I Love the View of My Navel

Wanting a man who has a girlfriend is standing in a bakery that puts its chocolate cake behind bullet-proof glass. Frustrating, fruitless and downright disheartening.

A Rainy Day

Cyd Charisse passed away on Tuesday. She had been married for 60 years to the same man and didn't look close to her age. She was a beautiful, graceful woman. One of the few female dancers who could draw focus from Gene Kelly.

When I saw Singin' In the Rain the first time, I didn't "get" her. The entire dance sequence bored me. As I got a older and just a touch wiser, I realized that she was an exceptional performer. Watching her dance. Watching her move. I was suddenly aware of what the human body, particularly the female one, could do. It made me even happier when I found out she was 30 when she made that film. Not old in normal people years, but ancient in the world of dancing.

She left behind a lovely legacy of dance and film. Brigadoon and Silk Stockings come to mind. But when I hear her name, I'll always think of a leggy brunette in a green dress tempting Gene Kelly with a seductive dance.

Lights On!

You know what is an excellent idea if you haven't been sleeping well? Watching The Silence of the Lambs for the first time on a dark, cold Sunday night.

I have a fairly extensive knowledge of movies, and Hannibal Lector is a cultural icon. I've quoted the film for years despite being too scared to watch it until now. So brilliant woman that I am, I thought that I could handle what is considered one of the most terrifying movies of the last thirty years.

Hoo boy, not so much. The entire movie is just so brilliant. Jodie Foster's beautiful blue eyes act as conduits for the audience into the mind of Hannibal. It's a vulnerable and moving performance that was rightfully rewarded with an Oscar. And Anthony Hopkins chews the hell out of the scenery in the best way. Watching him made me feel as though I was watching Beethoven compose.

And maybe, just maybe I would have been alright watching the two of them. But friggin' Ted Levine. That man scared the shit out of me. "It puts the lotion on the skin or it gets the hose again." Aaaaah! Ok, and also a little hee! I love that line. I don't like to use the word brave to describe an actor. It's not as though he's running into burning buildings or anything, but Buffalo Bill would have been a ridiculous caricature in the hands of a lesser actor. Levine makes him eminently believable. It's the honesty of the character that kept me up last night. Waiting for a man with night-vision goggles and a desire to wear my butt.

Cultural Snobbery Pisses Me Off

If you think that liking foreign films makes you a better person than me because one of my favorite movies is Tommy Boy, I've got nothing for you. If you scoff at anything that's "mainstream" or popular, please stay away from me.

Hey, I watched Spirited Away in the original Japanese. I know who Akira Kurosawa and Jean-Luc Godard are. Big fucking deal. My love of ee cummings and Kandinsky does not nullify my love of fart jokes.

Look, I know that I have better taste than most people. If you are one of my friends, feel proud, because, hello, good taste. But I am also aware that every single person on the planet thinks that what he or she loves is superior to all other crap. It's a duh kind of statement really, but too many assholes forget that their love of The 400 Hundred Blows has no bearing on their importance as people.

I know that the United States is dumbing down at an alarming rate, but the solution isn't to become insular and elitist. Take a cue from your kindergarten class and share with the other kids. And for the love of god, don't feel guilty about the things that you enjoy. Unless you love Clay Aiken, in which case, make like Clay and keep it in the closet.

I Have to Wait All Summer?

I watched the last five minutes of Gossip Girl on perezhilton and could not have loathed the show more if it had farted in my face. I love campy, soapy trash T.V., but the actors have to possess a talent besides walking and flipping their hair at the same time, and the writers need to not look to old Sweet Valley High books for their inspiration. That Jessica. What a bitch!

On the flip side, the season finale of House left me dehydrated from excessive crying. I'm not a huge fan of the show despite my love of Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard, but it was truly the most wrenching sixty minutes of T.V. I've seen all year. The show's biggest strength is that the ridiculousness of the medical melodramas never distract from the variety of relationships the show contains. Wilson and House in particular shine as co-dependent best friends who want the best for each other but have opposing views about what that means. The reason that the season finale was so exceptional is that there wasn't a nail-biting cliffhanger. Wilson's girlfriend Amber died and House lived. The end. But whether or not House and Wilson will repair their friendship is tantalizing enough to make me want the fifth season to start right now.

And last but never ever least. CSI: Miami. They shot the Carus! He might be dead! Either way, his sunglasses are broken and he won't be standing with his hand on his waist like a little teapot for another three months. Gah! Will this torture never end?

Kill Screen Hero

My word did I love The King of Kong, a documentary about the pursuit of the highest score on Donkey Kong. There's a dude, Billy Mitchell. And he's a total dick. At the beginning of the film, he is the world-record holder of the highest score. When Steve Wiebe, a husband, father and complete sweetheart sets a new record, Billy manages to get the score invalidated. Because he is. A DICK.

What follows is an almost Biblical match-up between these two men. Except that Billy refuses to play Steve live. Instead, he punks out and sends a videotape of his reclamation of the record.

I absolutely love documentaries like this. Trekkies and Wordplay come to mind, and I'm sure there are more. None of these movies cover ground-breaking or controversial topics. The people in them aren't famous or ticy-actory types. They are "normal" men and women who spend their lives watching Star Trek or doing crossword puzzles or playing Donkey Kong.

The best part about Kong is the strange men who hang on the periphery of Billy and Steve's lives. Billy has several little minions who tread somewhere between the ridiculous and the sublime.

I recommend this movie to anyone who has a sense of humor and a love of obsessive devotion to the small things in life.

Another Moment of Sadness

For the second time in less than a month, my mom has lost a member of her family. My Aunt Drein was 43. Forty-three. Looking at that number it seems even more absurd that she is gone. She died peacefully in her sleep. And that is absolutely zero comfort to the people who loved her. She had just gotten engaged. She was singing in a band and doing really well. She had friends and confidantes and family who loved her. Sometimes this fucking life is just too ridiculous.