O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

Ever had one of those near out of body experiences, one of those moments where you suddenly have a flash of "this is greater than me" and you are so filled with happy excitement and a general feeling that nothing can go wrong and even when things to it turns out well anyways? Well, I am having one right now. Not to rain on anyone's parade or annoy another person with my seemingly over-exaggerated felicity, but I am having a moment. A moment where I feel like THINGS ARE HAPPENING! I am not sure exactly what, but there is a buzz in the air around me, a sort of kinetic energy that is giving me good vibes. I am in a phase of my life where THINGS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN. I don't even know what that means (or why I am capitalizing random phrases) and I realize this is the most bizarre post I've written to date, but I've felt a true energetic force all week that culminated tonight in a very Hollywood event that was also a pretty cool way to spend a Thursday night (although it did mean I had to set my DVR to record the season premiere of Lost). I'll give full details later (the story involves bitchy Academy workers, an advanced screening, one really hot actor, a bizarre college connection, and a big fan encounter) but at the moment I just wanted to share that there is something good going around, and I've got a good feeling about tomorrow and an even better feeling about the day after that.


P.S. I promise a more coherent post tomorrow.
P.P.S. No, I'm not stoned right now.

Oh and extra credit to whoever can identify the origin of this post's title.

Match Date #1

At the request of a fan (and by fan I mean a friend I force to read this blog) I am going to attempt to not combust into a ball of shame and embarrassment, and rather pass those lovely feelings onto whoever wants to read a precious retelling of my awkward dates courtesy Match.com.

So here goes.

Saturday morning I met Dude Number One (who we will call Kal Penn because he is Indian American). We had planned to meet at 10:30 am at Jamba Juice but after waking up in the morning and freaking out that I really didn't want to do Match afterall, I leisurely made my way to the arranged meeting place and popped into a Gap across the street so I could be a perfectly timed five minutes late. This also provided me the perfect opportunity to observe my date without his knowing.

I try not to judge on appearance, I honestly do. However, there is a part of me that looks at someone, and they way they dress or put themself together and will often form a judgement based on this. If a guy doesn't care about how he presents himself, what does this say about other choices he might make? Or what he might expect from me? Call me particular or elitist but it means something. That being said, Kal Penn was not dressed for success.

In any case, I was determined to follow through, so I bit the bullet, marched across the street and introduced myself. Kal Penn was awkward--clearly nervous, but also spoke at such a low volume and in a strange tone of voice that I found him perplexing. We walked right up to the Jamba counter, and I ordered my regular "single wheat grass shot" and "sixteen fresh squeezed orange juice" while Kal Penn ordered some exotic smoothie with a name I didn't pay attention to.

He paid for my Jamba Juice. I had been told this might happen but was still sort of surprised when it did. Certainly a sweet gesture, but I don't know--I felt a little awkward about the whole thing. At this point (about 7 minutes in) we don't know each other, we don't even know if we are interested!

Anyways, after I did my best small talk while we waited for our drinks and I downed my wheat grass shot (this was mind-boggling to him), we headed outside to stroll with our beverages along the walkway that runs through Palisades Park. More small talk ensued, during which I learned about his job (trailer editor for FOX), his home (Mar Vista), and his background (from Poughkeepsie, went to Virginia Tech, was a computer programmer in DC). We walked down to the Santa Monica Pier and then turned around because he had to add some change to the meter where he parked. Because the conversation was awkward, I was not getting the vibe, and while I love dorks (I am one, come on), he was just too painfully geeky for me (he made a crack about how he saw people going to a club one night and thought, "Oh so that's the real Hollywood experience!" Yikes) so I decided we could part ways after he put money in the meter.

Ah but there was a reason he wanted to go put money in the meter. You see, he drove some ridiculous little Mercedes that just did not go along with the rest of his outward appearance (or the flashes of personality I had seen so far) but that I think he wanted to make sure I saw. I told him I had to go meet my roommates at the bank, it was fun, thanks for the Jamba Juice. Over and out.

On Monday Kal Penn shot me an email with the subject "Fun Hanging Out" that said:

Hey
It was quite fun hanging out and talking to you! Let me know if you'd like to hang again! You're really cool and interesting about stuff.

I just have to find more than 1 hour parking though :P.

Cool and interesting about stuff? Using an emoticon? And the tongue one no less? Dear God what have I gotten myself into?

I consulted with my roommate who is a Match veteran and she gave me the advice that the best way to turn down a guy on Match after you've been on a date is to not respond. So poor Kal Penn, I've left him hanging.

Whatever. Glad to have had the experience, get a nice awkward and painful date over with because yes, ladies and gentlemen, I've got another one coming up! Details will follow.

Also...

I was just having an IM conversation with a friend and used blog as a verb. I realize that is somewhat commonplace nowadays but is it wrong that I am a little disgusted with myself?

What makes me more of a tool: the blogging or match.com? Discuss.

Viggo Mortenson vs. Amanda Bynes

As it was raining in LA yesterday, and because I had a slight hangover, and since I hadn't been utterly lazy in a while, I spent my Sunday watching movies. Two very different movies. I would like to preface this by saying I generally enjoy watching any and all movies (which explains the selections). Also, note that I was not alone in such viewing but watched both movies with two friends who were game for the activity.

And now, a little comparison.

Eastern Promises
Okay, so this movie was fantastic. Viggo Mortenson was fantastic. Obvi. However, for the first half of the movie I was watching and thinking, "Okay I know he got an Oscar nomination for this part, and clearly he is skilled at playing an intense Russian chauffeur but I've yet to really be blown away."

Well, about 5 minutes later I was blown away.

I had heard on the interwebs about a certain scene in the film featuring dear Viggo, some full-frontal nudity, and a bloody fight. Well it is there. And that full-frontal nudity is certainly there (and really up close in personal when you are watching on a giant plasma television). And it is shocking. Not in a good way. In an oh my God, this is a terrifyingly intense and bloody fight scene with nudity way. And there is Viggo's junk. And again. And again. And from behind. And are his nipples pierced? And I am trying to pry my eyes away from the tv but I can't.

So yeah, for that sort of nekkid fight scene, dude definitely deserved that Oscar nom. Also, I am going to award him 100 points for his skilled work. And for always managing to look so damn good.

Sydney White
Hmm. Uh. So this "modern take" (I am using quotes because this descriptor is barely accurate) of Snow White stars Amanda Bynes, the blond chick who played the mermaid in Aquamarine (what, it was available On Demand... and are you really surprised seeing as I am currently writing about an even crappier film?) and whole bunch of unknown tween actors.

Now, I have enjoyed Amanda Bynes in previous films. I remember watching Amanda on Nickelodeon's All That and later, on her spin-off The Amanda Show. She was always entertaining, and her brand of comedy, especially for someone of that age, was impressive. I liked the movie where she played Colin Firth's estranged daughter (totally forget the title although I think it was a Christina Aguilera song) and thought she did well in Hairspray, at the very least for temporarily making me forget how nasty Jon Travolta was in drag.

In this movie, however, Amanda Bynes apparently took any sort of talent or previous acting experience and just chucked it down the garbage disposal. I mean this was some high quality trash. And thing is, I was actually distracted by her lack of talent throughout the film because the hair and make up team was a bunch of 6 year olds from 1988. Pink lips, pink cheeks, glittery white eye shadow--all topped off by some weird matted hairdo that I am somewhat convinced was a wig. It wasn't pretty. Oh, Amanda, I can only hope that one day you will be able to somehow make the transition for painful teen fare to a quality film. I know you have it in you! I just don't think I can take another crapfest such as this one. Even if the love interest was adorable...

Despite this, however, Amanda plugged through the film and somehow remained a little bit likeable. For that reason, and because she actually allowed her agents to allow her to be in this film, I am going to award her 10 points. The hair and make up detract so much, but I feel as though she deserves something.

Viggo 100
Amanda 10

Did I really just join Match.com?

In the words of Ron Burgundy after jumping into a bear pit, "I immediately regret that decision."

I joined Match.com.

I am not sure what was the final tipping point. Maybe it was after a night out at a Hollywood club and noticing any available guy in sight was either gay or extremely metrosexual. Maybe it was after spending two days talking to a friend (my age) about her upcoming nuptials and comparing her apartment (or rather, elegant condo) to my apartment (three words: ping pong table). Maybe it happened after I watched 27 Dresses over the weekend and decided that I wanted a James Marsden all of my own. In any case, last night, while I was supposed to be watching screeners for work, I focused most of my energy on creating my match profile. Which is awkward and uncomfortable, even if I am the only one who is really going to see it (that and any guy between the ages of 23 and 30 who lives within 35 miles of Santa Monica).

I went through the general process of filling out information about myself, what I look for in a date, and uploaded a few photos. I have to admit the entire time I was doing this I was not feeling all that resolved about my decision to join Match. However, life is short, the time is now, yada yada yada...

This morning I woke up and the realization that I actually bit the bullet and joined Match set in. Especially after I started receiving emails that someone sent a message or "winked" at me (huh?) or my personal favorite--some dude in Morocoo wrote me some lame note in French. Which brings me to ask the following question: What was I thinking?

My high school obsession has returned...

This is the best article (with accompanying photo) I've seen in a long time...

My battle with Tanorexia

I know you think that your eyes have decieved you. You just read that title and you are thinking, "Huh, what? Tanorexia?" Well if you haven't been living under a rock for the past 5 years than you should be well aware that Tanorexia is a disease that afflicts countless Americans each year. The Tara Reids, the Paris Hiltons, and sadly, yes, the Lindsay Lohans of our great nation fall victim to this nasty predator all the time. And I myself can commiserate, for I too, understand this battle.

Since I was a wee little babe I worshipped the sun. I remember a vacation in Arizona with my mom in middle school when I declared I wanted a new bathing suit to fulfill my pursuit of the perfect "tummy tan." My love for the sun was certainly passed down to me from my own mother who would fondly impart stories of her boarding school days at Rosemary Hall when she would tan with baby oil; a method I later tried one spring at Middlebury.

In high school and college I will say that I was completely hooked on being tan. I am generally lucky to have a somewhat tanner skin tone anyways, but the discovery of the tanning both when I was 16 brought about a whole new world of indulgences. I was totally hooked on the fake'n'bake, and wasnt ashamed to admit it.

In recent years, I definitely have gone to the actual tanning booth less and less, but I can't deny that I love to be tan. I am also addicted to sunscreen--which is a good thing. I think I more fearful of being sunburned than I am pale, which is why I am obsessive about reapplying and sunscreen zoning. What is sunscreen zoning, you ask? Why it is the perfectly implemented technique of applying specific SPFs of sunscreen in very specific areas of the body. For example, SPF 30 goes on my face, while my stomach (which at the peak of my summer tan can in some light resemble a leathery object), I only need around an SPF 4. Then again, a lot of this depends on the time of year I am in the sun, length of exposure, geographical location, etc etc. Suntanning, you see is very scientific.

A great invention--and a healthy option--is the spray tan. I used to frequent the lovely Mystic Tan of Tanorama Suntanning in Portland, ME everynow and then. I was reminded of this earlier, when in a conversation with a friend, I broke down the very important need-to-knows of spray tanning. First of all, you absolutely need to have a base tan before you go in, otherwise you just look orange. It is important that when you shower beforehand (which I highly recommend) you don't use any products with oil in them because the spray tan is water-based. Furthermore, do not, repeat--DO NOT--shower or sweat for a minimum of 4 hours after the tan. I of course had some issues with the sweating bit. So, yes--that's the beauty of the mystic tan.

Before I moved to LA my brother said to me, "you'll love it--you can be tan year round!" Well maybe if I just surf and work at Barnes & Noble like he did when he was here. The way things are workig for me now is that tanning has been pushed to the sidelines, a weekend indulgence, if at all (and of course the occasional visit to the nearest tanning salon, of which LA has no shortage.)

Of course, it's healthier when you are not addicted to being tan all the time, but Tanorexia--it's real. I know.

Why I Love Celine Dion, Pt. 3

This video is fucking brilliant. There is no better way to describe it.



I can't take credit, the folks at Entertainment Weekly's PopWatch blog found it, but I had to share. Incredible!