American Beauty

I hated that movie. I didn't get it. Add it to the list along with "Punch Drunk Love", "Lost in Translation" and "WALL-E".

Maybe I was just too young to understand it at the time. If I were to watch it now, would I enjoy it? I'm dubious.

Today our new coasters from Crate & Barrel arrived. They're made of rope. Very nautical. I can't wait until I rest my first mug of tea on one. I'm eager to see how it protects our newly-painted, white coffee table from unsightly cup rings. If all goes well, nothing will happen.

Stay tuned for updates.

I don't know if you knew this, but this blog is art. I'm an artist. Or as we in the marketing industry like to say, I'm a "creative". Ruminate on that.

Amen,
Margaret

P.S. I took a quiz today to see if I would get into Oxford. Based on my score, I would not.

P.P.S. The credit card machine at our local coffee shop wasn't working. They were having to use an old-school slider doohickey. But wait! These days, credit cards don't have the raised numbers. They're not bumpy anymore! How can one make an imprint? One cannot.

Undaunted Courage

Saturday, September Fifth, Two Thousand and Fifteen

Dearest Internet, 

This evening was more enjoyable than I would have ever thought possible. 

Williamson and myself, set with the task of painting our furniture, were discouraged by the many hours of backbreaking work that lay before us. It was, however, in the decision to watch a Ken Burns' documentary on Lewis & Clark whilst we painted that the otherwise toilsome affair turned into a convivial episode we both shall remember for many years hence. 

Although Mr. Burns' eloquent storytelling had us in high spirits, it wasn't more than an hour into our expedition when trouble struck. Just halfway through priming the bookshelf, all the tins of primer ran dry. We owe it to our good fortune and the undoubted majesty of this fine country that we made it to the hardware store with only minutes to spare. We were delighted at the sight of the local traders, with whom we gave a handful of paper notes and coins in exchange for more primer and cloth masks to stop us contracting painter's lung. 

All matters were now in readiness to commence the operation of applying the paint of our chosen colour, 'white cloud'. We worked into the night, pleased by our progress and in knowing that we were serving our great land of Alki, West Seattle, Washington and yes, her eminence, the United States of America. 

Now, as I write this by the glow of a laptop screen, stars stretch across the sky as far as the eye can see and morale is the highest it's been since we embarked on this finest westward adventure. 

Adieu and believe me your affectionate blogger, 
Margaret

33 years later movie review: Tootsie

Anna and I watched the 1982 Sydney Pollack film 'Tootsie' this evening.

It stars Dustin Hoffman, a talented-but-difficult actor who can't get a gig to save his life. With no director in New York willing to hire him, he creates a drag character named 'Dorothy Michaels' and auditions for the part of a female hospital administrator serving tough-ol'-bird realness in a famous soap opera. And he gets it!

But wait a second, one of his castmates, Julie, happens to be a beautiful actress and it's love at first sight. How will he ever get her to fall for him when he's dressed as an old lady?

Plot. Established.

I'll cut to the chase: this movie is good. It also stars a young(er) Bill Murray in one of the more understated roles I've seen him in. And Dustin Hoffman is fantastic.

On the other hand, '80s film soundtracks be cray. It took Anna and I a good 20 minutes to get used to the ridiculous instrumental elevator tunes that played between every scene. Also, old movies loved to feature a theme song that repeatedly swells up at sentimental moments throughout the film. In this case it was that song "Something's telling me it might be you, all of my life...."

Oh, and there are lots of creepy moments. In one scene, Dustin Hoffman (as Dorothy Michaels) ends up having to sleep in the same bed as Julie. They're at her dad's country home and there isn't an extra bed. They have a heart-to-heart, she gets emotional and he gently pets her head like she's a labrador. He's wearing a wig with curlers in it.

Difficult to explain.

Anyway, the best scene is when Hoffman reveals that he's actually a man live on the soap opera. It's a brilliant bit of television (as portrayed in film).

TGIF,
Margaret

P.S. Floyd Mayweather isn't actually going to post Suge Knight's bail if he wins the fight tomorrow. I suppose the Internet can occasionally get things wrong. Madgespace regrets the error.

P.P.S. I found this picture while searching for 'Tootsie' in Google. Wow.

Image by theimpulsebuy via Flickr

Greetings, Suppressive Persons

Anna invited us over to watch the HBO Scientology documentary tonight. I've been reading about this exposé for months. HBO had to hire 160 lawyers in order to make the thing. Finally, it was time for the big unveiling! I was so excited I couldn't stop eating grapes (in a bowl on Anna's coffee table—mine for the gobbling!).

It came as no surprise that the beliefs and practices of the Church of Scientology are nutso. Like most religions, it's all based on a science fiction book. And who am I to tell anyone what to believe?

But the troublesome bit is the tax exemption stuff. The organization doesn't have to pay any tax because it's classified as a religion. What kind of bullroar is that!?! You're telling me that I have to cough up 25% of my income, but Tom Cruise gets to write-off the millions he puts into the church (which, in turn, provides him with swanky cars and pimped-out airplane hangers and made-to-order wives)?

I was also struck by the fact that the documentary, while seriously damning, didn't actually go into some of the stranger rumors. Even with their 160 lawyers as backup, the filmmakers didn't touch the Leah Remini / Shelly Miscavige missing-person report scandal. I think there's a lot that the film didn't reveal out of fear of litigation.

In other news, I think my migraines may happen because I clinch my jaw in my sleep. I suspect that I do this, since my jaw aches a bit sometimes. But how can I ever be sure unless I buy a night-vision camera and film myself in my sleep? Watching the footage back would be pretty creepy, but also a minefield of potential blog material.

In other other news, I've decided to convert to Scientology. You're all SPs and I'm going to have to disconnect from you.

Goodbye.

Margaret

Must put duct tape over my webcam

I watched the Edward Snowden documentary 'Citizenfour' last night with Andy.

When the Snowden stuff first leaked, I knew that I should be outraged, but it was so much easier to be apathetic. I knew that the stuff the government was doing was unjust, but ignoring it felt better than caring. If I cared about it, I might feel compelled to do something about it. And that never works. Protesting? Campaigning? Please. Haters gonna hate, bankers gonna bank and spies gonna spy, lie, spy, lie, spy. There's no stopping them and we're all doomed.

Plus, the sheer scope of surveillance, the high-tech tools involved and, I'll admit it, even the "but terrorism" argument, clouded the conversation for me. With the latest episode of 'Real Housewives' streaming the next tab over, the choice was easy: read nothing else about it and hope for the best.

But the documentary forced my head out of the sand. As the extent of the NSA's spying was revealed, I kept thinking about Watergate. What Nixon did was minuscule potatoes compared to the NSA and he was forced to resign just two years after the break-in. This June it will be two years since Snowden's big reveal—will there be any retribution for the government officials involved?

So, now I have this belated outrage and have no clue what to do about it. Is there something I can sign? Is there someone I can vote for? Would eating another oatmeal chocolate chip cookie help? Because if it would, I'm happy to do it. They're right here in this tupperware next to me, so it's no inconvenience at all. I'll eat as many as it takes.

Anyway, I'll conclude with two suggestions:

1. Watch the movie if/when it's screening in your city. 
It's so interesting that I actually said, aloud, during the middle of it, "This is interesting!"

2. Put duct tape over your webcam.
Do this if, like me, you like to use your laptop whilst sitting on the toilet before getting in the shower (naked as a jay bird). Nowhere in the film does it mention the NSA hacking into people's webcams, but now I'm paranoid.

Good luck comrades,
Margaret

RIP SkyMall

Annabelle: Part 2 has been delayed until tomorrow because I've been too busy having a GREAT DAY. Yeah! Take that!

Right now, I'm watching 'Big Brother's Bit On The Side' (the Big Brother after show).

Earlier, Andy and I went to the cinema to watch 'Whiplash'. It's a film about a jazz drummer and, despite that premise, it's fantastic. Go see it. I liked it better than Birdman and Foxcatcher.

Before that, I went to Craigie's Farm with Char, Freddie and Elsie. It was typical Scottish hurricane conditions, but there's a café there, so ye-haw!

But, as Lisa Vanderpump would say, today wasn't all diamonds and rosé. I also learned that SkyMall has filed for bankruptcy. If you didn't already know, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

A page out of SkyMall.

Image by nowviskie via Wikimedia Commons

The best way to make yourself feel better when something like this happens is to immediately identify and blame the culprit. In this case, I'm going to blame rich people.

Every time I read SkyMall, I think "Yep. I'd buy that. Yep, that too. Yep. Yep. Yep." Why don't I actually buy the stuff? Because I don't have any money! But rich people, they have no excuse. Damn them. DAMN THEM.

Now where am I going to get a raincoat for my dog? Or a high heel wine holder?

TGIF!

Margaret

Birdman review

It's really great! Compelling performances. Fast paced. Lots of deep thoughts when you leave the cinema. Yeah, it's great. I think I know what happened in the end, but I also think maybe I don't. Or, you know what, I actually think the point is that you're not supposed to really know what happened. Or that there's no real way of knowing.

See what I mean about the deep thoughts?

Birdman.
Image by Herb Roe via Wikimedia Commons

Wow. Somehow this Saturday just flew by.

8:30am -- Wake up. Holler at Andy to "Do me a favour and come in here and open up the curtains for me." Gotta get that natural light in the morning. 

10:30am -- Emerge into blizzard conditions (by Edinburgh standards) to watch a breakdown assistance man jump-start Andy's car battery.

11:00am -- Walk back to our flat from the auto garage where Andy dropped his car off. 

11:30am -- Read up on the latest MH370 conspiracy theories. Read up on the latest Serial conspiracy theories. 

2:00pm -- Buy tickets for Birdman online. Fill up hot water bottle to take with me to the cinema. 

2:30pm -- Walk to cinema, by way of the supermarket to stock up on snacks (cheddar ploughmans sandwich for me, ham and cheese sandwich for Andy, three cheese twists to share, bottle of diet coke to share, one pack of Frutella to share, gum to share). 

3:20pm -- Watch Birdman, with the hot water bottle on my lap the whole time. Best decision. 

5:45pm -- Leave cinema and start walking to Char's

6:30pm -- Hang out with Freddie, Elsie, Andy, Char, William and Anthony. Eat pizza. Watch 'Take Me Out'. Watch 'Take Me Out: The Gossip'. Watch 'Celebrity Big Brother'.

10:45pm -- Walk home with Andy. 


See how time flies? It's now 11:27pm and I don't have time for a proper blog. As you may have noticed, I just listed my day's movements instead. However, earlier today, predicting that I might not have much time to write tonight, I made a short video for your viewing pleasure.


Back tomorrow,
Margaret

Madonna sucks now

It's the ugly truth.

Image via Wikimedia Commons

As Jack Black said in High Fidelity:

Top 5 musical crimes perpetrated by Stevie Wonder in the 80s and 90s—go! Sub-question: is it in fact unfair to criticise a formerly great artist for his latter day sins? Is it better to burn out or fade awaaay?

Char, Andy and I discuss.

Let me know what you think.

Margaret

My three favourite Christmas films

It's difficult to narrow it down to three. But, with the Celebrity Jungle finale airing in less than an hour and Sainsbury's 'Melt in the Middle, Smoked Haddock, Leek & Cheddar Fishcakes' roasting in the oven, I am blessed by the incentivising power of a tight deadline.

Here they are in no particular order.

Muppet Christmas Carol

This is the best Scrooge film of them all, and I like to think Dickens would agree. As long as you fast forward through the part where Belle and young adult Ebenezer sing to each other in the park, this movie never disappoints. I sing the opening tune ("There goes Mr. Humbug, there goes Mr. Grim...") all year 'round.



Meet Me in St. Louis

People might not consider this a 'Christmas' movie per se, but I definitely do. It features all of the seasons, but Christmas is where the film reaches its climax, and it's when Judy Garland famously sings 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' in the—SOB—most emotional scene ever.

Part of what makes this movie so good is that the stars are H-O-T-T. Not just Judy, but her older sister (Rose) and her love interest (John Truett, the boy next door). They're all stunning, elegant and charming. Also, it's a comedy! The humour holds up to this day.



Christmas in Connecticut (1945)

My mom rented this from Blockbuster one December of yore and we all begrudgingly agreed to watch it. No offence to Nadinski, but the cover looked shite. Old fashioned. Boring. Lame.

Well, it was actually FANTASTIC. As an outspoken 'It's a Wonderful Life' hater, I was thrilled to finally have a black and white Christmas flick to hang my Santa hat on.

The plot: basically, a Martha Stewart/Blake Lively type woman who writes a weekly homemaking column in the newspaper heads to Connecticut to host Christmas dinner for some war hero guy. It's a big PR thing, but the problem is: she can't actually cook! She's a complete phoney who writes all her columns from a city centre apartment. When she attempts to convince the hunky veteran that she's a married housewife who can roast a perfect turkey, hilarity ensures.

The trailer doesn't do it justice (and its pretty sexist), but here it is anyway:

 

---

Runners up:

• White Christmas
• A Christmas Story
• Elf
• National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
• Home Alone
• Miracle on 34th Street (both versions)

Pulled Andy's Santa onesie out of mothballs today and boy is it cosy.
I might have to retract what I said about onesies two posts ago. 

Frohe fast Weihnachten,

Margaret

P.S. When Googling 'Christmas in Connecticut', I also came across a 1992 re-make of the film, directed by Arnold Schwarzenegger. It looks like a real stinker. Don't watch that version by accident.

Troop Beverly Pizza / Best of Michael Kors

It's Diva Night at my flat, and we're ordering pizza! I keep singing 'Cookie Time' from Troop Beverly Hills to myself, but instead of saying 'cookie time', I'm saying 'PIZZA TIME'!!!! HAHAHAHAHHA




Oh man, Troop Beverly Hills is such a fantastic flick.

Reminds me, Real Housewives of Beverly Hills is starting back up next week! I'm a bit worried that all their storylines have been played out, but you can always count on Brandi to bring the drama, and did you see that Kim's dog (speaking of played out storylines) bit Kyle's daughter? She had to get surgery and stay overnight at the hospital. I hope to dear god they were filming at the time, but I have a hunch that filming had wrapped already. Still, we'll hear about it at the reunion fo sho.

It's been a busy day of writing, and I have bit of a headache lingering around the ol' left eye (that's why they call me Grassy 'Left Eye' Llama), so I'm going to have to leave it at that.

As Dr. Laura would say: "Now, go take on the day!"

Love,
Margaret
__________________________________________________________________

OK, Diva Night is over now and gosh darn it if I don't feel a bit guilty about writing such a short post earlier. I'm going to make up for it by writing a bit more down here below my sign-off.

Three things:

1. The pizza was a hit!

2. We Googled 'Best of  Michael Kors Project Runway' and the video we found really delivered. Watch it and LOL until the cows come home.



3. I've been terrified to use my migraine medicine, because it's serious stuff and has tons of potential side effects. But tonight, when I felt the classic Friday night headache festering behind my left eye, I decided to bite the bullet at swallow the pill. Guess what? My headache went away. AND I'm still alive. Turns out, medicine works. I'm thrilled!

Goodbye again,

Margie

Two Years Later Movie Reviews, Edition 1: Skyfall

Welcome to a new, recurring blog post theme: 'Two Years Later Movie Reviews'.

The title is self-explanatory, but I'll explain it anyway for the sake of making this post longer. Each 'Two Years Later Movie Review' will feature my thoughts on a film that was released around two years ago. Hopefully that makes sense, but if you're still not sure, please don't hesitate to contact me at margareteileenkay@gmail.com.

You've had more than 24 months to watch the film, but just in case: SPOILER ALERT!

The film: Skyfall
The technology: 13-inch 2013 Macbook Air
The venue: Our marital bed

Last Friday, Andy and I needed a fast-paced, easy-to-digest film to watch as we gobbled down our far too easy-to-digest Indian takeaway at a face pace. We chose Skyfall, the James Bond movie from October 2012. Andy had already seen it, but I—despite seeing and enjoying all the other Craig David Daniel Craig 007 films—had somehow missed it.

Firstly, of all the Bond flicks, this one wins the award for best song. Adele's 'Skyfall' is so haunting and beautiful and perfectly suited for a Bond film. I just LOVE it! Also, I've been singing it all week and let me tell you, it has some really challenging vocal jumps. Let's just say I wouldn't pick it for my X Factor audition. #BitPitchyDogg

Now for the plot. Here it is in a nutshell: Bond is old, Bond's boss is old, terrorism is happening online these days, oh no, whatever will we do. Times (and audiences) are changing. They lay this point on pretty thick, but if you're willing to look past it (and you are, because it's a Bond film and you're used to looking past hokiness), the film is quite compelling.

The best part of the film is the end, when Bond takes his boss 'M' to Scotland to await a showdown with the bad guy. They go to Bond's childhood home 'Skyfall', which is filmed in one of the most beautiful places on earth, Glencoe. I went camping in Glencoe this summer with Andy, and I was blown away by how gorgeous it was. Andy also went there with his friend right after the film came out, and they recreated the scene of Bond looking out at the hills.

A woman of the earth washing her face in a babbling brook. 

Andy and pal Bruce in Glencoe. The Aston Martin is photoshopped in. 

Finally, and here's where I give away the ending, so WATCH OUT if you haven't seen it. Dame Judi Dench dies. Yes, James Bond's boss dies and it's so so so so so so so so sad and shocking.

What wasn't shocking was that, in her will, she left Bond a tacky English bulldog paperweight that he had teased her about in an early scene. I saw that coming from a mile away. Andy can vouch for me.

The verdict: Really entertaining, surprisingly sad (I cried) and only medium corny/predictable.

Love,
Margaret