I Was Told There Would Be Nudity....

Um, of course my friends and I went to see "Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part I". We've seen all of them.

We picked a random Tuesday night, which was perfect, because the sparse audience was entirely comprised of women far too old to be excited about a 'tween movie. Women drinking copiously. (Because we only frequent movie theaters that serve alcohol. Duh.)

It meant that our raucous laughter and running commentary wasn't ssssshhhhhh'd by legions of teen Twihards desperate for their first glimpse of a sexual act between the newly-married Bella and Edward. (What good kids they are - NO PREMARITAL SEX HERE!) It meant that we could snort with laughter every time the awkward-looking Jasper graced the scene. Seriously - casting fail. I truly believe that they originally cast him on a whim, realized far too late into it that he spends every scene looking as though someone inserted a broomstick up into his posterior, and then realized they were stuck with him for the entirety of the series, because while it seems you can swap out lesser actors at whim, the primary player should probably remain the same in a movie series. Harry Potter's Dumbledore notwithstanding, obvs. (Spell check just told me that I misspelled "Dumbledor." Congrats J.K. Rowling - your made-up names have infiltrated Microsoft spell check. You truly do own a good chunk of the world.)

The best part was, not only did we have a good, rowdy group of girls, but we brought along our friend, Joel, who had not seen any of the movies nor, to my knowledge, read the books. To come into the series at the fourth movie was brave of him, but he was helped along by the delicious Landmark rendition of a Dark 'n Stormy. And, of course, our witty commentary, which always includes a running debate on just how much Taylor Lautner resembles an alpaca. (Fact.)

Anyhoodle, it's nice to know that although my friends are all embarking on new milestones in their lives as we face the #dirtythirty, we can still rustle up some fun on a Tuesday night at the movies. But only theaters that serve alcohol. And only at movies aimed at the 13-21 demographic. Really, they're movies made for us.

The Cat Might Lose Another Life....

See, Mom?

See how diligent I am being in my posts?!

My mother (the queen of noticing unmade beds, finding crusts of sandwiches hidden under plate rims, and gazing steely-eyed through flimsy statements like, "Of course I am not going to ride around in that Mustang with that boy with the long hair without your explicit permission!") is one of my biggest fans. I get friendly little reminders that she's bored of the content of my blog when I don't update enough. And I listen to her. Because the fans shall have what they want! And, you know, she's my mom. Trump card.

I digress.

So, last night was typical Book Club. 7 pitchers of sangrias, probably thirty plates of tapas, three different desserts. Over the years, we have graduated from the $5 wine tasting to spectacular dinners where we always have to leave exorbitant tips because we (a) are loud, (b) drink so fast the wait staff can't keep up, and (c) due to said drinking, have a tendency to become loud about inappropriate topics.

Yes, we discussed the book last night.

I even made a list of questions prior.

Book Club has SOME structure; a free-for-all it is not.

I digress.

Day Three of training, which meant I was up at 5:45am to go to a weights class at my gym taught by a fabulous fellow writer/bartender/fitness enthusiast. This was especially rough given the aforementioned Book Club Dinner which lasted until about 10pm and throughout which wine flowed freely. But I made it through. My body will most likely revolt tomorrow when I go to strap on Ye Olde Running Shoes and discover I have lost the ability to run. Or, you know, move.

In other news, the cat and I are going to have words. I don't understand his insistence on puking. For years, we coexisted peacefully on this subject with a simple understanding: he puked only on hardwood floors, and only where I could easily locate said puke for ready cleaning. Now, all of the sudden, it seems he wants to puke in secret locations, i.e., wherever my poor roommate Jaunt wishes to set her foot.

This has caused her to become very upset when she's already running late for work and has to wash cat puke off of her foot.

This is not bearing well on her already tentative relationship with the cat, who thinks he is incredibly cute and can do disgusting things willy-nilly and expect no repercussions. He and I have had harsh words before regarding his complete inability to think about others. He will usually behave for a day or two, and then, WHAM, puddle of puke on the table by the front door, or WHAM, hairball on the mail.

I have tried to make excuses for the cat. It's spring, he is shedding his winter coat, this causes him to puke more. He dislikes the new food I bought. He is having mental distress due to the federal deficit. I am running out of explanations.

Soon, I'll have to tell him: Jaunt grew up on a farm where animals were not pets; they were working, contributing members of a whole. If he doesn't get his act together, there will be consequences.

That sounds like Jaunt is going to sell and/or consume the cat. I know she would do neither. There is, however, a risk that she might sell and/or consume me, and I am not risking this for the damn cat.

Straighten up and fly right, cat, or we're both going to suffer the consequences. Maybe no more tuna juice for you, hmmm? Or butt slaps. (Show me a cat who doesn't live for a good slap on the butt, and I'll show you a dead one. Seriously. They love it.)

In other news, the big debate this week is whether to go to AVAM's Flicks on the Hill tomorrow night or to see Harry Potter. I am excruciatingly divided. I love FOTH, and it's the closest to camping I'm gonna get this summer. But I'm also jonesing to see the final HP. I've read all the books, seen every movie, and must admit that I am looking forward to this with not a slight bit of trepidation only because when those final credits roll...that's it. Then there's nothing to look forward to until Twilight craps out another glittery sensation or Hunger Games finally releases a trailer. (And both, believe me, will be high points for me and my affinity for young-adult-literature-turned-film-sensation.)

In other news, there's a call out for a short story contest for the Boston Review. I'm tempted. We shall see. Earlier attempts at stunted fiction (as I began to see the short story genre) were not so successful. Then again, a contest creates accountability and a deadline. We shall see.

In other news, 35 days until vacation. I totally purchased the Living Social deal ($27 for a limo ride to BWI from the city - WHAT A STEAL) and so have already raised the bar on the expectations for said vacation. After all, if you can't party with class...I don't know where I was headed with that turn of phrase, but WHATEVER, A LIMO IS SUPER CLASSY. And it sure beats bargaining with friends for a ride to the airport. Oh, the promises I've made in exchange for such...

Daniel Craig In Chaps

So, I did it. I went to see Cowboys & Aliens. And while I framed it primarily as a gracious act performed for the boyfriend (retribution for which I shall reserve until such a point in time I find something truly and deliciously girly), truth be told I was a little bit curious.

Ok. A lot curious.

Ok, I actually really wanted to see it.

I secretly have a penchant for action, shoot-em-up films, but only in movie theaters. I have a fatally short attention span for these kinds of movies on a standard television, but I get readily sucked into them if seen as they're meant to be seen: on the big screen. Special effects, loud noises, things exploding...sign me up. I normally draw the line at gratuitous violence (and have been known to cover my face in the presence of such), but there's something about action films that somehow makes it so over-the-top ridiculous, I can go with it.

Cowboys & Aliens was exactly what I'd expected: completely camp dialogue, horribly predictable plot line, ridiculously archetypal characters, amazing special effects, and some very nice views of Daniel Craig in chaps. It was entertaining, to say the least, though I hesitate to say engaging.

Tomorrow night is Book Club, where we will be discussing Sweet Valley Confidential and heading to Catalano's after dinner and drinks to watch some of the series that came out in the late 1990's. Coupled with last night's action movie viewing, I feel that I may have to do something vastly intellectual quite soon.

Then again, it's also Shark Week....hosted by Andy Samberg....I may just retire any lofty ambitions to be deep and meaningful until the fall.

100 Fires- Give Them Money!

"I think donating to a film like this would be a great way for people to put their karmic balance in the black for the start of 2011." -Lee

Check it out.

From the website:

"100 Fires: Living From a Landfill" is a feature length documentary about the smoking dump that crouches outside the city of Santiago in the Dominican Republic. The film follows the buzos, or trash divers, who support themselves solely off what they can scavenge from the dump. They build their houses out of trash, feed their children with rotten food, and make less than a dollar a day by finding and selling piles of metal, plastic, cardboard, and anything else people will buy. We want to give voices to this community; ignored by their own government, invisible to society, and threatened by the toxic dump upon which they rely for survival.

What we need:
Filming for "100 Fires" is complete. We now need your help for post-production. Funds will be used for offline/online editing, coloring, and sound composing, engineering, and mixing. We will also use the funds for DVD graphic art, DVD printing, and film festival submission fees.

If anything, it's just good to know that people are trying to do good things in the world and bring awareness to social justice via artistic means. If you really feel connected, send a few bucks their way so that the project can take flight.

Smells Like Snow

NPR kindly informed me that snow will most likely disrupt my afternoon commute.

I'm ok with this. I have on my new boots (thanks, Zappos, for mailing them so very promptly!) and a jaunty hat. Snow away!

Tonight: my friend Josh had expressed some anxiety about gift-giving, and so we agreed to forego (after all, it is next to impossible to follow in Lee's footsteps in terms of ultimate gift-giving) and instead throw ourselves a little holiday Fete. For us this means take-out sushi and Mystery Science Theater. (Nerd alert!) Quite frankly, I think Lee's going to have a hard time topping that. Really, it's my ultimate evening.

Christmas is next week, by the way. In case you weren't aware. I prepared very well this year, buying all of the gifts ahead of time. What I neglected to do, however, was allot time for a giant trip to the post office to mail said gifts. Maybe some year I'll get it all together.

Besos.

My Life Would Suck (Without You)

Oh, Kelly Clarkson. I have the deepest of love for you, ever since you graced us with "A Moment Like This" while Justin "I'm Totally Not Gay Because I Got Married To A Woman" Guarini stood by with his perfect 'fro and his perfect gap between his perfect teeth to smile you onward towards your pop career.

I digress. That was an aside, believe it or not.

The point of this blog update was to announce the reinstatement of @NewGlitterati's Twitter account. I canceled it awhile back because, well, it just seemed like one more thing. Like honestly, I already have an entire blog dedicated to my mindless musings...who the heck wants to follow my mindless musings throughout the day? To be honest, I never really got the point of Twitter. Facebook I could get on board with, for some reason, but Twitter....it was just one more account to check, one more log-in, one more thing to update. It's possible I will reach this level of frustration again, but since I've been cleaning house and shaping up around here (did you notice the changes? No? Really? Take another look. Go on...I'll give you a moment. No, really. Seriously? Wow. Come back and read this blog after a good 8 hours of sleep and we'll discuss this again. SERIOUSLY?!) I figured I'd get back on the multi-directional bandwagon of technology.

So yeah, you know, follow me or whatever or don't. It's fine by me. I can't promise anything staggeringly funny or different, but I can promise that at some point I'll most likely post something I'll later regret, I'll frequently mention weird inside jokes, and I'll probably talk a lot about food and drinks and movies and music since those are four of my Most Favorite Things and things to which I dedicate a lot of time. I'll try to be good and actually keep up with it this time.

But seriously, I thought I'd slip through the changes to the blog and just not say anything which, in retrospect, was a little rude. Those of you who have been coming here for years temporarily freaked out wondering if you'd somehow stumbled onto the wrong blog. It's sort of like when you come home for the summer after college and discover- gasp- that your family has converted your room into, say, a guest bedroom (or that your younger brother has hijacked it, boxed up all your stuff, painted it a different color, and moved in- NOT THAT THIS STILL BOTHERS ME OR ANYTHING) and you feel a little bereft at having been left out of the decision-making process.

I'm sorry, Glitteratis. But if I stared at that blank white page for one more second....it's had the same layout since inception (NOT the movie...) in March of 2008. 2.5 long years we've had here together, eh? Anyway....

The changes are not permanant and it may take awhile before I find a layout that I (and you, dear readers) can really feel at home in. But I liked this one for the meantime. A little cozy, no? Kind of makes you want a cup of tea and a cookie, eh?

Mmm...cookie.

On this lovely Wednesday evening, I am enjoying a glass of Martin Codax tempranillo in a (very loud) cafe and tempting myself with the idea of something sweet.

Movie I watched last night: Happy Go Lucky. Loved it. Took me awhile to place Sally Hawkins until I remembered that she'd guest starred on several episodes of Little Britain.

Welcome back, Glitteratis. Settle in. Have a glass of wine. Or a cookie. Or both! It's all fine here!

Oh, and follow me or whatever.

Spike Lee's "Requiem"

Damn.

DAMN.

New crush: Wendell Pierce. Native New Orleanian, star of The Wire and now Treme lends his commentary to Spike Lee's infinitesimally-researched documentary.

Every time I think I get some scope of JUST HOW complicated the situation is/was....

Below is just an excerpt. In the actual documentary, there is footage that is beyond disturbing.

Example: British journalists stumbled upon a home filled with un-minded children. Where's Mom? "She needs air to breathe," a child explains, pointing the journalists to dead Mom lying in her bed, hooked up to an oxygen machine that ceased to work when the power went out.

Wrap your head around that.

Most Disturbing Film. Ever.

I totally thought Coraline was a kid's movie.

Nightmares.

Things I Am Currently Adoring

1. Up in the Air. How very apt, expressive, and bittersweetly not surprising. I was OK with the non-surprises, however, because the writing was perfectly in tune. There wasn't a wrong note in the dialogue.

2. Avatar. Because I've been meaning to watch Pocahontas again. No, but seriously- it's worth the press it's getting for sheer spectacle. The story is predictable, the dialogue lame, but call me a sucker for a show pony when it comes to graphics and imaginative animation.

3. Going to see The Lovely Bones tomorrow night with Whack, Jackal and Nickle. I'm intrigued by what I've seen on previews so far, because it's quite an intellectual and imaginative separation from what I pictured while reading the book. As an avid fan of watching films made from books, I feel this could only work in its favor. Everyone knows that the film will never be the book (no matter how many times the Harry Potter or Twilight empires attempt), and I am fully supportive of the two being able to stand alone as substantial artistic pieces. I don't mind if the movie isn't like the book, or vice versa, if they're both compelling works.
4. My new Neti pot. I've long been a promoter of homeopathic means of healing and so, this winter, I'm putting my money where my nasal passages are and attempting to ward off the inevitable sinus infection that comes around every winter for me. The constant flux of temperature and humidity in February and March never fails to leave me without at least two weeks of complete misery, usually culminating in having to go to the doctor and weep for antibiotics, and this year I'm starting early in hopes of dodging it. We'll see. My first experience was weirdly satisfying and somehow quite cleansing, although this could be placebo effect of proactivity which a lot of homeopathy sometimes seems to be. And in order to make the whole thing sound more appealing, I can start saying that I've begun a practice of Jala-neti, which sounds so much more worldly and disciplined.


5. Reading. Unless I'm on vacation in the summer, I always read more in winter. It's cold, the blaring noise of the TV bothers me after awhile, and all I want to do is hunker down under a blanket with a good Malbec and demolish a pile of books. Currently reading/finishing: The Dive from Clausen's Pier and Revolutionary Road, and then about to start Waiter Rant and The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.