Today, 12:00 p.m., Le Pain Quotidien on 7th Ave and 18th: Pleasantly diversified actress Frances O'Connor was walking in as I was walking out. I hogged the door for a split second while trying to place her. Sleepless again, I felt like death but got a nice perk at this sighting. Lovely woman, no makeup.
Last night, as I scoured Michael Caine's bio on imdb.com, I learned that he didn't enjoy working with Steven Seagal in On Deadly Ground. I don't blame him. What right did Steven have to direct the great Caine? Then I realized that I'd just had my pre-travel Steven sighting, which happens without fail right before I fly. These last ten years, it's become a tradition to watch a Seagal movie the night before a flight. Tonight, it's Fire Down Below, which often describes the sensation I feel after I eat spicy food. In Seagal terms, it's where the evil Kris Kristofferson dumps toxic waste, down below. The power of good, i.e. Steven, helps the Hillbillies stand up for themselves and falls in love with Marg Helgenberger, who makes honey and wears lovely cotton dresses. I adore Marg because she looks exactly like me. Okay, I'm hallucinating, but she's very pleasing in everything she does, even as the token girlfriend. On the dark side, Kristofferson hangs out with strippers and derides his son, therefore, he deserves to go to jail where Seagal promises he'll get his dues from "Tyrone." That Seagal, he takes care of everything. And I hope he is the angel who carries my plane to safety tomorrow. My friends think this fondness indicates brain damage, but I don't care. We all need tricks to get through this life.
You'd think it was a holiday. And if so, why are stores closed for this holiday? I guess it does give one hope that after death, one can return. That would justify all the zombie movies out there. If Jesus hadn't risen, I might not enjoy decapitating chocolate bunnies or the sight of Peeps on Duane Reade shelves. The actual Peeps themselves are disgusting but visually stunning.
Happy Resurrection of Jesus! Dish really isn't Christian, but Jesus was probably awesome when he was alive. To celebrate (the Vernal Equinox) Easter, I tried to watch for the first time The Ten Commandments, but Anne Baxter's lusty character makes me cringe. I'm sure she was awesome as well, but frankly, the acting sucks in the movie. Maybe that's why it's such a classic? So, I turned to The Sound of Music and my heart began to thump. Not only do I wish Julie Andrews were my best friend, but Christopher Plummer is a hot hardass-turned-softie. The chemistry between them is palpable. I want to cry already, but I'm not that big a ween.
It's trendy to be mean online without a voice or face, and I don't want to automatically criticize, but I will anyway: I really hated the two movies I watched this week. What I hated most was that the movies starred actors I respect. I still respect them for choosing to be in these movies.
Ask me how much I love cigarettes and I could go on for hours...especially now that I don't smoke and talking takes the place of my depleted tar levels. So, I'll confess my vice: I love Dr. Phil. Sure, the opening to his show reveals him as kind of an egotistical warrior psych-jock, on the move to heal people, the go-to superhero when your teenage babygirl is flying to the Middle East to meet a man from MySpace. Dr. Phil is obsessed with T.D. Jakes now, so much so that I'm waiting for them to kiss. The cheese, hype, sometimes fast-food answers to complicated problems, and repetitive phrases ("Someone in this family needs to step up and be a hero..." and "What were you thinking?") cannot be denied. Sometimes, I get bored and turn off the TV. But today, I cried as he gave a victim a little can of whoop-ass, along with a little love. To the many blogs that bitch about him, I say he's doing more good than harm. (Of course, like everyone, he could be hiring $5,500 prostitutes). How many can say that?
How brilliant that a girl could become famous by sleeping with someone reputed to be good. Now, Spitzer’s former escort will have a singing career. Sure, no one will admire her for her brains, survival instincts, or grit, but she’ll be rich and noteworthy. People will ogle her at parties, want to meet the girl who contributed to ES’s downfall. I cringed at today’s Post, but sheesh, what an overnight sensation!
Watch out, Jimmy Carter. I’m coming after you. Wink wink.
Daniel Auteuil. How il me dazzle avec his annual portrayal of a cold, repressed homme who finds his inner warm fuzzy. And there's that fabulous nose of his that runs on a severe diagonal. J'enjoy that he's famous sans adhering to les boring standards of beauty. Not to mention he was married to the formerly chaude Manon of the Spring, Emanuelle Beart, who filled her lips with Michelin tires to do Mission: Impossible. It's like beauty and the beast, only he's beauty now. With my petit naivete streak avec le scandal Spitzer, how can I believe le Daniel hasn't had chirurgie plastique lui-meme?
Maybe the universe wants us to be happy again. That's why Duran Duran is returning. They're like my favorite kind of stomach flu. Everytime they're near, I feel happy...and sick. The trauma of our governor's hooker-hobby will fade to my subconscious, where no doubt, he'll appear in a bunny costume and tango with Tom Cruise. At least that's how my dreams usually play out.
Update: My bad. I thought our governor was a pimp but he's Just Another Cheating Spouse. Luckily, BF confirms I'm the only one he would hang out with in a D.C. hotel room. This makes Dish's day.
Just when you thought you could trust someone...The truth is: Daddy is getting hookers for potential supporters of a potential future campaign. I'm just guessing. But wait, Dish, these high end call-girls are getting top dollar. Two pervy politician visits a month would be a decent living for a girl, maybe a key to Pretty Woman status. Maybe not. I mean, did anyone see what happened to the prostitute in Heat? This is more fuel for those cynics out there, soon to be me. I'm just waiting for the reality show...and for Hillary to reveal she tortures rodents for fun.
Dish hasn't been inspired. What is there to say? It's all about the election. Wa wa wa wa wa. My momentum is slowing down, as is my passion for the next President. I still want Hillary in office but CNN no longer holds my attention. I'm sickened by the coverage, in general. In other news, Angelina is pregnant--contributing to worthy causes while encouraging overpopulation (blasphemy, Dish!), no one cares about Britney, "rehab" did nothing for Amy Winehouse, Jon Stewart fared better at this year's Oscars, the writer's strike is over, J. Lo gave birth, and poor, desperate Jennifer Aniston still has no mans so she might have gotten her eggs frozen. 
