Considering Adoption

I saw this postcard "ad" on a park bench the other day. I snapped a photo of it, but little did I know that my brain would be watching "Juno" a few days later. Seeing the photo reminded me again about how much the movie "Juno" annoyed me. I know, I know, it came out last year sometime so I'm waay behind the times. But there's no way I would've paid $13 to see it at a theater. Actually, I probably wouldn't have even rented it. But, my sister had it through her Netflix subscription so I sucked it up and settled myself on the floor.

Everything that I thought would annoy me, did. First of all, if Juno was black or Latina, would we think she's so damn smart and witty? Knowing the names of obscure punk bands does not mean someone's frickin' smart. The movie tries so hard to prove to us that Juno's a super cool teenager, but, uh, her hamburger phone and dialogue were all a little too witty for me. If she's so witty, she sh0uld've paid attention to condom-putting-on lessons in health class. Or, better yet, kept the panties on and decided play Scrabble. Just think, Juno could've wowed us by putting "forshiz" down on the board.

Then there's the whole scene where she tells her folks she's preggo -- maybe almost everyone I know just has a buckwild abusive family, but Juno's parents took it a little too well.

No cussing her out.
No telling her she's a whore.
No telling her what an embarrassment she is.
No telling her that she has no choice, she's getting an abortion.
No beating her or throwing things at her.

Not only that, ask yourself, would Jennifer Garner's character who was "born to be a mommy" be sooo excited to be a mommy to a little black girl with nappy hair?

I don't think so.

Anyway, I'll spare you all the details about why I don't care for "Juno". I'm just not feeling it. I didn't even care about her character at all. Burn me at the stake, but I actually kept wanting bad things to happen to her.

As for the adoption flyer, I found it on a bench in Millennium Park in Chicago. What do you think? Would you call?

Yesterday Was Friday the 13th

Yesterday, R. Kelly was found not guilty and Tim Russert collapsed and died. Oh, and then there was a child predator cruising around outside my son's school after school, trying to get kids to get in the car with him. Total insanity.

It really was Friday the 13th, wasn't it?

It all had me feeling so down, that I did the unthinkable. I went to see "You Don't Mess With the Zohan." And I have to say, I laughed my azz off. I was doubled over in some places with tears streaming out of my eyes, especially when the guys call Hezbollah and get put on hold!

John Turturro as the terrorist "Phantom" was hilarious and Zohan with the Mariah Carey t-shirts was making me laugh just standing there. It was exactly what I needed to help me forget about how child molesters don't go to jail if they have enough money. I can't believe the jury later said they believed it was Kellz on the tape! WTF!

Ok, see, I'm getting all worked up again. I clearly need to remind myself of why I laughed so hard last night:




And now I'm headed out the door to do 10 million errands! Hope you have a great day!

Will Tomorrow Come for Britney?

A few hours after crying my eyes out over Obama's Iowa victory last night, I found myself watching "Gone With the Wind".

I know, it makes no sense but I can only blame it on late night channel surfing. Before I knew it, I was watching Vivien Leigh acting as Scarlett O'Hara and Clark Gable getting it on as Rhett Butler.

Watching GWTW is like watching a train wreck. Put aside the fact that it's never been a movie I've liked with it's racist depictions of slaves like Mammy and Prissy, who are just sooo happy go-lucky and content with their lot.

Who doesn't cringe at Prissy's classic line, "I don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no babies, Miz Scarlett!" Ugh, no wonder the actress that played her, Butterfly McQueen, ended up quitting acting for a long time. Talk about typecasting!

The thing that makes GWTW so train wrecky is that Scarlett is the girl with no morals, an attention whore, the mid 19th century equivalent of Tila Tequila or, gosh...Britney Spears.

Yes, I woke up this morning still buzzing about Barack Obama. But the local LA news was buzzing even more about Britney Spears.

It got me thinking. Maybe what's really been wrong with Britney all this time is that when she was a little girl her mama sat her in front of the TV to watch Gone With the Wind. Britney probably grew up thinking Scarlett O'Hara was just the essence of southern womanhood, the essence of beauty and decorum.

But in reality, Scarlett is a lying, scheming tramp. I mean, two seconds after Ashley Wilkes' wife dies, Scarlett's asking Ashley if he wants to get with her. Britney probably translated that behavior to the 21st century seeing as how she got with Kevin Federline while he had fiancee Shar Jackson pregnant with their second child.

Rhett Butler takes his daughter, Bonnie Blue Butler, away from Scarlett because it's clear Scarlett doesn't give a damn about the child. And of course, K-Fed's lawyers are busy taking away Britney's kids because, well, it's clear she doesn't give a damn about those babies either.

Not that Rhett or K-Fed are ideal, responsible upstanding men, because they're clearly not. So it's weird that I watch GWTW and I'm relieved when Rhett takes Bonnie. And I'm relieved that K-Fed has custody now.

Another thing: Scarlett has always struck me as suffering from some sort of mental illness or personality disorder, and I'm not just saying that because Vivien Leigh was bi-polar in real life .

As for Britney, is she bi-polar? Manic depressive? Does she have multiple personalities? Is it drugs? Is it all of the above?

I don't know but I do know that in "Gone With the Wind" we watch Scarlett act crazy for about four hours. It's truly exhausting to watch her antics during that relatively short amount of time. Even at the end of the movie, Scarlett's still oblivious to the fact that it's her behavior that's the problem. She never once thinks that stepping back and changing her behavior is the answer. Nope, Scarlett thinks that her plantation and getting Rhett back is the answer to everything.

She starts her scheming and then declares, "Tomorrow is another day!"

I always feel like yelling at the TV, "You don't get it! Tomorrow is another day but that day might not come for you!"

We've all been watching Britney act the way she does for a whole lot longer than four hours. I'm mentally exhausted by it, but she seems to feed on the insanity of it all.

She's a lead story on legit news sites. Her face is staring back at me from the magazines lining every checkout stand. She's talked about on the radio. And here I am writing about her on my blog.

It must make her feel like it'll always be that way, like it'll last forever. Like tomorrow will always come.

And the truth is, sometimes it doesn't. I just hope Britney realizes that before it's too late.

O, Come All Ye Flirtatious Liars

It's officially Christmas Eve.

I'm still not sure if I'm ready to believe that this is actually true, that it's really December 24th, but all signs point to yes.

Besides, there were actually carolers outside my local Trader Joe's last night. They were singing "O Come All Ye Faithful" while standing outside by the shopping carts. They were singing in Latin. And yours truly knows all the words in both English and Latin. So I took my worst. singing. voice. ever. self over there and joined in with them.

"Adeste fidelis, laeti triumphantes
Venite, venite in Bethlehem
Natum videte, regem angelorum
Venite adoremus, venite adoremus
Venite adoremus, dominum."

Gosh, I haven't sung that in ages! Love it! But, I have to tell you, five seconds into it, I began imagining other shoppers saying, "Betty, I didn't know black people knew Latin. Did you?"

Or at least that's what I thought someone would say until a woman grabbed a shopping cart and growled to her friend, "I can't stand all this Christmas-y, Jesus s*%t! It's everywhere!"

Um, yeah, because Christmas is, like, tomorrow, dummy. But whatever, I'll just blame her grinchiness on PMS. Or hunger.

No kidding, she looked like she could use a sandwich... and a Norman Vincent Peale book.

Seriously, she really does need to think on the bright side. I mean, even the most serious atheist Angeleno has to be thrilled about how awesome traffic was this weekend. It was wonderfully light because everyone's headed back to whatever hole in the wall they're originally from. They'll have a nice Christmas dinner and try to avoid awkward conversations with their relatives about how their movie career isn't quite taking off the way they'd planned but no, that wasn't them in that porn magazine, no matter what Uncle Cutty says.

Speaking of movies, I went on a date with my eldest son on Saturday morning to check out National Treasure: Book of Secrets. We went to the 9:45 AM show because there was no way I was paying $12.75 a ticket to see that film. I was all about the matinee price of $8.75 and the matinee is only the first showing on the weekends.

As far as the film itself, the best performance hands down goes to Nicolas Cage's lacefront wig. I'm serious, it was rather entertaining to watch his hair bounce and shake during all the action sequences. I honestly don't get why he doesn't just say it loud, "I'm bald and I'm proud!" After all, we all know he hasn't had that much hair since forever.

Anyway, after the movie, I dragged my son into Anthropologie. He clearly wanted to die but I gave him my stern mommy face and told him there were, "Cute things on sale."

I fingered some blue and white dessert plates but quickly got distracted by someone speaking loudly en Francais. I turned, and a few feet away from me a thirty-something white guy was talking with two very attractive black women.

The gist of their conversation was that one of the women hadn't seen him in awhile and wondered how he was doing and where he'd been. This woman did most of the talking and literally purred, "We should get together soon. I've missed you." I caught her hand brushing the lapel on his jacket. He agreed in a sly, seductive tone that indeed, they should.

I thought nothing else of this rather obvious flirtation until I was standing in the incredibly long, snake-shaped checkout line trying to entertain my morbidly bored son. Suddenly, I heard a rather harsh voice say, "What were you talking to those black women about?"

I looked up and saw a rather annoyed looking blond addressing the same guy who'd been talking to the two women.

He played it super coy with his response. "What women?"

She didn't falter though, and she certainly didn't whisper. "Those two black women you were talking to."

I was immediately all eyes and ears. This was going to get interesting. This was what holiday shopping is about: eavesdropping on people!

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, arrogantly, and said, "Oh, those women I said hi to?"

She nodded, waiting for his explanation, her HUGE diamond ring glinting in the light.

"Oh they were nobody," he drawled. "The one was a secretary at the office and then, poof, she just disappeared one day." He waved his hand like he was a magician performing a trick.

Then he changed the subject and asked her about what she was buying and whether she wanted him to put it on his card. or not.

She did want him to put it on his card.

A part of me (the insane part) wanted to yell out, "Take it from this black woman that he's LYING and he's about to go have hot, tantric sex later on tonight with that other woman!"

But another part of me wanted to just laugh uncontrollably. Now that I think about it, I suppose it was his superior demeanor coupled with her complete inability to whisper. I wonder what Christmas carols they sing at home, "O, Come All Ye Flirtatious Liars"?

Perhaps the carolers should sing that rousing tune outside the Trader Joe's instead. I wonder if anyone would complain.

Dear Sweeny Todd

Dear Sweeney Todd,

I have come to the conclusion that I no longer live in Los Angeles, the City of Angels

Driving down Beverly Boulevard the other day, it's clear that this is now your town. It's the "City of Sweeney Todd".

Sweeney, how is it that you're managing to be everywhere?

I counted over 25 Sweeney billboards lining the five mile stretch of Beverly between Robertson Blvd. and Vermont.

Aren't you worried about overexposure?

True, each billboard comes with a nice swath of red. I think that's supposed to represent a splatter of blood. But I know you're misunderstood, Sweeney. Tell me, it's just you doing some free form painting, right?

Also Sweeney, I've read that you're some sort of a serial killer. In fact, they call you "The Demon Barber of Fleet Street". LA is a great place for you then because not only do we have a whole lot of "demon barbers" with their overpriced salons, most celebrity murderers get away with it in this town so don't worry about a thing!

I'm not sure if we have a "Fleet Street" though. I think the only "Fleet" folks here might be familiar with is the laxative kind. Oh, the ways some folks out here try to stay thin...

Despite this Sweeney, I have to be honest. I just don't know if you're really ready to take over LA.

I mean, you're really pale all over. Even your lips are bloodless. I know you're not Dracula so I'm thinking that pale problem could just be a crystal meth issue. Let me make you an appointment at a spray tan salon.

Besides, looking like you do, you need to start worrying that someone from Hillary Clinton's campaign is going to start a rumor that you're not only a drug user, but quite possibly also a drug dealer.

I mean, if they could insinuate this about Barack Obama, the most un-drug dealerly looking guy on the planet, what might Clinton's spin meisters do to you, Sweeney?

So, let's clean up your act!

I'll send you to the MAC store at the mall and you can fight it out with the teenagers over the concealer. Trust me, it's worth the money.

An added bonus is ff you flash your razor blades in the store, all the teens will probably think you're really cool and emo. Besides, half of them already think you're that guy from My Chemical Romance, Gerard Way.

Don't worry, Sweeney. I know Gerard's giving you a run for your money, but I think you're still winning the, "I look like death warmed over," race.

But if, while looking at Gerard's picture, you start to feel like the gray streak in your hair is a tad too aging for you, I'm sure we can hook you up with a colorist to just take your hair to a pure black.

And, um, it's not that I want you to stop feeling like yourself, but while we're at it, how do you feel about us borrowing your razor to cut some layers in your hair as well?

Your hair's also sort of frizzy and dry. What's up with that? Do you need someone to take it back to the old school and hook you up with a deep conditioning treatment and a dollop of Blue Magic?

I'm only telling you all this, Sweeney, because if you want me to go out with you next weekend you are going to have to get it together before then. I know it must seem odd that it's only the beginning of our relationship and I'm already trying to change you, but yeah, don't have me showing up to the theater for our date only to be embarrassed by your crazy self.

My ultimatum?

If you can't handle business and make yourself more presentable, I'll just go out with Kiera Knightly again like I did last weekend.

Didn't know about that, did you, Sweeney?

Yes, that's right! Kiera and I went to go see "Atonement" last week.

Sigh.

I just can't stop thinking about the two hours Kiera and I spent together. I even tried to get her to eat a sandwich but she turned me down.

Yeah, overall, I think I had a better time than she did, but she looked absolutely smashing in her green dress.

Now, Sweeney, don't be angry about me and Kiera. I'm just keeping it real with you. So you let me know what you want to do and get back to me as soon as I can..

Blowing you kisses and don't try to cut anybody with that razor,

Los Angelista

What's "The Wizard Of Oz "Really About?

I clearly have too much time on my hands because I'm watching "The Wizard of Oz" for the second time today.

Is it merely a fairytale or is it really all about money? Is the Wicked Witch of the East really a metaphor for Wall Street? Is the Yellow Brick Road really a stand in for the gold standard?

If I look at it as a political commentary, the, "Pay No Attention To That Man Behind The Curtain!" line is more relevant than ever. We aren't supposed to pay attention to what's what in our society. We're supposed to keep on shopping, keep on consuming and pretend we don't see the things that are staring us in the face.

It's also interesting to think about how a teenager is basically killing adults in this movie, but it's okay since it's all rather accidental. And, besides, they're female witches. Who cares if a couple of evil bitches witches die, right? Especially when they're the classic stereotype of a single spinster who's bitter because she doesn't have a man.

Yep, the Wicked Witch /Miss Gulch character was really evil. I used to be able to do the, "I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog too," just like her.

What am I talking about, I can still do it. And even though I haven't seen "Wicked", I can empathize with the Wicked Witch because if your dog comes and bites me, guess what, Toto is getting put to sleep.

And then I'm suing you for not keeping Toto on a leash. You'll hear me cackling, "I'll get you my pretty, and your house/car/bank account too!"

Yes, I'll be living large in the Emerald City and you'll be in lock down at the county "storm cellar".

I'll come visit you in an H&M knockoff of the Good Witch Glinda's dress and some red shoes just like Dorothy's. Yep, put the two of those together and bam, instant hotness!

You see how easy it is to just think about the yellow brick road(gold) and the fly Manolo's? Yes, indeed, maybe "The Wizard of Oz" really is all about money.

What's The Big Deal About Rocky?

Last night my friend Tom came over to have dinner and watch the Sugar Bowl with us. I spent the first half of the game enjoying the vegetarian chili I'd made, offering up Hail Mary's and promising God that I'd be good for ever and ever if Notre Dame beat LSU.

Somewhere in the third quarter, it became apparent that my praying and bargaining with God was not making a difference. Notre Dame's quarterback, Brady Quinn, was too focused on showing us his skill in throwing the ball both into the ground and into the hands of the LSU players.

Since a Notre Dame win was clearly not going to happen, Tom and my husband pretty much stopped watching the game. Put the two of them together and they can debate for days about anything under the sun. Last night, they ended up yapping about all sorts of random topics, including whether Halle Berry and her scene with Billy Bob Thornton deserved an Oscar for Monster's Ball and whether it's wrong for a rapper to swear on a record if it's not gratuitous cussing but instead adds to the artistic merit of the song.

In the midst of the swearing on records debate, a commercial for "Rocky Balboa," the latest in the series of Rocky movie came on. They got to talking about the film series and about Sylvester Stallone. I couldn't really contribute much to the conversation since, as I shared with them, "I don't get the whole Rocky thing, but that's probably because I've never seen any of the movies."

I might as well have admitted that I drink bleach for fun.

"You've never seen a Rocky movie?" Much spluttering and falling off the couch ensued in reaction to my response, "No."

More confusion and then looks of pity as they repeated over and over, "Oh my God. You've never seen Rocky!!"

Maybe this is a guy thing, but honestly, I've never wanted to see Rocky. I hate boxing and I've never thought Stallone is particularly hot. I mean, I know a little about Rocky. I know his girlfriend was named Adrian and the "Eye of the Tiger" song came from the movie. I just didn't realize that not seeing the actual film was such a big deal.

They were so shocked that I figured it was probably the wrong time to also admit I've never seen Purple Rain.

Tell me I'm normal and they're blowing this Rocky thing out of proportion. Or, am I really the only person on earth who's never seen a Rocky movie?

It's Christmas Eve...And All I Can Think About Is James Bond

I went to go see Casino Royale last night.

I'll admit it. I was one of those people that was less than enthusiastic about Daniel Craig being chosen to play James Bond in the remake. To be clear, I was not bothered by his blond hair like the cornballs who actually took time to set up websites vociferously proclaiming, "Daniel Craig sucks. He's blond and only 5'11"! James Bond only has dark hair and is six feet tall. Let's boycott the film!" Sure, that's what Ian Fleming said Bond should look like...but this is 2006. To me, the producers could have put any actor from any ethnicity into the role and I wouldn't have had a problem.

So why my lack of enthusiasm? You're going to think this really mean of me but...well, when I saw pictures of him, I couldn't help but think that this guy was, to be quite frank, ugly as sin. He was not the image of a smooth, suave, handsome guy who just happens to be a secret agent. I didn't want James Bond, the subject of countless fantasies, to have a face only a mother could love. I thought they should cast him as the villain in the movie, not as Bond.


Last night, I was ready for the 10:55 pm showing of Casino Royale. Ensconced in my comfy seat at The Grove Theatre, munching on Red Vines and drinking a green tea, I was prepared for the usual Bond fare, you know, gadgets, guns and girls. However, thirty minutes into Casino Royale, it became clear that Daniel Craig is a new Bond.

This Bond is, first and foremost, a cold-blooded killer/secret agent. Accordingly, Craig really brings a rugged athleticism to the role. We haven't seen Bond whup ass like this in years. Thankfully, he only uses the girls and gadgets sparingly to get what he wants. All that was great. Fantastic. Fabulous. But the most shocking surprise of the cinematic experience was when I found myself thinking, thirty minutes into the film, "He's hot." And then, "Damn, he's really hot."

What? How did I go from thinking Daniel Craig is completely unattractive to...being a bit infatuated with him? I'm still trying to figure out this change of heart. What did it? Was it the strength of the writing? Craig's acting ability? The eye-candy worthy scene of him walking on the beach? Was it the way Craig actually used his acting abilities and made the character emotive instead of merely a cliche? Or was it the way this Bond is clearly not relying on his looks to accomplish his mission?

If you've seen it, did you have the same experience?

"Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya!"

Does that sound familiar to you?

Do you know what should be said next?

If you know the entire dialogue sequence, then you and I would probably get along very well.

You see, I'm watching The Princess Bride with my two sons and it's nice to be able to share a film with them that's been one of my favorites since I was a teenager...and my boys think it's cool. "Mom, this is the best movie ever!"

I don't know about all that, but it does have a giant, an evil prince, sword fights, true love, suction-cup torture, a six-fingered man and R.O.U.S's (Rodents of Unusual Size). You tell me another movie with all that?

I used to have at least half of the dialogue in The Princess Bride completely memorized. This once served me well during a long road trip with an equally obsessed friend and her family.

Between the two of us, we probably spent a good couple of hours enacting entire scenes in the backseat...surely driving her parents a bit crazy in the process. Of course, we both loved declaring, "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father. Prepare to die!" Saying that still makes me laugh out loud.

Not many movies have that timelessness. Somehow I don't think that twenty years from now people will be laughing that way at Borat.