YouTube Tuesday Bonus: Breaker High Theme Song

I feel like I should apologize to Ryan Gosling for excluding this little ditty of brilliance from the previous post.

Breaker High forever.

YouTube Tuesday: Nostalgic TV Theme Songs

Dawson's Creek

Confession: I'd still choose Dawson, the over-analytical, too-wordy-for-his-own-good, slightly self-absorbed filmmaker teeming with endearing optimism and impossible dreams. Don't balk. This lets you have Pacey. Everyone wins.

And the theme song still rings true.

Arthur

I grew up without cable. So after-school TV options were limited. I watched Arthur. Yes, while I was in high school. It was educational, okay? Better than a drug habit.

And sometimes I still get the theme song stuck in my head.



The Beverly Hillbillies

So....a few weeks ago, I mentioned that I watched a lot of retro TV growing up. Someone asked me if I knew the theme song to The Beverly Hillbillies. I said yes. He asked me to sing it. Did I mention were in a cute little cafe? Surrounded by strangers?

So I sang it. In the cafe. Yes, I did. I have no pride.



Bonus: Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers

If you're a musician and choose to cover this song, I might love you forever. You have been warned.

P.S. I was a Chip gal. Because he was practically Indiana Jones.

The 2009 Primetime Emmys

Emmy-viewing stream of consciousness. From Orillia.

• I heart Neil Patrick Harris. So much. Opening number = success.
  
• Tina Fey looks abso-freaking-lutely amazing. Better every year.
  
• Neil said "dagnabbit." Officially my favorite person EVER. For now.
  
• "Here's hoping Kanye West likes 30 Rock."
• Tina Fey and Jon Hamm. Together. The way things should be.
• "Comedy is just drama with less smoking."
• All the Supporting Actress nominees are wearing hilarious eyewear. I don't know why. But I like it. (Amy Poehler's idea, apparently.)
  
• Kristin Chenoweth is adorable! "I'm unemployed now, so I'd like to be on Mad Men. I also like The Office and 24." I think we'd be friends.
• Comedy writing....30 Rock. I weep for Flight of the Conchords. But I'm still happy. Happy weeping.
• Jon Cryer wins?! Oh, Duckie.
• Justin Timberlake should quit music and become a regular SNL member. Just sayin'.
• Toni Collette: "This is insanely confronting." WHAT?! But okay.
• Blake and Leighton cannot dress themselves. They're better in fiction.
• Rob Lowe. Turned down Grey's Anatomy for Dr. Vegas. Ha!
• I love Steve Carell.
  
• Alec Baldwin?! Again?! I still love Steve Carell. And Jemaine Clement.
• Reality TV. Hmm. Jeff Probst. I approve. Sort of.
• Jeff just told me to do what I'm doing. The whole "go for your dream" thing. Thanks, Jeff.
  
• The Amazing Race. I can live with that. (Anyone wanna be my partner for next season's race? I'm good with heights if you agree to eat the weird-animal testicles.)
• Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick. Sigh. If I ever end up married to someone I need to walk a red carpet with, I hope we're like them.
  
• I want to watch Grey Gardens. Let's have a Little Edie party, shall we?
• Dr. Horrible and Captain Hammer make an appearance. I heart everyone.
• Jessica Lange. I still want to see Grey Gardens.
• I've never understood the Kiefer Sutherland appeal. Maybe I should watch more 24.
• Grey Gardens. Okay, okay, I get it. I'll watch it.
• I should probably watch Little Dorritt too.
• Jon Stewart's writers win. As they should.
  
• The Oscars' opening number just won an Emmy. "This is ridiculous." I'm still impressed with Hugh Jackman's song-and-dance skills.
• Ricky Gervais. He should host the Academy Awards. Or anything. Maybe just host a dinner party and invite me.
• Yay for The Daily Show. Jon Stewart can join Ricky and I for dinner.
• MICHAEL EMERSON!!!!!! Please watch Lost, folks. Please. One season left.
  
• Cherry Jones. Supertalent.
• In Memoriam. Sarah McLachlin is exquisite. And there are too many deaths. I don't like it. Stop the dying, folks. (RIP Michael Crichton. Patrick Swayze. David Carradine. Natasha Richardson. Paul Newman. Ed McMahon. Farrah Fawcett. Bea Arthur. Walter Cronkite. Michael Jackson....)
• The Mad Men writers win. I would toast them, but my Diet Coke is empty. As is my ice-cream bowl. Someone, get me more ice cream!
• Glenn Close is a glorious example of how to age. I'd be happy to look that elegant...tomorrow.
• Glasses. Everyone is wearing them. EVERYONE. So I'm halfway to an Emmy already.
• Bryan Cranston. Two years in a row. For a show I've never seen. "I feel like Cinderfella."
• Bob Newhart = wonderful.
• Best Comedy: 30 Rock. Tina Fey forever. I want her dress. And her career.
• Sigourney. I like that she wore red with red hair. (So did Debra Messing. Also gorgeous.) Two thumbs up.
• Best Drama: Mad Men. Cheers.

The end. You have no idea what just happened. So let me sum up:

• Neil Patrick Harris makes me want to hug the world.
• Writers who win awards make me want to write and win awards. Or write and win paychecks.

Annie Leibovitz Does "Mad Men"

Don and Betty's Paradise Lost. Sigh.

I live in a world of Robert Pattinsons.

I'd rather live in a world of Jon Hamms.

YouTube Tuesday: Reading Rainbow

I'm in Stratford. But that isn't stopping this blog from posting on its own. And it has a thing for Levar Burton.

The Theme Song

Rhett and Link's Version

Run-D.M.C.

YouTube Tuesday: Zack Morris

He lives. And whatever he's been drinking, I want some.

(HE DOES NOT AGE.)

The most significant wardrobe regret of my life? Not buying this:

Even though it's a lie.

Will I tune in to a reunion? Um, yes.

Lost Before Blog

A girl's gotta have priorities. Unfortunately for you, Lost trumps the blog. And so I shall sit on my couch, Jack's blank expression mirrored on my face, and say goodbye to my island friends until next season. The last season. Ever. And then I'll get back to being my entertaining cyber-self.

After 2010, I may not have use for a television.

Please watch TV tonight. Do it for the children.

I'd like to point out that the photo and text in this entry give very little away. Because I have friends who are now officially AN ENTIRE SEASON BEHIND. And I can't spoil it for them. There are rules to friendship.

Oscars 2009: The Good, the Bad and the Beyonce

Did you watch the Oscars last night? If not, never fear. You can relive it here. For the sake of time and/or your sanity, I won't chat about every little detail of every single award. But I can't promise this thing will be short, either.

And yes, there are links. For visuals.

(First, read my red-carpet rundown here.)

LET THE OSCARS BEGIN:

It's starting, it's starting....

It's a recessionista's dream. Oh, how the set design makes me smile. Critics can't agree on this, but I don't care. It's fun and fresh and campy and awkward.

Hugh. In a tux. With that accent. I melt. Unexpectedly. It's the self-deprecation. "I'm an Australian, playing an Australian in a movie called Australia...." I can't believe that I once lumped him into a category of men who wore sweatpants in public.

Singing to Kate Winslet: "I would swim a sea of human excrement." (Watch Slumdog Millionaire to make sense of the lyrics.)

The dancing. The song. The props. My inner theatre geek is totally won over. He makes Anne Hathaway cool. "I'm Wolverine!" [WATCH OPENING HERE]

To Mickey Rourke: "If you win, we switch to a 20-minute delay."

I kind of love this whole shake-up. I don't know what's coming next. Weird. Past winners announce the current nominees. Strangely heartfelt tributes.

Whoopi to Amy Adams: "It's not easy being a nun." Ha.

This is going to be a super-teary-eyed show. Man. These producers are BRILLIANT. People are crying before the first award is handed out.

Penelope Cruz wins. Shoot. I wanted Taraji.

Phone rings. I miss Pene's speech, but don't really care. In fact, I end up missing all the writing stuff too. But I see Tina Fey look lovely. And it appears as though she and Steve Martin are being hilarious.

I have a crush on Milk's screenwriter. So I check out his acceptance speech on YouTube later. Yes, I know that it's pointless to have a crush on a gay man. Thanks, people. This was his FIRST screenplay. And he writes for Big Love. And he wore the greatest outfit at the Spirit Awards the night before. If I were a boy, I'd dress like him.

(Re: YouTube'd speech - HERE. I almost cried. "You are beautiful, wonderful creatures that are valued." Cyber-hug to Dustin Lance Black.)

Simon Beaufoy wins for Slumdog screenplay. The winning streak has begun.

Phone call done. I turn off the cell.

Jennifer Aniston and Jack Black chitchat. Producers cut to Angelina. Oh, drama-creation. I think they're adults. They can handle hanging out in the same massive room. (I like the little braid in Jen's hair. Remind me to braid mine someday soon.)

Wall-E! The director thanks his high-school drama teacher. I can't wait until I get to write an acceptance speech. So many random people to thank. Like Bono, Peter Jackson and the girl who told me my pants were too short in the sixth grade.

SJP and Daniel Craig. I'd rather be James Bond than Carrie Bradshaw. Okay, her dress is better on-stage. I love the stage. I'm in a really happy, non-critical mood right now. I'm giddy just thinking about movies.

Robert Pattinson and Amanda Seyfried. Romance in 2008. None of the clips are making me want to fall in love. Well, maybe the shot of Aaron Eckhart (who was also super-handsome at the Spirit Awards). Or the Slumdog kids. The clips of people screaming "I hate you" aren't helping the situation. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm not really into the love/hate thing. It's so junior high.

Natalie Portman and Ben Stiller. Ben as Joaquin. Amazing. Ron Howard also finds this amazing. [WATCH HERE] Too bad this very same make-fun-of-Joaquin Phoenix-skit was done at the Spirit Awards already. But with a foul-mouthed Batman added. I was probably the only viewer, so no biggie.

Cinematography: I say Slumdog. So does the Academy.

Jessica Biel is awkward. And is chuckling at her own non-funniness. Go back to Seventh Heaven. I'm having drama-class flashbacks. She's the know-it-all aspiring soap star.

Pineapple Express spoof. I love James Franco. (Oh, and if you ever watch PE, turn on the subtitles. I hear they're fantastic.) The Love Guru got its clip. Oh, but James Franco.... How I admire your stoner-brilliance. Funniest Oscar-montage clip EVER. I can't explain it here. I would destroy it. Best DP-involved presentation ever. Enter YouTube. [SERIOUSLY, WATCH]

(P.S. Yes, The Reader is about a young boy having sex with a Nazi. The Academy has crazy taste in art. And yes, it's a good movie.)

I nominate James Franco for host in 2010.

"The musical is back, ladies and gentlemen." Wait for it, folks.... [OR WATCH IT]

Beyonce?! GO HOME, SASHA FIERCE. You are not welcome here. A Gene Kelly line. A Grease medley?! Now Zac Efron is singing. With Vanessa. My poor brain. With Mamma Mia people. Huh. I expected more. Is that weird? Baz Luhrmann, you should have called Ewan and Nicole. Does Beyonce know that "At Last" isn't her song?

Dear, 2010 producers, Beyonce has overstayed her Oscar welcome. This is her third year of making me fake vomit. In her place, try asking AN ACTOR. Or A NOMINEE. Or ANYONE ELSE.

There are still A LOT of clips for a show that is apparently radically different from previous shows filled with clips. Hmm. I feel bad for Cuba Gooding Jr. Why do we keep reminding him that his career peaked with Jerry Maguire?!

I feel a Heath moment coming on. I hope I cry. Is that morbid?

HEATH LEDGER.

Standing ovation. His gorgeous family. Brad's in tears. And Adrien Brody. And Anne. And Angelina. "On behalf of your beautiful Matilda."

Man on Wire wins. Another check mark for me. I'm still in a solemn post-Heath mood. And then the wire dude balances his Oscar on his chin. WHAT?!

Short Documentary was another random non-correct guess. The winner says "Lucky me" in a tone that sounds suspiciously sarcastic.

Post-production stuff. The Dark Knight should finally start picking up. Clip of Wanted. Highly recommended if you like crazy-creative gunfire. And/or James McAvoy.

Will Smith. In describing visual effects, takes a beautiful jab at Mr. Pretty: "They can take Brad Pitt and turn him into a garden gnome." Hear, hear.

Visual Effects: Benjamin Button! Yep, I got that one right too.

Sound Editing. The Dark Knight? Yes? Please, Academy.... [drum roll] The Dark Knight! I should have bet that annual toonie. When I win my first Oscar, I'm going to thank Christopher Nolan. I'll add him to my list.

Sound Mixing: I call The Dark Knight. The winner: Slumdog. But no hating here. Did you see Dev Patel's face? LOVE HIM. Man, I'm in such a hug-everyone mood.

Just noticed that a Twitterer wants an Oscar limit on movies. Apparently she's not into Slumdog. Or she's just dumb. I kind of want to hit her. But she's a stranger, and I typically reserve violence for people I know.

Film Editing: Should be Slumdog. Is Slumdog. All is right in the world.

I forgot that Eddie Murphy was nominated for Dreamgirls. "Nominee" with his name doesn't sound right. Not after Norbit. He is not exactly in Jerry Lewis' league. So why is he handing him the award?

I appreciate the orchestra. I really do. But why does it feel like there's so much filler in this supposedly streamlined show? I'm so torn. I no longer have any idea how I feel about this show.

I think Goldie Hawn just yawned.

Is Alicia Keys wearing the same dress as Natalie Portman? Close. It looks better on Natalie.

Original Score: Slumdog. Happiness.

Then the winner for Original Score sings and dances. (MIA is not singing. Apparently giving birth super-recently is now an excuse for missing the Oscars.) Um, Academy, why did you snub Springsteen? I need to get the Slumdog soundtrack. I could run a marathon to it. The Oscar goes to..."Jai Ho." So the winner/performer is a winner again. And says "I chose love." So did I. I think.

This is going to be over before midnight. SHOCKING.

Uh, oh. Queen Latifah is going to sing for the dead. Don't do it. I can tell the producers are trying to distract us from the applause. So we can't tell who the audience is favoring. It's not working. Man, it was a rough year for Hollywood. Half of the town died. Although the cameramen aren't letting us read the dead folks' names. All I know is that Paul Newman wins as most-loved dead guy. It's because of the salad dressing. So good.

Reese Witherspoon. In something dark and dramatic and refreshingly non-ethereal. Lainey calls her dress "a bruise."

Best Director: Danny Boyle! Amazing. And completely non-surprising. He jumps up and down "in the spirit of Tigger, from Winnie the Pooh." Aw. Because he promised his kids he would.

Best Actress: Come on Kate. You can do it....

Shirley McLaine made Anne Hathaway cry.

Melissa Leo can't win. Remember, her hair qualifies her to be Prince Charles' next wife.

Sophia scares me.

Nicole Kidman looks great. How? Why? And Angelina is still gorgeous. And terrifying.

KATE!!! I love her. Too much. "It's not a shampoo bottle now." Yes, she's an emotional, earnest, off-the-cuff spewer. But I like her frankness. Her dad whistles at her. Seriously, how much more endearing can you get? Oh, and her forehead moves.

Best Actor time. My (fake) money is on Mickey Rourke. I hope he thanks his dead dog. Seriously.

De Niro is petitioning that Penn win because "he's a great human being." Um, I guess Mother Teresa should have had a bookshelf of gold men. Or at least a couple more than Penn.

Adrien Brody needs to shave. Apparently he's "not a fan of Google." WHAT?!

Brad Pitt is a great actor, yes. And actually underrated. Except today. He will not win.

Sean Penn?! Oh, right. Because the Academy likes him. And Rourke has burned 95% of his bridges. Princess Buttercup is crying. And now he's getting political. I guess that's what happens when you're in a political movie. "Mickey Rourke rises again. And he is my brother." Bad boys unite.

Okay, Best Picture time. If it's not Slumdog, there's no point. I quit life.

Filler, filler, filler....

Spielberg says: Slumdog Millionaire!!!!!! And they're bringing the kids on the stage. No, wait. They're bringing EVERYBODY on stage. Seriously, this is why they won. Because it's an ensemble of amazingness. No stars, no power, no muscle. It was supposed to be direct-to-DVD!

Midnight. Bedtime.


You do realize that Slumdog's success all began at the Toronto Film Festival. Which means you should all come visit me in September and we'll party it up with next year's Best Picture folks.

Halftime Postmortem

I didn't really get Bruce Springsteen tonight. I didn't connect. I didn't want to be there. I was distracted by slightly off-key vocals and some awkward stage antics. And his crotch. Maybe I'm into subtle rockers. I don't know. I apologize if this makes me a horrible human being.

Speaking of crotches (best segue ever), today was the second time Bruxy mentioned "crushed testicles" at church. This is a fact. I have no opinion on the matter. I am not a boy. (Although such a situation sounds rather uncomfortable.)

Last year's Tom Petty halftime was my kind of show. "Free Fallin'" is what got me through my longest run ever this week (yes, folks, over 5k already!), so he's officially my best friend. I want to be a Heartbreaker. Literally.

Of course, I'd have to pick U2 as my all-time favorite. Hands down. No argument. Ever. Although it's a little awkward to watch now, as it's so saturated with 9/11 aftermath. But still, I want to be 1/16th as awesome as Bono when I grow up.

Okay, so Bono's 150% non-subtle. But no crotch shots. Ah, I don't know what I want. I guess I just wanted something more from the Boss. That's all.

Although I'm thankful he didn't invite Britney to duet with him while wearing a sport sock on her wrist. I'm still not sure how I feel about the *NSYNC-meets-Aerosmith year.

"You are Aero-Sync."

Britney and her sock arm appear at 8:22. If you care.

P.S. Is it wrong that I prefer Justin Timberlake doing robotic choreographed lunges over his music now? Pre-Janet Jackson-fiasco Justin. Semi-love him.

Not Everyone Watches Football

source: xkcd

Desmond Hume Will Be My Constant

If you're a Lost fan but missed last night's episode, please walk away from your computer. I couldn't bear being responsible for spoiling last night's awesomeness for you. Catch up, then come back.

There's this unspoken rule that if the episode is Desmond-centric, it will be amazing. Last night did not disappoint. On top of the genius storytelling, he wore a scarf. A great one. We're bonded for life.

ASIDE: I brought seven scarves to my parents' house last Christmas. I will never live that down.

Read more of my super-deep thoughts over at dailyLOST.

Every time Des and Penny argue, I get nervous. I want them to make it. They must be the love-conquers-all/redemption-is-possible couple in the series finale. Or I will cry. Or throw things.

ASIDE: I have been known to throw pillows at the TV on occasion. Like when Romeo and Juliet kill themselves. Stupid adolescent angst.

One of the downsides to blogging about my favorite show EVER is that I end up reading a lot of spoilers, casting news and production scoop. This means that certain mind-blowing reveals are softened and I miss the full impact. I read last week that Charlie would be mentioned by name in last night's episode (and that it would make me cry). Therefore, I completely predicted the adorable child's name in the first two minutes of the episode and subsequently needed zero tissues. Very disappointing. Sometimes a girl just wants to cry, you know?

ASIDE: Same thing happened with the Des/Penny kiss last season. A producer said that there would be an off-island kiss of fantastic proportions. Again, my prediction-smarts ruined the moment. Not that it wasn't amazing....

We need a Lost costume party, folks. I'm assuming no one will dress like Charlotte. Because I'm pretty sure she's ceasing to exist. Literally. And unless the new gal, Theresa, recovers from her "time-travel STD," she might be a pretty boring party guest too.

Sigh. I want Desmond's scarf.

I Watched TV Last Night...

...which is why I didn't post here.

I did post my rambling thoughts over at dailyLOST.com, though. So you can read what my brain was thinking while I wasn't blogging here.

(Death-by-dishwasher is my new favorite way to die, by the way.)

The whole episode was full of the most amazing dialogue. Super-quotable. For those of you who don't watch, Hurley's confession to his mother essentially recaps the first four seasons. It made my night.

See, we did crash, but it was on this crazy island. And we waited for rescue, and there wasn't any rescue. And there was a smoke monster. And then there were other people on the island. We called them the Others, and they started attacking us. And we found some hatches, and there was a button you had to push every 108 minutes or... Well, I was never really clear on that. But... the Others didn't have anything to do with the hatches. That was the Dharma Initiative. But they were all dead. The Others killed them, and now they're trying to kill us. And then we teamed up with the Others because some worse people were coming on a freighter. Desmond's girlfriend's father sent them to kill us. So we stole their helicopter and we flew it to their freighter, but it blew up. And we couldn't go back to the island, because it disappeared, so then we crashed into the ocean, and we floated there for a while until a boat came and picked us up. And by then, there were six of us. That part was true. But the... But the rest of the people who were on the plane? They're still on that island.

~Hurley

Love it.

Please tell me you were watching.

Almost Lost

Let's say that my name is Penny. And my TV's name is Desmond.* For some time now, our relationship has been distant. I have been waiting. And I have a feeling our love affair is going to heat up tomorrow.

There is one redeeming thing about January. That thing is Lost.

Doesn't everyone's TV have a Scottish accent?

P.S. Please give Henry Ian Cusick an Emmy. I mean, the guy was JESUS. (So was Christian Bale. All the great ones are at some point.)


*I'm aware that my attempt at Analogies 101 is a total FAIL. I almost don't care. At all.

Golden Globes: The Commentary

The Golden Globe Awards aired on Sunday. I was watching. The winners list is here.

Below is my brain's running commentary. It might not make sense. In chronological order, this is what was spinning through my head as I tried to will a statue into Jon Hamm's hands.

(I linked to some pics of the night so you have visuals if you need them. And so that you can make a photo of Mickey Rourke on the red carpet your new desktop wallpaper. I'll try not to judge.)

• Kate Winslet won. I love her. I could watch her eat cereal for two hours. Remind me to write that movie. Costarring Cate Blanchett. Also eating cereal.
  
• Bruce Springsteen won. Because he's the Boss. He dictates such things.
  
• Why is Mickey Rourke wearing sunglasses indoors? Doesn't he know that he has a lousy reputation in town? Cocky styling isn't going to help.
• Rumer Willis is talented. Apparently. No comment.
• I love Neil Patrick Harris. But in an unrequited-love sort of way. He doesn't win, but he'll do fine without it. Trust me.
• Laura Dern was Miss Golden Globe in 1982. I bet she's Rumer Willis' idol.
• Colin Farrell cut his hair. We are no longer twins.
• Don Cheadle is super-bald. Bald must be in. There were so many shiny heads at church today.
• Please let Jon Hamm win. Please. (Or Hugh Laurie.)
• GABRIEL BYRNE?! Zac Efron accepts on his behalf. So at least one person is happy. His name is Zac. This may be his only chance to accept such an award.
  
• Thank you, Sally Field, for not abusing Botox.
• January Jones looks, uh, non-'60s-housewife. I don't like change. Or coral lipstick.
  
• Anna Paquin?! I will never be a betting woman. The 26-year-old now has an Oscar AND a Golden Globe. She was in She's All That. My brain hurts.
  
• Ricky Gervais is smarter than 98% of the room.
• The Jonas Brothers: "It is so cool to be here. Invited." Yes, boys, be thankful for the random invite.
• Wall-E wins. First "duh" of the night. That movie is a darling little genius of a flick. Stop reading this and go watch it.
• Johnny Depp does not age. I do not understand.
• Sally Hawkins wins for Happy-Go-Lucky. Johnny mouths "Wow." Major underdog. She just beat Meryl Streep and Emma Thompson. Her arms are too skinny. My own arms are experiencing sympathy pains. EAT, girl. Please. Meryl eats.
• Who doesn't love Jake Gyllenhaal? If you don't, don't tell me.
• P. Diddy is not Sidney Poitier. Someone should tell him that.
• Demi just told her daughter not to slouch. On stage. There will be words at home tonight. "Mom, how could you?!"
  
• Whatever Tom Cruise has been eating, he should continue to do so. He's pulling a Benjamin Button and looks very Jerry Maguire.
• Heath wins.
• Heath was brilliant.
• I'd stand too.
• I need to watch Frost/Nixen. And Milk. And The Wrestler.
• Oh, Colin. You're chewing gum. While presenting. You're lucky your accent covers a multitude of sins. All of them, actually.
  
• Cameron Diaz needs to make a date with her colorist. And her shampoo bottle.
• Aaron Eckhart will be A-list one day. That's my prediction of the night.
  
• Laura Linney is gorgeous. She finally gets it right fashion-wise. It's so sad to see brilliant people in awkward clothing.
• Should I get glasses like Paul Giamatti? Can I pull off uber-nerd?
• I don't understand Gerard Butler's appeal. Is it because I haven't seen 300?
• Seth Rogen is skinny. And not very funny.
• Best Screenplay: Slumdog Millionaire. Have you seen it yet?
• So far, zero of the dresses I thought I'd see have shown up. Never pay me to be your psychic.
• Alec Baldwin. Of course. "I remember when I used to bring Rumer Willis a juice box on the set of the movie." Um, hilarious and not funny at the same time.
• Renee's face. Her hair. Why?! She's suddenly a granny with a chemical peel.
• Megan Fox should not be there. But she is.
• Paul Giamatti wins. He's a living cartoon character. So awkward and bumbling and awesome.
• Glenn Close has the same hair as Renee Zellweger. Her shiny pants are making me uncomfortable.
• 30 Rock. Tina Fey forever. Tracy Morgan gives the best speech of the night. Which shocks me. We're not usually friends.
• Slumdog Millionaire has an amazing soundtrack. The Hollywood Foreign Press agrees. Now go see it.
• Every time someone says Danny Boyle, I think they're thanking Danny Boy. And it temporarily confuses me.
• Ugly Betty is one of the room's most gorgeous. I should have lunch with her makeup artist.
• Tina Fey! "As a kid, I had all the Hollywood Foreign Press action figures."
  
• Steven Spielberg is receiving the Cecil B. DeMille Award. I guess I assumed that he already had every possible fancy honorary award. Guess not.
• I would fetch coffee for that man FOR FREE just to hang out on one of his sets. Maybe I'll catch the magic by osmosis.
• I've never seen The Color Purple.
• But I have seen Empire of the Sun.
• Schindler's List is perfect. So's Tiny Toons.
• Scorsese is crying. People are standing. I swear that everyone in the room has been in a Spielberg flick. Drew, Tom (Cruise and Hanks), Leo, Ralph....
• Steven has a staccato rhythm to his speech I've never noticed before. Nerves? I think he's trying to be inspiring. I'm lost. I have ADD tonight.
• Maybe I should pack my lunch for tomorrow.
• Done and done.
• When there's no host and no banter, an awards show can actually end before midnight. *Fingers crossed.*
• Danny Boyle!!!! It's the little movie that could.
• I should watch Trainspotting. I think I can handle it.
• Sigourney is wearing a gown I picked for Meryl! I win. As does Donna Karan.
• Everyone tells me not to watch Revolutionary Road. I'm a rebel. This makes me want to see it more.
• Sandra Bullock = ridiculously good-looking. I want to be 44. In Dior.
• COLIN FARRELL!!!!! It's because of the haircut. Good on ya, mate. Now I should probably watch In Brudges too. I can't keep up.
• I don't get the Sasha Baron Cohen appeal. At all. But who am I, really?
• A Woody Allen picture just won. Is this what the '70s felt like? And where is Woody?
• Remind me not to name my first son Woody. Or second.
• Freida Pinto is stunning. American girls can't begin to compare. Not that I'm comparing.
• Best Actress. I'm calling Anne Hathaway.
• And the Golden Globe goes to... KATE WINSLET!
• Remember that cereal thing? Apparently everyone would watch her eat breakfast.
• "I'm so sorry." Don't be.
• Actresses, this is your lesson of the evening: If you eat, refuse Botox and are brilliant, you will win awards.
• Angelina's ticked. Pretty transparently.
• "I've loved you for 13 years." Yeah, we've all loved Leo for 13 years. Well, maybe we took a bit of a break somewhere in there.
• Her husband directed that performance. Crazy.
• "Hello. We're TV actors." Rainn Wilson should host the Oscars.
• Mad Men. Oh, Mad Men. How you make me happy.
• Did you know that Josh Groban used to date January Jones? Now you do.
• Best-looking cast on TV. With the exception of Lost.
• Mickey Rourke wins. Despite the sunglasses and sequins. I'm a little scared of him. Okay, a lot.
• He just thanked his dogs. Because he's alone and that's all he's got. Sadness.
• Does it count if I thought Angelina would wear a different Versace? Same designer. Half point for me.
• The commercials for the Olympics make me want to go. Or compete.
• Slumdog takes it. It's officially the front-runner in the Oscar race. I'm so proud. I want to be at the after-party. (It hasn't even opened in India yet! Can you imagine?)
• The producer dropped an F-bomb and magically escaped the censors' wrath in the process. Maybe it's because I'm watching CTV, not NBC. Those Americans can't handle it.
• Miley Cyrus just stuck out her tongue at the camera. Classy girl.
• The end.

Nadine of Avonlea

There was a Road to Avonlea Christmas special on TV tonight. I didn't watch it. I did, however, experience a strange almost deja-vu familiarity in the few minutes I did catch before opting, instead, to spend an evening away from screens.

(Of course, sleep did not come, so here I am, typing away....)

Once upon a time, my Sunday evenings were dedicated to The Wonderful World of Disney and Road to Avonlea. But there's an even stronger bond than mere rerun nostalgia. And the more I think about it, the more I'm aware of how closely tied I am to Canadian television at its best.

Who needs Kevin Bacon and his Six Degrees of Separation? I'm, like, one and two degrees away from EVERYONE on this show.

White Sands Hotel

First of all, when I was 10, I saw the White Sands Hotel. In person. If hotels can be people. It was from a distance. And while I actually toured Green Gables, there was something quite magical about seeing the hotel (called Dalvay by the Sea in the real world), slightly inaccessible and completely gorgeous. I made a mental note to enter its doors one day. If anyone wants to road-trip it out east, let me know.

Aunt Olivia

My dad went to the Sadie Hawkins Dance with her in high school. I'm glad she didn't end up being my mom. Weird thought of the day.

Aunt Janet

My friend partied with her only mere months ago. I kid you not. She still rocks the Canadian stage. And mingles with brilliant young art directors whom I happen to adore.

Felix King

Another friend is good friends with him. Yes, we've sipped coffee and discussed Felix King ad nauseam. Just because.

Sara Stanley

I met Sarah Polley. Actually, I wrote her interview for the TV show Distinguished Artists. She is super-talented and tiny. And likes zombie movies. And is deserving of far greater interviews.

Gus Pike

The best feedback from a prof I've ever received was a stern warning to never date the actor who played Gus Pike. I believe the term "ladykiller" was used. She didn't want me to be one of his disposable girlfriends.

For the record, there was no actual opportunity to date said playboy. Her warning was just the most hilarious aside in an email critiquing a scene I wrote for playwriting class. Clearly, she was not a fan. Of him. She adored me. Naturally.

(He's also 19 years older than me. Shocking, I know. Gus is now 44.)

Anne Shirley

Okay, so Megan Follows wasn't on Avonlea per se, but she got the ball rolling with Anne. Did you see her on The Border a couple weeks ago? She's still brilliant and beautiful. I still don't know how I feel about the show (The Border, not Avonlea. Just to clarify), seeing as I once used the bathroom of one of the show's lead actors. Weirdness. I mean, how can I be all swoony over his rugged rogue-copness after drinking juice on his couch?

(Also, who needs Gus Pike when there's Gilbert Blythe?)

Ryan Gosling

I saved the best for last. Yes, he starred in one episode. And was even nominated for some best-child's-performance award for it. We were meant to be, I tell you. Road to Avonlea AND Breaker High? No wonder he ended up an Oscar contender.

(He's on the far left.)

PEI is underrated. Let's go, folks.

My Most Fascinating People

This evening, Barbara Walters unveils her "Most Fascinating People" on prime-time television. Nine of the ten names have already been released. Just for me to scoff at, naturally. Now don't get me wrong, I have nothing against these people as people. Just as fascinating people. So I've rewritten her list. Just a little.

I decided not to go crazy and start listing foreigners or scientists or anyone with a name that's hard to pronounce. I wanted to keep the list as appealing to the MiniVan Majority* as possible. I just wanted to prove that it could still be slightly relevant even when adjusted to satisfy the lowest common denominator.

It is for this reason that Usain Bolt is not on the list. I wanted him there, but knew that the Americans were too focused on swimming this summer to notice him.

Nadine's Most Fascinating People
(When Channeling Barbara Walters)
Maybe I'll come up with a real list later. One I completely believe in.

It's expected that her #1 will be Barack Obama. I won't argue here. Fascinating, sure. For this year, anyway.

Others I'll leave on the list:

Palin, love her or hate her, was fascinating. No doubt about it. Fey, my career crush, was just a superstar in every possible way. And Phelps was everyone's fake boyfriend for the summer. I still want to bottle his scream of elation. So safe choices, but totally acceptable.

The swaps:

Rush Limbaugh? Really? I'd say the greatest political commentary of the year came from the Indecision '08 team. Hands down. I'd vote for Stewart/Colbert.

The pregnant man? I swear Walters is just the old white version of Oprah. Call my cynical and cold, but I don't consider a man who was born with a uterus to be super-compelling. Show me a family raising twins and sextuplets, and I'm riveted. Both had artifical insemination. But it's Jon & Kate Plus 8 who I'd want to spend Thanksgiving dinner with.

Um, Frank Langella? Barbara is jumping the gun, assuming that he's finally going to get some sort of Oscar recognition for his work in the yet-to-be-released Frost/Nixon. I'd say the Oscar story should go to Heath Ledger. Performance of the year and tragedy of the year rolled into one.

Miley Cyrus is not fascinating. She's rich. And inexplicably popular. But if you're going to feature someone representing the teenybopper set, go with the High School Musical 3 clan for their record-breaking year. Or the Jonas Brothers who just scored a Grammy nod. Or even better, pick Robert Pattinson, the Twilight star who immediately rose to ridiculous fame in recent months. And yes, he's from the UK. But American-girl friendly.

Tom Cruise? Will Smith? I quit life.

Tom is crazy. Crazy isn't fascinating, it's crazy. Suri, however, has rather phemonenal style for a toddler and would better represent the Cruise family on this list. If not her, why not John Hamm? He's the star of the hour and every bit deserving of any sort of recognition he can get. And instead of Smith, who makes a lot of money by starring in July movies (Look at the big explosion! Watch him run really fast!), what about Robert Downey Jr.? He had the comeback of the year, starring in one of the best movies of the year, and didn't once mention Scientology or market his offspring. Gold stars for Tony Stark.

Okay, I'm done now.

Just to keep things interactive (what a novel idea), who would you have on the list?


*I stole the term "MiniVan Majority" from Lainey. Stealing is the new original.

Meeting Don Draper

My signature dish just came out of the oven. So my little apartment is filled with the perfect aroma of artichoke chicken. I think I need to host a dinner party. Preferably one with an early '60s theme.


I'm usually on top of all things critically acclaimed (in the TV world, anyway). But somehow I missed the initial Mad Men bandwagon. So I'm desperately scampering to catch up.

Last night's SNL won me over. I am officially charmed by Don Draper. See below and you shall understand. Unless you're under 14. Then please go outside and play.



I was watching episodes online this afternoon between invoicing a wedding-etiquette article and figuring out my writing rates when I came to a shocking realization. Remember my slightly insane non-adventure with an actor this summer (the coffee date that resulted in an awkward de-friending/Facebook BLOCKING)? Well, said actor was about the same age as Jon Hamm. I'm not sure how to process this information. Because there's something very "older man" about Hamm. If you told me he was dating a 25-year-old, I'd roll my eyes and dramatically fake-vomit.

I know age is just a number. But a worldly 12-year gap seems a little much. Still, I suppose it's a fun little moment in the history of me. Because I don't get to drop jaws very often.

(And please tell me you saw the Jon Hamm's "John Ham" sketch: "Don't find yourself on the toilet craving high-quality ham slices...." I may have laughed out loud. Yes, the Boy Behind the Wall probably thinks I'm insane.)

Costume party, anyone? Time to make smoking trendy again, folks....

Band From TV

Today's guilty pleasure: Band From TV.

At the 2-minute mark, my TV boyfriend, Zac Levi (you know him as Chuck) rocks out.

And yes, the lead singer is Bob Guiney from The Bachelor. Random.

Band From TV is:
Greg Grunberg (Heroes) - Drums
James Denton (Desperate Housewives) - Guitar
Bonnie Somerville (Cashmere Mafia) - Vocals
Bob Guiney (The Bachelor) - Vocals
Hugh Laurie (House) - Keyboard
Teri Hatcher (Desperate Housewives) - Vocals
Jesse Spencer (Desperate Housewives) - Fiddle

Special guest Adrian Pasdar (Heroes) on bass guitar.

Jorge Garcia (Lost's Hurley) recently sang with them too. And Hayden Panettiere often shakes her annoying booty on-stage with her Heroes costars. If I were on TV, I'd join. Except that I'd have to kick Hugh Laurie off the keyboards. And I don't think I want to do that. Hmm. I've heard Teri Hatcher sing. I'll take her place instead.

Choose Brandon

I wasn't allowed to watch Beverly Hills, 90210 when I was young. Now I understand why. Because it was stupid.

Sometimes fiction makes me go mad.

Case in point: Kelly Taylor.

One guy gives her an engagement ring.
One guy gives her a trip around the world.
And she doesn't know who to choose.

In reality, a girl knows. I've yet to meet someone who genuinely can't pick between two guys. (I mean, is Luke Perry seriously in the running?)

Of course, in reality, it would also be preferred that the ring and the trip be part of the same package. Much neater.

"I've made my choice and I choose me."

WHAT?!

Girls are dumb.

Jonah Envy?

Jonah Hill is my age. Actually, he's younger than me. He's been in 17 movies in the last four years. Most of them pretty big hits. And as part of the Judd Apatow gang (the brains behind 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up, Superbad, and Forgetting Sarah Marshall), he gets to hang out with his pals, abandon vanity for the sake of a laugh and rake in the dough. Pretty great gig if you can get it.

And now it looks like he'll be exercising his writing and producing powers in a film adaptation of the TV show that catapulted Mr. Depp to fame, 21 Jump Street. Yeah. The Johnny Depp. Jonah may be on the rise, but "heartthrob" isn't really his niche. So I'm assuming this will be a loose adaptation, if he should choose to cast himself.

Head over to MovieZen and read my thoughts on adapting TV shows for the big screen. As a general rule, DON'T DO IT.

I shall now go and ponder the great mystery of Hill's fame. And see if I can avoid envy while borrowing a little of his creative quirkiness for my own career....

I could totally be the stoner buddy in a movie. It's about time we saw a lazy girl deadpanning one-liners while her slightly less pathetic friends wins in love.