See The Dark Knight

I took the day off work today.

Why? Because Dan and I had tickets to the 9:00 a.m. IMAX screening of The Dark Knight. This meant waking up at 6:20 and waiting in line outside of the theater by 7:00 a.m. When we arrived, there were about ten people ahead of us.

At 11:38 a.m., I was back outside of the theater, blinking in the sunlight and completely mesmerized by what I had just seen.

Even if I could manage to string together a sentence on how shit-rockingly awesome this movie is, I wouldn't want to because I would hate to ruin it for anyone who has yet to see the film.

If you like movies in any capacity whatsoever, see this film (preferably on an IMAX screen). It's brilliant. Seriously.

It's the weekend, I have the day off, I just saw a fantastic film and I'm in a hell of a good mood, so I'm sharing the love:

Dark Night -- Tito and Tarantula

Completely unrelated (kinda) but equally badass! Enjoy!

P.S.



Christian Bale has earned himself a permanent place on the Laminated List. Like a bag of hammers, I would.

Val Kilmer Sucks. George Clooney Sucks.

In honor of The Dark Knight, it's Batman month at Casa Awaiting-A-Name. This means reading all about the Caped Crusader and the Rogues Gallery that terrorizes Gotham, checking out Batman Unmasked: The Psychology of the Dark Knight on the History Channel and watching all the movies.

Having already watched the camp-tastic 1966 film starring Adam West and Tim Burton's takes on Batman a couple of times earlier this year, I decided to plunge headfirst into the mythos by watching the subsequent films.

I started with Batman Forever.



Since I'm hungry, I'm going to serve up a compliment sandwich -- a juicy criticism served between two thick slices of whole-grain compliments.

Compliment: Before Nolan reinvigorated the series with Batman Begins and put Batman/Bruce Wayne center stage, the movies had always been about the villains. Nicholson got top billing as The Joker (although Jack would probably get top billing if he was playing a background extra) and anytime you combine Michelle Pfeiffer and black vinyl -- well, does anyone really care who else is in the picture? [Sidebar: It's ridiculous how beautiful Michelle Pfeiffer is. She's as gorgeous now as she was twenty years ago]. Batman Forever continues this tradition.

Jim Carrey's Riddler and Tommy Lee Jones' Two-Face looked like they were having a blast wreaking havoc in Gotham. Jones bit a bit too much of his performance from Jack but his riotous laughter and Gollum-esque usage of plurals made for some pretty decent popcorn entertainment. As for Carrey, he played The Riddler as a complete lunatic whose mind is almost as elastic and flexible as his face. He also spits out two of the best lines in the movie -- "If knowledge is power, then a God am I" and "Was that over the top? I never can tell!" The latter being a deft jab at critics of Carrey's comedic contortions.

Criticism: The movie is completely unremarkable, lacks a strong sense of story and aside from the villains, the performances are thoroughly lackluster. Kilmer is morose and wooden, O'Donnell's Robin is not only completely unnecessary but whiny to boot and although Nicole Kidman has the femme fatale thing down, her breathy whispers don't compare to Kim Basinger's va-va-voom vixen Vicki Vale. In short, the movie is boring. Really, really boring.

Compliment: As bad as Batman Forever is, I've been told Batman and Robin is even worse. When I mentioned watching Batman and Robin to Dan, he looked at me like I was insane and said, "When you're watching it, you'll wish you were watching Batman Forever." Not exactly high praise but praise nevertheless. Sorta.

I think I'll watching Batman and Robin solo, but I mean -- how bad could it possibly be? After all, if I sat through Da Hip Hop Witch Project, I can definitely survive this.

Welcome to the Terrordome

(courtesy of Popsugar)

America is the only society in the world where effete morons like Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt not only survive past adolescence but actually thrive and prosper.
The only society where being talentless, blonde and pumped full of plastic is an EZ-Pass to celebrity -- a status that's getting easier and easier to attain with each passing day.
The only society where you can take two people whose collective IQ doesn't equal the amount of calories in a cup of cabbage and hand them lethal weaponry.

The ever-elusive "they" don't hate us for our freedom as George W. Bush has tried to convince us many times over.
"They" hate us because of things like this.


(courtesy of Popsugar)

Looking at these pictures is the only time in my life I have wished Dick Cheney was around.


On the list of things I hate about us:

- Anything even remotely related to Tila Tequila and the very concept of an Internet celebrity. Having a million friends on MySpace does not make you worthy of anything other than derision.
- Easy Mac and Crustables. Seriously, how effing hard is it to make a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich?
- NASCAR. Gas costs $4.15/gallon and these assholes just use it to go around a track for hours.
- The fact that Yahoo! Mail is now blocked by the company firewall. In the company's defense, though -- Yahoo! was littered with a ton of ads. Looks like I'll be making the switch to Gmail permanent.
- Karl Rove. I thought nefarious super villains only existed in comic books. Sadly for America -- I was very, very wrong.

However, it's the weekend and I don't want to start things off on a salty note, so here's a list of things I'm currently throughly enamored with:

- The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. Spare, evocative, heart-breaking and compelling. I read the entire book in one day and loved it. I picked up Hosseini's second book, A Thousand Splendid Suns and I can't wait to read it.

- Mangoes. Ate a sliver and then, went out and bought an entire box of them. Nothing tastes more like summer time.

- The Public Library. Thousands upon thousands of books all for free. It's an amazing and seriously underappreciated institution.

- The Dark Knight. Dan and I tried to get tickets for the 12:01 IMAX showing but they were sold out. Stupid fanboys. So instead, we'll be catching the 9:00 a.m. showing on July 18. I don't think I've ever been this excited for a movie before. Ever. Not only do I have the utmost faith in Nolan, but I am completely mesmerized with both Christian Bale and Gary Oldman. Particularly the latter.



Gary Oldman is an actor in the purest sense of the word. He's a chameleon who really bites his teeth into every role he takes on and really has the audience believing that he is Sid Vicious, Sirius Black, Beethoven, Lee Harvey Oswald, Dracula, Pontius Pilate or a lazy-eyed pimp named Drexl Spivey. The fact that Oldman has never won an Oscar is a glaring oversight on the part of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.The man is undeniably brilliant and I can't wait to see him play Lt. James Gordon again.

Look bitch -- you knew I was a snake

Once upon a time, a woman was picking up firewood.
She came upon a poisonous snake frozen in the snow.
She took the snake home and nursed it back to health.
One day the snake bit her on the cheek.
As she lay dying, she asked the snake, "Why have you done this to me?"
And the snake answered, "Look bitch, you knew I was a snake."

This is one of my favorite parables. Not only because of the Tarantino connection and the profanity ("mittens!") but because of just how true it rings.

My teen years were spent embroiled in this thoroughly ridiculous mess of a relationship. Looking back, I realize just how adolescent and pointless it was. But, when you're sixteen -- it's easy to justify sheer idiocy and I had a three-pronged attack.

1. I "loved" him and "understood" him in a way that no-one else did.
Ummm, no Miss Mensa. You didn't and you didn't. It wasn't so much love as it was wanting to be in love. See what happens when you surround yourself with movies and music? All those great scenes and song lyrics make you nuts. Just ask Rob Fleming.

2. He was different.
Wrong again, Baby Einstein. Well, actually -- he was different because unlike the men in my life now, homeboy had a doctorate in douchebaggery. A doD, if you will. Unfortunately, Sixteen-Year-Old Jaime thought he was different because he whispered all those sweet nothings that every girl wants to hear. I wasn't friends with The Best Friend yet because if I had been -- he would have smacked me upside the head and said, "Hey asshole! He's only nice 'cause he wants to get in your pants!" Damn you, Biffle. Why didn't we meet sooner?

Let's try for a hat trick, shall we?

3. We were destined.
Oh Sweet Caroline, how do you even get dressed in the morning?! It wasn't destiny so much as it was cheap rent that was responsible for putting the two of you in the same neighborhood.

If I had just realized, "Look bitch, you knew he was a snake," I could have spared myself some seriously pathetic personal history.

Instead of moping about this dude and writing endless paeans about the 'complex' nature of our relationship (in reality, our relationship was about as complex as a monotone Rubix's Cube) -- I could have been out eating a great sandwich or learning to salsa dance or whatever it is people do when they're not languishing in the throes of self-involved assery.

However, as much as I'd like to take back those countless hours where I connected to R&B tracks on a disturbingly personal level, without that experience -- I wouldn't have realized just how amazingly wonderful the Nice Guy is.

Yeah -- the nice guy. The guy who eats his vegetables, loves his mom, calls when he says he's going to, compliments you sans ulterior motive and makes your life easy. Or, if you're so inclined -- the nice girl. You know, someone like this:


(image courtesy of IngredientX.com)

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is -- look bitch, you mess around with snakes and you're going to get bitten. Granted, some people get a buzz from the venom, but this girl? She's with Indy when it comes to snakes.

P.S.: My guy loves broccoli, is taking his mom to see The Dark Knight, is pretty great about keeping phone dates, told me I looked pretty this morning and makes my life fairly easy. In the words of Salt 'N Pepa and En Vogue -- whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man. Hmmm...that's two references to R&B in one entry. Someone's been spending a bit too much time at 90's R&B Junkie.

My name might as well be Fatty McButterpants.

I got caught in a torrential downpour after work. By the time I got home, I resembled an extra from Titanic. A very grouchy extra from Titanic.

But because I spend a majority of my time channeling Slimer, my dinner made it all better.



So, what did my fabulous dinner consist of?

Flatbread topped with hummus and fresh salsa



Idiot-Proof Salsa:

Chop:

Tomatoes
Green peppers
Onions
Corn
Garlic

If you want to get a little more creative, feel free to add:

Black Beans
Tomatillos
Jalapenos, Habaneros or Serranos (if you're not afflicted with what Mom so tactfully refers to as, 'white man's tongue')

Mix with:

Salt
Cilantro
Extra Virgin Olive Oil.

Marinate for half an hour in the fridge.
Find any flat, edible surface -- chip, cracker, flatbread....
Smother liberally with salsa.
Eat!

Avocado and mango salad with fresh lime and crushed red pepper.



And for dessert, a chocolate-covered pretzel rod. Salt + Sweet = Winner. Every time.

Pascal from Big Night said it best -- "God damn it, I should kill you! This is so fucking good I should kill you!"

Put me on a plane/Fly me to anywhere

I got really excited last night because I thought I found cheap tickets to Florida over Thanksgiving.

Round trip airfare for $260.

A steal, right? Couple that with the fact that I haven't seen my parents or sister in a year and this is the bargain of the century.

However, as with math and Kim Kardashian's fame -- my understanding of the Gregorian calendar is tenous at best.

I was looking up airfare for the week before Thanksgiving. The tickets I want cost upwards of $500.

Balls.

Happy Biffle...I mean, Birthday!

Meet my best friend, Jerry. I think I've called him 'Jerry' a total of five times in my life. To me, he The Best Friend. Or, more obnoxiously -- Biffle (BFFL -- Best Friend For Life).

He introduced me to the glory (and crushing agony) that is Miami Dolphins football. He also introduced me to video games and the fine art of talking shit ("Knock knock?" "Who's there?" "Your mother's a whore."). He usually smells good and when he doesn't shave for five days straight -- he looks like a hobo. He listens to the world's most misogynistic hip-hop....and treats ladies better than anyone I've ever met. When it comes to holding open doors, he comes up aces every time. He's a great listener -- whether I'm having an emotional breakdown or excitedly jabbering about the fact that I saw a chipmunk, he listens to every last word. (Ladies, he's also single, so if you're in the market for a sweet Southern guy who'll call you 'sweetpea' and 'darlin', get in touch!)

You know how people make time capsules and bury all this stuff as representative of a certain era? Well, if there was a time capsule representative of the first ten years of the new millennium, I’d put him in it.

Hmmm...I find myself working with an awkward 'buried alive' motif. Not really what I was going for. Let me elucidate.

I’d put him in it because even though things are terrible now – war, economy spiraling down the toilet, cost of gasoline and food, famine, the environmental strain, Tila Tequila – The Best Friend represents the fact that despite it all, there is still an immense amount of good in this world.

He is the best friend I’ve ever had. Hell, he might even be the best person I know (he's tied for this honor with my sister. Solely because she introduced me to the term ‘mouthdump.’).

I could create a laundry list of all the reasons I adore and respect him but instead I’m just going to say that he's the best. Best friend. Best brother. Best influence. Best listener. Best guy.

I am so stupidly lucky to know him and be even a blip on your radar, much less his best friend.

So to my best friend, my biffle -- Have a wonderful birthday. I might not be with you, but I’m thinking about you and sending you all the good wishes in the universe.

Love you! Miss you! Happy Biffle!

Pears Lemonade

+ + = ♥

Meet my sponsor for Summer 2008.

Lord, Beer Me Strength

Esther has a flat tire.

She was waiting for me outside of my apartment -- completely dejected and flat. Kinda like Katie Holmes' post-nuptial personality. Damn her (Esther, not Katie Holmes).

Josephine never would have pulled this crap.



For the uninitiated, Josephine was my old car and the love of my life. She was a 1998 Mitsubishi Mirage two-door coupe and I loved her. I knew all of her quirks and noises, she was amazing when it came to gas (180 miles on a quarter tank - highway) and she loved driving with the windows down and the music loud.

I named her after Ride On Josephine, a rollicking George Thorogood number and then realized that there were a litany of great songs that were applicable to her (Josephine by The Wallflowers, Oh Josephine by The Black Crowes).

When I drove up to PA, Paps sold her (to a horrible woman who put WalMart rims on her!!!) and I inherited his car -- a 2004 Honda Accord also known as Esther.

I named her Esther because she's the same color as a varicose vein and because she handles and feels like a little old lady/Madonna's most annoying incarnation.

I don't think I have a donut. I know I don't have a jack.

That girl's been nothing but trouble. I want my baby back.

Lord, Beer Me Strength.

I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.

New hair. It's pretty sweet.

Also, I could totally devour some huevos rancheros and a tall frosty mojito right about now. Anyone wanna hit up Honey's with me?

It's Friday afternoon and I'm stuck at work for the next hour-and-a-half, so I'm doing what any girl would do -- stealing from the fabulous Miss Drea.

Maybe I should actually start writing that novel I've been putting off for the past six years. Start planning my wedding. Note to self -- buy a wedding planning book and call the Hard Rock Hotel ASAP.

I love the smell of Boss by Hugo Boss even though it reminds me of my dickbag ex. I also love the smell inside Barnes and Noble and am currently trying to figure out a way to replicate it in my home. So far, I have a zero percent success rate.

People would say that I’m incredibly perky. Imagine Cass Van Rye toned down like, 80%. That's me.

I don’t understand why Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh and Michael Savage aren't held to the same standards as Don Imus. I mean, they're all hate-mongers.

When I wake up in the morning I know Ron Livingston won't be waiting for me with a grande decaf, skinny vanilla latte...but that doesn't mean that I stop hoping for it.

I lost the guitar pick Art Alexakis gave me when I moved from Florida to PA. I'm still kinda bummed about that.

Life is full of great music, movies, food, drink, places and people. And I want to experience as much of it as I possibly can.

My past has been both incredibly sheltered and a wonderful learning experience.

I get annoyed when I'm suckered into arguing about politics or religion.

Parties need at least one Justin Timberlake track, one Earth, Wind and Fire Track and one classic rock anthem like Don't Stop Believin' by Journey to make a memorable night.

I wish to find a sweet bargain at the mall tonight. Hopefully in the shape of a cute new summer dress.

Dogs are ridiculously cute. Especially if they happen to be Boston Terriers like Smashy or Jack Russell mixes like Phoebe.

Cats need to be more like Binx with big personalities and a penchant for playing in the sink.

Tomorrow is Avery's first birthday. I can't believe she's one already.

I have low tolerance for needles. Seriously. I immediately revert into weepy, terrified toddler when confronted with the prospect of an innoculation.

I’m totally terrified of never owning my own home one day. I know, I know. Totally stupid fear, but I really want my own house someday.

I wonder why studios keep paying those two buttholes to keep churning out crap like Disaster Movie and Meet The Spartans.

Never in my life have I gone streaking in the quad.

High school was nothing like the picture John Hughes painted.

When I’m nervous, I jabber like a complete idiot.

One time at a family gathering my sister and I passed a laptop back and forth to convey snarky messages without getting in trouble.

Take my advice and learn to accept what you have. Then learn to love it. If you hate everything, you're only hurting yourself (I'm keeping Drea's answer here because it's awesome and great advice)

Making my bed is a rarity but I'll probably make more of an effort when I get a matching comforter cover.

I'm almost always singing something in my head. Right now, it's Danny Elfman's Batman score.

I’m addicted to Lost, my Google Reader, Coke Zero/Diet Coke and Wawa.

I want a decent job and a cute little house in Los Angeles. Oh and the Lucky Medium Hobo bag in brown...or at least, a pretty good knock-off.

It's Friday. It's hot. I'm tired. Give this girl a cocktail ASAP.

At least my knockoff says 'Pradi.' Yours says 'Prado!'

So yesterday, I fell in love with this bag.

The Lucky Medium Slouchy Hobo Bag.

It's gorgeous and my homegirl Nancy Botwin sports one just like it.

Best of all, it's big enough to fit my keys, phone, wallet, lip balm (I'm in love with this product and highly recommend you pick some up. Your chapped lips will thank you), a copy of whatever I'm currently reading, my notebook, my keycard and work badge, sunglasses, eyeglasses, pens, gum and digital camera.

Unfortunately, that $158 price tag? Yeah -- not gonna happen. There's this thing I like to do that just won't allow for a $158 purse expenditure. It's called eating.

So, here's my plea -- help me find a very similar knock off that won't break the bank.

I've looked around and can't find anything close. I mean, you'd think Forever 21 -- fine purveyor of knock-offs -- would have an acceptable substitute, but no dice.

Thanks for your help, guys!

Ramble on. Now's the time. The time is now...

+ I've had Sabra Price Is Right stuck in my head all day. Does anyone remember this SNL sketch? It was from the 1991 season and featured Tom Hanks as a Middle-Eastern Bob Barker. Hilarious. If you don't believe me, check it out for yourself:



+ The last time I ate Indian food in PA was a miserable experience. I mean, I may as well have ordered a bowl of failure topped with defeat sprinkles. Almost a year later, I decided to give it another shot and lucked out. I hit up India Garden in West Chester and ordered a classic -- mutter paneer. It was perfect -- not too spicy, they didn't cheap out on the paneer and even the rice was good (as a general rule, I hate rice. It's bland and boring. I realize as an Asian this is akin to treason, but dude seriously? Rice = lame). India Garden -- Generic name, far from generic food. If you're ever in Dub C, check it out.

+ I saw the coolest graffiti I saw on the way back from the mall -- "Harvey Dent, Take Back Gotham!" Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to take a picture of it (handling a digital camera while driving = inevitable death), but I'll try to next time.

+ My new earrings rock. A lot.

+ You know what else rocks? My new hair. I have bangs for the first time ever. They are super cute.

+ Want. Want. Want. Nancy Botwin has one and she's my homegirl. Well, at least she was when she was rockin' the suburbs. Now...well, we'll have to see where she goes.

+ Pauline's Tumblr is pretty awesome. You should check it out.

The world won't wait, so I better shake

To celebrate our anniversary, Dan and I are planning on spending the weekend in New York City.

Having never been to NYC, I'm ridiculously excited and can't wait. Only, I've got no idea what to do when we get there.

I'd like to have one of those great Nora Ephron-y nights where Dan and I just wander around the city until sunrise.


(Photo courtesy of Urban75.com)

But I get the feeling that:

A) Knowing my brilliant sense of direction, I'd probably end up in some shady neighborhood being chased by the C.H.U.D.s.
B) This idea would work until about 4:00 a.m. when I would get incredibly sleepy and end up passing out in the street and being hauled off by one of New York's finest.

So, this is where you come in. I need suggestions -- places to eat and places to see.

I hear The Met's pretty cool, I definitely want to check out 55 Central Park West (we're nerds. Do I really need to keep reiterating this?) and I'm a big advocate of eating really well (Ray's Pizza -- delicious or overrated? Oh and if anyone could recommend good Indian, Middle Eastern and Tapas places, that would be awesome!

So -- suggestions, recommendations?

Thanks guys!

Technology bests me again...

Dan's been on an X-Files kick lately. He's watching all the episodes in the 'mytharc' (the story arc of the show's mythology. Yes, I am currently researching how much it costs to get 'Nerd' tattooed on my forehead) so we can watch the first movie so we can see the second movie. Movies are serious business at Casa Walsh (Casa Walsh is just a placeholder until I actually come up with a name for our place).

[SIDEBAR: Name my apartment! I used to live in Lush Manor -- a glorious HUD-approved apartment complete with black mold and two of the best damn roommates a girl could ever ask for. Now, I live in a pretty sweet apartment with a huge TV, a Wii and the cutest roommate/fiance a girl could ask for. So, any suggestions?]

I've been watching too in a half-assed sort of way, but it's this half-assery that gets me in trouble. Well, that coupled with my on-going battle with technology and complete inability to separate real life from fiction.

Case in point: Last Night.

I woke up at around 2:00 a.m. because I noticed there were flashes of light emanating from the living room. In a sleep-addled state, I stumbled to the living room to investigate.

The Wii's disc drive was glowing bright blue 'causing the light show.

So, what's the first thing I think of? No, it's not to unplug the Wii or check the power button. The first thing I think of is:

"Aliens are using our Wii to communicate! What if this is like Poltergeist? What if I get sucked into some otherworldly alien vortex dimension?"

This is my first response, ladies and gentlemen. Completely devoid of logic. I skip right over sane rationality and crash land at ludicrous.

This morning, I woke up and noticed the Wii's disc drive was still bright blue.

Jaime: Honey! There's something wrong with the Wii.
Dan: What is it?
Jaime: The disc drive is glowing blue.
Dan: Take the disc out.

The glowing stops.

Right.

So, to recap:

Technology: 46764318976436516413545677

Jaime: 0

Looting and polluting is not the way!

I came into the office today to find a 5" thick pile of paper waiting to be copied at my desk. Do you know how much five inches of paper is? It's a lot. I took 5" and turned it into 10" (that's what she said). So, between the small chunk of the Amazon I killed today and all the Hair Insurance I use, I'm pretty sure I'm on Al Gore's hit list.

Speaking of the environment, you know what needs to make a resurgence? Captain Planet. That show was awesome and with everyone being so much more environmentally friendly nowadays, he could easily make a triumphant return.



McGillis and I had a pretty interesting conversation about the show once. Everyone had a cool power except Ma-Ti. Wheeler could shoot fireballs, Kwame could create earthquakes, Linka could summon tornadoes (Oh, Linka. The Cold War thawed everywhere except in your icy heart), Gi could control entire bodies of water and Ma-Ti got the short end of the stick. He was saddled with the power of 'heart' which allowed him to feel and convey emotions. So, basically his power was being emo. Nice. Oh and he gets a monkey too. Great. As McGillis so succinctly put it, "I would have kicked Gaia in the box for giving me a power like that!"

Anyway, Captain Planet? Totally awesome and needs to make a comeback....providing they Rastafy him by 10% (+10 and a cookie to whoever gets that).

Google Reader and Google Docs just became my new BFFE. Not only can I blog from the office but I can also catch up on other people's blogs! It's amazing! Oh and if you haven't already, check out Starting Over @ 24. He's been keeping me entertained all day while I've been copying, stapling and restapling. SO@24 reminds me of Mikey from Swingers...but cooler and more video-game savvy (I'm sure he gets that comparison all the time) and that rocks because when I think about Mikey, I start thinking about Rob (played by the charming Ron Livingston) and from there, my productivity takes a nose-dive and my imagination goes into overdrive.



Oh, Mr. Livingston. I'd double-down on you any day. Too far? Too far.

And lastly, here's some stuff I've been digging lately:

• The new release by Augustana - Can't Love, Can't Hurt. Check out I Still Ain't Over You and Sweet and Low.
• Aussie's Hair Insurance. It works really well.
• Taco Bell's Fruitista Freeze. Strawberries, mangoes and a name that sounds like a fabulous South American dictator. What's not to like?
• Wawa. Made-to-order sandwiches and yummy iced tea? What's not to like?
  
  

Dirty South comes to Philthadelphia

Man, I miss these guys.

It's a warm, sunny day and I'm stuck at my desk until 5:00. So, I'm emptying out my brain like it was my purse:

+ I went 'down da shore' for the first time in my life. Apparently, this is somewhat of a summer tradition if you live in the mid-Atlantic states. Thankfully, it was less like MTV's True Life: I'm a Jersey Shore Girl and more like a pretty chill Memorial Day Weekend. I learned that a good 90% of food at the shore is fried within an inch of its life and if you eat it, your stomach will stage a violent coup. I also learned that pretty much every shop on the boardwalk sells exactly the same merchandise and that the sun harbors a serious grudge against me. I have a forehead the size of a movie screen (regular, not IMAX) and UV rays gun for it after it like Dina Lohan scrambling for her fifteen minutes.

+ Why is Lisa in the final four in Top Chef? She's a mediocre cook and I'm so over her defensive attitude and paranoia. Homegirl messed up rice twice so I'm thinking she needs to pack her knives and GTFO.

+ Speaking of things that need to GTFO, someone needs to forward that memo to the cold I have. I feel like I've been kicked in the head by a menopausal rhino. On the plus side, though? I can totally relate to Denis Leary's love of NyQuil (Google it, kids).

+ I have the same vision as Pam Beesley (20/400) and the same bra size as Rachel Green (you can figure that one out for yourself). I know this because Wikipedia and I are BFFE.

+ I saw the Sex and the City movie opening night and it was an experience unlike any other.

The audience was 90% women. The other 10%? The world's most disconsolate men, men who were way better groomed than I ever will be and one very confused child who was obviously just there for the popcorn (sidebar: $17 for popcorn and two Diet Cokes?! If you're going to rob me blind, at least have the decency to wear a ski mask and corner me in a dark alley). Of this 90%, a good 30% of these women actually dressed up for the screening. Now, being incomparably dorky, I've attended numerous screenings where people dress up like their favorite characters. I've encountered Jedis, Indys and more than a few superheroes but never have I ever witnessed a gaggle of women in cocktail dresses, heels and full make-up at the movies. I have to admit though, it was pretty fabulous. Cocktail dresses should be acceptable attire everywhere. Ditto flip flops (any movement on that yet?).

Speaking of the audience, in addition to unsolicited advice and "sassy" affirmations, I was also subject to raucous whooping whenever all four ladies met on screen, when Carrie wore her famous opening credits tutu dress and when the audience caught a glimpse of her sizable shoe collections (although, I have to admit that I felt a hard jolt of envy when I saw her Louboutins. What? They're delicious).I'm all for interaction to a certain degree (laughter, a gasp during a shocking moment, a sniffle during a particularly tender and touching scene), but come on! This isn't Rocky Horror.

As for the movie itself -- If you're a die-hard fan, you'll probably love it.

If you're a dude who's never seen the show and couldn't tell a Manolo from a pashmina, you'll hate it.

If you're someone who kinda dug the show, appreciated the clothes and watched to catch a glimpse of Ron Livingston (i.e.: me), you'll find it a little long and the kind of movie that requires some serious suspension of disbelief (There's no way Carrie could ever afford her swanky NYC digs or designer labels on a columnist's salary and in all honesty, the characters have become self-parodying charactures of who they were on the show).

But, if you take it for what it is (cinematic cotton candy clothed in coutour), it's a pretty sweet way to spend an evening.

The buttons and the pins and the loud fanfares

Jordan Knight's a total sleaze and Danny Wood still resembles The Missing Link, but damn it -- New Kids On The Block still rock my world.



Reason #14484653131364874631797913213 The Best Friend is my best friend -- In the same three minute span, he downloaded and emailed Tonight by New Kids On The Block for me and managed to call me, 'such an asshole' for a completely unrelated matter. Man, I miss my broseph.

I'm going where the summer never ends

Tim Whitaker of the Philadelphia Weekly wrote this great piece on Summer in Philly and it got me thinking. When you live in a place where you it isn't perennially summer, you appreciate it more. You make more excuses to stay and play outside longer.

Summertime is tall glasses of sweet tea, beaded with condensation and clinking with ice.
Chirping birds, baking asphalt and Latin-tinged hip-hop blaring from car speakers.
Smoke, fireflies and fans all floating to Dave Matthews.
Soft mango flesh, sweet juice dribbling down your chin.
The smell of barbecue, freshly-cut grass, gardenias and coconut sunscreen.
Cold Coronas with lime, lemon drops and laughing out loud alfresco.
Brown sugar skin, pink toenails and well-worn flip flops

What defines summer for you?

Heliophilia: A sun-splashed mix for summer.

1. Daydreamin' -- Lupe Fiasco feat. Jill Scott
2. Amber -- 311
3. American Baby -- Dave Matthews Band
4. Summer Love -- Justin Timberlake
5. For Me, This Is Heaven -- Jimmy Eat World
6. Brasil Brasileiro - Caetano Veloso feat. Joao Gilberto
7. Lucky Star -- Madonna
8. Paper Planes -- M.I.A.
9. I Get A Kick Out Of You -- Frank Sinatra
10. Island In The Sun -- Weezer
    
11. Cruel Spell -- Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
12. Summer Jam -- Craig David feat. The Artful Dodger
    
13. Summertime -- Will Smith
14. Summertime -- New Kids On The Block