Yucky Salad with Bones

January 31'07

Why yes, thanks, I'm feeling much better. Like a brand new baby, actually, reborn yet still covered with a thick layer of phlegmy mucus, rendering me distinctly unappealing to all of polite society no matter how much my mother loves me. Is it redundant to say "phlegmy mucus"?

So what have we got coming up, Ground Hog's day? Is that considered a holiday? It's on my calendar, so it must be, but there's still school and stuff, right? You'd think I'd know this by now. I wouldn't be surprised if all the government offices were closed, that's for sure...I'd like to see a holiday where only government employees have to work and everyone else gets the day off. Not only do they have to work, they are required to smile and do at least one thing right during the course of the day. (If you are a civic employee, my apologies. I wasn't talking about you, obviously; you have a reputation for always being pleasant and highly competent, you go out of your way to be helpful and kind and members of the opposite sex find you wildly attractive. I've always said it's a wonder you're not molested hourly.)

SAG awards were this week, I didn't watch. I used to love the SAGS, on the grounds they focus on the only awards anyone (me) really care about, but I felt I was in danger of awards show fatigue and with the Oscars now being held a full month before they used to be, we can't have that. Besides I'm high in Grease Academy!!

It's not actually called that, it's called "You're the One That Looks Most Like Olivia Newton John or John Travolta", and it ROCKS. They had the top 24 people perform last Sunday and all I can tell you is with the exception of 3 or 4 contestants, if any of this so-called undiscovered talent were the lead of a Broadway show that I had plunked down a wad of cash to see, I'd demand one of two things:

My money back

A bag of overripe tomatoes.

Not nice! (she added, in the hopes it would soften the horrible thing she just said. "Why so concerned about that, Katie? It's never bothered you before," you may ask, and I'll tell you why: it's Oprah. She's getting to me, I tell you, she's building orphanages and schools and dammit if the woman isn't getting to me! Curse you, Oprah Winfrey and your infernal, seemingly bottomless pit of goodness!)

And Grease Academy is such a gloriously blatant rip-off of American Idol, the scary British guy even has the same haircut as Simon Cowell.

January 24 '07

Bill's Thoughts:

You think what's going on in Darfur is an outrage? Darfur doesn't know of outrage my friend, Dreamgirls didn't get up for Best Picture!!!!
Several people from the Sudan have called me in the last two days to voice their concern: "Look, genocide is bad and all, but you're trying to tell us "Little Miss Sunshine" got nominated over "Dreamgirls"? Now that is AN ATROCITY! Our government is funding warlords to kill us, but c'mon... we haven't lost perspective over here, forget about us for awhile and please turn your worried eye towards Hollywood!"

To all of you out there who are now looking up from your Wall Street Journals and sniffing, "The Oscar nominations were announced? Bah, who cares. I've no time for such nonsense." Well aren't you just "Mr. Big Important man"?

Okay, I have no good argument to those who hate awards shows and such. I can certainly understand people who say, "who wants to watch a bunch of Hollywood jackasses give each other awards and tell one another how great they are?" (A sentiment held firmly by David Letterman, which is why it's so bizarre that he hosted one year). I hear ya. But sadly, the answer is me. I want to watch. I see well over 50 movies every year. I rank every damn thing I do, of course I'm gonna watch. And I'm fully aware of how ridiculous it is, but I enjoy arguing about what should or shouldn't get nominated. Do I actually care at all if pushed on the matter? Of course not.

But let me ask you this Mr. Big Important Man, is arguing about the Oscar nominations any sillier than arguing about whether or not some fat chick was smiling in a painting done 500 years ago? Who really cares, right? Was she smiling? I don't know... was there any lasagna left? If there was, she was probably smiling. If Da Vinci gave the leftovers to his dog, she was probably pissed. Point being-- you waste your time, I'll waste mine. Your fine arts are no finer than mine, I don't care how many clove-smoking, beret wearing, shampoo is so bourgeois art-history professors say otherwise. I can write, "this painting is about man's inhumanity to his fellow man, and it's pretty obvious that the artist is at least partially insane" about any painting you want to test me on and your tortured soul will give me an A, so there. I think I'll just go see "The Departed" again instead.
(By the way, is anybody throwing any raging "Mona Lisa's 500th Birthday" parties this year? Anyone? You could come up with some really fun "Is She or Isn't She" scenarios for every woman at the party.)

To the nominations:
Best Picture

The Departed-- I hope it wins, it was my favorite movie of the year. Snappy dialogue. A lot of people hated the end, and yeah, all the people you want to see come out the otherside don't, but I liked that. You enter into that kind of life and you never know what's around the next corner. You think you have it all figured out? You don't. When your time is up, it's up and in that world it's probably sooner than later.

Babel-- I'm afraid this is going to win. It was enjoyable enough, but I got the sense watching it that everyone involved with it, while they were filming, were probably all congratulating eachother on "what an important piece of film we're making". They're not invited to my Mona Lisa party.

The Queen-- I haven't seen anyone under the age of 50 buy a ticket to this movie. I'm not saying that's good or bad, I'm just saying. I want to see it actually. The whole royalty thing over in England is just so bizarre in this day and age. "Oh, are you the Queen?, I'm sooo impressed. What did you do to get that status? You were born? Yeah, that makes sense." Why does it seem like this Queen has been alive for 300 years? I swear she was 80 when I was a little kid. She can come to the Mona Lisa party though, I mean, she's a Queen for heaven's sake.

Letters From Iwo Jima-- Otherwise known as "The Clint Eastwood Entry For This Year". Haven't seen it yet, I want to. I was pretty disappointed by Flags Of Our Fathers.

Little Miss Sunshine-- OVER-RATED, clap-clap clap-clap-clap OVER-RATED!!!! I saw this 20 years ago when it was called "Revenge of the Nerds". I love how people who swear by this movie answer people who think it's not that good by saying, "oh, you just don't like Indie movies, why don't you go watch X-Men 12?" I'll say this as simply as I can: I like Indie movies if they're good. The last scene where the whole family dances at the Miss Sunshine pageant was so forced I actually groaned in my seat. I didn't hate the movie, there were some amusing quips and scenes. Not a Best Picture nominee.

What got shafted? Well, two out of three Darfurians think Dreamgirls. That was a stunner, most people like me who waste time on things like this had this as the front-runner. It was a lot better than Chicago, which won best pic. Academy type movies that were better than Little Miss Sunshine: United 93, Thank You For Smoking, Casino Royale.

Best Actor:

Leo DiCaprio, Blood Diamond-- I'm pretty tired of every American actor not named Streep getting ripped for any role with an accent. He was good in this, but I don't think he was anywhere near as good as he was in The Departed. He nailed the tortured, smarty-pants, mixed-up character he played. The scene in the shrink's office was award-worthy.

Ryan Gosling, Half Nelson-- I hate his guts for personal reasons, but the guy is a great actor. Hasn't missed yet. And his involvement means that Rachel McAdams will be at the ceremony which is excellent. I hate him because he's dating her and I'm not.

Forest Whitaker, The Last King of Scotland-- So Jefferson is going to win an Academy Award! Those poor citizens of Uganda must have messed with his Trans-Am.

Peter O'Toole, Venus-- Love him. He and his gang spent their entire lives drinking hard and bedding women. Cool.

Will Smith, Pursuit of Happyness-- He was great in this. Well deserved nomination, doesn't deserve to win.

Best Actress:

Helen Mirren, The Queen-- It seems she might get every single vote, so I won't list the others. Kate Winslet was great, as always, in Little Children and I would vote for her. Judi Dench has already been nominated for '08 and '09 for movies to be named at a later date. I guess everyone figures if an ugly little midget like that can actually get in movies, she must be a helluva an actress.

Best Supporting Actor:

Eddie Murphy-- will and should win. He's great when Jimmy is on top, but spectacular when Jimmy is on the way down. Marky Mark was great too. People are surprised Jack didn't get up, but I would have voted for both Matt Damon and Alec Baldwin before Jack. Alan Arkin? For "The In-Laws" yeah, not for this.

Best Supporting Actress:

Jennifer Hudson will win. She was great. Sang her rear-end off. The Japanese girl in "Babel" frowned a lot. Every scene she was in. That's great acting. Maggie Gyllenhaul was great in two movies this year and got zippo. And I thought Vera Farmiga was worthy of a nomination in The Departed-- she played torn really well.

I want The Departed to win Best Picture, Jefferson and Mirren are locks, Gumby and the American Idol reject are favorites in the supporting roles. Scorcese will finally win.

I gotta go plan my Mona Lisa party. And eat some lasagna.

editor's note: I've said it before but it bears repeating; Mona Lisa is Leo D.V. in drag. It is! He's smiling because his meat and 2 veg are all tied up with twine.

-k

Oscar Noms:

Obviously, everyone is all up in arms that "Dreamgirls" got snubbed for Best Picture. Wonder what Barack Obama thinks? This is the biggest shocker since "Glory" got left out of the '89 race. (Was it really that long ago? And looking back, the movie from that year that's really stood the test of time but was ignored by Oscar was "When Harry Met Sally". Don't get me wrong, "Glory" is one of the best movies ever but I don't quote from it on a near daily basis.)

My thoughts on who should win: Best Picture: "The Departed", fo' sho'.

Shouldn't have gotten a nod: "Little Miss Sunshine". Totally overrated. Should be called "My Big Fat Greek Little Miss Sunshine".

Best Actor: None of them. Leo for "The Departed"? Yes. But "Blood Diamond"? C'mon. OK, I didn't see it, but I saw a trailer for it and his accent sounded goofy.

Supporting Actor: Eddie Murphy by a country mile. I think it's cool that the cat from "The Bad News Bears" got up, but he shouldn't win. Marky Mark was freakin' great in "The Departed", but Eddie M burned it up. Shouldn't have gotten a nod: Alan Arkin. I'm soooo sick of Wacky Old Codger characters.

Best Actress: Anyone but Meryl Streep. No secret that I love her, but this performance was just not as great as everyone says it was. It was fun and all that, but whatever.

Best Supporting Actress: Jennifer Hudson. Although I liked that little girl from Fat Greek Sunshine, nice to fianlly have an alternative to Dakota Fanning. Don't you love how Dakota, at the ripe old age of 13, is finally doing her "time to go all gritty and adult" thing in her new movie in which she gets brutally raped? File that one under WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THAT CHILD'S PARENTS???

"Hi honey, how was work today?"

"Um, OK I guess. We had to film that scene where I get raped. I wish I could do more movies about pigs and spiders and stuff."

"Sweetie, we talked about this. You're getting to be a big girl and it's time you graduated from 'kid' movies. Sighhhh... Sometimes little girls get raped. It's not fun, but it's real, and you need to start thinking about that if you don't want that kid from 'Little Miss Sunshine' to take all your roles. Because then your career will end and I won't love you anymore."

Best Director: Scorcezeeeeeeeehhhhhh.

January 21 '07

The following is from Bill. It's not Tuesday (again) but this is a subject that he feels strongly enough about to actually tear himself away from the "Gentlemen's Magazines" he spends most weekends perusing.

Music? Movies? Jello chocolate pudding snack packs? Nay, my friends, the grand sport of hockey. By the way, I just noticed I misspelled "sore". I'm sick.

Enjoy:

January 20, 2007-- the first ever official "Hockey Day" in Minnesota. FSN North showed 11 hours of hockey coverage, including a high school game played outside on Baudette Bay, the Gophers versus Denver at Mariucci at 5:30pm and the Wild finishing things off against the Stars at 8pm. "Hockey Day" is about hockey moms and hockey dads, hockey brothers and sisters and hockey fans of all stripes. Most of all "Hockey Day" is about passion for the game. And nowhere was that passion more evident than at Lake Nokomis, where over 200 teams were competing for the Golden Shovel, awarded to the winners of the second annual US Pond Hockey Championships.

The following column ran in Minnesota Score magazine during the winter of 2004-- we run it again here again in honor of "Hockey Day"-- for all of the moms and dads who get their children to the rink at ungodly hours, for all Wild fans who make the X the best rink in the NHL, but mostly for all of those out pushing the puck this weekend on Lake Nakomis.

John Steinbeck once penned a classic novel titled, "The Winter of Our Discontent". As this present winter rages on in Minnesota, one can't help but wonder, "Is there another kind?"

Sometimes you have to wonder about the sanity of living in a place where, when the temps hit 30 degrees and the sun actually comes out, people look at each other and say, "Wow, isn't it nice out today?"

Have you ever looked at the people waiting at a bus stop in January or February in our "winter wonderland?" Happy they are not. They look like I imagine Randy Moss does when he's told to run out a play fake. Complete disinterest just a moment away from totally checking out.

You wonder why you live in a state where the golf season is about as long as a Denny Hocking hitting streak. It seems silly to stay in a place where there are days it takes you 15 minutes to wipe off your windshield and by the time you're finished with the rest of the car, it's time to do the windshield again. (Don't be one of those people who drive around with a foot of snow on the hood of your car.)

You wonder all of this and then you happen to wander by the north end of Lake of the Isles at 5pm on a Friday evening. You don't know how it happened, but you've been dropped into the middle of a Currier and Ives greeting card. You stop and stare. If you give it half a chance you'll realize you're at one of the greatest spots on earth. You can have the Grand Canyon or Niagra Falls, I'll take an outdoor hockey rink on a cold winter day with a game about to start.

Across the lake the gorgeous homes on Isles Parkway are lit up with Christmas lights that begin to sparkle as the late afternoon gloaming surrenders to the dark of night. Just in front of you is the old fashioned warming house, complete with the attendant who is either an older guy smoking cigars, or a high school kid doing math homework. If it's the older guy, he's usually got a case of pop that he bought for two bucks and is selling them for a buck a can out of a cooler he brought from home.
Inside the warming house there is a kid on the phone telling his buddies to come down right away, the game is great, or to meet him at a different park because this one is too packed.

There are several grade schoo girls who were dropped off by their moms for two hours of skating. They skate for just under five mintues before going inside to warm up. The next time they go outside again is when their moms arrive to pick them up. On the wall is the requisite sign that says, "Hockey sticks and pucks on the hockey rink ONLY."

Back outside you notice that even though it's only 10 degrees out, there is a constant stream of joggers huffing and puffing away all those Christmas cookies on the immaculately paved running path.

But that's not the show. The show is on the ice. It helps if a light snow is falling. There are plenty of people on the regular skating rink. Young girls putting in their required five minutes. Couples skating together and always some weird guy wearing speed skates from the early '70's doing endless laps around the plowed oval. Fathers teaching their 4-year old sons how to skate. Those youngsters usually have the same look on their faces as the people at the bus stop, with a little more snot spread across their cheeks.

But it's the hockey rink that you can't take your eyes off of. Ten guys are out on the ice playing and ten more are waiting for their turn, five guys on each side. No one knows how the sides are made up, it just happens. Two or three guys stand out and are worth the price of admission with their dazzling array of head fakes, toe and slide moves mixed together with deft touch passes.

One odd guy has on full pads and hacks too much and lifts the puck too much and makes everyone else just shake their heads. When the snow gets too thick to stickhandle through, the guys shovel the rink, everyone taking their turn. You can hear the chatter liven up as the game restarts on a fresh sheet.

No sport has a more poetic flow than hockey and nowhere do athletes love their sport more than "rink rats" playing outdoors. You stare out at these guys, who range in age from 12 to 55, passing and stickhandling and hooting and hollering and you realize there are no people on the planet having a better time than they are right now.

When you finally walk away you aren't quite as cold anymore, the snow doesn't look quite so sinister. Of course it doesn't have to be Lake of the Isles we're talking about. This scene unfolds about every couple of miles across Minnesota-- from packed community rinks to iced-over backyards where hockey dreams are born.

Many of you reading this will eventually find a way to escape Minnesota winters and when you do I promise you one thing-- you'll miss it. Jesus, you'll miss it.

January 20 '07

Sick. Super sick. Throat so sore I'm seeing stars sick.

January 19 '07

Just finished watching "Mrs. Henderson Presents". Really liked it. 87 kids are running around my house as I type; you may be wondering why I was watching such scandalous smut while I had kids around, but they stayed downstairs and only popped into the TV room occasionally to show me whatever bizarre costumes they had on. Hearing them thumping up the stairs gave me adequete time to blank the screen.

You know, it's all about context, idn't it? I was only 13 when I drew my first nude model and look how normal I turned out. (Can it, smarty pants.) I have several nudes hanging in my living room right now. (One of them is Molly. She's stripped down and is hanging over the side of the couch.)

But despite my proclivity for displaying dirty pictures all over my house, I am sensitive to the fact that it's not my place to teach other people's kids that the human body is nothing to be ashamed of. Last thing I need is a rep as the weirdo mom. Once that rumor takes hold you're screwed... might as well start burning incence, serving bulgar burgers and sporting long gray braids.

You'll notice above that I said "the human body is nothing to be ashamed of" and not "a beautiful thing", an idea often expressed by people who have clearly never really looked at one up close. An awesome thing? Yes. But beautiful? Well, sure, a well lit, well draped, well painted/shot/displayed body can look very beautiful, particularly if its owner does the occasional sit-up, but let's face it, for the most part it's kind of a freakshow.

January 19 '07

We have this new system at school where the kids can set up lunch accounts...the parents put money in it, and the kids punch in a code after they get their food and the account is charged. Well, we ran into a curfuffle at the beginning of the year when Finny's buddies were buying him food every day (we don't let our kids get hot lunch). Then yesterday we got a notice from the food service people informing us we owed 11 dollars.

I thought it was a mistake until Meg said, "Well, I see Molly in the lunch line every day." Turns out, Miss Molly has been helping herself to chocolate milks every day and punching some fake number into the keypad.

"Molly, we don't have an account! You're not supposed to take chocolate milk!"

"I do have an account, mom."

"Oh really? What's the number, then?"

And she looked at me, and in the same voice Kurt Russell used in Overboard when he says to Goldie Hawn, "You're Annie...Goolahee" said as her face turned pink, "It's 6 and 2."

I can just see her, waltzing up to the lunch line, taking milk and confidently entering in her made-up number. Some parents, upon being told their kid did something naughty, react with a "What? My precious would never do that!" Whenever I hear stuff like that about Molly, I just pull out my checkbook and say, "Yep, that sounds like her."

January 17 '07

TUESDAYS WITH BILLY

Yeah, I know it's Wednesday. It's Tuesday somewhere, though, even if only in my mind. Here's his take on the Golden Globes:

And I thought Al Pacino's speech a couple years ago was disjointed and all over the place-- at least it was sort of weird and kept you watching. I think Warren Beatty read half the script of "Reds" during his. Wow. Did he really say, "blah blah blabbity blah blah" at one point, or was that just me hearing it wrong? Meandering, rambling, oblique, roundabout, tortuous-- pick one, they all fit. Or pick them all, Warren would. It explained a lot though-- I now know why the guy is famous for bedding so many women-- listening to him talk is exactly like taking a roofie-- his speech pattern is the original date-rape drug.
Speaking of meandering, rambling, oblique, roundabout, tortuous-- they're all pretty good descriptions of "Babel"--your best picture winner. Nah, it wasn't quite that bad, but it certainly shouldn't win best picture. If you haven't seen it here's a brief synopsis: Brad Pitt plays a character named "Brad Pitt"-- a guy wandering through a third world country trying to legitimize himself as a big-time actor and not just a pretty face. It sort of reminded me of when he played a guy named Brad Pitt in "Mexico". Cate Blanchett plays a character called "Jennifer Aniston" for the fist half of the movie and even though the Brad Pitt character is married to her, he takes her for granted and ignores her. After she gets shot, Blanchett's character changes her name to "George Clooney" because now Brad really loves her and cares whether or not she lives or dies.
Back in San Diego, Brad/George/Angelina's kids, named "not Maddox" and "not Zahara" are left behind because they're just plain old white American kids and who wants those? So they ditch their kids and leave them with the Mexican nanny, who takes them down to Mexico to play a giant game of hide 'n seek in the desert.
Meanwhile, over in Japan lives a deaf and mute teenage girl who's mom killed herself and who's dad may or may not have sexually abused her, who tries to get one of the local cops (played by Matt Dillon, who's a racist creep at first, but we learn that he really isn't that bad, he's just had a rough go of it) to sleep with her after she drops some ecstasy near a hotel where Bill Murray has to decide whether or not to sleep with Scarlett Johansson or not. I'm not kidding. Then they all get together and try to build a tower tall enough to get to heaven, but eventually realize that's not possible so they decide to dance around with streamers while singing "Age of Aquarius" instead.
Maybe it did deserve best picture after all.

Congratulations to "Ugly Betty" and America Ferrera. I've never seen the show, I hear it's very good, but every time I see a commercial for it all I can think is, "she's twelve, why does she have a job?"

I had to wonder if all the actresses in the auditorium weren't feeling a little "Ugly Betty-ish" every time they glanced Beyonce's way. "Hi, I'm better looking than you and I can sing my butt off to boot." And I thought one of the most genuinely nice moments of the night was when they showed her tearing up watching Jennifer Hudson giving her acceptance speech. Seriously, there may not be a guy on earth worthy of dating Beyonce.

I found it really weird continually seeing Prince in the background, clapping and gawking like he was just some regular 'ol person. These affairs are always so much better when the mega-stars are there, and they were there last night. George, Jack, Clint, Tom Hanks, Leo, Brad and Michael. I gotta say the women department was sort of.... huh? Michael who you ask? Michael Bolton baby! I had to chuckle when I saw him sitting there at the Desperate Housewives table with the Wax Museum's version of Nicolette Sheridan. When the camera panned by him the look on his face screamed, "what??? c'mon... I'm somebody!"

Okay, I love Meryl Streep like everybody else, she was great as always in "The Devil Wears Prada" (and "Prime"). Her speech was great, a nice touch to recognize that her movie played everywhere while some of the others were harder to find than Bin Laden. But her plan was for you and I to just go tell the theatre managers what movies we wanted to see? Is that how it works Meryl? Why don't I just tell my boss I want to be paid a million dollars a year? Or why don't I just tell Warren Beatty to keep it short?

January 16 '07

It's almost 1 in the afternoon on Tuesday following the Golden Globe awards, and Warren Beatty is almost done with his speech.

Jiminy Cricket, I thought he'd never shut up. He kept repeating the line "45 years ago, 45 years ago..." until Miked yelled out, "45 years ago you started this speech!" Warren then actually did the now total cliche "Shnookums, Precious, go to bed!" and again, Mike pointed out that in L.A., it was 7:15 pm.

What the hell was Angelina Jolie so crabby about last night? If it hadn't been for that scowl on her face, I woulda thought she looked pretty, but instead she looked like she just flew in from a makeover at Dracula's house of personality rape*. She was the personification of the adage "You're never really dressed without a smile".

Angelina, in Transylvanian accent:

"Blad, vy are vee here, Blad? Theese is soo beneath us to bee here at thees vulgah avards show Blad, cheeldren are starvink in third world countriees Blad. Theese is the kind of think I expect from that silly, vapid ex-wife of yours, Blad, or maybee that baby-stealink criminal Madonna."

"Shut-up, woman, I'ma fixxin' to leave you for Cate Blanchett anyway. You know how Africa makes me horny."

OK, I just got off the phone with John, who has his own take on last night, and he echoed my sentiments about Angie, even going so far as to say she's turned into Bette Davis. Now, John 'live-blogged' the show, which is what all the cool kids do, I know that, but here at McCollow Ranch we don't get internet reception in the tv room so I can't do that. And I haven't read John's blog yet because I didn't want to accidentally on purpose steal any of his jokes. He did spoon-feed me that Africa bit, after all.

Best lookin' female: Tie between Reese Witherspoon, who looked absolutely smashing (amazing what losing a 170 pound bag of hack can do for a girl) and Hilary Swank. Ms. Swank was a surprise, I have to say. Even though she's won two Oscars, I still think of her as low-rent. When she finally convincingly plays someone other than a chick who wishes she were a dude, maybe I'll change my mind, but the ads for Freedom Writers make me laugh, sorry. Fran and Muzz and I decided we need to have a film festival featuring only movies about teachers who turn all the bad kids around and dance-offs (since the two things often go hand in hand. Someone needs to make a movie that spoofs that genre and call it Freedom Dancers.) Back to Ms. Swank's look, though; it was great. I thought the sparkly flower in her hair was adorable, a perfect touch, and her dress was fantastic. Honorable mentions go to JLo and Renee Zellwegger, who never seems to have a misstep.

For the men, I have to give props to Clooney. He looked like a movie star, plain and simple. No ill-fitting hipster doofus tuxes for him, he leaves that silly trend to the youngsters and Jeremy Piven. (Jeremy, once you're over 30, it doesn't look edgy, it just looks stupid. And stop bringing your mom to awards shows unless you want everyone to think you're dating Ryan Phillipe.) Likewise to Marky Mark Wahlberg, who now wears his star status as comfortably as he wore his great suit. Aaron Eckhart...grrrrr...he looks like if Dennis Leary had a way, way better looking brother.

The missfires were ghastly and plentiful, just the way I like them. Cameron Diaz had on some sort of Bjork costume. No way to get JT to rethink dumping her, that's for sure. Sienna Miller looked like Heidi goes to Boca. These two women are both considered fashionistas, and I've never seen either of them look good outside a movie. Now, Chloe Sevigny, on the other hand, is also a top rule breaker, the difference being she actually knows how to make her off-beat looks work, which is what real style is all about. You can't just throw on a pair of curtains and a saddle harness and think you're Gwen Stefani. Meryl Streep looked reliably terrible, but I love that about her and here's why: she honestly comes across like she couldn't care less, that later in the evening she'd go into the bathroom, catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror and burst out laughing, then return to the party and have a great time. And she's earned it. I know it's become a total cliche to rave about Meryl, but c'mon, argue with me. You can't. She's earned the right to be the Jack Nicholson of actresses, all unkempt and guffawing, eating up buckets of praise for her (overrated, but who cares? She's Meryl Streep!) performance in an (also overrated) movie and give whatever kind of speech she wants to.

The "God Bless Her" award goes to Ms. Sharon Stone, who never, ever fails to amuse me. God Bless her for vamping and preening and posing and talking in that ridiculous "movie star" voice, made all the more delightful by her recent and atrocious eye lift. All she needed to vault herself cleanly, permanantly over-the-top was some botched plastic surgery, and that happy day has arrived. When she walked out on stage looking like she'd scotch-taped her eyebrows to her hairline, I swear I heard angels sing. Patricia Arquette took a page right out of Kathleen Turner's playbook, "The Power of Bloat: How to Look Way Older Than You Really Are". Dang, woman. I know Hollywood has an unhealthy obsession with being skinny, but you can't average things out all by yourself. Save some Twinkies for Alec Baldwin. Really glad he won, by the way. He is so funny on 30 Rock it's insane, and he gave a funny speech, too. Shonda Rhimes had on a dress so ugly I was actually intrigued; are you going hunting, or to a ball? Or to the office? Explain yourself!

I've never watched Ugly Betty, but I was amused watching all the beautiful people (including star America Ferrara, who is cute in real life and let's be honest, isn't really ugly on the show. Glasses, braces and bushy eyebrows? Please, these are all things that can be changed as easily as Paris Hilton's antibiotics) tear up and nod knowingly to each other; yes, we are wonderful. The whole world is not beautiful like we are, and we acknowledge that. The same way we acknowledge the importance of the film "Blood Diamond", even though 99 percent of us haven't a friggin' clue how the diamonds we are wearing got from the ground to our earlobes. We are good people. We support ugly girls and costume jewelry.

*Yeah, I know that didn't make much sense, but then again, neither did "The Good Shepherd".

January 14'07

Season two premiere of Extras: total perfection. Perfection. Hilarious, whip-smart, poignant and true.

Orlando Bloom, talking about Johnny Depp: " 'Oooh, I do art house films. I have scissors for hands'...Willy Wonka? Johnny Wanker."

Golden Globes tomorrow, has it really been a year already?

January 14 '07

I'm getting a lot of noise from the peanut gallery that it isn't clear who's writing here these days, Bill or me. Apparently our names at the bottom of the posts isn't enough, I'm supposed to erect road signs and whatnot. Now, those of you I have not heard from regarding this matter, I'll assume it's because it wasn't difficult for you to figure out.

But I'm not some elitist, nay... I aim to please the masses, to be the Jerry Bruckheimer, the Chris Daughtry, the Pottery Barn of bloggers so erect road signs I shall; the dumbing down of the Salad will commence this Tuesday. I know I just set myself up for a wisecrack, so you just make that wisecrack and enjoy the hell out of it.

Speaking of non-elitists, there was a big article in our paper today about golfer/artist Bud Chapman selling the originals of his famous "fantasy hole" paintings for the bargain basement price of 20 million dollars. God Bless him, I hope someone buys them for even more. Someone once asked me, back when I was a fresh-faced art student, what I thought about his hanging his Chappie prints over his fireplace. He knew they weren't what is generally considered "fine art", and that everyone and his brother, his brother's dentist and his brother's dentist's dog had them but he loved them and wanted to give them a place of prominence in his home.

"Would it be ridiculous to hang them in my Living Room?" He asked me.

"Not any more ridiculous than anything else in your house," I said.

We haven't kept in touch.

But my point was if you like it, hang it. Who cares what other people say or think, it's your house and if that wagon wheel coffee table makes you happy, who am I or anyone else to say it isn't great?

Watched "Guys and Dolls" last night. Molly almost imploded during Adelaide's scenes at the Hot Box. All she wants out of life is to dress in fabulous sparkly outfits and dance around in a club with a subversively filthy name. And, of course, have Frank Sinatra wrapped around her little finger.

January 9 '07

So what's up with Katie and saying "ya'll" all the time now?

"N'kay, ya'll I baked these cookies and they sucked, ya'll."

I could've sworn we grew up next to Lake Harriet, but apparently we were just half-a-swamp down from Kellie Pickler.

Actually, I'm just trying to throw you readers off from the fact that my little sister just spent the better part of a post deconstructing "DAUGHTRY" on the very day that Van Halen and REM were inducted into the rock 'n roll Hall of Fame. (Apparently both David Lee Roth and Sammy Hagar are in. But wouldn't it be great if that guy from Van Halen III, the Extreme guy, showed up at the ceremony all, "it's been a long hard road, but dammit, I MADE IT!"

Eddie V: "Psst, hey dude from Extreme... get out of here."
Dude from Extreme: "What up brotha? We made it. After all those years, we made it!"
Eddie V: "Dude, I made it. You, not so much. The thing is, nobody on earth can name one Van Halen song that you sang lead on. Not even me."

Did you hear that Van Halen recently kicked long time (in fact, whole time) bassist Michael Anthony out of the band in favor of Eddie's son Wolfgang? Eddie's reasoning was basically, "he always sucked anyway and my kid rocks". With that and the Roth/Hagar feud, it ought to be quite a night at the induction. That's what dreams are made of indeed.

But back to DAUGHTRY and the cd that America demanded. First of all, what-in-the-sam-hell is with that title? Not that it's just the title, but that's going to be his moniker now? Um, what? Could your first bold stroke back into the public arena be more gay? Why didn't he just pose on the cover bare-chested, hugging his boyfriend Ace Young?

"I'm just DAUGHTRY now, you know? I mean, Chris was just sooo American Idol, and that's not me man, that was a lifetime ago. It's a cute show and all and it helps a few of these kids get a good break into the biz with some good exposure, but c'mon....I'm a rocker. I'm DAUGHTRY!

Ass.

Okay, okay, I know those aren't his moves-- it's all done by some greasy, way too much cologne wearing, 51 year old A &R guy who dresses like he's 22, talks like he's 18 and has "My Humps" as his ring tone. Wow do I hate that guy.

Or maybe it's just me. But it's not my fault-- see, I'm just all broken up inside. Someone should help me before it's too late. Maybe tonight.... tonight.

That felt good. N'kay ya'll call me HUBBELL!

January 8 '07

scene: last night:

I just finished watching "You're the One That I Want", the program that asks America to choose the leads for a future Broadway production of "Grease". It is the greatest show ever. Ever!

Now I'm watching the new Apprentice, for no other reason that I'm too lazy to find anything better to stare at. The last two stooges in the boardroom are a guy who looks just like Prince Charles and won't shut up, and a guy wearing a pin stripe suit with a red checkered shirt and a polka dot tie. Fire him just for that. Ivanka is a pretty impressive young lady...I mean think who her peers are, Paris Hilton and whoever else...oh fer cryin', now I'm hooked. Drat!

N'kay, let's talk music. I know, I'm no Billy, ( a completely unfair benchmark, by the way. He's like a music enyclopedia. He makes these "best-of" CD's for everyone every year and 99% of them are songs no one has ever heard from bands we've likewise never heard of. He really should have become an A&R guy, but went with sports instead. I recently hit upon an obscure band out of Austin whose name I've already forgotten and emailed him 'hey, have you heard of these guys', within seconds he'd shot back their best album and the three best tracks on it...)when I say "let's talk music" it's usually followed by something like "Did anyone catch Kenny Loggins at Mystic last month?" (Kenny rules, by the way, so shut up.) But I've been listening to Daughtry, that's right, Daughtry as in Chris, as in the rocker dude whose premature votage off American Idol last year started a national firestorm. Figuratively, that is, it's not like Al Sharpton opened his fat mouth about it and there weren't riots or anything, but at least we all had something to cluck about at cocktail parties for a week. Anyway his cd is out and I have it. On the packaging it actually said "the cd America demanded."

That's right, we demanded it! And it ain't bad, ya'll, not bad at all, as middle-of-the-road pop goes. I mean it's about as edgy as a donut, but it's certainly better than the abortion Bo Bice put out last year. Very, mmm, Nickelback, if Nickelback and Matchbox Twenty had a baby. It's bursting at the seems with pat pop phrases, lots of talk of being "broken inside" and "before it's too late" and "maybe tonight...tonight", rockin' enough to make the Disney Channel set feel rebellious. Not the kind of thing I usually go for, but I'm happy to support a former idol. Why isn't there a ribbon bumper sticker for that? It could be techno- blue like the show's signature set and read "I Support American Idol Rejects". Simon's gigantic, scowling mug could be featured in the middle. I haven't heard Taylor's effort yet, but I'm looking forward to it.

And on Scrubs the other night, a hilarious send-up of House. I've said from its inception that Hugh Laurie was just ripping off Scrubs' Dr. Cox (the criminally overlooked- at-awards-time John C. McGinley) and the show acknowledged just that sentiment. Fantastic.

OK, here's Bill's contribution this week:

*warning: if you don't like bad words, don't read it. He didn't actually say the bad words, they're just quotes from '06 movies.)

Billy's Best Movie Lines of '06

The Matador

Pierce Brosnan: Margaritas always taste better in Mexico.
Greg Kinear: They certainly do.
Pierce Brosnan: Margaritas and c***.
Pierce Brosnan: Sorry about the c*** thing, it's kind of a conversation stopper.

Casino Royale

James Bond: Vodka-martini.
Bartender: Shaken or stirred?
James Bond: Do I look like I give a damn?

Dryden: How did he die?
James Bond: Your contact? Not well.
Dryden: Made you feel it, did he? Well, you needn't worry. The second is...
James Bond: [Bond shoots Dryden] Yes... considerably.

Inside Man

Clive Owen: Soon I'm gonna be sucking down pina coladas in a hot tub with six girls named Amber and Tiffany.
Denzel Washington: No, it's more like in the shower with two guys named Jamal and Jesus... and here's the bad news; that thing you're sucking on? It's not a pina colada.

The Pursuit of Happyness

Alan Frakash: What would you say if man walked in here with no shirt, and I gave him a job?
Will Smith: He must have had on some really nice pants.

The Break Up

Vince Vaughn: Richard did not kick my ass, what Richard did was attack me while I was half asleep.
Jennifer Aniston: Really? Is that how you see it?
Vince Vaughn: There's a really big gap between getting your ass kicked, and having a dancing, singing sprite fool you with trickery, and then strike your throat before you know that you're even in the fight. But I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand that, because all you do is make moves from up in your ivory tower.

Vince Vaughn: You're going to get arrested.
Cole Hauser: For what? Being Awesome?

World Trade Center
Nic Cage: We prepared for everything. Not for this. Not for something this size. There's no plan.

The Scoop
Woody Allen: I was born of the Hebrew persuasion, but I converted to narcissism.

Dreamgirls
Eddie Murphy: Jimmy want a rib! Jimmy want a steak! Jimmy want piece of yo chocolate cake!

Stranger Than Fiction
Queen Latifah: [Seeing Eiffel smoking a lot of cigarettes] You know there's something called a patch.
Emma Thompson: I don't need a patch. I smoke cigarettes.

Borat
Dinner Host: I'm calling the police!

Borat: Why you call police? The retard escape?

For Your Consideration

John Michael Higgins: In every actor there lives a tiger, a pig, an ass, and a nightingale.

John Michael Higgins: Have you kids heard of a little thing called the Inter-web?

The History Boys

Gym Teacher: What's your excuse?
Timms: I've got a sick note, sir.
Gym Teacher: I don't do sick notes! Get your clothes off! Did Jesus Christ say, "Please may I be excused the Crucifixion?"
Scripps: Uh, I think he did actually, sir

The Devil Wears Prada

Meryl Streep: ...You have no sense of fashion...
Anne Hathaway: I think that depends on...
Meryl Streep: No, no, that wasn't a question.

You, Me And Dupree

Owen Wilson: [during his job interview] I'm a people person, very personable. I absolutely insist on enjoying life. Not so task-oriented. Not a work horse. If you're looking for a Clydesdale I'm probably not your man. Like I don't live to work, it's more the other way around. I work to live. Incidentally, what's your policy on Columbus Day?
Interviewer: We work.
Owen Wilson: Really? The guy discovered the new world. I'm afraid to even ask about Victory Over Japan Day.

Thank You For Smoking
BR: People, what is going on out there? I look down this table, all I see are white flags. Our numbers are down all across the board. Teen smoking, our bread and butter, is falling like a s*** from heaven! We don't sell Tic Tacs for Christ's sake. We sell cigarettes. And they're cool and available and *addictive*. The job is almost done for us!

Talladega Nights

Ricky Bobby: Really, smarty-pants? What did French land give us?
Jean Girard: We invented democracy, existentialism, and the bl*****.
Cal Naughton Jr: Those are three pretty good things.
Ricky Bobby: Hey.
Cal Naughton Jr: That last one's pretty cool

Ricky Bobby: Dear little baby Jesus, who's sittin' in his crib watchin the Baby Einstein videos, learnin' 'bout shapes and colors. I would like to thank you for bringin' me and my momma together, and also that my kids no longer sound like retarded gang-bangers.

Ricky Bobby: Well, I'm the best there is. Plain and simple, when I wake up in the morning I piss excellence.

Ricky Bobby: How was school today, boys?
Walker: I threw a bunch of Grandpa Chip's war medals off the bridge.
Chip: I can't hold my tongue. These kids are my grandchildren, and you are raising them wrong
Walker: Shut up Chip, or I'll go ape s***on your ass!
Texas Ranger: Yeah, Chip, Momma says I should kick you in the back of the head!
Cal Naughton Jr: Yeah! Go on and get some boys!
Texas Ranger: I'm gonna come at you like a spider monkey!
Walker: I may be 10 years old but I'll beat your ass!
Cal Naughton Jr: Go and get some, boys.
Texas Ranger: I'm all jakced up on Mountain Dew!

editor's note: I liked the line "If we wanted to raise a coupla pussies we'da named em Dr. Quinn and Medicine Woman!"

Ricky Bobby: This kinda reminds me of that Highlander movie.
Jean Girard: What? I never saw that.
Ricky Bobby: It was nominated for an academy award.
Jean Girard: For what?
Ricky Bobby: Best movie ever made.

Cal Naughton Jr: Ricky, if you turn on the stereo, how do you control the volume on the television?
Ricky Bobby: If you have the stereo on, why would you turn up the volume on the TV?
Cal Naughton Jr: Cause I like to party.

Cal Naughton Jr: I like to think of Jesus like with giant eagles wings, and singin' lead vocals for Lynyrd Skynyrd with like an angel band and I'm in the front row and I'm hammered drunk!

The Departed

Warning: Loooooootta F bombs ahead

Mark Wahlberg: Who am I? I'm the guy that does his f***** job! You must be the other guy!
Jack Nicholson: No. He kept his own counsel. He never wanted money. You can't do anything with a man like that. You're Uncle Jackie - he also would kill my entire f****** family if he saw me here with you. And I think about this.
Leonardo DiCaprio: [confused] So what the f*** are we talking about here?
Jack Nicholson: Did you ever think about going back to school?
Leonardo DiCaprio: School?
[laughs]
Leonardo DiCaprio: All due respect Mr. Costello, school is out.

Vera Farmiga: I know you have to come here, but now that you're here, what do you want?
Leonardo DiCaprio: You want the truth? Valium.
Vera Farmiga: You know if you lied, you would have an easier time getting what you wanted.
Leonardo DiCapario: What does that say about what you do for a living?
Vera Farmiga: I just think we should have a few more meetings before we even talk about prescriptions.
Leonardo DiCaprio: Look... look, I'm having panic attacks, alright? The other night I thought I was having a fucking heart attack. I puked in a trash barrel on the way over here. I haven't slept for f****** weeks.
Vera Farmiga: Is that true?
: Yeah, that's true. Alright? I said it was f******true. I want some f****** pills and you're gonna what? You're gonna close my file? Is that what you're going to do?
Vera Farmiga: No, I didn't close your file. I...
Leonardo DiCaprio: [angry] I thought I was supposed to tell the truth here, if only f******* here!
Vera Farmiga: You are! You are!
Leonardo DiCaprio: Christ. I mean, a guy comes in here against every, every instinct of privacy and self-reliance he has and what do you do? What do you do, huh? You send him off on the street to score smack, is that what you do? You're f****** ridiculous!
[Madolyn hands Costigan some Valium]
Leonardo DiCaprio: [picking up the pills] Two pills? Great. Why don't you just give me a bottle of scotch and a handgun to blow my f****** head off! Are we done here with this psychiatry bull****?
Vera Farmiga: You know what? You can leave!
Leonardo DiCaprio: What the f*** did I just put myself through? I'm f****** out of here. And what if that was a legitimate threat? Think about it f****** hotshot!

Matt Damon: [to Madolyn] If we're not gonna make it, it's gotta be you that gets out, cause I'm not capable. I'm f****** Irish, I'll deal with something being wrong for the rest of my life.

Alec Baldwin: I'm gonna go have a smoke right now. You want a smoke? You don't smoke, do ya, right? What are ya, one of those fitness freaks, huh? Go f*** yourself.
Matt Damon: F***** fireman.... getting p****for the first time in the history of p****.... or fire.

There was also a lengthy quote from Clerks 2, but it was too filthy to post. My keyboard would've burst into flames.

January 4 '07

Heh.

These two have been having a lengthy, oftentimes heated and expletive heavy e-debate over whether or not college football needs a playoff...at one point, John tried to change the subject and wrote "Did you see that President Bush met with the Prime Miniser of Iraq?" to which Bill shot back, "That's f*****! He should've met with Michigan!"

At the same time that was going on, my sisters and I and, um, Billy, had a similarly passionate exchange over who should be cast as Henry in the movie version of The Time Traveler's Wife.

January 2, 2007

I spent a couple of nights in the early nineties last week and it left me feeling quite nostalgic. I may be older and hopefully wiser than I was back then, but I don't know how to have as much fun. That's one of the worst parts of growing older-- it's not so much that you can't throw caution to the wind anymore, it's more like you're too old and tired to even lift caution up to try to throw it.

Friday the 22nd I went to First Avenue to see Soul Asylum. I've been out of town for a few years and the first thing that struck me as I got out of a cab in front of Butler Square was Block E. I'd seen Block E before, but not yet the finished product. When I first started hanging out in downtown Minneapolis (hint: CSI Miami and Grey's Anatomy were called Hill Street Blues and St. Elsewhere-- the ends of those shows runs, but you get the idea) Block E was nothing more than a ridiculously designed parking lot and a dumpy, low-end strip joint called "The Stardust". It was genuinely seedy, with drunks and hobos hanging about. (Hobos? Sorry, I shouldn't paint the wrong picture; it was the mid-80's, not the 40's). Anyhow, back then we'd pile out of Glueks or Jose's at bar time and in seeing that strip club across the street, it really felt like you were downtown-- that place that your parents wouldn't let you go when you were younger because it was dangerous.

So what could possibly make one wistful for a run-down strip club you ask? How about huge neon signs for Hooters and Applebee's staring me in the face as I walked down First Ave? Yikes. The "downtown" I picture in my head when I hear The Replacements sing "Skyway" had been shoved aside for a Burnsville strip mall or an extra wing of Mall of America. The gritty downtown area where not so long ago Morris Day would shout put-downs at the Kid as he roared away on his purple bike has been replaced by one with fat, 40 year old guys from Farmington wearing purple jerseys. I just wish there was a way to tell the tourists that at the very spot they sit eating their bright orange buffalo wings, once upon a time degenerate drunkards piled quarters into video machines that would show them the vilest of the vile, and that the hootery women bringing them their pounds of wings and 54 ounce Miller-Lites, just might be the offspring of hootery women who once shook their wares for the lit-up, after-bar crowd.

And while we're here, how the hell is Hooters still a chain? You almost have to tip your cap to them for sticking it out so long in the ridiculously pc world we now live in. I'm guessing that sometime in the early 80's, two drunk guys were sitting in a strip bar somewhere in Florida and one of them said to the other, "You know what would make this even better? If we had a lot of chicken wings!" And his buddy took a huge swig of his beer and answered, "Dude that is the most awesome idea ever! What could possibly be better than boobs and chicken wings!" And because Earth is a fair and just planet, those two guys are now gillionaires while teachers can't afford to watch "Entourage". You younger readers can't fathom what a ridiculous name that was for a chain restaurant at the time. Steve Martin had helped make "hooters" THE name for women's breasts at the time. It would be like opening an establishment today named, "Big 'Ol Giant Breasts".

We stopped in at O'Donovan's across the street from First Avenue for a couple of pops before the show. Very good bar. Several of the bartenders and the house singer all have thick Irish accents that make you feel like you should be drinking a lot more than you are. So you pick up the pace and you even throw down a shot of Irish whiskey to let the bartenders and everyone else know that you're not some rube who came downtown to go to Applebee's. When you put the shot glass back on the bar you have to fight back the urge to tell the bartender that you've read "Angela's Ashes" and that you used to have a Pogues cassette.

Finally it's 11:15pm and time to head across the street to the show. No offense to the opening acts, I've heard that they were very good, but at my age and my reduced number of chances to hit the town, I'm not going to spend an hour trying to talk over a band I've never heard before. It was just after 11:30pm when Soul Asylum takes the stage. My group played the game you always play, trying to guess what they would open up with. None of us got it right, but the opener was pretty appropriate for the sold out show: "Somebody to Shove".

One verse in I knew it was going to be, with apologies to Vikings coach Brad Childress, "a kick ass show". (What the hell Childress? You spend an entire season giving pressers that were about as exciting as those government shows you run across on local cable channels, and then you blurt out that you have a "kick-ass" system? Wow, was that out of place. It was as if my mom had just told me she had downloaded the new Strokes album on to her I-Pod. The only possible response from those in attendance at the presser as well as those who saw it or read about it later was: uncomfortable silence followed by a rolling of the eyes and thinking, "okaaaay, whatever you say". In other words the exact same response I would have gotten from the bartender if I had told him about my old Pogues tape.)

The concert was fantastic. Soul Asylum is one of my all-time favorite bands and is absolutely my favorite live band ever. Now I'll admit that they probably had an unfair advantage as Dave Pirner was in the class ahead of me in grade school and the first time I ever heard him play guitar I was in 7th grade. But having said that, the first time I ever saw them play live was my at a dance my senior year in high school when they were Loud Fast Rules and Dave was just a year out of West High. I hated them. They were just too loud and too fast for my Petty/Springsteen trained ears. The kids that had come over to Southwest from the closed West all loved them, but I just wasn't up to speed yet. Shortly after they became Soul Asylum though, I jumped on board and here I'll stay until the Grave Dancers are soft-shoeing on my little slab of brick. I'll always feel fortunate that I was of age to see both the Replacements and Soul Asylum in their prime-- and as these things tend to go in the music industry, the 'Mats will always hold a higher standing with rock critics and music lovers alike, but I like to argue that Soul Asylum was every bit as good and was the better live band of the two. I loved the Replacements and I love all of Westerberg's solo stuff, but I didn't go to grade school with him, so there. For those of us who were there back in the day and there on the 22nd, we know that Dave is one of the all-time live performers when he's on. When they were much younger, Dave spent entire shows looking like he was being electrocuted. And the guy was blessed with rock 'n roll hips.

I've always wished Dave talked a little more in their shows, but that's just not who he is, and that's cool. And the stupid, sappy-side of me has always kind of hoped that at one of these First Ave shows, they'd break into Springsteen's "My Hometown" during an encore, but they haven't (because Dave's cooler than me). At this show they did throw in the Cure's, "Just Like Heaven" during the encore and I though it was very appropriate because for me, heaven will definitely include some Soul Asylum live shows.

Saturday the 30th, it was the Gear Daddies at the Fine Line for their 100th or so reunion concert. That sounds like a dig, but it's not. If they want to get together and play shows on occasion, more power to 'em-- people in Minnesota will always show up and have fun. This show was definitely a lot more aged than the one at First Ave though. I think the youngest person in the crowd was around 34. And it was a slower moving, and, um... (what's a nice way to say "fatter"?) crowd. Me included. I'd done nothing but eat and drink for eight straight days since the First Ave show. The one time I tried to exercise, I was running around Lake Harriet and tore my calf muscle. They used to kill the fatted calf for celebratory meals-- I just worked backwards-- celebratory meals, got fatted, then killed my calf.

Even Martin Zellar, who used to make the ladies swoon with his boyish looks and swirly hair, looked too big for his clothes and like he needed a haircut. The show was a lot of fun, but make no mistake-- it was old. The band was old, the songs were old, the crowd was old. It kind of made me wish I was 25 again, running around without a care in the world-- but I'm not, and that's okay. I looked around the bar and I recognized a lot of faces from the early 90's. There were more wrinkles, more inches on the jeans and a lot less hair on the heads, but just like the early 90's-- everyone was smiling.

At least we weren't at Hooters.

December 31 '06

New Year's Eve, 8:51 pm...she sat in front of her television, wrapped in the gigantic "Starsky" sweater she got at a Kiosk featuring Native American-inspired knitwear in the winter of '91. She liked to imagine it made her look dwarfed and adorable, sort of like how Juliana Marguiles always looked on ER whenever her character was portrayed at home (remember? Always curled up in a comfy pair of jammies on her couch, a helpless little church-mouse sipping on a cup of herbal tea?) but knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she really just looked like a grizzly bear who'd stumbled into Steven Segal's closet. 'The Producers' was on cable, the movie inspired by the stage production inspired by the movie. The new one. Terrible, but changing the channel would've meant bending down and feeling around on the floor, which seemed like a monumental amount of work at the moment. Her five-year-old daughter skipped into the room, chocolate running down her chin.

"Cnfoomaymesupoforn?" The girl asked.

Well trained in mouth-stuffed-with-food-kidspeak, she recognized this request as "Can you make me some popcorn?" and answered "Yes, sweetie, as soon as this movie is over," vaguely thinking she should really put the child in bed, but what the heck, it was New Year's Eve. Popcorn sounded pretty good, which was more than she could say for Matthew Broderick's voice. It couldn't possibly have sounded that bad on the stage, could it? The show was a huge hit, fer cryin' out loud.

She thought about the year that had passed and how blessed she was to be beginning another one, even if her sweater was distinctly unflattering. No major goals had been reached, no great monetary gains had been made, a few more lines had poppped up on her face and she still couldn't figure out why her toilet kept overflowing, but it had been a good year in her own little corner of the universe. She hoped and prayed for the same in '07, and for the rest of the world to be able to enjoy the same type of peace and tranquil, non-Earth shaking variety of happiness that God had bestowed on her and her family. She started humming "My Grown-up Christmas Wish" but her gag reflex kicked in, a reminder that sometimes you just have to embrace your limitations and remember that if she got too sappy, regular readers would get confused.