Watched the Anna Nicole Smith reality show on E! last night (and a fair amount of the True Hollywood Story on her before that). It was sort of sad. She spent about 90 percent of the time appearing to be zoned out on painkillers or whatever she’s taking these days. She’s probably not such a bad sort when she’s sober and not slathered in 10 pounds of eyeshadow and hair gel. But watching Vickie Lynn Hogan pick out curtains at Wal-Mart isn’t what makes for the ratings, is it?
Category: words mean things (Page 120 of 223)
Combatting lateness
After years of dealing with chronically-late friends and colleagues, I’ve come up with some simple tips to help stamp out this inconsiderate trend. These ideas have helped me retain my sanity in the face of the global lateness epidemic.
-Never agree to meet anywhere. Make them come pick you up. If they’re late (which they most certainly will be), you’ll be at home instead of cooling your heels outside a movie theater or restaurant. Picking them up is a close second, but they can still outfox you by cleverly not being ready, and you’re still left waiting. It’s all a matter of control.
-If meeting somewhere is unavoidable, set a relatively short threshold of time you will wait – mine is usually 20 minutes. If they are late past that time, get up and leave. Just one of these refusals to wait can have a magical effect on the chronically late.
-Late people want to explain to you why they’re late. It’s always something. You begin to wonder, how come the stars always align against them? Cut them off. No need to listen to their excuses – it just makes them feel better and you more irritated.
-Whatever you do, don’t register unhappiness or impatience with the late. That’s what they want – to get a reaction out of you. Ignoring them is the best strategy, both for your mental health and to show them their actions aren’t all that important after all.
When’s the last time you went to a movie and when it was over, wished that you could stay with the characters just a little while longer? It happened to me with this movie. Wonderful stuff. And with movie dialogue being so mannered, slick or just stupid these days, it’s refreshing to watch a movie where people talk like people really talk. A breath of fresh air in this sweltering summer.
You May Already Be A Winner!
Because of a mixup with my Amazon wish list, I’m now in possession of two copies of “The Royal Tenenbaums” on DVD. Rather than return one, I’ve decided to give the two-disk set (plus shipping to the continental U.S.) to a lucky reader. Just write, in 100 words or less, why you deserve this amazing prize – either in the comments or directly by e-mail to me. I’ll pick the winner next Friday. Good luck.
Yes, I watch American Idol. Shut up.
I was happy to see Justin “Sideshow Bob” Guarini among the bottom two vote-getters this week. He has by far the weakest voice among the remaining finalists, and all he has going for him is his creepy camera-flirting manner. Seems to work on Paula “But I have a Grammy” Abdul, though.
In a perfect world, Tamyra Gray and Kelly Clarkson would be the final two, with Kelly the winner. But we all know we don’t live in a perfect world.
I really want to start a meme
Last year, I published my Top 10 movies and asked other weblog people to contribute their own lists. This year, I think it’s only fitting to give the Bottom 10 movies list a try. Can’t wait to see what other people come up with.
Just to clarify, I’m not talking about “so bad they’re good” movies like “Zardoz” or “Troll 2.” Or about “realized what they were trying to do, but for me it was dreadful” movies, like “Moulin Rouge.” I’m talking just out-and-out gouge-your-eyes-out terrible.
Here goes (not in ranking order):
1. Taps. A pointless and stupid glorification of militarism. First movie where I wanted to ask for my money back (but didn’t).
2. Ricochet. The most gleefully ultraviolent movie I’ve ever seen. If you want to see John Lithgow kill people with a power drill, this is your movie.
3. Swordfish. The modern equivalent to #2. I’ve written about it before.
4. The English Patient. Eighteen hours long and nothing happens. I saw a guy get up at about the 2.5-hour mark and leave; when I realized he wasn’t coming back, I envied him.
5. Brazil. Saw this movie at the Fine Arts theater in Chicago while I was in college. After the movie, I had a strong urge to lie down in the middle of Lake Shore Drive and end it all.
6. Passion of Mind. Horrible Demi Moore debacle, although that doesn’t narrow it down enough. Also written about before.
7. The Princess Diaries. Longest movie ever made. When we finally stumbled out of the theater, I wondered what decade it was.
8. The Tin Drum. Egregious foreign “film” about nasty dwarf who uses high-pitched scream to get what he wants. Won Best Foreign Film Oscar in 1980 (big surprise).
9. Neighbors. Incomprehensible and bizarre mess – John Belushi’s final movie. He deserved better.
10. The Piano. I love Holly Hunter, but this redefines the word “horrible.” Bitter, pointless, pseudo-“empowerment” flick from Jane Campion.
This kind of a list is interesting, because we don’t seek out bad movies, and I don’t think we remember the bad ones (other than a few notable stinkers) as well as we do the good ones. I’m sure I missed a lot of good candidates. What would your Bottom 10 be?
Like many, many others, I have a burning need to know if my weblog is hot or not. I am weak and desire hits desperately.
The other night I had a dream that I was attending some City College in a run-down brick building, like an old high school. There were lots of staircases, like an Escher drawing, going in all directions. As usual with this sort of dream, I left my notebooks in some other classroom, and couldn’t find them. I also couldn’t find my schedule, although for some reason I knew that I was taking a bunch of really strange classes, like Charcoal Figure Drawing and History of Unionism.
Not sure what this means.
If I see the trailer for “Master of Disguise” with Dana Carvey one more time, I may gouge out my own eyes. Anyone else have this reaction? This truly may be the worst movie ever made in the history of the medium. And that would be quite an achievement.
Watch out, because I’m about to make one of those sweeping pop culture pronouncements:
No one knows how to make a comedy anymore.
After watching (or sitting through) “Austin Powers in Goldmember” and “Men in Black 2,” I’ve begun to despair finding a decent comedy in the movie theater. Dramas, sure. “Frailty,” “Road to Perdition,” “13 Conversations About One Thing,” and lots of others I could name, have been great.
And I’m not talking about whimsical movies like “The Royal Tenenbaums,” which I think is a modern classic. I’m talking about the laugh-out-loud comedy. (You have to understand, I love “The Money Pit.” So take my dubious taste into account.)
With both Austin Powers and MIB2, there were a couple of laugh-out-loud moments, punctuated with long stretches of, well, non-comedy. And in a comedy, something that isn’t funny isn’t really anything. It just lies there.
They say comedy is hard. I just didn’t realize it was this hard.