What about that guy?

Was anyone else taken aback by John Krasinski's blip appearance in Dreamgirls in what had to be one of the more bizarre triumvirates ever seen on screen: him, John Lithgow and Beyoncé? I am supposed to be totally crushing on him because my sisters are, but I'm kind of not, and that makes me feel badly, like I broke one of the unspoken white girl rules.

I am a late comer to the American version of The Office, mostly because I believe attemps at replicating perfection are doomed. But then my sister made me watch the one where Jim faxes Dwight letters from Future Dwight. And then I saw the Benihana Christmas episode and could not believe it when Michael Scott marked the waitress on the arm with a Sharpie. So I'm willing to admit that the newer version is slickly amusing.

I think the problem is that I cried when Tim and Dawn kissed in the BBC version, but...I kind of don't really care about Jim and Pam (those are their names, right? I can never remember the character names in the American one). If anything I want him to get together with Rashida's character. Admittedly, I'm coming to it after he's "moved on", but Jim and Pam don't really seem to have any chemistry at all.

And also...I have a problem with what Krasinski does when the camera cuts to him as a punctuation for whatever Steve Carrell has just been doing. His face always seems to say, "Of Course. Why are you cutting to me? I'm NOT REACTING, this all PERFECTLY rational behavior." Whereas Martin Freeman's Tim never seemed snarkily ironic like that. More stunned, or at the very least too unsure that anyone else saw what David Brent just did to be complicit in suppressing a reaction as a form of bonding. A recent issue of The New Yorker describes the two shows' differences much more eloquently. Sorry to get all macro, but I feel like snark is overtaking America, and it's not all that cool anymore, peoples. Being genuine just feels more fresh.

CHICK-A-POW!

After all the egg nog was drunk and the stockings were emptied, and everyone had a piece of wrapping paper stuck to the bottom of their shoe, what did you do on Christmas? I bet you didn't watch A Smoky Mountain Christmas. I bet you don't STILL have it on the DVR. I bet you couldn't go pull out a taped-from TV circa 1988 VHS copy of it out of the closet, if you could be bothered. I bet you weren't on the verge of tears when you saw this GENIUS album cover of hers from your favorite decade. And I bet you didn't do a spit take when Sherpa listed Dolly's autobiography on her 2006 list of books read, cause it's on YOUR wish list.

I'm on to your game, Harvey Weinstein!

Should I go see this tomorrow? I can't decide. I read Jean Stein's oral biography of Edie when I was a freshman in college. It was an education to say the least. As intriguingly ineffable as the lure of Andy & Co. is, in the end, I always feel kinda sickened by that whole scene. And then there's Sienna. Man, I have a love-hate thing with her. Does she have to be so damn stylish? Well, DOES SHE?

Say it ain't so!

DON'T GO, TIM! You've got a LIFETIME of Red Lobster ahead of you!

She's A Lady

Happy Birtday Dame Judi, my valkyrie

Wish Fulfilment

Today was one of those days where I didn't really expect anything special to happen, and I was pleasantly surprised. On the spur of the moment, my sister and I found ourselves at the Getty Villa in Malibu. I had been meaning to go there and see it since it had reopened, but never got around to making the reservations to go. As we drove by on PCH, I just said to my sister, "Hey, let's go there!" And we did! Etruscan statuary here we come!

It was the perfect day, the perfect weather, and the perfect serving of "CULTURE" as all my sister's boyfriends call it. So of course the most impressive part was the formal colonnaded garden (pictured). It has a serious tranquilizing effect, and as you come to the edge of it, a balcony overlooking the eucalyptus with the sea in the near distance. But the special treat was the herb garden. Hyssop, Quince, Sweet Bay, Plum, Olive, Lime, Balm,...the scent was phenomenal, and the breeze brought new scents to you as you walked along the path. It was a very special place that I'd love to return to. I even put a penny in a fountain and made a wish...I am never that sentimental or superstitious, but it seemed like the thing to do.

So then we proceded to lunch at the "new" Malibu Inn. What can I say, it always ends in tears for me there. But that was merely a blip in the day.

The apogee for me was FINALLY after what, oh 10 years of searching and searching...I finally got me a David Bowie tee-shirt. And it has magenta glitter on it. This makes up for any deep-down residual sadness I may be experiencing for the loss of the mythic Liza workout tee.