“Hey Ya”? I finished watching Lost In Translation last night and I absolutely loved it. I wish that it had been in the theatre around here (but no, all of our theatre screens were filled with Under the Tuscan Sun and Honey, and I’m certain that if I looked hard enough I could find one still showing Titanic) so that I could have been immersed in the shots. I never thought I would be saying this in my life, but if Bill Murray doesn’t get the Oscar, it will be a crime of art.
Although, I might be biased. I have had a twenty-year crush on Bill Murray. Maybe even more. I loved him in Stripes. I used to create enormous mind movies staring me and Tripper from Meatballs in a romantic comedy. I wanted to rub myself inappropriately against Carl from Caddyshack. Peter Venckman? Hottie. Mega hottie.
And as he got older, I got over it. I mean, he’s older than my actual father. I’d never really admit to myself that I still had the Murray love, but then I’d watch a movie and fall head over heels again. How can you not love him in Groundhog Day? And Rushmore? Growl. The Royal Tennenbaums? Spank me, daddy.
And now Lost In Translation. Man. Not only does the story and visual ballet destroy me, not only is it the best movie to have come out of 2003, but there he is. My Milton Bradley dream date. Peter Venckman all grown up. The Bill I always knew was behind the jokes. Argh. I think I am ruined for other movies now.
On Sunday morning, on my way to the Hundred Dollar store during my fit of productivity, I saw a newish Saab with a big brown splat on the trunk. A big brown splat of what I can only imagine was chunky puke.
And my first thought? ‘Wow, that doesn’t look like the kind of car to drive around with chunder on it.’
That probably only makes me laugh, but I don’t care.
Another thing that makes me laugh: in the February 5th issue of Network Computing magazine, on page 24, (check the desks of your office IT guy and you might find that issue… it’s got the x-ray of the Linux penguin on the cover) the screen capture of a testing environment has an inbox in the background. It is the inbox of one of my friends. One of the items showing is a message with the subject line “Bad bar Bad bar”. This is how pop culture legends get started. I’m certain of this.
I can’t believe Ryan Seacrest dissed my poor earnest She Bangs the other night. At least William Hung doesn’t look exsanguinated.
Also, like Pie, I’m now strangely drawn to Clay Aiken after watching SNL on Saturday. He must be setting off my geek love senses. If he shows up wearing Weezer glasses, I’m going to be completely helpless. I just know it.
Oh American Idol, how you own my ass, although it’s still not as addictive as America’s Next Top Model with the cryptkeeper Janice Dickenson, whom I now believe is the most intelligent person on the entire show. Last time there was a dog! Wearing a hat! A dog wearing a hat! Sitting on a pillow, carried around by a femmy fashion guy! You cannot get better television than that. I defy you to try.
Ok, here’s the deal. I actually really don’t like Sofia Coppola. Or rather, I don’t want to like her. Mostly because I’m crazy jealous. I want to just say that she’s only been given those opportunities because of her family, but then she blows me away with things like Lost in Translation (also, I really liked The Virgin Suicides too, but I chalked it up to being Jeff Euginedes and good acting. Which is ridiculous because, hullo, JOSH HARTNETT??) So yeah, I’m jealous. And also, she’s almost exactly a month older than me. So damn it, she shouldn’t be so good. Bitch.
Yes, I’m a small person sometimes. I just can’t help it.
Also, when we were watching the DVD extras for The Virgin Suicides, she was talking in what I presume was her office and behind her was a display of what was possibly all 144 Prismacolor markers. So that made me hate her too, because look at all of the markers! And I said to Esteban ‘Man, I would be so happy to have every Prismacolor marker ever made. Because then I’d feel like the richest girl in all the world.’
So then Esteban popped open his laptop and started searching the web to find out more about Prismacolor markers. Even though I never actually use markers for anything. But he was going to buy me a complete set so that it wouldn’t keep me from feeling like I had it all.
I talked him out of it. I probably shouldn’t have, though, because I’m still totally jealous of all the markers.
Because sometimes I’m completely five years old.
