90210: We're Not In Kansas Anymore/The Jet Set

When I first heard that 90210 was coming back, I was equal parts excited and leery.

Excited because I dig shows about pretty people with problems. Add gobs of cash to the equation and it's ratings gold. As a wise philosopher once said, "Mo' Money, Mo' Problems."

I was leery because there is no way this new incarnation could have been nearly as awesome as the Spelling soap. Dylan's dad dying in a car explosion, Donna Martin graduates! Kelly's insanely tumultuous life, Tiffani Thiessen casting off the Kelly Kapowski shackles and slipping into her new role as bad girl, Valerie Malone -- how can new 90210 possibly compete?

But, the more I learned about it -- the more I started to change my mind. A huge plus was the fact that Rob Thomas (not him) is involved in the development of the show. Thomas also developed Veronica Mars and if 90210 is half as clever, I've got high hopes.

Add to that the return of Jennie Garth, Shannen Doherty (best frenemies ever) and Joe E. Tata and you've got what constitutes as required viewing.

Let's meet 90210's finest, shall we?

Harry (Rob Estes): West Beverly High's new principal and patriarch of the Wilson clan. He's ruggedly handsome, has the body of a twentysomething athlete and in the first episode, we find out that he's got an adopted son he never knew about until now! Awesome.

Debbie (Lori Loughlin): Aunt Becky is back and she's still smoking hot. Again, Loughlin finds herself playing the sweetheart from the heartland trying to reconcile the differences between Midwestern values and a glam Los Angeles lifestyle.

Annie (Shanae Grimes): The anti-Brenda, Annie's kind of dorky and doe-eyed. She's also irritatingly unaware of her waify sex appeal. Imagine an emaciated Miley Cyrus but with better teeth. Grimes and Loughlin actually resemble one another, so this was great casting.



Dixon (Tristan Wilds): The Wilsons' adopted son. He plays lacrosse, he feels like he doesn't fit in and I'm not too sure what to make of him just yet. His character prompted the following conversation between Dan and I:

Dan: Bet you the black kid will be written off the show. He's boring.
Jaime: They can't write him off the show! He's a main character!
Dan: They wrote Brenda off the show.
Jaime: Touche, sir. Touche.

Tabitha (Jessica Walters): Although she's playing a former actress and Betty Ford Center regular, Walters basically reprises her role as Lucille Bluth from Arrested Development and she is fabulous. Jessica Walters puts the 'sex' in sexagenarian.

Kelly (Jennie Garth): She's back but this time she's not being stalked by psychotic women, getting sexually assaulted, fighting over Dylan or addicted to psychotropic substances....yet. Ms. Taylor is working as the school guidance counselor and has a four-year-old son named Sam. Allegedly, Sam's daddy is none other than bad-boy Dylan McKay, but Dylan's MIA and the kid looks an awful lot like Steve Sanders, so no clue what's up there. And speaking of family...

Silver (Jessica Stroup): Kelly and David's half-sister Erin has grown up and ditched the blonde hair and the first name. A music junkie (something she obviously picked up from big brother DJ David), she becomes BFF with Annie after noticing an obscure band sticker on Annie's notebook. Silver is infamous for her blog, The Vicious Circle. Mainstream media pundits take note -- not all bloggers are Cheetoh-dusted basement dwellers.

Naomi (AnnaLynne McCord): Poor little rich girl who manages to look both pharmaceutically dazed and wantonly feral at the same time. She spends the first five minutes of screen-time stressing about her sweet sixteen -- a Misshapen hipster wet dream with Tilly and the Wall serving as house band and Cory Kennedy and Mark the Cobrasnake in attendance. Sidebar: Someone please explain Ms. Kennedy's fame to me? Thanks.

Ethan (Dustin Milligan): A lacrosse player Annie locked lips with a few summers ago. Our boy Ethan is not only dating Naomi but also cheating on her with some random chickenhead who digs giving head in parked cars. This prompts sweet innocent Annie to ponder, "I just don't get why Ethan would cheat on someone like Naomi....?"

To co-opt and ameliorate the words of Stu Macher, there's always some stupid bullshit reason to cheat on your girlfriend.

Long story short -- Ethan and Naomi break up rather publicly and Ethan begins flirting with Annie. And like an idiot, she flirts back. Having a 3% memory retention rate, I guess Annie forgot all about the vehicular fellatio she witnessed.

Navid (David Steger): The Persian politico and second token minority of the show. Navid runs the West Beverly Blaze and reminds me so much of Cher's classic quote from Clueless -- "They do the T.V. station. They think that's the most important thing on Earth. And that's the Persian mafia. You can't hang with them unless you own a BMW." Fun fact? His dad's a big time porn producer.

Adrienne (Jessica Lowndes): Pill-popping, bread-winning actress who looks like Nelly Furtado...if Nelly Furtado modeled for American Apparel.

George (Kellan Lutz): Blonde guy who looks like he'd excel at lacrosse, water polo and date rape. If this was The O.C., his main broseph would definitely be Luke.

Ty (Adam Gregory): Hot, wildly wealthy and seemingly sensitive. For a first date hang, he jets Annie off to San Francisco for a bite to eat. Annie's take on the experience -- "This is like Pretty Woman only I'm not a whore!"

Mr. Matthews (Ryan Eggold): Hip English lit teacher who resembles Ryan Gosling's dorky kid brother. He's got a crush on Kelly (who doesn't?) and I've got a crush on him.

The plot of the pilot was essentially the same as the original but sexier. The first twenty minutes and we're already witness to a blowjob in a car. Way to keep it classy, guys.

The Wilsons move from Wichita, KS to a lush mansion (no, it's not Casa Walsh) in America's most famous zip code. Annie and Dixon quickly learn that Beverly Hills in nothing like Kansas.

Mr. Matthews assigns Naomi to be Annie's "Beverly Buddy." Despite the fact that the plan reeks of fail, it actually works out to Naomi's advantage. You see, planning a Super Sweet Sixteen is hard work and can heavily interfer with your academic life. Naif to the rescue! Annie hooks Naomi up with an old paper about A Tale of Two Cities and Naomi plagiarizes the whole thing. Obviously. To make up for it, Naomi buys Annie an $800 dress. If my friends ever did anything like this, they'd probably just apologize and leave it at that. Cheap bastards.

Meanwhile, Dixon is harassed by his lacrosse teammates. When Mr. Matthews demands the truth about the altercation, Ethan (the only witness) steps up to the plate and promptly lies about the incident, defending his teammate and getting Dixon 86'd from the team. Yes, Ethan is a massive douchebag.

Annie becomes the "star" of Silver's blog in a crudely-animated video -- payback for dissing Silver for Naomi earlier (these two go back and their history ain't pretty). But, Silver makes it up to Annie by getting the budding thespian a role in the chorus of Spring Awakening.

Ethan decides he's got some manning up to do as well, so he reveals the truth about the fight. Unfortunately, Dixon has already sent Naomi a text message stating the obvious -- homeboy is cheating on you and you might wanna get that itch inspected. Because this is television, Naomi gets the message right before her big moment at her Sweet Sixteen. It's around this time that Harry learns about the son he never had from Naomi's mom.

Since it's a two-hour premiere, Hour Two kicks off with garbage. Lots of it. Piled up in the halls of West Beverly courtesy of hometown rivals, Palisades High. To get revenge (and win the admiration of his teammates), Dixon borrows three little pigs from Navid's father porn set (Dude, what kind of movie is this?) and releases them on Palisades' football field. He gets off easy though when Harry learns that inspiration came from a prank he had pulled years earlier.

While Dixon's playing This Little Piggy, Annie is being wooed by Ty, the lead in the school play and a teenager so unfathomably wealthy that he can afford to take a girl to San Francisco for dinner. Unfortunately for Annie who was supposed to be on Gangy-Watch, Gangy gets into a minor car accident and Annie gets grounded. Worst of all -- her parents cut off her coffee money allowance! Jesus, is this Beverly Hills or Abu Ghraib?! It's OK, though because the show ends with Ty smooching Annie while a surprised Ethan watches on, cuddling a stuffed octopus and pouting ever so slightly.

The pilot was pretty good but what I'm really looking forward to is November. I.E. -- Sweeps month. You know there'll be some serious drama going down and I can't wait to see how it does.

Finally, a quick edition of Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down to wrap it all up.

Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down:

Thumbs Up: Liz Phair does the music for the show! I love her and I also love the fact that the opening scene featured Viva La Vida by Coldplay. A bit overplayed but a good choice nevertheless.
Thumbs Down: The new theme song isn't nearly as awesome or iconic as the old one. What can I tell you? This girl loves her sax solos.

Thumbs Up: Nat's back!
Thumbs Down: Why is the Peach Pit a coffee place? Nat should be slingin' Megaburgers, not macchiatos. Oh and what happened to the Peach Pit After Dark? Why has it been renamed The Pit? DJ David and bartender Noah would not approve.

Thumbs Up: Hannah Zuckerman Vasquez is back and repping her Mom's legacy at the Blaze.
Thumbs Down: Donde esta Andrea y Jesse?

Thumbs Up: Jackie Taylor returns next week as Kelly and Erin's pill-popping hot mess of a mom. Sorry, Dina Lohan. Jackie's an O.G. and you've got nothing on her. Also scheduled to return? Brandon Walsh himself! I can't wait to see the prodigal son return.
Thumbs Down: Luke Perry has no interest in returning to the show. Dude, what else are you doing that's so important?

Artwork and Politics

We're hunting for artwork for our institutionally white walls.

We've put up an Almost Famous poster and ordered a very cool, very film noir Veronica Mars poster:



Dan and I are big TV/movie people and wanted to find artwork reflective of us and our tastes as opposed to just slapping up something generic like a Parisian cityscape or a black-and-white image of a mountain.

Now, I'm trying to find cool typographical art (we're both writers. This only makes sense) and something for the kitchen that relates to food without being:

A) Cutesy in that faux country farmhouse way
B) An advertisement for alcohol.

The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of song lyrics printed in bold-colored cardstock. Something like this:



I think it could work.

On a more political note, I've noticed Republicans been making a lot of snide comments about Barack Obama's "celebrity" status. According to them, celebrity status should be vilified. Well, I'd like to bring something to their attention. Ronald Reagan was not only an actor, but president of the Screen Actor's Guild. I.E. -- a pretty big celebrity.

A little less hypocrisy and bullshit goes a long way, guys. Just sayin'. Oh and speaking of bullshit, regarding McCain's vice-presidential pick, Sarah Palin?

Bwahahahahahahahahah!

I can't wait to see Joe Biden eviscerate her in the debates. Ms. Palin doesn't stand a chance.

I want a West Beverly High t-shirt.

Just how much of a complete douchebag does that make me?

Yeah....that's what I thought.

They fell in love, didn't they?

Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling are back together.



Which gives me a great excuse to post this clip.

We were having a conversation about The Notebook at work and a majority of the ladies at the office would pick Lon Hammond Jr. (played by James Marsden) over Noah Calhoun (played by Ryan Gosling).

Dub tee eff?!

Yes, Hammond (played by James Marsden) is rich, charming and good-looking...



...but come on!

Noah built Allie her dream house! And he's a poet! And he looks like this!



In my world, love > money every time.

I guess that's why I'm marrying a writer who kisses me twenty times a day and sings to me instead of a CEO who's never home.

Saukrates - Money or Love

Holy Shit, I Love You! Part One

Yes, originally uploaded by CrissyAlright.

The first in a series of random things that I love. Holy shit.

+ The new issue of Nylon Magazine. It's the TV issue and I've gotta say it's probably my favorite one yet.
+ The new 90210. I'm excited for it...even if there isn't any Brenda-Kelly-Dylan drama afoot ("Brenda, I'm a Spring Princess!" "Kelly, I don't give a damn!")
+ C.O. Bigelow Rose Salve. It smells delicious and is Carrie Bradshaw approved.
+ Diet Coke.
+ Bobby Darin.
+ These giraffe-print Dr. Scholl slides. Totally cute, totally comfy and giraffe print is the new black. Trust the girl who lives in jeans and flip flops.
+ The music in Can't Hardly Wait. I would definitely buy a complete compilation -- Third Eye Blind, Sublime, Dire Straits (is there a clause in Ethan Embry's contract that requires all movies starring him to feature this song? He danced to it in Empire Records as well), Missy Elliot, Guns 'N Roses, Busta Rhymes, Barry Manilow Boyz II Men and Nazareth?! Come on -- that's a killer party mix.
+ Springfield Punx. Ever wondered what Tobias Funke would look like if he cameoed on The Simpsons? Check it out. Dean T. Fraser is a pretty talented guy.



The breakfast I had at the Nectar Coffee Shop on Madison Avenue in New York City. The coffee was the best I've ever had in my life (everything else tastes like muddy dish water in comparison), the bialy was delicious and the whole thing cost me less than $5! Holy shit, I loved it and will definitely be making a return visit.

They should call it FuckDonalds.

I hate McDonalds for a litany of reasons:

- Their mascot is a clown. Clowns are terrifying. John Wayne Gacy used to dress up as a clown. He was a serial killer. Think about it.

- Their food is terrible -- the fries don't taste anything like potatoes and don't disintegrate like real food should, they have a staggering lack of vegetarian options (even Burger King offers a thoroughly mediocre veggie burger) and their McFlurries end up giving you the McFlurries. Disgusting, but true.

- Breakfast stops at 10:30 a.m. as opposed to 11:00 a.m (Thank you, Big Daddy). Trying to order breakfast after 10:30 a.m. is like trying to get George W. Bush to pronounce the word 'Nuclear' correctly -- a damn near impossible and thoroughly futile task.

I rarely, if ever, patronize this franchise but Dan wanted a chicken sandwich and since Chik-Fil-A is closed on Sundays, we decided to hit up the McDonalds' Drive Thru.

It's 10:33 a.m.
Breakfast is over.
Has been for three minutes.

If you try and order an Egg McMuffin, I'm fairly sure that red and yellow stormtroopers will come out and attempt to drown you in a vat of secret sauce.

Luckily for us -- the chicken sandwich is on the lunch menu. The number eight. A lucky number in some culture. Not for us, though.

I pull up to the drive-thru and place my order, speaking loudly and clearly so nothing will get lost in translation:

Jaime: Hi! Can I get the number eight chicken sandwich and a Coke, please?
Drive-Thru Dude: (garble garble) Numba eight? (garble garble)
Jaime: Yeah -- the number eight chicken sandwich and a Coke.
Drive Thru Dude: (garble garble) $5.40 (garble, garble).

I pull up to the cash window, fork over my money and proceed to the pick-up window.

I pick up my food and am about to drive off when Dan realize that instead of a chicken sandwich, the bag contains a Sausage McGriddle.

Dan: This is wrong.
Jaime: The entire concept of McDonalds is wrong.
Dan: No, this isn't a chicken sandwich. This is a Sausage McGriddle.

The guy behind us blares his horn. Calm down, asshole. You'll get your artery-clogging garbage in a minute.

I tell Window Guy that the order is wrong.

Jaime: Hi! Sorry, but this isn't what we ordered.
Window Guy: What did you order?
Jaime: The number eight -- a chicken sandwich.
Window Guy: The number eight is a Sausage McGriddle.
Jaime: But it's past 10:30 and the board outside says "Number 8 -- Southern Style Chicken Sandwich."
Window Guy: Board's broken. Number eight's a Sausage McGriddle.
Jaime: But I said chicken sandwich and breakfast is over.
Window Guy: Number eight's a Sausage McGriddle.

Goddamn it.

We're going round in circles and the guy behind me is practically apoplectic, so I admit defeat and drive off, sans sandwich.

Dan bites into his sandwich and discovers that a McGriddle tastes like a syrup-and-grease coated hockey puck while I remember that my ex used to work at McDonalds and is now in the military. I am suddenly very, very scared for the future of our country.

I abide by the rules of McDonalds' facist breakfast regime and still manage to get screwed.

I'm not lovin' it.

I had a dream last night and it fit me like a glove

I keep having the same dream.

I win the lottery, move to Los Angeles and get my masters and doctorate at UCLA.

Lottery dreams usually consist of cars, mansions, designer shoes and travel to exotic locales.

Mine involve higher education.

Pffttt....even in my dreams, I'm a square.

Hell, I Still Love You New York

Living in South Florida, you learn to dislike New York very quickly. Every winter, New Yorkers descend on your life like locusts who can't drive and make everything miserable. There's more traffic, more lines everywhere and worst of all, more Jets/Yankees fans -- I swear, they're like sperm. Only one in 30,000 has a chance of being a human being.

So, the idea of a South Floridian hitting NYC for the weekend is, in theory, a pretty terrible idea. But I've had a crush on big cities ever since I can remember and a weekend in one of the biggest seemed like a pretty great way for Dan and I to celebrate our anniversary.

My crush quickly bloomed into a full-blown love affair.

The noise, the crush of people, even the smell -- a heady mix of bus fumes, perfume, street food (particularly roasted nuts and hot dogs) and that X-factor makes you grimace momentarily. It's amazing and I can't wait until we go back.



Because we're all about riding in style, we took the Bolt Bus to NYC. It's efficient, it's clean and it only cost us $20 each for a round trip. Highly recommended.



We're here! The first thing we did was head over to see our friend Bryan at work. He was sweet enough to play host/tour guide all weekend and he was amazing. Bryan works at HBO and because of this, we actually got to eat at the HBO eatery, cleverly titled tHe BistrO. Get it? Yeah.



Because I am a nerd, I dragged Dan to Nintendo World where I spent a good ten minutes searching frantically for a Link plush toy. My search came up empty. Sadface.



Ladies and gentlemen, my fiance is a member of the Dharma initiative.



Dan and Bryan at the Brooklyn Promenade. God, I'd kill for this view. It's gorgeous.



We had breakfast at the Nectar Coffee Shop on Madison Avenue. I had a bialy -- which is like a bagel crossed with an English muffin (a buffin?) and the best iced coffee I've ever had in my life. Seriously, after drinking this -- I wanted to start a petition to change the name of Dunkin Donuts to Dunkin Garbage.



My breakfast was so good, I became a little gangsta. Just a little. Polish Ashkenazi cuisine will do that to a girl.



Then, we headed to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They have the coolest exhibition going on right now called Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy which not only features actual superhero costumes (Christian Bale's from The Dark Knight, Michelle Pfeiffer's from Batman Returns, Rebecca Romijn's from X-Men, Tobey Maguire's from Spiderman....) but also interpretations on each costume by designers like Marc Jacobs and Versace. It's amazing and I highly recommend it.



There was another pretty fantastic exhibit on the roof of the Met. Jeff Koons' exhibit runs through October 26 and if you get a chance, you should check it out.



My favorite of Koons' pieces.



All the pretty artwork got to me. As Bryan put it, I look like, "the overaggressive girl in second grade who just had to kiss you."

After the Met, we headed to Broadway where I saw my first show titled [Title of Show]. The plot's very clever and very meta -- it's about two guys playing themselves writing a play about two guys playing themselves. It's hysterically funny, the music is great (Heidi Blickenstaff has an incredible voice) and there's a shirtless guy and a lesbian kiss. A perfect musical.



55 Central Park West. Also known as "the Ghostbusters building." Dan was so excited to see this in real life. Cutest. Movie Nerd. Ever.



"Nobody steps on a church in my town!" -- Peter Venkman.



Red Mango frozen yogurt is effing delicious. As witnessed by my bare-empty cup here.



Keeping with the dessert theme, even the cookie cake knew what was up.



So, in closing -- yeah, the place is filled with Jets fans (i.e.: scum of the earth douchebags) and schmucks who are stupid enough to roll joints right there in the middle of the street (you know what's funny? When a gust of wind picks up and blows all their weed away. Hilarious), but in the words of Ryan Adams -- Hell, I still love you, New York.

Food + Work = Fork

One of the reasons I like the ladies I work with so much is because they all really appreciate food. Example: today, we decided to have a Thanksgiving-in-September Pot Luck Lunch.

Everyone's going to bring in a Thanksgivingy dish, we will feast like hell-damn-ass kings and then, I'll probably fall asleep at my desk and wake up with Post-Its stuck to my hair and an imprint of a paper clip on my cheek.

Being English, the glory of Thanksgiving was lost on me for eleven tragic years.

There were no cute little palm turkeys, no parades with giant inflatables and certainly no mashed potatoes and stuffing come the fourth Thursday in November.

Then -- I moved to the States and met The Best Friend's family. Wonderful, glorious people who introduced me to mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, Indiana corn, pecan pie and soft buttery rolls that practically floated off of the table and onto your plate.

Needless to say, Thanksgiving quickly became my favorite time of year. Football, family and enough food to quell the appetite of Kobayashi . What's not to like?

I began lusting after Thanksgiving food. March would roll around and I'd start to crave stuffing or I'd get a vicious jones for mashed potato volcanoes with green bean casserole lava (What? I make my food fun).

Thus began my bastardization of Thanksgiving dinner.

A couple of years ago, The Best Friend and I decided that waiting until November for Thanksgiving food was ridiculous and that lead to the birth of the Gobblewich-- a sandwich so delicious, it makes everything else on the planet taste like hot, wet garbage.

Although the name is genius, the sandwich's true genius lies in its simplicity.



A breaded mashed potato-and-stuffing patty served with slices of turkey and cranberry sauce on a buttered roll. Add a couple of green beans and a side of homemade macaroni and cheese and you'll be dropping into a food coma before you've had time to wipe that errant smear of cranberry sauce from your chin. What's not to like?

Hmmm....I'll bet this is exactly how Ben Franklin felt when he invented electricity.

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.