"You Got BIG!" And You Became an Ass

Madam's apple: A play on "Adam's apple," referring to the large bulge on the trachea of a woman. May be the sign of a male-to-female transvestite or transsexual, or may simply be genetics.
Holy crap! Look at the madam's apple on Ann Coulter!

Case in point.

Sorry for another two-week hiatus, but I live at home now and nothing happens. But Julia, then you should have much more time to share your thoughts/aspirations/photos of dogs wearing wigs you google! Problem is I'm just not that motivated.

The past few days have revolved around my nine-year-old neighbor Roy, a precocious little man with a big appetite. The kid can eat. Because of him, I've gone to movies I would never otherwise see in a theater, i.e. Land of the Lost and Terminator Salvation. Both somewhat entertaining in their moments but completely forgettable.

I will say one thing though—I do love the wardrobes of any sci-fi, apocalyptic movie... Matrix, Children of Men, War of the Worlds, Terminator... It's British punk meets the Marines meets Eileen Fisher. Like heavily-zippered jackets, combat boots and perfectly frayed, organic tops.

Do these sweaters not scream "end of the world" to you?

See what I mean?

Also, my movie-going experience was slightly ruined after a run-in with this guy from high school who works at the theater, whose name I can't remember.

Guy: Yo, you were in my homebase. Ms. Berry, right?
Me: Oh yeah. Hey, how's it going?
Guy: Dammnnn, girl, you got BIG!!
Me: What?
Guy: I mean, like, you grew. Even in your cheeks! [makes exploding cheek motion]
Me: So you're pretty much just calling me fat...
Guy: Naw, that's not what I'm sayin' [laughing]. You just used to be real petite and shit... and you just grew and got big!
Me: Sweet, thanks. I'm gonna go to the bathroom now and try to shit out the 70 pounds I apparently gained since college. BYE!

So I didn't exactly say that last part, but I was pissed. Who says that? Even if I did put on a little weight. It's not like I can't lose it eventually (as I pop a third Lindt Lindor truffle into my mouth. Dammit.)

Anyway, here's my list of books to read this summer that I'm pretty jazzed about. Thus far:

In Cold Blood, Truman Capote
Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, Chuck Klosterman
The Omnivore's Dilemma, Michael Pollan
Taking the Red Pill, Glenn Yeffeth

Damn straight I'm taking the red pill. This book sounds B.A.

But first, you can find me reading The Hollywood Assistants Handbook that Rachel lent me. I know, I know... sounds kinda ridic. But it's actually really funny and insightful. After I finish, I'll let you know what I learned.

Until then, would you get me some Starbucks, hon?


J.

That's What I Call Good Advertising

Mommunist: A term used to describe a mother who acts like a tyrannical dictator of a household; best used for women originating from communist nations (i.e. China) but can be applied loosely. May also be referred to as Mom Zedong.

Mother: If you don't clean those dishes in the next two minutes, I won't let you use the car ever again!
Child: Jeez, can you stop being such a Mommunist? I am almost 22!

I made this one up myself if you can't tell. People, I NEED to get out this house. I know I'm experiencing what a lot of recent college grads who move back home go through, but it sucks. Really, it does. Everyday, I'm asked how many resumes I sent out, if I'm going to start working out again anytime soon, if I'm going to become someone a parent can generally be proud of, etc. It's exhausting.

Speaking of communism and mothers, mine recently returned from a trip to China and brought home some interesting gear for my brother and I to sport around town. According to her, "commie chic is very in." I made my brother model the apparel for your viewing pleasure:

A true propaganda poster boy.
I think the shirt is cool, but the hat is absurd.

Thank god for a sibling I can bitch to. However, I also walked in on him singing along to Barry White recently, so I'm not sure what that says about either of us.

Another reason I want to move to the city is so I can play this song (you may remember it from this commercial a few years ago) and feel like it belongs in my life:




Don't you feel like you should be walking in slow motion through a super swanky lounge with cool light fixtures filled with beautiful people of all colors wearing a sexy black dress with one strap falling down because you're a little tipsy? Because I do. And in case you're curious, the song is called "Breathe" by Telepopmusik.

Let's talk about Conan—I missed it last night, but I thought his first show went pretty well. Pretty classic O'Brien. Something was a little off though. The intro was weird because the original seems so New York with all the famous landmarks, but now it's LA stuff. I don't love the set either. Feels big and flashy, not personal and classic like the old one. I don't know, maybe I'm just criticial because I subconsciously don't want him in LA. Although he is a new motive to move out there in the next few years. Hmm... a place near Universal Studios perhaps? We shall see.

Until then, pick me up in a Mitsubishi.


- J.

My Friday's Fancier Than Yours

Hater tots: Like haterade, the figurative snack you consume when you're hating on someone.
Guy 1: He acts like he's the shit because he has that Mercedes SLR.
Guy 2: Man, you need to cut down on all those hater tots you've been eating.

Top of the morn'! TGIF, huh? Can I get an amen?! Finally, I got the "the Man" off my back for the next two days. Gonna take my tie off and RAGE.

... Hah, if only my life slightly resembled that right now.

Stuff ain't bad—waking up at 10:30, messing around on the online abyss, catching up on old Vanity Fairs—but I got to find some work. Not just to make money but to get out of my house and feel mildly useful. It's hard to look for something just temporary and still interesting though.

I'm beginning to wonder if I'm supposed to stick around here for a while anyway—Chicago, I mean. The more I come back, the more I realize it's a city I can actually see myself living in for a while. Maybe that time is now.

Thailand is definitely still on the radar, but my mom's relentless protests aren't helping. She fears I will become a heroine-shooting surfer hanging with boy-turned-girl prostitutes who will later traffic me to Cambodia... where I will become Buddhist. Dun, Dun, DUN.

Oh, well. It's my decision in the end, and "I'm gonna get what I want!"

When I figure out what that is. But what I do know I want is this hair:

Rad, right? I may or may not get a perm.

Alright, I know this entry was short and pointless, but it's time for other stuff. Have a good weekend, and until next time, cut back on them hater tots.


- J.

It's Looking Like a Limb Torn Off

Leave Britney Alone: An exclamation made when your friends or family are teasing you to a point where you can't handle it anymore and a hissy fit is in order. Derived from a YouTube user's famed outburst following Britney's lackluster performance at the 2007 VMA's.

Sarah: OMG Susan, I can't believe you are wearing the same skirt as yesterday. Oh, and by the way, EVERYONE knows what you did with Kevin on the weekend. Plus you look a little fat, are you retaining water?

Susan: LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!

Hi hi hi, sorry sorry sorry. But I just graduated, so I've been ENDLESSLY busy this past week. Actually, I've been basking in wonderful nothingness.

Recap of the past week or so:

- My family came up for graduation, including my lovely grandma from Seattle.

- Commencement with Bud Selig (boring and extremely generic). His speech could have been given at a batmitzvah.

- Various graduation parties/too much drinking.

- Half-heartedly researching my potential future, maybe sorta. I don't know.
- Chilling with the homies/avoiding unpacking.

- Watching movies—Rachel Getting Married, Doubt, Capote, Frost/Nixon, Wristcutters.

I LOVE Phillip Seymour Hoffman. He's my new favorite actor. He's so good in everything he's in. Definitely someone I'd want to have lunch with.

He'll have the BLT.

Oh man, crazy story. Some time during finals week, my roommate was lying out on our balcony when she heard something fall on one of the chairs. Look what she found:


The poor little thing had fallen out of its nest or something, and its mom kept swooping back and forth looking for it, but she couldn't see it. We didn't know what to do so we tried to give it water and feed it yolk. (Is that weird to feed to a bird? I mean, it's what they eat in their eggs.) That night, it stormed so we brought it inside and made a makeshift incubator to stay warm in. We named him Thomas. He died the next morning. It was really tragic but also kind of amazing to see something like that up close. Weird I took photos, I know, but I wasn't trying to be exploitative. It's part of nature—just watch Planet Earth.

On a lighter note, I can't stop listening to this song right now. It's not new, but I just discovered Band of Horses a few weeks ago.

EXCITING NEWS: This summer, I plan to start a movie blog called Cinemama (cute, right? because I'm like a girl and stuff). It won't be geared toward just girls, but it's meant to demonstrate we're not just designated to chick flicks and period pieces. Hopefully it will include reviews, news and opinions on the industry. Of course, I welcome other voices as well. But right now, it's a work in progress.

OK, gotta go. Until next time, RIP Thomas.


J.

All Over the Place

Ghettiquette: Socially acceptable behavior in the ghetto. Good manners in a bad neighborhood.

It is considered good ghettiquette to pour out the first drink of your forty to honor your dead homies. It is considered bad ghettiquette to mess up the rotation. Puff, puff, pass.

Hello all, sorry if this entry seems really disjointed—it was written over a 5-day period. I start writing, then have to go somewhere or get distracted, you know how it is. The past week and has revolved around finally finishing my screenplay (hallelujah), applying for this arts and culture journalism scholarship (they only choose one writer, I'm not expecting anything) and thinking about "Jackie and Debra." On numerous occasions, I've laughed aloud in class by myself about it. I've also picked up her speech pattern, which is great.

"Let's plant a tree for Stephanie Berger!"

More highlights: FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS! I saw them at the Overture Center last Sunday night and they were friggin' awesome. Also awesome was Eugene Mirman who opened for them. "I was doing a book reading in Seattle when this kid with Aspergers stands up in the back row and yells 'bow down to me for I am your ruler!' And I responded, 'But I do bow down to you.' Because that's who god really is—a 12-year-old boy with high-functioning autism." It was funny, but maybe you had to be there.

I don't think Mel is crazy at all. If I was a stalker, these would be my types.

I took this Dreamweaver class last week so I can become a master of the Internet. We had barely learned anything yet and were just messing around with the features, when my skinny Abercrombie/Hollister-clad instructor flatly said, "If you really wanna look like a n00b, don't title your Web site." Like heaven forbid we don't title our Web site though you haven't even taught us how to make one yet. I laughed—again maybe you had to be there.

Mifflin was yesterday and although I did enjoy myself, I'm glad it's over. Day-drinking for eight hours is not something I handle well. And living on Mifflin is surprisingly stressful, especially when 17-year-olds townies try to enter your house and won't get off your porch. On top of the alcohol, I felt drunk with power kicking strangers off my property.

And no one dared fucking with me with this on.

Minus a few obnoxious guests and the puke under the kitchen table, the day was successful—beautiful weather, nothing stolen and no tickets. Woot Woot.

Now, I must work on my film paper comparing Pride and Prejudice of 1940 with the 2005 version. Oh Keira Knightley, despite your beauty I am still tempted to mess up your face. It's a weird feeling to know exactly what you have to do before you graduate in two weeks. Bah, let's just not think about it.

Until next time, title your Web sites.

-J.

Why I'm Going to Hell

Hasselhoffing: The act of changing a colleague's desktop wallpaper to display the manly physique of David Hasselhoff.

Dear God, man! I leave my workstation for a few moments to visit the big boys' room and you've Hasselhoffed me.

The other night, I was that irrational, angry girl at a bar. I thought this guy was whispering about me and laughing, then I could have sworn he said, "What the fuck are you, anyway? I commie?"

I flipped a shit.

In general, I don't think being called a communist is a big deal or even bad, but at that moment I felt like he was attacking my soul, and no other title could have upset me more. I ended up yelling that he didn't know anything about me and that he "had a very punchable face." He also happened to be cock-eyed, but I didn't say anything about that.

The next night, I was informed it was actually a glass eye he had, which he proceeded to take out after I left. Who screams at a partially-blind person? I do. And that was only the beginning of my ridiculously stupid eve, but I'll spare you the rest of it.

If he threw his eye at me, I would have shut up.

Another story: We watched Magnolia in screening the other night, which is one of my favorites, and you know at the end when it's raining frogs? The moment when the first frog hits the windshield, I felt something fall on my shoulder. I immediately brushed it off, then I swear I saw a giant cockroach on my knee. Once again, I flipped a shit. I started cursing under my breath and shaking my entire body. I tried to be discrete with all the other people around, but I was still a spaz in the dark. I should also point out we've had cockroaches in this theater before, so my vision was actually based in reality. I'm still worried one of them crawled into my purse then moved to my bed and has since laid eggs in my hair.

If asked what I did this weekend, my answer would have to be "flipped shits."
Thought: I feel bad for guys who come to my Zumba class. They probably just want a break from the weight room or basketball court, so they slip into what they think will be some harmless aerobics. Little do they know they are entering a room of full-on girl power. Besides all the shimmying and booty-shaking we do, we end each c

lass with a strip routine of "Man, I Feel Like a Woman." Sometimes I watch the one or two guys to see if they're actually trying to keep up or have just settled on staring at the gyrating ass in front of them. But usually, they really are trying.

Hating his life a little.

Moving on, I've been thinking about the idea of low versus high art lately, and how those lines can be blurred to mean something else. Quentin Tarantino, for example: He's considered an innovative, "post-modern" filmmaker... but why? If you individually look at all the different genres he references—kung fu, slasher, blaxploitation, western—along with his chart-topping soundtracks, it's hard to believe such mainstream, commercial and sort of dated subjects could blend together to create movies like his.

Chopping a guys' ear off is one thing, but having "Stuck in the Middle With You" playing in the background makes it something else. QT is the king of kitsch or, as my professor said, "cheese." Somehow he manages to transform what many audiences would typically scoff at into a product worthy of glorification.

I think Girl Talk and Andy Warhol are also artistic figures who have done this—celebrating and intellectualizing unlikely, everyday things... whether it's Brillo boxes or Lil Jon. All three use existing elements, so does that make their work unoriginal or even more original because of it? I suppose parodic irony like this is nothing new, but it seems worth examining in terms of "what makes art" and how to appreciate it. I'm not sure what I'm arguing here, but it's been on my mind.

Katie Fine, I bet you have this game. Lets play it soon.

Anywho, productivity, or something like it, is calling. Until then, carpe diem (it is 420 after all).

-J.

Look at Me, I Be Bloggin'!

Eleventy billion: A made-up number Keanu Reeves decided to bet for final Jeopardy on SNL.

Keanu: I bet eleventy billion dollars.

Alex Trebek: That's not even a real number. 

Keanu: Yet! 

Sorry I've been so...

Get it? Cuz she's M.I.A. Yeah, I'm way clever. I've decided to stop writing frequently because it creates expectations. And at this very moment in my life, I feel any expectations of me would be in vain. But I'm here now, so let us catch up. 

The past two weeks have revolved around me reminding myself I still have school work and trying to figure out what's next. Between half-hearted papers and presentations, I'm in the process of applying to 'ships (internships, fellowships, etc.). Or more like PIRATE SHIPS! 

Hm... too soon? I mean, he is safe now. 

Still, the general plan is to be home for a while, make some money doing whatever I can for a few months, then PERHAPS (it's a big perhaps) teach English abroad beginning in the fall or winter. If I've talked to you about this before, you may remember an interest in Thailand. I have a feeling, however, the 'rents aren't going to love the idea with all the recent craziness going on there. Only time will tell.

The weekend before last was the Wisconsin Film Fest. I saw some good docs, like Art & Copy and Food, Inc. and talked to some cool people in the industry. I won't lie—I felt mildly substantial when I met the editor of Anvil!, who was in town promoting the movie, and told him I saw it over the summer and wrote its film description for the Chicago Film Fest. He was really down to earth and friendly, and a UW alumni himself. What's sweet about film fests is that the actual filmmakers and people behind them seem so accessible; a lot of the time, you can talk to them yourself. I actually asked the editor if he twittered, but he kind of just looked at me funny and gave me a slow "nooooo..." 

Time for the segment I call "Movies I've Watched Recently" 

This picture is completely irrelevant, but Will Ferrell as 

James Lipton continually blows my mind. 

Jackie Brown - Probably one of Tarantino's lesser-known films. Entertaining, but too long and Robert DeNiro makes me feel dirty in it. Pam Grier is one sassy lady though, I like her. 

Coffee & Cigarettes - Awesome vignettes of all kinds of famous people talking over... coffee and cigarettes. 

Twilight - Best part: Bella walks into the classroom and sees Edward for the first time. A fan blows her hair in her face, and a paper under Edward's hand flies up. Their eyes meet. He makes a face like he just jizzed/shat his pants. Amazing. I looked for a clip but couldn't find one, so you have to see it for yourself. 

The Matrix - Clearly, I've seen this before but probably not in like four years. I was reminded of what an epic movie it is. Besides just being totally B.A., there's so much stuff going on (technology, virtual reality, religion, philosophy). My professor talked about this book "Taking the Red Pill" that I really want to read now. I know 10 years is not long ago, but it's still kind of unbelievable that special effects could look like that back then. 

We're watching Magnolia in screening on Thursday, which I'm pumped for because it's awesome and the soundtrack is flawless. 

I'll end this blog with my highlight of the day: Two seemingly drunk, homeless BFFs loudly arguing in front of my house.

"Mufucka, you got the stankiest ass I know!" 

"Bitch, I wash my ass!"

"You son-of-a bitch."

Until next time, keep up the hygiene (like I should talk). 

- J.

Sidenote: How full circle did my entry come involving Keanu and Will Ferrell? The last thing I did was look for a new urban phrase, and I just stumbled across eleventy billion. I love perfect things like that.