Harry Potter returnith...gorilla style. Excitement!

3D, really? Oh, alright. Looks amazing!

Pogo brings you the coolest "Up" music video ever done.

You must watch all the way through, slackers.

Apparently boys are like chocolate, alcohol, and sugar.

The one thing those have in common (as well as ketchup and lots of other thingies) is a chemical reactant in the old noodle. Makes sense. We (girls...and guys) want to be with them because something in our head tells us to. They make us feel good but some are not necessarily good for us. Chocolate releases a chemical that makes us happy and feel like we're in love. Alcohol makes us forget our troubles (so do movies but that's neither here nor there). And sugar is just a flat out drug. All of these things also require us to go through a certain level of withdrawal when we don't have them for a while. As do boys.
So that's what I learned today.
And that A Single Man comes out on DVD next week... Too long.

My short hair makes guys want to give me neck rubs.

Um, yes please.

Holy Jupiter, Batman!

So worth the 3 minutes of guessing.

And then BP smacked Earth in the face...

Well this is depressing....

Movie: A Single Man

"Waking up beings with saying am and now." I was very glad to know the first line of the novel is also the first line of the film. Though the first thing we see is a flesh-and-blood man trapped under the heaviness of blue water. He's trying to get out. We don't see his face but he reminds us of Adam in the famous Michelangelo painting.

Honestly, this movie had me at the trailer. Directed and written (screenplay) by the very respected fashion designer, Tom Ford (being a gorgeous man himself), and novel by Christopher Isherwood, I can't imagine this film being done by anyone else but a fashion designer such as Tom with its color palette, achingly intimate close-ups, and artistry. It's a hell of a feat to take on. The story is one that calls for the upmost intelligence from everyone involved, or it would fall flat on its face. But not one moment feels wrong, out of place, or questionable in this 1962 time frame.

I suppose I should say what the story is. George Falconer (awesome name) is a humble English professor, though we don't know this when we first meet him. All we know is that something is bothering him, and it must have to do with that man we see lying dead and bleeding on a snowy-white deserted Ohio road. In a dream, George kisses him, though his eyes have frozen over and flakes of snow are burying him.

George wakes with a gasp. It's not a movie gasp, but an actual gasp of fear and his eyes look up at us begging for help and answers. The world around him has a film of greyness. Nothing is as vibrant as it should be at first, and for good reason. Why would the world seem inviting when the love of his life has just died unexpectedly? It's not. So George plans his last day alive carrying a small handgun in his briefcase as he walks the Earth for the last time.

Colin Firth plays George with an enormous amount of vulnerability. He is George. His voice is an octave higher, his and face body the same, only more beautiful. The problem is that he has an infinite amount of love to give yet no one to receive it and its out in the open hoping to latch on in case that person returns. That person is gone. Jim, played by the lovely and British Matthew Goode and who we see in vibrant flashbacks, masks his accent with a light, gay American one that is both smart and friendly. You believe everything he says.

The only way we know George is a professor is when we see him get out of his car with a briefcase (containing the gun) and walk the perimeter through bustling college students. Again, everything is dulled down in color. And then he reaches his office and speaks to a secretary and he compliments every aspect of her and she smiles. Only this time her lips beam bright red for just a moment. In class, he gives a lecture about the power of fear while a girl in the front row, Lois, smokes a cigarette.

And then there's his student, Kenny, acted wonderfully by Nicolas Hoult (About a Boy), who delivers some fabulous one-liners. He is the spitting image of Jim only younger and more curious. The more Kenny interacts with George, the brighter his eyes and skin are. George takes him in with hesitation at first, then later allows things to flow naturally because, again, he believes it's his last day. No second chances.

Charley is acted by Julianne Moore. She is George's only British friend in LA. They're neighbors with a history. She's lonely and wants George and only George despite his male preferences, which results in too many phone calls and giddiness and self consciousness around him.

Throughout the entire movie there is no mention of the word "gay" or "homo." Only the obvious implications. We know through visuals and interactions. And that's enough. In fact, twice is the sentence, by both Jim and Kenny, "We're invisible."

As George goes about his day with a different view, the vibrancy begins to outweigh the greyness. Accompanied by a heart-fluttering score composed by Abel Korzeniowski, the last 20 minutes of the film are the happiest of the entire movie. Although, the lightest comes before the dark.

The last movie that affected me so was Pan's Labyrinth and both have similar endings. There's a loveliness amongst the sadness and it shouldn't end any other way.

Chipotle is now across the street and it's crowded as ever.

Fri 6.18.10

3/4 bottle of TJ pomegranate green tea

1 Nutz Over Chocolate Luna bar

TJ green apple slices with TJ peanut butter

TJ cheese puffs

Whole Foods vegan chocolate pudding

more TJ pom green tea

3/4 Chipotle vegetarian burrito (cilantro-lime rice, black beans, tofu chicken, fajita veggies, tomato salsa, corn)

Chipotle chips w/guacamole

water

1 TJ chocolate caramel

Those burritos don't screw around.

I have a bubble to pop.

I tried writing this article a few weeks ago but found it very hard to word and didn't know enough so I gave up on it, and I also wasn't sure exactly why I was sharing it. Maybe because I have no idea what the answer is? Nothing significant has happened in a while. No one died. I don't particularly miss anyone far away. Things at school aren't anything to complain about, really. Everything seems perfectly fine when I'm with someone or know someone is nearby. But for some reason, when I'm left to my own devices, I can't stand myself. My brain relapses into this dark corner and triggers that heavy cry to start up but something stops it and the heaviness just lingers because it has nowhere to go. It's like being emotionally cock-blocked, I'm serious.

One night, when I knew I had to leave SF's apartment so he could work and both roomies weren't at my apartment, I abruptly stormed out in a silent fury with him calling after me to stop and almost made it out the building before finally halting. "What're you doing?" he asked me. "Going." "Are you pissed at me?" I waited a moment and then shook my head, not even able to look at him. "Look at me. Look at me. Are you pissed at me?" No again. "Are you okay?" I shrugged, holding in the hugest cry of my life. And I had no idea what the cause was. None. So I gave him a limp hug and then left, squeezing out a few tears in my car as I drove home. It's the same deal every time my apartment is completely silent from the absence of company. My throat tightens into an angry ball but nothing else happens. I become a volcano with no peak and I become extremely irritable. I even texted my mom once, "It feels like my brain is itching." And I wasn't exaggerating. It really did feel that way. I didn't even want to talk to her about it because it always seems like she never listens and just gives vague answers and doesn't care or understand what I'm telling her at all, like it'll go away like a scent in the wind. Not so. The other time was when I went to SF's apartment to help him clean because if I spent one more second alone I was going to start throwing knives at the wall. I even asked Roomie if she felt "severely depressed" when alone for a long time and she said only a little, but not severely. There's an enormous bubble inside of me and I have to pop it. I just don't know how. Does anyone have any idea why it's there? Because I don't. Anyone? Anyone at all...?

A sandwich day food diary. Yay?

Tue 6.15.10

apple slices with peanut butter

1 Think Thin peanut butter bar

3/4 Garden burger w/fries and pickle from Hamburger Haven

1 Diet Coke

1 vegetable panini (zucchini, artichoke, tomato, spinach, pesto) w/chips

2 pickles

water

4 bites of cream cheese brownie (SF made me)

2 watermelon sours

TJ pomegranate green tea (a revelation)

That's 1,000 calories too many, says my tummy. Big bellies do not go well with little boy hair.

World, I give you Sofia Coppola's newest gift to us.

I love it already.

I am now a member of the ridiculously cute, girls with short hair society.

These are the two pictures I showed my new hairdresser, David Dollar (real name). And guess what? He matched it. To a T. I've never had a hairdresser work as hard as this man to get everything absolutely perfect based off a picture.

My hair was about two inches passed my shoulders when Roomie and I walked into his little cubbie of a salon, my hair up in a curled ponytail. David had a modern mullet, which is long and spiked up top, shaved on the sides, and a little long in the back. But you don't really notice it's a mullet because it's just too cool. And I was relieved he had wacky hair of his own because that meant he knew how to do even wackier hair. "She came to watch me chop my hair," I told him. "Like, four people wanted to come watch me chop my hair but I was like, Not with that attitude." And, "I have thin hair so when it's long it just sits there and I'm just over it." "So how short are we cutting it?" he asked. I had brought my laptop with the pictures and opened it up and showed him. "...So short-short. Alright, cool. Take a seat." And so it began with some radio tunes to accompany us and relax us.

He shampooed my entire head first, spending about 5 whole minutes giving my head the best message of its life. Then I returned to the mirror and Roomie leaned forward and said, "This is it! Say goodbye to your hair." David took the little silver scissors, twisted a lock of hair at the very back of my head, and snipped off a good 3 inches. "Oh my God," I snickered. The sensation was tingly on my head from so many chunks of hair getting cut. The shorter it got, the more I liked it. He worked at the back for a good 10 minutes before finally moving to the right side of my head, then the left, then the front. "I'm gonna cut the rest dry," he said. So he blow-dried my head in the odd stage that it was: thin, long strands on the left side, long bangs in my face, short on the right and in the back. The bangs had a cute little flip at the edge when they were dry. Because I have wavy hair (he thought it'd be straight), he had to go through and straighten my whole head so he could see the lines and the shape.

David worked more tediously in the back this time. Then the hardest part was the hair by my ears. His scissors actually snipped the top of my left ear but it wasn't cut. A few minutes later he was like, "I've never cut someone's ear before, I promise! Your friend was distracting me!" Haha! "You have fine hair," he told me, "but there's a lot of it. Especially by your ears. It's everywhere." This was good news to me since I'd always thought I had less hair than others. I had to hold down my ears so he could snip around them with a comb. He even broke out the little black buzzer I see used on guys all the time! "It feels like an angry bug by my ear!" I squealed. It tickled terribly.

A little over an hour in, I told Roomie she didn't have to stay because if it took 20 minutes to cut the right side it'd take the same about of time for the left. "I'm staying for the whole thing," she told me. "She's staying for the ride," David said.

After 40 more minutes, David was finally finishing up, spraying all kids of products on it and rubbing it with his hands. It was perfect. I stood up and took out my wallet, knowing it was $45, but I gave him the entire $60 and asked if he wanted some sushi from Kabuki because that's where Roomie and I were headed. He declined and gave Roomie and I big hugs as we left, saying he'd text me about coloring my hair in. Right as we stepped out, the black woman in the salon-cubbie across from us said, "I love your haircut!"

Look and friendship accomplished.

The first person to see it was Panda, who met us at Kabuki and I heard him say, "It's adorable!" before he even sat down. The second person was Roomie2, now that she was finally back from vacation. Roomie and I walked in and she looked over Roomie's shoulder and gasped. "Your hair!!" she screamed. "Oh my gawd, it's awesome!! You look older! You're making me want to get that cut!" The third person to see was Spike, who was totally and utterly against this haircut with every fiber of his being. He knocked on the door and I answered and I saw his face go into slight shock. Twice. I sat back down at the counter with my laptop and he was being more friendly than he had the last few days. Later that night, Roomie was chatting online with him and I asked her to ask him if he liked my haircut (since he didn't say a word about it) and he wrote back, "It's not he worst thing ever." Conversion accomplished! The fourth person to somewhat see it was Friend, though I was lying in bed and it was dark and she only saw the back of my head, but she whispered, "Pixie head!" to me. I don't mind that nickname.

I'm getting a surfboard! Huzzah!

Um, yeah, I'm gonna do that. K, thanks.

No, actually I'm just sick of the gym. It's so boring! So is running! Oh, running straight for an hour. Riveting. I have to trick myself that I'm having fun so I might as well force myself to be strong and muscular by having my life depend on it. Good plan to me, yes? Wink.

Restaurant: Umami Burger...Yeah, that's right.

The first word that comes to mind is unexpected. It's dark and atmospheric (at the one I went to anyway) with the looks of a bar but the feel of a sophisticated, you-gotta-be-willing-to-spend kind of restaurant. The menu is a narrow piece of paper with about 10 or 11 burgers. Flip it over and there's sides and condiments. Done. As I scrolled through, I realized there was no vegetarian burger and panicked. I was there with Big Man and Bigger Man. Bigger Man assured me there was a vegetarian option it's just not on the menu. You have to ask, which we did. The waiter said the vegetarian was a portobello burger with a parmesan crisp. He had me at "portobello." "That. I'll take it," I said before he could finish. Big Man ordered the truffle burger. Bigger Man ordered a lamb burger. We got house pickles as an appetizer and sweet potato and regular fries and tempura onion rings as sides.

The house pickles consisted of pickled hearts of palm, red cabbage, 2 different pickles, and carrot with ginger. I tried the hearts of palm first, which were quite good. Then the carrot. I coughed for a little while a made a grotesque face without warning. My entire tongue and throat shrunk and started to burn. It was like pickled jalapeno. I tried one of the pickles and it had the same effect. The only thing I really liked was the red cabbage because of the smooth, crunchy texture.

Our burgers came rather quickly, each on individual rectangular plates with nothing on them but the burger. Just plate and sandwich. And they're not even luxuriously large burgers either. They're savor-the-bite small. Very european. The sides came in their own separate bowls with Japanese soup spoons filled with garlic mayonnaise, house-made ketchup, and more very strong hot sauce.

My portobello was cushioned between two warm, salty, pillowy brioche buns. Despite the absence of the parmesan crisp, it was more than tasty enough. I could see on top of the juicy mushroom was a crushed tomato that tasted sweet and deep and tomatoey with caramelized onions and whatever soft yumminess was on there. It was the perfect burger, meat or no meat.

I tried the regular fries in the dark ketchup and knew immediately it wasn't Heinz. Bigger Man said they make their own and it tasted a bit sweeter with Worcestershire, more meatiness and layers. Almost barbeque.

I did indeed savor every bite of my burger, but 20 minutes later it was time for dessert. Our waiter told us about a brand new dessert called the "UFO." He went through the entire dessert list successfully, but Big Man decided on the UFO quickly, more for shits and giggles. I got the rich-people version of a Ding Dong. And Bigger Man settled on a classic ice cream sandwich. When they were brought out to us, again, we didn't see it coming. Big Man's UFO is essentially a big oatmeal cookie with vanilla cream that's been deep fried and placed on a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Two bites in, he says, "I have no idea what I'm eating," and we cracked up. "This could be anything, I wouldn't know." My dessert was only known as a "raspberry velvet." It's basically a Ding Dong only with red velvet cake, vanilla cream, a thin layer of raspberry, and, like, dark Belgian chocolate on the outside. Absolutely divine. Bigger Man's ice cream sandwich was a soft cookie (same size as my Ding Dong) half-dipped in chocolate with the ice cream between. I ate mine up in about 3 minutes flat. As soon as Big Man finished his, he pushed the bowl away and said, "I shouldn't have done that." "You'll be feeling that later," Bigger Man joked.

And I was completely content with a warmness in my belly. I knew an abnormally crappy start to my day had to finish exceptionally well to balance it out.

Turning lanes will forever hold terrible memories.

I was punished yesterday morning while driving. Not just reprimanded, but punished. Wince worthy, teeth clenching, stomach churning, traumatizing punishment. SF was actually with me but this didn't help cushion the blow at all. I made a wrong turn instead of staying straight and didn't realize it till I'd already done it (weirdly retarded, right?). "Crap, why did I turn on Vine?! I always go straight!" So I was desperate to get into the turning lane so I could go left onto Sunset. I put on my blinker and waited till there was a good gap and then drove into the left lane in front of a red Camry. Once there, safe and sound, I hear SF say, "Don't turn, just keep looking straight. Don't look over here." "Okay...." But I could see in my peripheral vision what was happening. "He spat on your window," SF told me. This was so ridiculous and frightening to me that I had no idea how to respond other than by giggling. SF even tried turning up the radio but I turned it back down. Just when I thought he was finished, he actually moved sideways in front of me so I had no choice but to look right at him and he glared at me and vented with every swear word in the dictionary and the word I caught most was motherfuckers in a Pakistani/Mexican accent. I just stared and breathed, really wishing I was courageous enough to not care so I could flip him off, scream back, anything to show this bothered me. But he looked like the type to get out of his car and knock a girl out. So I waited till he sped off.

As I turned, SF said that was a pretty brave move of me to get in his lane, but I had no choice! I had to turn! It happens a million times a day! So what if I delayed his car from moving by two seconds?! And the more I sat and the more SF talked, the more I wanted to extract the entire memory from my brain. Every time I dwelled on it, it shook me and my stomach felt weak. I began to talk back less and less till suddenly I was just silent for an hour and SF didn't understand what was bothering me, which didn't help at all.

Anger is contagious. I was raging for the next 4 hours, trying not to cry, wishing I screamed back something, anything to hurt him as much as he hurt me.

It took an entire day to get over it...which I will get to in a moment.

Hey, Brad...

I never thought I'd say this, let alone experience this, but Bradley Cooper actually came into my life on Friday and his presence controlled my entire night. It started with a text message from a friend asking if I was coming to someone's apartment and I said no, asking who was there. He said it was just a casual get together thingy and that Bradley Cooper was there. I was with Panda at the time (this actually is his nickname) and he was a bit shy and hesitant about crashing, as was I (being nicknamed Bunny and all). I called Roomie and Cookie and asked if they'd like to play buffer to our crashing, but bother were preoccupied.

Needless to say it didn't feel appropriate so we left it alone. Ah, well. Knowing my crowd, we'll see him again.

Shortest food diary ever.

Thur 6.10.10

3 bowls of TJ sliced green apples and TJ Better N Peanut Butter

4 Whole Foods chocolate chip cookies

Told you. I need to make a TJ trip. Like now. :/

11 years late, I see the Blair Witch Project. And turned it off 5 minutes before it ended.

You know you're in for some deep, psychological shit when there's a disclaimer at the beginning of a film. We already know that our three protagonists fail to make it out alive, let alone out of the woods. It's like saying, "We're going to film a train wreck, and you get to watch the crash."

For starters, I was in a painfully bored and lazy mood today (I don't have school Tuesdays or Thursdays because I transferred out of general ED, which means almost everyone I know is in class while I am not) and it was about 3:15 when I decided to finally buckle down and see what all the hype was about this movie. I'd heard rumors, but I wanted to see for myself how if I could handle this. I have a very, very weak stomach and nervous system when it comes to horror films, and this was exactly that: horrifying. Well, darn.

I knew the basic premise: a 1999 mockumentary about three filmmakers (I thought they were from NYU but it never says) who go out into the woods in Maryland to see if this "Blair Witch" lady really existed and document their entire, haunting escapade. Thing is, the three people filming, Heather Donahue, Josh Leonard, and Mike Williams (all using their real names), are actually improv actors cast by the actual writer-directors, Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez, who are the first film students of UFC. Daniel and Eduardo gave the actors two cameras, a black and white 16 mm and a colored 8 mm, put them in the woods with a shitload of equipment to carry and a GPS (knowing what the task was, of course) and were told to follow it to the sites the production designers had decorated with witch craft trails, and act out the scenes. And guess what? It friggin worked. It was the first mockumentary to look like a documentary. And then some.

We start out with the enthusiastic, enunciating Heather (who must've had some kind of actor's voice training at school because she speaks like the actors in the 30's) and her two friends, Josh and Mike, who help her film some interviews with the residents of the town Blair in Maryland, including a crazy woman who is said to have met the witch as a child. There are some lines of dialogue that echo in my brain and make my spine shutter. Like, "She had this thick hair all down her arms, like horse hair. Like fur. And a wool shawl. And her face was just strange." "A little girl disappeared and returned 3 days later and talked of the old lady who's feet never touched the ground." "An abnormal amount of children disappeared...." "Seven children were found dead in the dead in the woods at her supposed site." Shit like that.

Once they get what they need at the town, they make the drive up to the woods to an unmissable trail and begin their hike upwards relying on only a map and a compass to guide them. Nothing for miles but brush and trees and sky. It's all or nothing. The cameras are shaky as Heather, who is the main narrator and very willful about what they're doing, Mike, who turns out to be the whiner of the group, and Josh, the calm, logical one, trudge to their first landmark, a stream. The first night in the tent is uneventful.

The second day on the job does not go so smoothly. Mike pulls his first tantrum when he stops trusting Heather with the directions on the map and thinks they're lost. Heather insists they're not lost and they continue to another site. Only this one is by accident. And it's the creepiest thing I've ever seen. We hear Mike yelling at something hanging from the trees, "all around us!" It's stick children. Sticks formed into bodies and hanging from rope by their "necks." They turn slowly in the breeze, silent and eerie. There's a lot of them.

The second night is the first time the three wake up in the tent in a fit of whispers. There's a sound. It's not that distinctive, but it's there. Heather, being annoyingly brave, unzips the tent and listens, Mike with the sound equipment. It sounds very much like falling rocks every few moments. Little, sharp ones just falling into a pile of more rocks far off, but we don't actually see it. We just know they've been discovered.

To make it worse, the viewer is realizing the simple mistakes that you realize only draws the Witch closer to the pack. Mike. He yells in anger. Loudly. Very loudly. And it's completely unnecessary that he do this other than that he is pissed off. No one catches him on this and you just want to tape his mouth shut.

From day 3 on is a masterpiece of terror. Reason numero uno for this symphony of nervous breakdowns (both on screen and happening inside me) is the outstanding performances. This film would not be half as scary if you didn't believe the tidal waves of emotional conflict and tears and arguing and screaming that happen to these three completely developed characters, especially Heather. They're off the charts. Too much for one person to handle let alone a viewer to witness. But you're so thoroughly engaged that it's impossible to look away. The three are completely lost. And they're being hunted. And the worst thing? You believe every second of it.

On the third night, all hell breaks loose, but only temporarily. They're woken up again, only this time they don't even have to go outside the tent to freak out completely. They hear the rocks closer and scramble to get their clothes on and then sprint out of the tent, the camera shaking like crazy. But Heather still manages to film, for about 6 seconds, a hovering figure at a constant distance in front of them, as she screams, "What the fuck is that?!" And my brain went into overkill. It's a lot to handle.

Long story short, I started to pause quite frequently once Josh is missing one morning. And then stopped the thing as Heather and Mike venture into the witch's lair. The last 5 minutes are said to contain some of the scariest images in film history as we witness Heather in her last moments before the camera is dropped. I turned it off before that. Done. No more, please God. But it did it's freaking job. It's absolutely bone chilling. I think I'm hallucinating random sounds now.... I need a hug!

Meanwhile in Awesome Kid Land...

Very French. Rock those mustaches, kids. They'll make you big and strong.

SF dropped the R-word...sort of.

We were on our way to the icky grocery store Von's (his food shopping, not mine) when it slipped. It was passed 8 pm and the streets were busy, leading us to almost smash into a silver Prius at which he fully stopped my car and screamed at the driver, "NO! No! You don't get to turn!" and then we continued. It went like this:

SF: I have to go to Taco Bell and get one of their rings. I haven't seen them in a while.

J: Huh?

SF: You know those little machines with the plastic rings in them? They have little Taco Bells rings and I have to get one soon.

J: What for?

SF: I can't tell you.

J: [insert record scratch here] What? Why not?

SF: You don't like surprises, do you?

J: But...I wanna know. [Puss n Boots doe eyes] Can I know why you can't tell me?

SF: [ridiculously mischievous] Yup.... Because it's a secret.

J: When will I know?

SF: Soon, hopefully, if I find one. It shouldn't be hard to find.

J: Will it make me happy?

SF: I'm not sure, it should.

J: Tell me.

SF: Nope.

J: Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me....

SF: Nope. I can't. It would ruin it.

Then I hung my head and he snickered. And I felt all warm inside.

(I couldn't find a picture of a Taco Bell ring. I guess they really are an urban legend type thing.)

Bleach smells...like animal fur.

I won't go into why I did this (frankly, I'm not even sure), but yesterday I went over to SF's place to help with his monthly cleaning. I wasn't exactly excited about this, but my apartment is abandoned at all hours of the day till tomorrow so that doesn't leave me with many options. And we do a lot of things together so I figure cleaning isn't too far off. With the room set to Death Cab for Cutie and Ludo, I started with the bathroom (by choice) and scrubbed the sink, toilet, and tub with gloves and a bleachy sponge, filling up the tub with hot water. Then I did dishes, cleaned the kitchen counter, helped SF hang up a northern Cali map on his wall and started sweeping up dusty corners with a small hand broom. We both had to pause and step into the hot, soapy tub water because our feet were literally black. After that I Swiffered and he cleaned off the top of his ceiling fan (which I insisted he do since all it does is circulate dust) and cleaned off the floor so he could mop it. He quickly wet the floors and then asked where/what I wanted to eat for dinner. "Orochon." Easy as pie. Plus he's paying since he owes me for buying him a few tacos from Taco Bell and a 6-dollar milkshake.

He thanked me profusely for helping, saying he'd still be cleaning or would have given up, which I believe since it took 2 whole hours with the two of us for a 3-sectioned apartment (kitchen, bedroom, 2 halls with a bathroom). Not like I had anything better to do.

Fancy Ramen.

Sat 6.5.10

1 TJ tofu corn dog with mustard

a handful of tortilla chips with spicy guacamole

1 huge bowl of Orochon ramen (spicy miso broth, bamboo shoots, thick seaweed, bean sprouts, scallions, and dense egg noodles. these people don't eff around)

New Favorite Man Couple.

Yes, that is Jason Bateman and that is Dustin Hoffman. Yes they are mating mouths at an LA Laker game. Judging by the people around them, this is a great moment to witness.

The most important trailer.

Snow & Ashes from Restaurant Stromboli on Vimeo.

This director, Charles-Oliver Michaud, graduated from my school a few years ago with a thesis called "Babylon" about a war correspondent/photo journalist in eastern europe. He submitted it to some film festivals and got representation, raised 1.5 million dollars and shot the feature in Canada. It's already won a best picture award.

Enjoy!

J'taime John Wayne. Yes please.

Vezi mai multe video din Film

Just...watch. It will make you smile.

Review: The Red Balloon (1956)

It's about a boy and a large (very round) and very red balloon that roam the streets of Paris. In all of its 37 minutes, it's pure happiness and sunshine for the most part. Director Albert Lamorisse cast his own little boy, Pascal, to be the poster child and star as the balloon's companion. I would say the balloon was the boy's companion, but at most times it seems like the balloon is more desperate to be with him. It sweetly follows him around, floating through windows to be with him, rising and falling, taunting. There's clearly a wire somewhere that someone is controlling the balloon, but thing is, that wire is never seen. I never really knew how on earth the balloon managed to move in perfect time with the Pascal.

Stick around for the end. It's totally worth seeing a million balloons fly around all over the tops of Paris buildings.

Damn chicken. Every time....

Wed 6.2.10

1 Cashew Cookie Larabar

1 TJ tofu corn dog (quite yummy with mustard)

2 squares of Bossa Nova garlic foccacia (ridiculously yummy)

1/2 plate of Bossa Nova's Vegge Chicken pasta (penne pasta, tomato sauce, zucchini, spinach, broccoli, topped with slivers of delicious grilled chicken)

That Bossa Nova...it's like they make 2 portions by accident but serve it to you anyway and go, "Oh we made 2 but here, eat it." I ate exactly half (with my first restaurant chicken) and 4 hours later my intestines were screaming. It didn't last too long but it could've been much worse...much worse. I didn't even wanna think about the leftovers in my fridge.

Scott Pilgram vs The World: It's on like donkey kong!

Does this mean I can make out with you, Michael Cera? Please?!

SF got rejected by Robert Downey Jr... Best rejection ever!

I'll make this quick: So SF went to Malibu the other day with classmates and one of them was texting this kid named Indio (the minute he said the name I freaked out). They wanted to go hang out at his place but he said his dad won't allow anyone over. Indio is Robert's son. "I just got rejected by Robert Downey Jr.," he said. "Best rejection ever!"

Even better.

That song is pretty damn catchy...

So much chocolate!!

Mon 5.31.10

1 hashbrown patty

1 Think Thin peanut butter bar

2 half glasses of TJ strawberry lemonade

1 small bowl of TJ shrimp friend rice

1 chocolate chip cookie

1/2 bag? of TJ dark chocolate covered pretzels (I threw the rest of them away, they were too taunting)

2 Oreos

1/2 chocolate frozen banana (those are weird, why do people like those?)

2 handfuls of sweet grapes

Clearly my mouth got bored too often. Ridiculous. I'm pretty sure I'm forgetting something... maybe not.