Discombobulation Station

Do Not Read This, for It Stinks. It's Kind of about TV.

Because I know you are dying to know, tonight I made beef stir fry. I tweaked the recipe from something I found online, in the process discovering "the secret for beef stir fry is frying the beef in a cup of oil." A WHOLE CUP OF OIL. Nuts.  I would never. What would you do with all that goddamn hot oil? Thankfully, we didn't even have any oil,  so I wasn't tempted. I sprayed Pam on the wok and it was still very good.  So fie on you, internet recipes.

Speaking of Pam, have we ever talked about The Office? One night years ago the Irish Carpenter introduced me to the BBC version.  It was...uncomfortable at first. And then, suddenly, something in your brain switches and everything is HILARIOUS. It is not the same watching the NBC version, which is funny from the get go, but not as HILARIOUS because you don't have to pass through that discomfort zone. It's sort of like Ricky Gervais makes you earn the funny. Steve Carrell, on the other hand, is just funny. I mean, look at him! He's just one of those people who look funny. I often randomly say "I stabbed a man in the HEART!"  Just 'cause. I suppose there is some larger theme, about the subtlety of British humor vs. blunt American comedy but I don't think I am in the proper mental state to draw that one out.  Plus, some British stuff is as unsubtle as all get out. Say...Little Britain? Whackadoo. Now my argument is all effed up. Rats.

And NOW I have to publish this crap-ass post without any links because Typepad seems to be broken and the text editor is not working.  I don't have the gumption to use my trident on Typepad. 

Hope you all had super Saturdays.  I will try my hardest to be more interesting tomorrow.

xoxo, A

Can't Be Filled by the Things I Do

A. sez: How was your weekend, faire reader? We intend to write more about the events of our respective weekends (romantic getaway in the "Live Free or DIE" state for me, and romantic rawk spectacle for gal E.)

The FYC and I drove home on Sunday, a little worse for wear, and I sunk into a "what do I do with myself" afternoon. I didn't want to watch TV or read. I didn't want to go for an aimless walk or sit in a coffeeshop. I fussed and squirmed for a while and then remembered something I LOVE to do that I haven't done for a long time - go to a Sunday matinee by myself! So I chose something that the Boy would never want to see and took off. Before I left I sent E. a wishful jokey text Going to see Smart People at 3:15. Meet me there before your concert!

Well...GUESS WHERE E. WAS AT THAT VERY MOMENT???

Tell 'em, E.!

E: I was at the Davis watching Smart People, thinking how much A. would like it.

Crazy coincidence indeed! Just another incidence of our bizzaro parallel lives...

So here is our joint review of Smaht People. 

As you may imagine I am a sucker for movies about cranky academics, since Wonder Boys is one of my all-time faves (book and movie)  and BOY did this one fill that bill. The similarities between SP and WB are striking.  Role call: the crusty old academic (here we have a widower instead of a philanderer, but whatever), the woman who brings him back to his senses, back to life, out of his butt, whatever, who get pre  - err, plot point I won't reveal - smarty-pants kids, shiftless brother (or brother substitute), grotty old cars, Pittsburgh setting, etc etc. Even inappropriate pot smoking!

There weren't quite as many laughs for me in SP, but I didn't need them - I went all oozy with sympathy for this group of willfully isolated lonely people.

Maybe it was the grey Sunday and the hangover but I almost cried - a bunch. I love Dennis Quaid and he just keeps getting better - and in this role he was perfect, entirely without vanity and verging on unlikeable.  But I never stopped caring about him - the very way he sat was heartbreaking.  The rest of the cast ably supported him - Thomas Haden Church was hilarious and Ellen Page echoed the irritable/sympathetic vibe of her on-screen dad. The son character was a bit of a throw-away and I could have used a bit more backstory from the lady Doctor played by Miss Carrie Bradshaw. The ending felt a bit rushed, too, but overall - a perfect Sunday afternoon flick.

p.s. Wondering how we came to the title of the post?

I had just come from brunch with the new beau, meeting some of his friends for the first time. Which was scary, but I did good, apart from one disparaging comment about Indiana. I realized about ten minutes later that two of them were from there. What can I do about Indiana though? Hell I'm from Cleveland so anything I say is bunk. But at any rate,  it was a beautiful day in the square. I had eyed the movie times while cruising by on my bicycle and then after buying a few greeting cards, having a cup of jasmine tea and starting a letter to Ireland, I realized I could get to the library and see the movie too. I too love a solo Sunday in the theatre and settled right in. I was in the mood for something called "Smart People," I knew in the least the humor would try not to insult anyone's intelligence, and I found it delightful.

These are not the kind of people I grew up with. Its very east coast, academic, all that matters is the New Yorker Magazine type mentality. The general sensibility reminded me of The Squid and the Whale, except a lot more light hearted and a hell of a lot funnier. The dialogue was tight, spot on, relevant. And it's always a treat to see SJP. I dunno there's something about her that is effervescent without being stupid. She makes me happy. Ellen Page corners the market on young , too intelligent for her own good smart ass and I hope she keeps it up. But it would have been a total snooze fest without Thomas Haden Church, who represents the only blue collar/slacker/free spirit in this dysfunctionally functioning family. I like what the film has to say about people (smart people) who feel superior to others, who feel their life must take a higher track, but who also experience the crushing pressure of performing, publishing, scoring well. Which lifestyle is really more fulfilling? How do you let your guard down enough to go ahead and experience life, instead of just judging it all the time?

So when I came out and turned on my phone and saw A.'s text I stopped dead in the middle of the theatre lobby. Of course she did. Of course she saw the movie with me. 'Cos I was thinking of her.

E.

Party Time

My Poet's Kitchen co-producer and gorgeous on-screen correspondent is launching a new arts magazine. And you are herein invited to the launch party!

Download herethere_launch_party_invitation.pdf

Hope to see you there! This also means I have to have the first segment finished by 1 March. Wish us luck.

E.

Sh*tty Blogger #2

Hallo hallo

I wish I could say I'm past my crazytime. We prepare for this all year and it still astounds me. I can't explain exactly what it is that keeps me so tied up, strung out, and exhausted. Its your run of the mill phone ringing and emails coming, and FTP site updating, and juggle without leaving your seat type of stress. After Friday it should calm down. And then my coworker f's off to Europe while I handle her new productions. And then I go to Florida to see the new baby there, take care of my buddy and maybe help her move. The sun will be enough break for me.

But at any rate, all is well and I'm on my third vodka tonic here in the homestead. My new favorite show is The Millionare Matchmaker. Writer's strike wha?

I was at yoga last week and realized I had so much going on in my wee mind anyway. Not only all this work crunch, but also on Saturday B & I shot our first episode of the new webisode series we're launching before 1 March. We interviewed a very prominent Chicago poet. As producer I secured the camera, lights, reference interviews and editing capabilities. I shot it. Also I will edit and learn Final Cut Pro. Quite a load in this time of year. Also after Sunday Salon I'm seriously considering writing a book of short stories based on my two years living hedonistically and paranoid in Ireland. It's like Felicity, except with a lot more Guinness, and coffee, and Irish accents. I'm walking down Grafton Street, I've lost my wallet, but I'm having an epiphany! I've also decided to enter the dating world again, albeit electronically for now. I haven't even checked the site in a few days but was shocked - nay amazed! - that my inbox was not full upon the first night. Should I have left out the Harry Potter reference in the first question?

So for one who appreciates the life of leisure, in my free time I watch a lot of movies, in a still and comatose manner, which is healing for me. As of late: Transformers, which someone I went out with twice once likened to "a commercial for the armed forces." He has a point, but it was fucking brilliantly hilarious. Best to watch with SH who is a self professed fan from the glory days in the 80s. Waitress - I wasn't too engaged to begin with, but once you accept the sappy dialogue and hokey setup you'll be in store for a nice finish. The Simpsons Movie - why did it seem so entirely weird and disjointed? Was I too stressed out for it? Quirky French film called My Best Friend. Total treat if you can get over the French man-on-man love. Very sweet. The Lives of Others. Oh my goodness. I guess it won an Oscar for best foreign film last year and it was completely deserved. I was prepared for something gruesome and sad and strained, and it had a lot of heart. On Sunday I went downtown, somewhat hungover from wrap night wine party, and saw There Will Be Blood with Chel. Two hours and forty minutes and I don't know what to say. Not sure the story was carrying me along, the acting and cinematography was great, but I was jolted awake every two minutes by the overactive guy behind me, putting his feet up and down and around the seat next to me. What is that saying, hell is other people? By the time I got home I just wanted to go to a cabin in Wisconsin for two weeks with nothing but books and a roaring fire. It was good to see Chel tho.

Also, I managed to watch eight episodes of 30 Rock between Friday and Saturday, while prepping for my shoot.

Don't mess! More soon.

E.

A Weekend That Works

Many weekends are simply a respite from my life - just sleeping and movies and bottles of wine and not being in the office. Some are consumed with travel - which I love but leave me drained and hankering for the former type of vacation. This last one really hit all the good notes.

I had a hella week. It was fun, and busy, and I was out most every night and working my arse off during the day. Tuesday and and Thursday I was up until 2am. Come Friday I knew I had my friend Kerry's art show. (And I love how I promoted it on this here blog but didn't give the address.) I worked until nearly 7pm and taxied to Pilsen to her shared studio space, the Chicago Art Department.

At the time I was so jangled and tired and needing my couch, I told myself I'd only stay for a few hours. But it was such a great show, and a good buzz, and friendly people, and of course the open bar got a second wind in me. When I went out to smoke I noticed that the other studios on the street were virtually empty. EVERYONE was coming in to Kerry's show and staying. I was kindof waiting for my friend M's signal to go, hoping to get a ride at least back up north as far as Fullerton. But I got to talking to new people, and taking pictures on my phone, the next thing I knew we were walking down the street to the Skylark. SW had the hiccups and four inch heels on, so M I were holding her up as Kerry and her BF walked ahead of us. I tried to show SW my hiccup trick. To wit: take a deep breath, hold your nose, bend over enough to squeeze the diaphragm, count to ten and exhale slowly. Remember to stay centered and zen when you return. SW did this dutifully, but didn't seem to mind the hiccups as much as I apparently do. Something else hilarious happened when SW came up for air but I'll spare M the embarrassment here. Needless to say we were laughing uproariously in the street , with Kerry across the way having no idea. Probs looked like typical drunkeness.

I had a good lie-in Saturday and cleaned house and prepared for my Sunday Salons. A bit of grocery shopping, taking down of the holiday decor (sad), garbage duty. I stayed in Saturday night and watched a great documentary called Crazy Love. It's about a Bronx couple that met in the late 50s. They dated for a while but she found out he was married. She went to Florida for a vacation and met someone else - someone normal, handsome, loving. She was engaged to be married when the previous bf hired some thugs to come to her door and throw acid on her face, blinding her. The story has been legion in NYC ever since because after he got out of jail he proposed to her on a local news broadcast and ... she took him back! The documentary chronicles all of this and more and even has a surprise twist. Top top recos from me.

Sunday Salons, our inaugural arts and discussion brunch, was a total hit. Roommie made an apple sausage and goat cheese egg strada (not to be outdone by mom's "Eric Estrada" but we'll call it "Oudda Da Stradosphere" haw haw). We also had tea, coffee, mimosas, salad, vegetables and hummus, donuts and almond coffee cake. And then we finally got around to discussing our art. SW read a piece of mine I jotted down about two years ago about my first few days in Ireland. I was kind of horrified but people seemed to like it, and I forgot the hidden humor in it. I read some of roommate's poetry which was really lovely and haunting and had hints of nature and rebirth. Chelle read from a piece of a novel she's written, which she's submitting to MFA courses in CA, and it blew us all away. I had tears in my eyes and can't wait to see more. Other people knitted or just listened. B came a bit later and we talked about her new magazine project.

So that left me in such high spirits, I'm going to pursue writing some more short stories about my hedonistic and confused few years in Ireland. As a treat to a long day I settled in to watch another documentary that night, Air Guitar Nation. All I can say is I have at least seven new major boy crushes (one being one of the founders - oh you geeky blue eyed babe!). And you must rent it stat. And come with me to the finals in Finland for the world championships next year. I am going to lay an air guitar god if its the last thing I do. And it just might be.

E.

Sunday Shenanigans

Sunday afternoon I walked over to SW's place for some hangover pizza and to watch the new Harry Potter movie that she got on DVD. Granted she had seen it about 4x in the theatre. She's the biggest fan I know, which is handy when I go, "who is that guy in the cloak?" And then go "OH! That's HIM?!?" So fun to see all these characters come to life. Especially as this is the first movie I've seen since I started reading the books (and yes I've read 6 out of 7). Her roommate is a smart arse and talked through the whole thing, asking SW questions like, "who is that guy in the back row who is out of focus?" She could probably narrow it down to two or three people is the thing.

So we finished Harry Potter, which was a total treat, and started into their next choice for the afternoon, the third Resident Evil movie. Now Milla Jovavich is a doll, and can certainly jump and look distressed and stuff, but I knew soon on that this wasn't Oscar contender material. I was very comfortable, feet hanging off the couch, I started to doze off but we took a break to get more drinks and pee and stuff.

As we were settling back in SW noticed that her roommate's new shitzpoo puppy George Takei had taken not just a shit-poo himself, but a huge diahreeah over by the fireplace. I didn't crane my neck to look but soon roommate EL was up and bitching and cursing up a storm. Apparently it was a mess. Soon enough I could smell it. EL was trying to get it cleaned up but kept dry heaving and running to the bathroom, which sent SW and I into hysterics. It seriously smelled, like really really bad. I yelled at SW to open the window but she couldn't get it open, meanwhile EL kept cursing and dry heaving and making all sorts of terrible noises. Finally it was cleaned up and fresh air was wafting through the window (it was about 55 degrees out anyway).

The dog came over ready to jump back on the couch but I still smelled something funny. SW picked it up and his little back paws were covered in the shitzpoo. A bath ensued and George got a blow dry and everything. Then we were able to finish the fascinating movie.

Oh but I did want to mention that I stopped by the pigeon man memorial on my way to SW's. I had no idea it was going on. Basically the pigeon man is a familiar sight on Western, just north of Lawrence. He would sit on the fireplug and feed large groups of pigeons at a time. They loved him and would sit on his shoulders and in his hair. While not terribly hygienic, he was accepted as part of the neighborhood's charm. My mom took a picture of him once when they were visiting, even though my dad was yelling at her not to (because the guy "gets money for that"). Any any rate, he was hit by a car before the holidays on Devon Street. So they were doing a memorial for him in which people could feed the pigeons. One woman was even sitting on the fireplug. I talked to a nice girl who said she had read about it on Chicagoist and came out. She's the one who gave me the bread. As I fed the pigeons she relayed the part of the story that I knew already - when they found him on the street he had a laminated copy of an article the Tribune had written about him, in the inside pocket of his jacket. I felt the satisfaction of watching the little birds eat, and I choked up a bit. Was this man very lonely, or very very rich in his company? Also, I was hungover, so I felt like having a good cry. Then I noticed the professional cameraman and video guy so I kept walking, having big sighs.

But then all that stuff happened with the pizza and diareeah and I felt a bit lighter for it.

E.

Update: I'm in the video! Wearing a blue hat and a pink coat. Weird.

Get The Hankies Out

For some reason I am encouraging anything to get the ole waterworks going lately.

Sunday night I finally sat (laid) down to watch this DVD I've had for a few weeks: Away From Her. I knew it was about "old people" and Alzheimer's and possibly some question of infidelity but I had no idea it was going to affect me this way. It was written and directed by the youthful actress Sarah Polley, who has definitely impressed me. Julie Christy is as gorgeous as she ever was and the wintry Canadian setting was perfect for this subject. I felt themes of solitude, cozy domesticity, a certain elderly vigor and beauty.  The whole topic was just taken on with, and written with, and acted with...so much dignity. Just writing that made my eyes well up again.

And when you're done with that you can read this little essay my mom sent me about growing up poor, and also finding dignity in that too. Count your blessings ma dearies.

E.

Much Better

The post turkey day depression hath lifted. So did the hangover. I had a GOOD day. Went to see The Darjeeling Limited, which was quirky and fun and artsy without taking itself too seriously at all, then a little queso fundito, said hi to my cousin at the local grille and had a pedicure which took an hour to dry. Hence, am late for KR's 30th birthday drinks thing!

But wanted to tell you that first. And see when the damn Foster bus is running. Is freezing outside suddenly.

E

My Mouth's Bleeding, Burt!

It's SNOWING!!

And now everybody cry.

xo, A

How to Cure a Champagne Hangover

Autumnal walk in Grant Park. Done.

E.