Aloha, Suckers

As of this Saturday I'll be on my way to Hawaii!! Sweet. I'll be attempting to maybe check in and post a few things even when I'm gone, but in my absence I'm leaving a few tips on what to do until I return:

1) Cry.

2) Curl up in the fetal position in the shower and cry.

3) Curl up in the fetal position in the shower and cry and then get out and dry yourself and get dressed (optional) and then check my blog so you can:

4) Read this poem by Sharon Olds, a well-known poet and favorite of my roommate, Joris. Slate features a new poem every week and they're consistently good.

5) Visit Chicago-based publishing company Featherproof Books' website. They even have free mini-books that you can download, print, fold together and read. It's perfect for the bus, train or boring family dinner. I'd start with Elizabeth Crane's Donovan's Closet, but that's just me.

6) Check out one of my newest links, A Movie A Day. It seems like the cool new thing to do is give yourself a project to cram in a bunch of stuff during a certain amount of time and then write a blog about it (a la Julie & Julia by Julie Powell based on her blog). This guy watches one movie every day and then writes well-informed reviews about it.

7) Read the other of my newest links, BookSlut. This is already a pretty well-known website but they do get great interviews with interesting authors and I'd thought that since this is a blog about everything pop culture, I should include this.

8) For anyone that loves food, there's a ton of good food blogs out there. My sister turned me on to The Comfort Zone. She makes great stuff, takes great pictures of it, and then tells you how they came to look so good without rambling on over every single detail. She's also based out of Australia so you know she's cool because Australians are cool.

9) Read this column by Mindy Raf. Lauren got me hooked on the NY comedienne's blog, and she writes great columns for College Humor as well as other websites, too. This particular one is about all the stupid things guys have said to her on dates (you really won't believe some of them), but be sure to check out her other columns, too. Also, visit her blog to check out her letters to annoying New Yorkers, Forever 21, and other popular institutions.

That's it for now. I figure a Top 10 would be too predictable, so I'm leaving you with 9. I hope this amuses you all while I'm gone. Hopefully when I return I'll have pics to share with everyone.

Woo-hoo! I'm off to Hawaii!

Yawn or Grrr

Can I just say how bored I am with music lately?

There hasn't been much to be excited about, whether on the radio, on TV, or elsewhere. Even some of my favorite artists have disappointed me with recent lackluster CD's (Joseph Arthur and Doves, I'm looking in your direction). I don't know what it is, but for some reason I am very indifferent towards the music scene in general right now. Let's take a look at a few items of note:

Sheryl Crow - When did you become a boring adult contemporary artist? Oh, that's right, with that awful cover of "The First Cut is the Deepest" (fine song, bad version).

Fiona Apple - OK, you're finally back, but why do I not care? Oh, that's because everyone is talking about the process of making the album and no one seems to care about the, you know, music.

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Good band, could use more publicity, so you release a CD called "Howl" that's just mellow, zone-out duds? Your best, most popular songs are anthemic rockers like "We're All In Love" and "Whatever Happened to My Rock and Roll?" Way to play to your strengths, guys.

Kanye West - Loved "Gold Digger"...the first 10,000 times I heard it.

Moby - Get over yourself. Your best songs don't involve you singing, yet your latest CD, "Hotel," features your voice almost exclusively. You're a DJ, not a singer.

Nas - Where did you go? I loved "Bridging the Gap" so much I bought it from iTunes. But how could you release a massive CD like "Street's Disciple" and then barely market it? Did your label not support it?

(Side note: I like how I'm asking all these artists questions as if they're going to answer me. As if tomorrow my phone will ring and Fiona Apple will be like, "Don? It's Fiona. I so know what you mean. Why can't people just focus on the music. Sometimes I think you're the only person that gets me.")

Speaking of where-did-you-go artists, where's Nelly Furtado? Air? Zero 7?

There have been some recent bright spots. The new CD's from The Dandy Warhols and The White Stripes are pretty good, if not great. Plus, this summer I got to see Ben Lee, Ben Folds and Rufus Wainright all perform together and they're all still doing good work. And I'm looking forward to picking up the new Franz Ferdinand. And anyone who lives in Illinois but hasn't heard Sufjan Stevens' "Illinoise" is missing out.

But that's about it. Earlier I said I was "indifferent" about the music scene, but I think I'm actually kind of angry about the lack of new, exciting work out there.

I don't know anymore. Does anyone else feel this way?

The Lost City of Atlantis Is In Viggo's Chin

I'm a big fan of Viggo Mortenson. He was great in the "Lord of the Ring" movies and he did a great job with a difficult, complicated character in the new "A History of Violence." He was even great in that horrible Gus Van Sant remake of "Psycho." He's also a photographer, poet, painter and a father. The man, quite simply, is cool. But while I was watching "A History of Violence," I noticed something about him that I never noticed before.

In certain lighting...

At certain angles...

From the right viewpoint...

Viggo Mortenson has the biggest chin dimple in the history of mankind.

Don't get me wrong, he's a great-looking guy. But if people ever want to know where Jimmy Hoffa was buried, I suggest they start with Viggo's chin. You could lose anything down there. It's like a black hole framed by perfect cheekbones. It easily out-chin-dimples both Kirk and Michael Douglas' chin dimples and theirs are massive. Hell, you could fit both Kirk and Michael Douglas into Viggo's chin dimple.

I've never really understood the chin dimple. It's like God fixed a button to the middle of a man's chin. And it only appears on men, right? Have you ever seen a woman with a chin dimple? I sure haven't.

Chin dimples freak me out. What's their point? Why are they there? What evolutionary purpose do they serve? Do they make a man more attractive? And doesn't it seem that only men who are considered attractive have them?

A well-defined jaw on a man is attractive, sure, but a chin dimple caves in so much that the immediately surrounding flesh juts out into a skin donut that looks positively menacing. In "A History of Violence," Viggo plays a small town guy who is mysteriously graceful at killing two thugs who are about to kill his diner's customers. He smashes a pot of hot coffee into one of the thug's faces, and now I wonder: why not just butt him with your chin? If it doesn't kill him upon impact, the bad guy would just fall into Viggo's chin and be lost forever, which is just as effective.

The movie is pretty good (some scenes are great, others don't quite work), and it did stick with me long after it was over. But now that I'm done pondering the values of the film, all I'm left with is Viggo - laying down on a staircase after a fascinating, complex sexual encounter with his wife - as he stares up at the ceiling and the light perfectly outlines his chin-dimple. And then, in the next scene, you barely notice it.

Which now, as I write this, strikes me as a perfect metaphor for Viggo's character: a man's dominant personality traits become crystal clear under certain circumstances but are not as noticeable when he's trying to be normal.

So that's the conclusion that I've reached:

Viggo Mortenson's chin-dimple is the perfect metaphor for the Darwinian violent tendencies in man. Let's see some graduate student write a thesis on that.

You Are Not a Superstar

OK, the title is a little harsh, but let me explain. Walking through Lincoln Park today to do some errands and noticed a billboard for Crunch gym that featured an obnoxious woman dressed entirely in pink with two bodyguards standing on either side of her. Above her reads: "Crunch Gym: Everyone is a Superstar!"

No, they're not. I hate this ad. First of all, it has nothing to do with, you know, exercise. Secondly, how is Crunch gym really going to treat me like a superstar? Send me a limo everytime I want to go to the gym? Give me free gift bags with iPods and gold-encrusted chewing gum? Make me a famous, house-hold name and write me a check for fifty million dollars?

Because, that, my friends, is a superstar. Not just someone well-known, like Paul Giamatti, but a house-hold name that is immediately recognized. Tom Cruise. Julia Roberts. Mick Jagger. Oprah. Hell, even Julia Child counts because you say her name and everyone - no matter how little they know about food, no matter if their daily meals consist of bread and water or McDonald's - knows at least that Julia Child was a cook.

Everyone else? Not so much. And this is what sickens me. The last thing some entitled Lincoln Park Trixie needs is yet another advertisement reinforcing how entitled she should feel. It's the same thing as all those "The Fabulous Life of...(insert celebrity name here)" TV shows that air constantly on VH1 and E!. They feature celebrities basically accumulating a ton of expensive stuff and by showcasing this lifestyle (no matter how fictionalized it is) they're making it somewhat accessible to the clueless/rich. People watching are like "I want that! Why should Reese Witherspoon get that and not me? Gimme, gimme gimme!"

I'll tell you why. Because Reese Witherspoon has literally been working in movies since she was, like, 12.

That's why I love Waiter Rant so much (see my links). Because, as a waiter, he has to deal with tons of entitled New York yuppies who scream "do you know know who I am?" when they can't get a table without a reservation on a Saturday night. And, of course, they're usually no one and Waiter will point this out to us (if not to the guy himself). Because some hotshot accountant is still just that...an accountant. No matter how big someone is in their specific field, no one outside that field has any reason to care how important they think they are.

Sorry, I'll stop rambling. My point: everyone is NOT a superstar (and going to the gym won't make you one). Very few people have earned the right to jump to the front of the line. If Brad Pitt budges me, that's cool (unless we were in line for a Krispy Kreme - then I'd have to kick some ass). But if some fake blonde with stilettos thinks she should be able to cut in front of me because shopping at Escada made her late for the movie, then she's out of luck.

Deep Thoughts from America's Next Top Model

Kelle: "I was in denial about my snout."

Totally.

Check out other deep thoughts here!

Out With the Old, In With the New...Plus, A Request From the Blogger

So I just finished A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. Yes, it's the new Oprah Book Club choice and no, I've never read one of her choices before (at least, not because it was the Oprah Book Club choice). I'll write more on it later, because Mr. Frey has yet to actually appear on the show and I'm waiting until he does before I write about the whole book/TV show/website multi-consumption experience.

In the meantime, I have started Battle Royale by Koushun Takami. Read the following plot description and tell me if this doesn't sound like the coolest thing ever:

"Koushun Takami's notorious high-octane thriller is based on an irresistible premise: a class of junior high school students is taken to a deserted island where, as part of a ruthless authoritarian program, they are provided arms and forced to kill one another until only one survivor is left standing. Criticized as violent exploitation when first published in Japan - where it then proceeded to become a runaway bestseller - Battle Royale is a Lord of the Flies for the 21st century, a potent allegory of what it means to be young and (barely) alive in a dog-eat-dog world. Made into a controversial hit movie of the same name, Battle Royale is already a contemporary Japenese pulp classic, now available for the first time in the English language."

OK, are you putting everything down and running out to buy it yet? Granted, I'm sure this doesn't appeal to everyone, but to me it seems like it could be fascinating and trashy and fun, which I could desperately use after the incredibly disturbing A Million Little Pieces.

And while we're at it, why doesn't everyone out there let me know what they're reading? C'mon! Leave a comment and let me know what else I should be reading.

MirrorMask & Tony Takitani: 2 Movies You Should Really See...Right After You Check Out Jessica Alba In a Bikini

OK, heads up, people. We’re entering fall movie season. While this is usually the time of year where the studios finally start releasing good movies in hopes they’ll be remembered come Oscar season, we haven’t quite gotten there, yet. Granted, “A History of Violence” is getting some of the best reviews of the year, and most people seem to like (but not love) “Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride,” we still have to deal with crap like “Into the Blue” (who decided that Jessica Alba was able to carry entire movies by herself?).

And while new movies like “Capote” and the new Wallace & Gromit film are receiving all the hype, there’s still a few summer leftovers needing some attention.

The first is ”MirrorMask,” now playing in a few select cities (luckily, Chicago, where I live, is one of them). It is written by Neil Gaiman, who just topped the New York Times fiction best-seller list with ”Anansi Boys.” A well-known writer to fantasy/sci-fi fans, Gaiman may find himself in Ray Bradbury-like territory: being pigeon-holed into specific genres with stories that might be able to transcend their boundaries into mass appeal. Bradbury didn’t write just science fiction, that’s just the medium he used to write elegant metaphors of the human condition. Some might be able to say the same thing about Gaiman. Whether Gaiman is able to ascend to Bradbury-like success is another story.

Anyway (whew, talk about digressing…), “MirrorMask,” directed by Dave McKean, while a solid effort, is easy to recommend because of the fact that it is unlike anything you have ever seen before on a movie screen. Think "Alice in Wonderland" meets goth punk on acid.

A rebellious 15-year-old girl, Helena (Stephanie Leonidas) wants to run away from her circus family so she can have a life of her own. She finds herself in a strangely familiar nightmare, trapped in a world seemingly created from her own drawings that cover her bedroom wall. The world is full of flying fish, rainbow-winged cats, suspender-clad porcupines, and other, even more abstract creatures. Almost everyone, including Helena’s goofy sidekick Valentine (Jason Barry), is wearing a mask. It’s Helena’s search for the title object to save the Queen of Light that becomes the metaphor of a young girl trying to reconnect with her dying mother.

As striking as the visuals are, it’s unfortunate that more attention wasn’t paid to the human characters. Helena is at first a completely realistically-written young teenager. But when she finds herself in this strange new world, she barely reacts to it. I mean, I’d be freaking out if I was talking to a creature with a shoe for a head, but she doesn’t think twice about it. And Valentine seems to be from another movie altogether. His contrived “goofy sidekick” routine is as flat and one-dimensional as the mask he wears.

Despite these few flaws, if you really want to treat yourself to a different kind of movie experience, I would definitely recommend this movie.

On the other side of the spectrum is ”Tony Takitani.” This seems to be playing in even less cities than “MirrorMask” and was only in Chicago for a week. It’s based on a short story by Haruki Murakami that appeared in The New Yorker in 2002. Like Gaiman, Murakami is a one-man writing machine, having also written numerous novels like The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. His stories are also being adapted for the stage in “After the Quake,” coming to The Steppenwolf Theater this month.

The brief, 75-minute movie tells the tale of Tony (Issey Ogata), an artist who grows up lonely but rich and marries a woman who’s obsessed with buying as many beautiful clothes as she can afford (her collection of shoes alone could put the sisters from “In Her Shoes” to shame). The tale takes a depressing turn that becomes all the more interesting due to how the characters react to it. It becomes a touching study of how lost love invades our memories and our future.

This is not a movie for everyone. It’s short, sad, and beautiful in its own way (a way completely opposite from the beauty in “MirrorMask”). It’s so visually sparse that one becomes fascinated with the details, like an odd camera angle over a car or lingering close-ups of actors’ faces.

I have to admit, the simple score (it sounds as if someone is abstractly plunking away on the higher end of a piano) and soothing voice-over narrative made me just a wee bit sleepy, but it was to my own detriment, as I didn’t want to miss a single moment of this haunting, utterly original film.

But now that we got those artsy films out of the way, I’m off to a double feature of “Into the Blue” and “Transporter 2.” Who’s with me?

Obsessing Over Food I Never Eat, with Giada De Laurentiis

I have to admit to my new TV crush on Giada De Laurentiis. Her show on the Food Network, "Everyday Italian," has me strangely hypnotized.

While everyone seems to be talking about fellow Food TV hosts Emeril Lagasse and Paula Deen (who’s featured in the new Cameron Crowe movie, “Elizabethtown”), Giada just entered the New York Times best-selling non-fiction list in the Top 10 with her first cookbook. That’s pretty big and pretty rare.

It’s not that the show does anything really spectacular, but there’s something about the soft lighting, the faux-rustic Italian pottery, close-ups of sleek stainless steel cookware, and the chill lounge music that kicks in whenever our host starts cranking out mini-polenta bites. Giada is always fitted into some tiny t-shirt that shows off her toned arms and ample…um…bosom. Wait, who says “bosom” anymore unless they were born in 1950? Boobs, ok? She shows off her boobs. A lot. But tastefully so.

What I’m trying to say is that the whole package exudes a certain sexiness, at least as sexy as cooking shows can be. While Rachel Ray, also a successful Food TV host, is cackling about how awesome her food smells, Giada is luring you in to the point where you can practically smell her chicken stew right through your TV screen. Sure, she’s a bit too perky sometimes (no one should smile that big when they add sea salt to a dish), but she’s having fun without being overly precious about it.

And the food is simple, too. It’s not Mario Batali using obscure, high-end ingredients like goose liver. And it’s not Ms. Ray running around like a spaz, throwing frozen tater tots into her oven so she can put together a “30-Minute Meal” (that being said, I actually am a fan of Rachel Ray, but watching her scramble to finish on time can be mentally exhausting). Giada makes simple, elegant stuff, ranging from Caprese Salad to Espresso Brownies that keep me coming back for more.

To top it off, she just designed a shoe for Stuart Weitzman that’s being auctioned for charity. She's giving to charity, people! Okay, so the entire line-up of Food TV hosts each designed one, but Giada's is the prettiest. But, once again, Ms. Deen’s is getting the highest bid. I know there are other Giada fans out there…hence the best-selling book…but where are they?

I guess it’s safe to assume that other Giada fans are not 25-year-old guys, however, and therefore wouldn’t traffic in the same places that I would, so maybe that’s why I don’t know them. Or maybe being a Giada fan isn’t an easily-identifiable personality trait, like being a Cubs fan or Lincoln Park Trixie.

But I know you’re out there, Giada fans. Please contact me. Let’s band together. Actually, let’s not. This blog entry is dorky enough without using it to start a Giada fan club.

Of course, if I actually had the chance to meet Giada, it would probably go something like this:

Me: Um, hi, Giada.
Her: That’s not how you say my name.
Me: Uh, sorry. How do you say your name?
Her: It’s Giada. You know. Giada. Giada.
Me: Right. That’s what I said. Giada.
Her: Nevermind.
(Pause)
Me: I love you.
Her: Ow, let go of my arm.

Or something like that. ANYWAY…

Now that I’ve made my crush known, could someone please go to my Amazon Wish List and buy me her book? Then I’ll actually try making the recipes.

Roll Call

OK, class. Let's review the links I've deemed worthy of my blog space, shall we?

1) Lauren's International Adventures, or "Life of a Franco-American in the UK" - She's the only person I know personally who has lived in three different countries on two continents. I grew up with her in Chicago, she then moved to Paris, and now she lives in Nottingham. You can follow her on her fabulous escapades as she shops, drinks, works out, cooks for her french boyfriend, tries to find that perfect green sweater, and reads Harry Potter.

2) Toothpaste for Dinner - A weird, quirky comic strip that's sometimes about something, sometimes about nothing, and sometimes about the color beige (which is neither something nor nothing). I found out about it after Slate decided to feature a slide show where they deconstruct the genius of this minimalist comic strip.

3) Waiter Rant - Lauren, blog goddess that she is, turned my attention to this witty, intelligent yet mysterious NY waiter. Not only is he a great writer, but his archives of ridiculous customers and prank-prone co-workers are addictive. Literary crack, if you will.

4) Suzanne Takes On the World - Another longtime friend, Suzanne just recently moved back to Chicago after spending a year teaching in France. Her blog swings from the eating habits of the french to the lacking movie etiquette of our fellow americans. If you go there right now, you can read a touching story about trying to connect with co-workers through the obstacle of language.

5) Stacey Outshines Pottery Barn - Call me George W. Bush, because I like to promote my friends. This is Stacey's website that features her ceramic artistry. Having already been comissioned by NY restaurants, Stacey mixes whimsy with substance to create some truly original pieces. Her Animammals collection is especially amusing.

6) Elizabeth Crane, writer extraodinairre - Let me say this: If you haven't read When the Messenger is Hot or All This Heavenly Glory, you're missing out. Big time. Hers is a truly original voice and here she gifts us with a blog, sharing her unique observations about Danny Bonaduce, Apple Martin, and Celine Dion. How can you resist?

I'm sure I'll find more to add, but for now, dear readers, you precious few, these are the gifts I bestow unto you. Unwrap them, savor them like a fine wine, and use the ribbon for your ponytail.

Todd Oldham: Everyone's New Best Friend

What a strange week it was. When trying to describe HGTV’s new show to people, I feel like I’m describing a “Saturday Night Live” parody: Todd Oldham is making ottomans with Joan Jett. If that sentence doesn’t throw you, the visual image of Ms. Jett trying to assemble furniture while still looking rock-star-fabulous will.

Let’s back up. HGTV, or, rather, the Home and Garden Television network, is attempting to skew towards a younger audience. While it hasn’t produced a water-cooler hit like TLC’s “Trading Spaces,” its audience has continually grown since its inception in 1994. It now reaches around 88 million households. It’s website, HGTV.com, attracts millions of unique visitors every month and is one of the most visited home and garden sites on the web. Unfortunately, the middle-aged women who make up the core of their viewers are not an advertiser’s dream demographic of 25-34-year-olds.

Enter Todd Oldham, designer, photographer and all-around hip guy. Oldham is a likely choice for HGTV as he has credibility as a designer and the cool demeanor of your friend’s artsy older brother. It doesn’t hurt that he has appeared on MTV intermittently since 1993, first on “House of Style” and, more recently, as host of special editions of its hit show, “Crib Crashers.” And his lines for Target and La-Z-Boy further enhance his accessible, easy-going style.

Which brings us to his new, five-part series, "Todd Oldham's Handmade Modern," where Mr. Oldham teaches us how to turn plain white bedsheets and glass vases into works of art (conveniently, there's also an accompanying book). And to make it all the more accessible, instead of degrees of difficulty, each project is rated in terms of easiness. Creating a Vase Lift is pretty easy, but the Illuminated Wood Tile Headboard is slightly less so. But to really lure in the young-ins, however, Todd invites his celebrity guests to join him. Because, as well all know by now, everything is more enjoyable when a celebrity can join in.

This is where the surreal elements kick in. While the premiere show featured a wonderfully low-key, charming Susan Sarandon (on not letting her kids see her movies but still visit the movie sets, she remarked “For the longest time, my daughter thought I worked in a trailer”), the second show brought us…Elizabeth Berkeley? Is Todd really sure he wants to flaunt his friendship with none other than Ms. “Showgirls” herself? Maybe he knew what wonderfully nutty programming this would create. It gave him a chance to display surprising humor, whether intentional (holding up a piece of string, he charmingly teases Ms. Berkeley: “I know you’ve had a couple of costumes this big”), or not (Todd: “Coming up, Elizabeth unravels a few of life’s lessons.” Elizabeth: “We all get knocked down at different times.” Todd: “Totally.”).

There’s just something really funny to me about the whole scenario. Everyone has to balance so much at one time. The celebrity is trying to appear both completely down-to-earth and normal while still having perfectly coiffed hair and heavily applied make-up (except for the final guest, Jeffrey Tambor, of course). They want to come off like our next-door neighbor yet their very appearance as the “Celebrity Guest Friend” confirms that they’re definitely not. Meanwhile, Todd has to talk to his guests about what celebrity-esque activities they’re up to (television shows, movies, etc.), converse with them like they’re just hanging out on a Sunday afternoon, and still get the Tiny Tableaux Tables done in a limited amount of time. The way celebrity and host has to change hats within each sentence of conversation is fascinating and awkward (which can be blamed more on the show’s format than on Mr. Oldham himself).

As the show then trotted out Ms. Jett, Mr. Tambor and – my personal favorite – the hilarious Amy Sedaris, to keep us interested, mini-“essays” popped up to teach us about the history of specific art movements and innovators like Russell Wright. With the essays, guest segments, plus five or six projects per episode, the show really packed a lot into its 30-minute time frame. After watching Mr. Oldham gracefully maneuver his way through each phase, you’re left wishing HGTV would give him his own regular series, instead of just this one-time, five-part special.

But, to fill my time, I guess I could actually attempt some of the projects he demonstrated on the show. I mean, if Elizabeth Berkeley can whip out some String Art, surely I can, too, right?

Um, sure. Right after I watch some more HGTV.