shaken & stirred

welcome to my martini glass


Having a cheapish, nicish, last-glass-in-the-bottleish Chilean white of golden hue. (Hue being a pretentious word for color, or a brand of stockings.) (Stockings being a wonderful word for "hose" or "tights.") (Hose and tights not being things that sound pleasant to wear, but being at the bottom of the word totem poll for describing said things.)

See what happens when I wait until the end of the day to blog? Mass distraction.

Movies that I forgot to write about.

Igby Goes Down. Whichever the middle Culkin is, can act. (As can the youngest, I think.) I presume this is because they suffered less friendship with the Glove Monster at their more impressionable stages. Poor, poor Macauley. For being first-named Macauley and being the iconic palms on jaws kid. It's sad to think someone's a "what ever happened to..." at the ripe old 20s, and even more so to think about how he must feel that his bros. are keepin' it real with the indie street cred. Word.

Anyway. A worth it movie, if you're in the mood for troubled disaffected teen, and looking for something infinitely better than that swill version of Dangerous Liaisons Do High School from a few years back. (Also, oddly, with Ryan Phillippe in it. I'm not sure I'm spelling his name right, nor am I sure how to spell it--Kelly and I tried various and dangerous pronunciations of it last night and they all sound silly.) He's good and Claire Danes is a glowing revelation as the tough-as-nails slut. Phillippe-sois is AWFUL. Over plays it. Susan Sarandan, who is often a bit of the divine, also overdoes things, though not quite so badly. Bill Pullman plays crazy dad, but his twinkle is still his twinkle and it didn't really sell crazy to me.

Long story short: I hear it's better than Possession.

24 Hour Party People, on the other hand, is a must. Steve Coogan is wonderful, likable and not nearly as acid as usual. The music is grand, the actors cast to play musicians grand, the filmmaking innovative and interesting. It doesn't feel real for a minute, until it does, because you know it somewhere somehow deep down is. Or at least pretty close. The extras are fun too.

And I finally got Christopher to get over the Marisa Tomei thing and watch Happy Accidents, which as predicted, he liked lots and lots.

I've rambled enough, and Hem's on, and I'm missing a great opportunity for some swirly dancing around the room. So...

The world's best Jesus painter, mebbeeeee..... From Kentucky.

Hank Stuever writes about tiny dogs and the people who emotionally abuse them. (Note to PETA: No animal abuse actually takes place in this story.)

Go have some freedom fries or something.


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