could be sad about that?

The true love part. Because after asking two guys out in two days and getting two "I'm busy"s, a girl's heart is only so far from the edge of breaking.

And her heart definitely can't take it when a girl who lived her whole life in a tower falls for the first guy she EVER meets and captures his heart, too. All in two days.

And her heart doesn't like it when those same two share a perfect gondola ride with magic lanterns everywhere. That's when she starts to cry. At the happy parts. Because they seem so foreign, ethereal, unobtainable, distant, mocking. And sad.

What Part of 'Bacon' Don't You Understand?

2011-03-07T12:51:00.005-07:00

For all you bacon lovers out there, here's a strange list of bacon products. If you know anything about Even Stevens, you'll understand why this is perfect for Bernard "Beans" Arengaren. And if you know anything about the Kevin Bacon game, you'll understand the not very related list that follows.

Shia LaBeouf starrred in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull with...
Karen Allen, who starred in The Sandlot with...
Denis Leary (who looks a bit like Kevin Bacon).

Shia LaBeouf starred in The Greatest Game Ever Played directed by...
Bill Paxton, who was in Apollo 13 with...
Kevin Bacon, who is the reason for this game in the first place.

My Kind of Cougars

2011-03-06T09:09:00.003-07:00

The whole world is probably aware of the BYU basketball situation going on right now. And I don't want to add to the rhetoric surrounding the team and its recently suspended player. Because all four people who read my blog know where I stand on this one.

But I do want to make one observation. All the serious news sources commenting on BYU's actions protecting and defending the honor code are lauding the school for its integrity in a sporting becoming more and more about money and less and less about good sportsmanship. And all the self-inflated, comedic "news" sources can only focus on the nature of the transgression and the out-of-date-edness of BYU, the LDS church, and Mormons all around. I guess when your main goals is laughs and not respect, you'll do anything to get one, including throw away all semblance of moral values unless they line up with popular opinion.

New Directions

2011-02-24T11:12:00.007-07:00

I'm slowly becoming a Gleek, even if I didn't realize until last night that Kurt and Finn were brothers. Which made me feel stupid because they actually look like they could be. And while we're on the subject, my favorite is Blaine because who doesn't look good in a preppy jacket and an even preppier name?

But the real reason for making this confession is because this week's episode, "Blame It On the Alcohol," reminded me of two very strange assemblies I had in high school, memories I had repressed until the musical stylings of Ke-dollar sign-ha brought them to the surface.

Strange assembly number one: I am from Idaho. Idaho is the birthplace of Napoleon Dynamite. Idaho is the home to 98 percent of the cast of Napoleon Dynamite. Including the bully from the movie, who imdb.com assures me is named Bracken Johnson. He spoke to my school about how not to be a bully, which I think implies that he actually is one because this sounds like some sort of state-mandated community service. And, in case you are jealous that you, too, didn't get the opportunity to learn to be a "V. N. P." (a very nice person, not a very Napoleon person), here's a photo of him giving one of these assemblies. No, tots were not provided.

Strange assembly number two: For some reason, the administration decided not to take the route taken on Glee and instead of having the choir sing about the dangers of alcohol, they hired a hypnotist for this part of our social education. He did all the basic hypnotist stuff, convincing students they'd won the lottery, that they were chickens, that hypnosis is actually real. But then came...THE DRAMATIC PART. He hypnotized these same students into thinking they'd just been in a drunk driving accident. Thus, the star of the rival football game and the school drama queen lost their "son" and went into hypnotic hysteria. Well, I haven't been drunk, or driven while drunk, and I think this angle worked just as well as having a cheerleader barf on a musical theater diva. Plus, no barf. Win-win.

And thanks to the wonders of the internet, Google images, and flickr, this is a picture of the actual hypnotist and my vice-principal in my actual high school gym. Yes, I love technology, but not as much as Blaine, you see. But I still love technology. Always and forever.

If Love Is All You Need...

2011-02-14T20:56:00.005-07:00

I was cynical tonight with an attractive Australian man. Poor guy. He caught the brunt of my Valentine's day loneliness and my desire to tell just one man exactly what I think of this holiday. Because all it makes me feel is jealous, angry, and bitter. Not attractive emotions.

So when he asked me at pre-arranged, unromantic dinner group how my Valentine's Day was, instead of giving the answer he wanted to hear, I told the truth. He first tried the "look on the bright side attitude": "At least you have your health." I paused. Not exactly, but no comment.

Then he went for the "in the same boat" angle: "If it helps, I'm not in love today either." I admitted that there was a fair amount of satisfaction in that, if only because misery loves company. And boy was I miserable.

But then he got serious, and profound. "You could meet someone tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that." True, I admitted. Every day I'm one day closer. But, bitterness still fresh, I said there's a fair amount of irony in meeting someone the day after Valentine's. "What are you doing while you wait?" I think I've been doing some pretty good things while waiting. "Maybe the key is to not be obsessed with the waiting."

He shared something personal. Having pondered and pained over this issue himself, he'd asked not to be so obsessed with love, not to feel like finding love was the driving force and purpose of his life.

On the way home, fresh tears stung my face. I wanted to be right. I didn't want men to have the same pains I do about lacking love. If love is all you need, what do you do without it? I wanted the answer to be wait around and beat yourself up until you find it...or it finds you. Knowing he was right with every step I took closer to my door, I tried to say that it was fine for him, but I'd tried that to and it hadn't worked for me. But I haven't tried hard enough to give those pains away and let Someone Else carry them for a while.

Thanks for calling me out on my cynicism, attractive Australian man. I don't like me when I'm jealous, angry, and bitter either. So I don't know why a guy would.

Birthday Card Writing Movies

2011-02-13T08:56:00.006-07:00

One of the keys to a great romantic comedy is the protagonist having a quirky but delightful job. With female leads, the writers usually settle for something prominent and powerful to give the film a feminist bent: will she choose him over her career? For me, if he's the guy, the career won't even come into play. I'm a writer. You can do that from anywhere. Anywhere with paper. Or a computer. Or both.

Not that these movies are always bad; it's just that extroverted personal assistant and too-busy-for-romance doctor have become the new stand-bys, replacing nurse, schoolteacher, and secretary. In my favorite rom-coms, the female leads work as token booth attendants (While You Were Sleeping) and Irish-Italian waitresses (Return to Me). Maybe it has something to do with cheering for the underdog, but I like it more when someone who doesn't already have the perfect life--minus the guy--finds true love. Cinderella story and all that. Call it a universal theme or the collective unconscious, but I prefer watching Lucy Luckless find love to Mable Got-It-Made.

The real point of this blog post is to tell you that Linus Luckless is just as interesting. Even though, in this case, I think he actually has a dream job. Mine. My Top Three Most-Desired Writing Careers That Other People Wouldn't Think To Have are (1) paint color assigner, (2) Jeopardy! trivia writer, and (3) greeting card writer. (Thus, the name of my blog.) This unususpectingly lucky protagonist has one of these jobs, but, unfortunately, he wants to be an architect, which I consider to be the most attractive career on the planet. Something about combining the precise calculation of numbers with the creativity of building design. Yes. Yes. Yes.

I know of two movies where the male lead is a greeting card writer. One is not worth watching, even though it features Tom Everett Scott from my favorite movie ever, That Thing You Do! It is a made-for-TV Christmas movie (a highly under-appreciated category), but instead of being sappy bad, which I can tolerate, it is weird bad, which I cannot. In Karrol's Christmas, the best part is the first ten minutes when you learn that Tom Everett Scott is a greeting card writer, you see the definitely unique and funny-if-you're-in-that-mood cards he's recently written. Skip the rest. It's a retelling of A Christmas Carol; how do you think it ends?

The second one I just saw last night, and it is the inspiration for this post. (500) Days of Summer. Not a movie about summer, the season. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is all grown up from his days as the couldn't-get-a-date boy in 10 Things I Hate about You, and even channeling the good looks and charm of the late Heath Ledger. And he writes greeting cards, but, as I said, he wants to be an architect. And he wants Zooey Deschanel to realize they are soul-mates. From the beginning, the other worldly narrator voice tells you this is not going to be a love story, so as he falls deeper and deeper, it feels more and more like cheering for Cinderella while she gets repeatedly trampled by the pumpkin coach. But, in a good way. Because this movie is charming--and so is our birthday card philosopher hero. Who is not afraid to dance to show his happiness (best scene in the movie). And who has a giant chalkboard in his apartment (which is an inexplicably attractive concept to me--just think of all the complicated math a guy could do on that thing...).

Here's to you, Mr. Birthday Card Philosopher. You and I are both still looking for love.

The Infamous Doorstep

2011-02-10T11:35:00.005-07:00

I did something awkward last weekend. The good part is, it came right after something awesome. The bad part is, it came right after something awesome. That something was a date. The date was to the BYU Men's Volleyball game. Someone told me it takes a pretty confident guy to take a girl--a blind date girl--to a sporting event where she could potentially be checking out very athletic guys the whole time. Which I wasn't. Because he was nice and articulate and into tennis and taller than me.

But I temporarily lost my social skills when he dropped me off. Because instead of having the doorstep conversation on the doorstep, I unlocked the door, stepped inside, greeted my roommate and her boyfriend who were cuddling on the couch, and then turned to said Mr. Articulate and had the conversation. With the always awkward end of the night hug.

And then I closed the door. And then my brain kicked in again. Hey, wait. That's not how that was supposed to work. Oh well. I'll never do that again.

What is Michael Phelps' favorite game? ANSWERED

2011-02-02T18:40:00.001-07:00

James Franco: Man or Myth?

2011-02-01T23:46:00.003-07:00

Three things:
1. He is a "powerful, new literary voice." What does that make me?
2. He is teaching a class about himself. Confidence or ego?
3. Maybe if I was in a movie as a man who cut his own arm off, I could get a book published and teach a class about myself.

I know I'm not supposed to, but I'm just sayin'.

Also, would James Franco be considered a Jimmy?

But he's still the only redeeming quality of the Spiderman films.

Dating Advice: Getting Jimmied

2011-01-30T16:56:00.007-07:00

I'm back from my mission, and I'm determined to make a go of the dating game this time around. We're talking, Josie Grossie breaks out of her shell kind of thing, minus the bad hair and total lack of fashion (I hope). Things looked great earlier in the week, until Mr. Supposedly Nice Guy cut off all communication and stopped looking at me. Knife to the heart. My mom's words of wisdom: Tell him no grilled cheese sandwiches unless we're going to move onto a pasta dish. Not originally a metaphor, but I realize it could be.

This episode falls in the category of my new family term, "Getting Jimmied," based on both the jerk-man character from That Thing You Do! and one of sister's recent dating dissers. A Jimmy will act interested and probably even initiate the dating process, but then he'll abruptly cut it off, sometimes with no explanation or, possibly worse, tell you, "I think you're more into this than I am" (even though he started it).

So, stay away from Jimmys and make sure you get a commitment for pasta.

That's My Kind of Cougar!

2011-01-27T13:43:00.004-07:00

Well, I'm back with kind of a random topic, but I don't think anyone's still reading anyway, so this is mostly for me. March is still a month away, but I cannot wait for the madness to begin. Especially since the Final Four will be played out in my favorite Texas city: Houston. Luckily, living in Provo, I don't have to wait for March to enjoy some great basketball. The University of Houston Cougars may not be so hot, but the BYU ones are unstoppable. Read on.

Best Wishes

2009-06-23T19:12:00.001-06:00

Good luck to:

Roger Federer at Wimbledon, and all other Grand Slams. (And Andy Murray at Wimbledon, just in case.)

All potential triple crown winners. You go, horse!

The Chicago Cubs. Although, it doesn't look like this will be your year.

The athletes in Vancouver 2010. Surprise me.

Houston, We Have a List!

2009-06-23T19:07:00.002-06:00

The top five reasons I expect to love Houston for the next 18 months are:

5. Whitney Houston. Great name. Although I'm not really sure she has any actual association with Houston.

4. Reba, the sitcom. My favorite. I love the ensemble cast. Again, I don't think they actually filmed in Houston, but they make references to sports teams, like the Rockets, the Astros, and the Texans.

3. Apollo 13. Home of the famous quote, "Houston, we have a problem." A much more uplifting (not to mention true) disaster drama based in that great city than, say, Independence Day.

2. Dean Martin's song, "Houston." A classic where in Dino longs for the city where everything was good for him. Also, featured in the background, the clinks are the sound of a Coca-Cola bottle.

1. The word y'all.

Y'all come back in a year and a half to discover how my predictions came true.

Proofreading the World, Part 2: The Yearbook

2009-05-28T17:03:00.005-06:00

My sister's final high school yearbook came home last week, the day after one of the student editors received a special award for her excellent proofreading, but I still found some not so worthy pages. These errors made me shudder while chuckling, or chuckle while shuddering you decide, and tell me which reaction you get.

All of the typos involved misspelled celebrity names. The first one I noticed was "Micheal Phelps." Twice. But the kicker on this is they spelled it correctly once on the same page. "Michael Phelps." But this year's popular musical artists must have hard names to spell, particularly, Briney Spears, Joson Mraz, and Josh Groben. My personal (least) favorite: they included this album cover for the artist they call Rhianna.

This just leads me into one of my personal pet peeves. Misspelled baby names. I hate it when parents assign their child a "unique" spelling of a name. Some names have legitimate variations, but mostly I just think parents are compensating for have the tenth Emily of the day by naming her Emmileigh. Spelling nightmare. I hate it. I'm sure you'll hear more about this soap box later.

The Best of the Best (with Honors): Part 2

2009-05-28T16:20:00.006-06:00

Today's topic: Movies You Can Watch in Scenes

This list is inspired by the previous topic but takes it to the next level. Some movies are really great because you don't have to commit to watching the whole thing. You can decide, "Hey, I want to watch the part where..." You can also think to yourself, "I really feel like seeing so-and-so do such-and-such." And with the magic of DVD's, you don't even have to waste time finding the right scene: you can just skip right to it. Hopefully, this list will inspire you to watch your favorite sequences from movies that work equally well in segments.

1. A Christmas Story. This movie really is the ultimate segment movie. I have only watched this movie once straight through, but I'm fairly certain I've seen it at least twelve times. This is due largely to the traditional TBS Christmas Day 24-hour marathon of the film. You can catch the part where he visits the Santa from purgatory, the part where the dad receives the leg lamp ("fra-GEE-lay"), or, my personal favorite, the part where the boy sticks his tongue to the flagpole. Any other favorite scenes?

2. Napoleon Dynamite. What really qualifies this film for this category is its utter lack of a solid plot line. This movie, by nature, begs you not to watch it in one sitting. Lately, it's playing every other week on Comedy Central. Just this week, my mom found it on TV and asked me, while I was in the other room, which scene it was. As soon as the conversation started, I recognized from dialog alone one of my favorite sequences: Uncle Rico throws Kip's Steak at Napoleon. In fact, most of my favorite scenes feature Kip, although it still churns my stomach when he plays footsie with Lafawnda. This movie also inspires strong feelings: either you love it or hate it. Where do you fall on the continuum?

3. Night at the Museum. This movie has a much stronger plotline than the two previous movies (as well as its okay but over-hyped sequel), but its quotability really qualifies it for this category. I think it's fun to just watch the Ricky Gervais scenes, but you also have Ben Stiller's first scene as a night guard in an echo-y museum chamber or his attempts to pronounce "Sacagawea." Towards the end, it gets harder to find standout scenes while they're chasing Dick Van Dyke around Central Park, but even the interplay between Jedediah and Octavius is worth a laugh.

4. Home Alone. This movie is quite easy to watch all the way through, but has so many strong scenes that work alone. Obviously there's the final showdown, but honestly, the build-up to that is much funnier. Kevin's grocery bags breaking on the way home, Kevin being confronted by the robbers before he knows they're robbers, Kevin stealing a toothbrush, Kevin sledding down the stairs of his house, Kevin pigging out on junk food, Kevin shopping by himself and chatting up the check-out girl. But most of all, the way the filmmakers incorporated the scene from "Angels with Filthy Souls." Very clever, and with an equally good payoff in the first sequel. "Keep the change, you filthy animal."

5. Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Green Gables, The Sequel. These movies are so long that I never watch them straight through, but again, I've seen them plenty, thanks mostly to KBYU pledge drives. Now that I have them on DVD, I mostly skip to what I affectionately term, "The Gilbert Parts." Gilbert calling Anne "Carrots," Gilbert rescuing Anne from her watery grave, Gilbert applauding her poetry reading from his feet. Skipping to the Gilbert scenes is essential in the second film because of that huge chunk of time when Anne leaves Avonlea to teach school and almost falls for the old man (although the dance scene from that segment is worth watching to catch a glimpse of young Dave Foley as Anne's dance partner). However, I should give some credit to other characters. Diana plays a fine drunk, and I always nearly cry around Matthew's death, particularly when Anne and Marilla cry over it in the middle of the night.

To summarize, great "scene-only" movies usually have at least two of the following qualifications: 1. They have weak or gimmicky plotlines. 2. They are inordinately long. 3. They are frequently played on television. 4. They have very a high number of very quoteable lines.

Honorable mentions: Sleepless in Seattle, You've Got Mail, The Trouble with Angels

The Best of the Best (with Honors): Part 1

2009-05-13T17:16:00.009-06:00

I think it's obvious I've stopped blogging for a while. I'd offer some lame excuse, but I don't believe in them. But I am willing to make up for it. I'll be posting my top five favorites in a variety of categories for the next few weeks. I'm taking the best new Facebook application--Living Social's Pick Your 5--to the next level. Face it: some things just can't be explained in quick phrase and a photo. And if you know me, you know I need more words than three to fully express myself.

Today's Category: Best Movie Scenes of All Time

This entry is dedicated to Zac Efron, star of the best movie I've seen in the theater in a long while. 17 Again features our current top heartthrob as a 37-year-old who gets transformed into his 17-year-old self. During the transformation scene, where Zac is wearing a full suit while in the shower, my sister leans over to me and says, "It's like Cary Grant in Charade." Sure enough; 17 Again pays an excellent homage to that Grant-Hepburn classic which is one of the entries in my top five list.

5. The closing scene of What's Up, Doc? I'm including the entire sequence at the airport and on the plane as a part of this selection, although some portions of it are more about wrapping up the film's many plotlines than the credentials that put this scene on the list. Mostly, I just don't want to exclude any of the perfect dialog delivery between funny lady Barbra Streisand and straight man Ryan O'Neal. Plus, Ryan's final line is delivered to deadpan perfection. Who doesn't love a guy with a few quirks, or one who's willing to make fun of his most famous role? And the final kiss is probably in the top five most unique and memorable on film, too. Overall, this scene qualifies because of how well it wraps up a great movie and pays tribute to other moments in pop culture.

4. The "mashed potatoes" scene from While You Were Sleeping. I've personally watched this scene dozens of times, and I've come to the conclusion that it achieves the perfect mix of dialog. There are at least three simultaneous conversations going on here; it's hard to determine the actual number because they blend together so seamlessly in the scene's payoff. Floating around in this dinner table conversation are some of life's greatest questions, such as "why are mashed potatoes so satisfying?", "are most good film actors tall?", "do guys like girls who remind them of their mothers or not?" and "why does Argentina have such great beef?" Sure, in this tribute it sounds more like a Will-It-Blend experiment gone wrong, but if you know what I'm talking about, you really know what I'm talking about, even though some people in the scene itself have no idea what they're talking about.

3. The "water lady" scene from Return to Me. This selection comes from another all-around great film that uses similar conventions to the previous film: a cast of great older actors who have nothing better to do than sit around philosophizing retirement. Return to Me has plenty of great scenes like that, but this one does not primarly feature that generation. Instead, this is the classic sequence where boy meets wrong girl and right girl at the same time. David Duchovny proves that it's okay for a guy to be totally transparent when showing he likes a girl, and the audience likes that girl right along with him because she gets an appropriate amount of vindication on "water lady." Anyone who's ever worked in a service industry will cheer for Minnie Driver's clever but subtle revenge.

2. The shower-in-a-suit scene from Charade. Cary Grant is just too adorable in this scene. His antics are a great way to comfort the tramatized recent widow played by Audrey Hepburn, queen of the brunettes. Forgive me for getting a little cheeky and/or English major-y on you, but I think showering in a suit is a symbolic way of saying, "You're more important than my well-tailored suit." Plus, it's a way of satisfying two Cary Grant fantasies in one magical scene: Cary Grant in a suit, and Cary Grant in the shower. Thirty magical seconds that have stood for over forty years. Plus, Mr. Grant is portraying a sharp dressed detective, and you should know by now that I have a soft spot for those.

1. The garage dancing scene from West Side Story, featuring "Cool." The single greatest cinematic sequence ever captured. In fact, if this scene were only five seconds long, it would still make this spot on my list, as long as those five seconds looked like this. The remaining Jets line up along one wall of the garage, squat down with loose arms, and move forward snapping and jumping over their arms like they're an invisible rope. I hope you know what I'm talking about, but if you don't, do yourself a favor and find out. Kudos to Jerome Robbins for being a genius. All choreographers bow at his throne. Kudos to Iceman for leading the Jets after Riff's untimely death. And for his intense eyes. And for executing this dance sequence perfectly. Crazy. Cool. Go.

(I know. It's not the same, but this gives you the basic idea of what I was trying to describe...)

Honorable mentions in this category include the train scene from North by Northwest, the presidential flashcards scene from That Thing You Do!, the mud fight scene from McClintock!, and the volleyball scene from Top Gun.

Even Webster Can't Spell Sometimes

2009-04-21T14:47:00.005-06:00

Well, Lynne Truss fans. Here's a new one. This story almost makes me reconsider becoming an editor. Almost. But I have a good suggestion: why don't they just change the name of this crazy lake to an unpronounceable symbol? Like Prince did to get out of a recording contract. Think of it this way--no one can pronounce it now, anyway. Plus, I just love the irony that a town bearing the same name as the creator of America's first dictionary has such a problem with maintaining correct spelling. But it also makes me wonder? How often do people really have to spell it? And where was the editor when the road signs were made? The devil may just have the last laugh, Daniel Webster.

18 on the 18th

2009-04-18T12:11:00.006-06:00

Today is my favorite sister's birthday. She's 18. That's ten plus eight. That's not old, but it makes me feel old. Last year in her birthday card, I told her that my first solid memory is of holding her--a brand new baby--in my arms. My first memory is of being a sister. I said, "My life begins with you." And that's still true this year, but feels even more so. Now she'll be graduating from high school and going off to conquer the world. Which she will, by the way, but no need to worry. She's not a dictator. Nonetheless, I'd like to offer some advice to a world that's about to be graced with someone just as pretty and twice as classy as Grace Kelly. David Archuleta, pay careful attention, because this is how I expect you to treat my sister.

Never underestimate the power of a pair of high heels. She'll certainly be wearing them every chance she gets, and if anyone knows when to do so, she does.
Daisies are a good peace-offering. She loves them. She considers it absolute fact that "daisies are the friendliest flower."
Girls are allowed to have whimsical crushes. Hers happen to include Rafael Nadal, Harry Potter, Gilbert Blythe, a certain Eddie she sometimes borrows from me, and her future husband who's already been mentioned in this blog.
Don't mistake a quick tongue for a sharp one. She's just as full of wit as I am but has absolutely no harsh words for anyone. She'll make you laugh but never cry. In fact, she's always there to help a friend.
Surprise her by showing her a good suspense film. I don't mean horror; she's not into gory slasher movies. She just really enjoys the work of Hitchcock and Shyamalan.
Perfectly groomed hair is more important that a spotless bathroom. Let's just say it takes a while to look as good as she does every day and her life is so filled with adventure that she doesn't always have time to clean up the hair products. It's a compromise.
Always be available to kill spiders. Something in her genetic makeup prevents her from doing this for herself. And in my opinion, she shouldn't have to.
Talking during movies is not a crime. In fact, with us, it's almost a sport. One day the contract will come through on our DVD commentary deal. But until then, we have plenty to say and the will to say it. This might be especially necessary during the aforementioned suspense films. Talking makes them more tolerable.
Learn to be sneaky when photographing. She will do anything and everything to keep you from taking a picture of her, although she's incredibly photogenic. She'll probably be embarrassed that I posted a picture of her, but it's the best one I had. Maybe if she allowed more to be taken, I'd have a better one.

Okay, I made it halfway to 18 with my tips. I can't tell the world everything. 18 would certainly not be enough, and everyone deserves the joy of getting to know the greatest sister of all time. Believe me, this is a big step for me. I'm very possessive of her. I think she's so great that I'm not sure the world deserves her. But I also know the world can only be a better place with her in it.

Happy birthday, Joe.
Love, Frank.

The Last Load of Laundry

2009-04-18T11:59:00.003-06:00

Not just a great alliteration, "the last load of laundry" is also the horror story that happened to me last night. Finals finally gave me a break and I had some time to do my laundry. So I could continue to wear clothes. I think that's a good idea, so I loaded my darks into the washer, added the detergent, paid my quarters and walked away. When I returned, all my clothes were sopping wet and of course only two of the dryers were working. Neither of them were available. I proceeded to squeeze what water I could back into the washer, but soon the pants I'm wearing have water stains dripping down them and everything in the basket is still soaked.

So I tried a new tactic. I carried everything back to my apartment, which is up two small flights of stairs and at the other end of the building. Little known fact: when wet, laundry is heavy. Also, the holes in a laundry basket are a great way for additional water to drip out onto the carrier. I stopped after one flight of stairs, ran down the hall in my water stained pants, and grabbed a towel to put under the basket. This technique worked okay, but I still had to wring out what I could when I returned to the apartment. In the kitchen sink. Luckily, it wasn't full of dishes.

Two hours later, I'm still waiting for a dryer, so I give up and carry everything to the neighboring building with the help of a few roommates. I'm feeling relieved, thinking that everything will get dry. An hour and a half later, the dryer has barely made a dent in the sogginess of my wardrobe. So I separate it into two different dryers and put both loads in for another hour. And when that's done, it's one o'clock in the morning, and guess what? It's still not dry. I know when I've been defeated. The laundry gods have decided that I do not, in fact, need to continue wearing clothes. As I write this today, I have two basketsfull of laundry in various states of dampness.

The clincher: I still need to do both my whites and my towels. Wish me luck; I have a feeling I'll need it.

Jem Finch Meets Baseball

2009-04-14T11:07:00.006-06:00

Despite my complete lack of hand-eye coordination, I have a strong secret desire to be a sports writer. Perhaps this stems from my love of anything to do with the Olympics. Maybe it comes from the fact that the film Remember the Titans changed my life, and I saw it five times in the theater. Maybe I just love great stories, and sports happens to have a lot of them, and the best ones seem to find their way into the hands of great writers. My top three, in no particular order: Seabiscuit by Laura Hillenbrand (just in time for the upcoming Kentucky Derby), The Greatest Game Ever Played by Mark Frost (the one and only time golf ever seemed understandable and enjoyable), and The Perfect Mile by Neal Bascomb (a book that confirms that running is a task for the diligent and crazy).

In the interest of pursuing this goal, I'm always looking for the crazy, untold sports stories. Today, MSN.com came through by providing me with this story. I was particularly struck by the story of #3 on the list. After all, Jimmy Piersall did once bat wearing a Beatles' wig. I also noticed that his life was good enough to inspire a movie, which led me to the ultimate source of knowledge: Wikipedia. The film, entitled Fear Strikes Out, features Anthony "Psycho" Perkins as Piersall and was directed by Robert Mulligan. This name struck the dejavu chords in my mind, perhaps because mulligan is a golf term meaning "do-over." But no. The name has actual significance for my pop culture experience. Robert Mulligan is also the director of the classic, must-see To Kill a Mockingbird. When I started reading about Jimmy Piersall, I never thought it would lead me to Anthony Perkins, let alone Jem Finch.

PS And for those of you playing at home, the last time I made a Kevin Bacon game post, I referenced a movie called Fear of Clowns. Today, that Fear Strikes Out. Any other "Fear" films I should know about? Considering the fact that neither these films sound watchable from their descriptions, maybe I'm better off not knowing.

The Hottest Names, or, A Lazy Friday Night

2009-04-12T23:15:00.002-06:00

Last Friday, my friend Erin and I, just sitting around chatting, had the conversation that led to this list. I started by saying I hadn't been to the school library much lately, so I'd broken up with it. She then said, "Oh, you're dating Jesse, now?" (The humanities building where we attend most of our classes and work is named after a guy named Jesse.) I conceded that. Then, out of nowhere, Erin drops the sentence that will captivate our conversation for the next hour and a half: "Jesse's a really hot name."

So, in case anyone wants to know, here they are. The names both Erin and I thought were hot. Note that Jesse didn't make the list.

9. Derek
8. Max
7. Charlie
6. Sam
5. Jeff
4. Ben
3. Will
2. Jack
1. Eddie

And, just because I want to, I'm posting a picture of the hottest Eddie known to woman. He almost has the power to take over Cary Grant's throne. As you can see, he knows the power of a clean haircut and a sharp suit. Not to mention the sunglasses. Watch out, Horatio Caine. Enjoy. I know I do.

Death: How to Get It Right

2009-04-02T16:58:00.000-06:00

This article caught my attention because for as long as I can remember, my grandmother (who, by the way, insists on that grand and well-deserved title) has had her own funeral planned. My mom has slightly followed suit in this, telling me three songs she wishes played at her own funeral. Sadly I must admit I cannot recall the titles of these songs, although I know at least one is by the piano virtuoso Chopin. Hopefully, my mom and grandmother will have it recorded in an easy-to-find place when the time comes. Apparently this trend now extends beyond my family. (And, just so you know, I love the title of the book Meredith recommends.)

The Mysterious Benedict Society

2009-04-02T11:29:00.000-06:00

Okay readers, here's something to check out. I just bought this book yesterday based on a recommendation from an editor at a children's literature conference. Plus, it was on sale and only about $5. I do not have will power strong enough to say no to a $5 book. It's called The Mysterious Benedict Society, and it was written by Trenton Lee Stewart. So far I've only been able to stop reading a) if I'm sleeping, b) if I'm in class, or c) if I'm at work (with very limited will power in the c category).

The basic scenario: Reynie Muldoon is a gifted child looking for special opportunities, so he certainly has to follow the add that leads him to just that. What follows is a series of test and a few new friends, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. Try it. Then you, too, can become a clever kid detective with special opportunities.

If you make it through, there's also a recent sequel, which I'm sure I'll be reading as soon as my budget (or local library) allows.

Published!

2009-03-13T11:08:00.000-06:00

It's official: Today I became a published editor. I volunteered on a student journal at my university last semester, and now the journals are out and my name is in print. I must say, it's a new and exciting feeling, and one that I could get accustomed to. You might say, "It almost makes my career begin."

Of course, this happy circumstance comes at the same moment that I rediscover the drive for my true passion: writing. Yesterday, I went to a children's book conference at a neighboring university, and spent the day meeting with authors, editors, librarians, and teachers--all the pantheons of the children's book world. One of the best days ever. Now those ideas for novels that I've been carrying around for years are starting to surface. Even now, as I type this, my fingers are itching to release what's really inside them: a good story. Or at least a story I think is good. I'll let you know when you can find out for yourself. It shouldn't be too long now. My fingers can't contain it much longer.

The Last Word in Cereal

2009-03-12T20:44:00.001-06:00

Today, I heard a slightly happy twist to the not-so-happy story of champion/misdirected youth Michael Phelps. Kellog dropped his sponsorship after news of his marijuana use hit the press, but apparently they donated all remaining boxes of Cornflakes with his picture to the Los Angeles food bank. Now, those without cereal can eat the breakfast of champions. Even if its a fallen champion. I still have one box left, the two inches of cornflakes I couldn't bring myself to eat after consuming two and a half full boxes singlehandedly.

Another optimistic development: this controversy brings out some good word witticisms. I've seen the events described as "Snap, Crackle, Flop."

Also, my seven foot poster of Michael performing his flawless butterfly stroke has arrived. But I've yet to find a wall space big enough for it in my apartment.

The Birthday Card Philosopher's Irish Mentor

2009-03-11T15:13:00.000-06:00

I'm journeying through one of my favorite novels again, Maeve Binchy's Circle of Friends. A must read for any woman who is going to college or has ever been to college, or even knows any woman who's ever been to college. I sympathize with Benny and find Aidan Lynch the best male character overall, although Jack has his charms. It keeps me daydreaming for days, right when spring fever is in the air. Not five minutes ago, I decided to peruse Maeve's website and discovered her brief but fascinating bio. Check it out. (Just click "About Maeve.")

I particularly hope to emulate her traveling for pleasure, writing for life, and marrying for love. Not to mention the utter beauty of everything Irish. And, doesn't she have the best name for a writer? Ever? I'm officially inviting you to her circle of friends. You won't regret it.

A cautionary note: Don't check out the movie of the same name based on the book. Just because it includes Minnie Driver and the oh-so-charming Chris O'Donnell is no reason to trust it. Totally inaccurate and unnecesary change to the perfection that is Maeve's book.

When the moon hits your eye...

2009-03-05T11:15:00.000-07:00

I love Dean Martin. Love. Which is why its so perfect that he has a new album coming out (despite being dead) entitled "Amore." No joke. I just found this out through his fan page on Facebook. I was thinking it would have all the songs I already own from him, and it does have a few, but many I've never heard of. I know I'm going to check it out. I'll let you know. I can already recommend "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face," Dean's version of the song from My Fair Lady. Let's just say Rex Harrison has nothing on Dino. When Dean sings it, it's actually romantic. I sigh when I think of him giving up his arrogance, all because a woman is simple yet unforgettable. Which is what the song is. Especially if you find the version with Chris Botti accompanying him on the trumpet. Pure magic. You can find the video on YouTube if you don't want to shell out $15 for the CD, or spend 99 cents buying the song on iTunes. See the album, "Forever Cool." Because that's what Dean is. As Grace describes him in Return to Me, "Best Male Singer--Dead."

Hair Idol

2009-03-02T22:33:00.000-07:00

Curly hair has been a major life lesson for me. I tried to avoid it for years, accepted it at fifteen, and honestly I've never looked back. However, that doesn't mean I'm always totally satisfied with my curly locks. In a dream world my hair would always resemble that of two amazing curlyheads. First, Melina Kanakaredes of Providence and now CSI: NY. (I'll admit, I don't just watch CSI: NY for her hair. Two words: Eddie Cahill. One more: Miracle.) Flawless and seemingly effortless.
Second, the lovely songstress Leona Lewis. Not only is she gorgeous and British, but her hair looks great even when it's supposed to look messy. What's your secret ladies? (I also recommend Leona's cd Spirit, full of danceable tunes and soulful expressions. Check it out.)

Valentine's Day=Red Velvet

2009-02-14T18:59:00.000-07:00

In honor of the celebration of hearts, I made the best cake ever: red velvet. Unfortunately, I sacrificed a part of my finger to the baking pan. The hazards of not owning a hot pad. Nonetheless, my burning finger could be considered a symbol of burning love. And it was worth it. Delicious. They don't look as red in the pictures as I'd like, but you get the idea.

Initially Surprised

2009-02-12T19:09:00.000-07:00

In perusing this website, I discovered that I have the same initals as William Shakespeare and the World Series. Coincidence? I think not. I just can't imagine why I never thought of it before. See what famous things or people you share famous letters with.

Ping-Pong. . . and Bong?

2009-02-03T21:28:00.000-07:00

For the last week and a half, I kept my eyes glued to the other side of the world for the Australian Open. I discovered tennis this summer watching the legendary Wimbledon showdown between the former, four-years-in-a-row number one, Roger Federer, and the newcomer, current number one, Rafael Nadal. This sport exemplifies everything great about athleticism: endurance, speed, strength, and, most of all, elegance and flexibility. Some of those backhand shots are balletic. I am amazed. How do they do it? Unfortunately, I discovered tennis just a little too late, since I constantly cheer for the "good looking enough to be a GQ cover model" Federer (whose initials form the core of the word peRFect) who lately is coming up just short. In fact, in the men's singles final down under on Sunday, he actually scored one more point than Rafa, just apparently at the wrong time, since he lost, two sets to three. Don't worry. He still looks good. My sister and I said he is the Ian Thorpe of tennis--the better-looking talent who might be surpassed by the young upstart who arrives in his wake. Rafa is the Michael Phelps of tennis--obviously talented, but certainly a little shorter in the looks department. (Coincidentally, Ian Thorpe happens to be an Aussie.) To prove my point, here's Roger selling Gillette razors, proving he can be clean up and be clean shaven.

Which brings me to my next point. I know I've proclaimed my fascination with Michael Phelps loudly before, but that just leaves me speechless in the wake of recent news. No stranger to a razor himself, apparently he missed the clean part. The saddest part: he only seems to regret that his actions were uncovered, not that they took place. I guess he's learned that public opinion is paying for his mansions and sports cars, but I'm wondering how hard the wake of this event will hit him in the face, especially since he's a swimmer used to swimming in clear water. . .

Circus Freak-y?

2009-01-22T20:00:00.001-07:00

Tonight I had my first session of tutoring writing in the school library. Not very busy, which gives me plenty of time to surf the internet, which allows me to find great fodder for my blog. (I just looked up the word "fodder" in the online dictionary and it means "any foodstuff that is used specifically to feed domesticated livestock." I'm not implying anything with my use of the word; it just sounds great.) Here's is tonight's great gem and the Kevin Bacon-esque story of how I found it.

I'm in a children's publishing class right now, and I'm supposed to spend half an hour every week browsing the blogs of those in the kid lit industry. I find Sarah Miller's blog (I have no idea who she is, but I'm sure she's connected to the kid book biz), where, in a recent post, she mentions a book by Twyla Tharp. The name rings a bell, but not a Jeopardy! buzzer, so I head over to the trusted source of internet knowledge--Wikipedia.

For those of you who, like me, know Twyla Tharp's name but don't know why, let me tell you the high points before I get to the low point. She is an American dancer and choreographer who worked on the Billy Joel-inspired musical Movin' Out and with everyone's favorite Russian danseur, Mikhail Baryshnikov. Those works earned her great accolades, but her most recent Broadway venture was not so lucky.

But before I tell you, I need to take a little side trip. My family loves the game "Balderdash," especially when we are priviledged enough to play it with our favorite cousins. One playing of this fine game has become one of the top five family jokes. I don't remember what word we were redefining, but one of my cousins offered this gem as an answer: "an Albanian circus freak." Okay, so you probably had to be there (and, let's be honest, most of my blog readers probably were) but that one phrase--circus freak--has caused hours of laughter for more than ten years now.

And here's where Twyla Tharp meets the Circus Freak. I take this straight from her Wikipedia bio. "A recent Broadway venture was The Times They Are a-Changin', which places the music of Bob Dylan in the context of a small family circus, in which the clowns rise up against a cruel ringmaster. It was a critical disaster, torn to shreds by practically all, and closed after 35 previews and 28 performances. The orchestra pit was covered with trampolines, and the folk/rock band was on an elevated platform on stage." Who knew a musical about clowns and Bob Dylan songs would be "a critical disaster"? Probably the many people who consider clowns one of the ten scariest (or should I say "freakiest"?) things. It even has an official name: coulrophobia--but don't ask me to pronounce it. In fact, I was just looking up the official name when I discovered, through my friend Wiki P., that there is even a movie called Fear of Clowns. Not that surprising, actually. I wonder if there's an official name for the fear of Bob Dylan, or Bob Dylan music. . . . In any case, I'm not 100% sure why someone would make clowns the heroes of a musical, but the answer, my friends is blowin' in the wind if someone hasn't captured it yet and put it on Wikipedia.

PS I can't help but write this. Heath Ledger's rendition of the Joker should be a good indication of why this didn't work. Not only did Heath portray the freakiest clown around, but he also played Bob Dylan. Coincidence? Kevin Bacon and I don't think so.

8 for 8, Times 2?

2008-12-03T22:31:00.000-07:00

I know my deep and abiding love for Michael Phelps is no secret. (If you need convincing, just look at my Sonic commercial a few posts below.) Today I bought my second box of Michael Phelps cornflakes, and I'm hoping Santa leaves another one for me beneath the tree so I can send away for the free poster.

Anyway, this blog isn't really a plug for anything, although it may seem like it after you read the next few sentences. It's just a strange coincidence I wanted to philosophize about for a few sentences. Michael obviously made history when he (and his teammates in some cases) won eight gold medals in Beijing this summer. Before every race he listened to the musical stylings of Lil' Wayne. Now this musical inspiration has a chance to make an eight-win sweep of his own, having just been nominated for eight Grammys. Honestly, I don't listen to Lil' Wayne, and I don't care if he wins all or nothing, but maybe the Chinese are right about eight having some mystical powers. Maybe if I buy six more boxes of Michael Phelps cornflakes, the man himself will appear outside my apartment. Maybe.

Proofreading the World...One Sentence at a Time

2008-12-02T20:26:00.000-07:00

First Edition

I found my first example of a Lynne Truss-worthy grammar mistake just a few moments ago. My apartment complex hired a company to put up some Christmas lights, so the company's trailer is parked in the lot right now. The trailer lists several bulleted reasons why someone should hire its workers to put up festive holiday lights, but one of them actually seems to be a deterrent from hiring the company at all. Here it is: "No job to big or small."

The sign should say, "No job too big or small," meaning that jobs of all sizes are welcome. But the company used to instead of too, so it has several possible meanings, none of them anywhere near the original intention. As is, I could infer that the workers perform no job for people who are big or people who are small--only average-sized people should ask for their assistance. Even worse, it could also mean they won't put up lights for anyone big, small, or anywhere in between, leaving themselves no clientele unless someone figures out how to exist without having a mass. Good luck. This is the exact opposite of the intended meaning.

Even so, I'll still enjoy the Christmas lights the company puts up around my apartment complex and welcome in the spirit of the season. In fact, this grammatical error was the best Christmas present they could have given me. Merry Christmas from the Grammar Goddess!

The Queen of English Reads, Writes, and Laughs

2008-11-18T22:22:00.000-07:00

Amid all my craziness last week, my major project was completing a research paper for my young adult literature class. I didn't really get started writing until Wednesday afternoon, and considering that it needed to be about eight pages, I felt crammed. But the topic made everything better. I investigated Nancy Drew and tried to find her successor in a young adult mystery series today. In all my searching, I found a great new series that seems to be made for me, no matter that it's not like Nancy Drew very much at all. (It made for a great contrasting paper....I hope.) I completed my rough draft on Saturday night after feverishly writing all weekend, so on Monday morning I needed only to finish revising this draft.

Rewind to a week ago, when I emailed the author of this series with a few research questions after my professor recommended that I do so. I hadn't heard back from her, so I figured I either wouldn't at all, or wouldn't until it was too late to add the information to my paper. No big deal. Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, when I checked my email yesterday afternoon, just before I was set to make some major revisions, what was in my inbox but a response from Alane Ferguson herself? She was so excited that I liked her series and wanted to answer my questions, but she wanted to do it by phone. I called her and we had a forty minute conversation, mostly about the series, but covering a wide range of topics. She calls Twilight "chick porn," a title I find fitting, and she is having a very busy Thanksgiving. The best part of all: she told me I ask questions better than some reporters. That's a big compliment, considering that Nancy Drew was sometimes known as "Girl Reporter."

I'm recommending the book to everyone out there. I loved it because the main character wants to become a forensic pathologist, so it has all those cool science clues I'm used to from "Crossing Jordan" or the CSIs, but presented in a realistic way. The main character Cameryn's "got spunk," but there's nothing in it that would make you call it "chick porn"--always a plus. It's the best mystery I've read in a long time. There are two other books in the series after the one I just devoured, The Christopher Killer. I'll keep you posted.

After all my hard work, today I got a prize for turning in my paper. Once a week, the university has a guest lecturer for the entire campus, and I've been looking forward to this speaker for a while now. Her name is Lynne Truss, and she probably has more claim to the title of Queen of English. For one thing, she is English, speaking with the accent and everything. Her main claim to English fame, however, is her book "Eats Shoots and Leaves," also known as "Eats, Shoots, and Leaves." See what a difference punctuation can make? I haven't actually read the book yet, but it just shot to the top of my list. Lynne Truss said she goes around "proofreading the world," a hobby I also enjoy mostly because it makes me laugh when you find the humor behind meanings that weren't intended. If you don't think you could stand a narrative about the power of punctuation, I challenge you to read "Eats Shoots and Leaves" without laughing. Proofreading the world will soon become your new hobby, too. (And now that I've gone on this English tangent, I hope everything is punctuated correctly.) In future editions of the Birthday Card Philosopher, I hope to add little tidbits inspired by Lynne Truss about my experiences proofreading the world. Until then, mind your comma placement.

Patience is a virtue

2008-11-10T22:07:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the delay in posting, and this won't even satiate your appetite for new words from me. I'm a college student. I'm in the middle of the busiest month of the semester. I work fifteen hours a week, I'm in class fifteen hours a week, I need to sleep and eat and find time for homework, so sometimes the blog gets put on the backburner. Here's a promise that I'll return by next week.

Sonic, the Ultimate Drink Stop

2008-09-30T23:13:00.000-06:00

This summer, one of my mom's major goals was for us to create our own Sonic commercial. She keeps them in business with her frequent trips through the drive-up during Happy Hour. Here's our attempt at a Sonic commercial. It's a little outdated, since we made it immediately after the Beijing Olympics. Watch for the moment when we play our new favorite game, "Touch the Wall," wherein the basic object is to touch the nearest wall one hundredth of a second faster than your competitor. Enjoy, and remember, Sonic Happy Hour happens every day from 2-4.

Sitting in for Paula Abdul...

2008-09-26T21:50:00.000-06:00

Tonight one of my roommates wanted to attend an event on campus called "Italian Idol." Basically, American Idol for the Italian club at my university. When we arrived, I saw a list sitting on the table with these auspicious words at the top: "Sign here if you're interested in being the guest judge." Seeing one name already on the list, I was thinking I wouldn't get picked, so I added my name just for fun. But as time went on, I kept regretting my decision more and more. This could be embarassing. What if I needed to speak Italian? Not going to happen.

Soon, the moment came. I crossed my fingers, praying that the other name on the list was called, or that many more people had signed up. The emcee announced, "And as our guest judge, we only had one person sign up, so can we have" and of course, she asked me to come to the front. Well, I figured I might as well make it cool. So I acted like I just got called to be on The Price is Right, only not as enthusiastically as some people do. Two other judges shared duties with me. To my left, an Italian professor and former mission president. To my right, a student studying Italian and current Italian 101 teacher. I'm not really sure which was Simon and which was Randy, but I was definitely Paula. At this point, I was thinking, "At least it won't be like American Idol, where we have to make comments after everyone performs." But Paula isn't known for being the brilliant one, and just like her, I was wrong.

Of course, I shouldn't brag, but I do have experience judging talent competitions. I once judged the fourth of July talent show in the metropolis of Mackay, Idaho. Population: somewhere around 600. However, the film stylings (aka plagarism skills) of Mr. Kirby Lords would not have taken the top prize at Italian idol. These performers channeled everyone from Pavaroti to Norah Jones to Dean Martin. Naturally, the Dean Martin-esque performance won. Who could go wrong with that old Italian classic "Volare"? Of course, when it came time to make the final decision, they started conversing in Italian. I might have said "si" a few times, but really, I was in way over my head.

Anyway, this year while I'm watching American Idol I'll be a little bit easier on Paula. It's not so easy to come up with intelligent comments in thirty seconds. Sometimes it's easier just to be nice. Straight up.

Dejavu, and a tornado, too

2008-09-23T20:24:00.000-06:00

At the risk of limiting my blog to discussions of the Writing Center, I promise right now that my next post will not involve the Writing Center. That said, here we go. Since beginning work at the Writing Center, I have instances of dejavu almost every day, sometimes three and four times a day. I'll see a face on campus and KNOW I've seen it before, up close, one-on-one. Usually, those faces come from students I've helped at work, but not all of them do. Maybe it's just college starting to catch up with me. All the years I have under my belt come with faces attached, even if those faces are only vaguely familiar.

And, just to get something else about the Writing Center out there, today was a tornado! I helped a student every moment of my three hour shift, and I'm sure almost a dozen students voluntarily left. The waiting line was over an hour long. Surprisingly, and happily, this busy-ness did not tire me out. It's actually invigorating to spend so much time on those levels of thinking without being too attached to the assignment. It clears my head for when I need to write. Like right now. I'm off to analyze a book for my Juvenile literature class. I'd recommend this one: Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry by Mildred D. Taylor. I see it as To Kill a Mockingbird from the perspective of an African-American family.

Adventures in Writing

2008-09-18T22:43:00.000-06:00

I just started a new job at my university writing center. It's strange how liberating it feels to talk one-on-one with your peers in a semi-professional atmosphere. Especially male peers. This week alone I've helped a pre-med student with some of his 31 application essays, met a member of the men's rugby team, and discussed the satirical ethics of Michael Phelps' genetically gifted body. Yes ladies, I got paid to talk about Michael Phelps with a guy. Talk about job perks. And those are just clients.

Our writing center also has one or two eligible tutors who I interact with for hours at a time. For the first time in my college career, I'm feeling seriously attractive on a daily basis. One of my co-workers (a girl) even told me today that I resemble a sexy librarian. Finally, I've been recognized for my resemblance to Marion the Librarian from River City, Iowa. But now that I'm having those tentative feelings of "should I or shouldn't I?" with co-workers, I'm starting to
discover new questions about co-ed dating. What if he's already got a girlfriend? What if I'm wrong, and I'm reading his cues wrong? What if I asked him out? Well, world, what if?