Must. Lie. Down.

Holidays. Insane. Dying. Cat barfed on bedwear. Hurt shoulder due to excessive knitting. A Good Woman with Helen Hunt and Scarjo--recommend. Story goes: whores with a heart of gold can get the man as long as he's old. Tom Wilkinson, old yet hubba hubba in everything. Oscar Wilde writes loveable chicks. That's it--Dish is cooked!

When Superman Met Frank Miller...

Star Sightings on 12/15/08, 6:30 pm, Tribeca Grand: Dan Lauria, "Winnie" from The Wonder Years, and Frank Miller, along with his beautiful girlfriend Kimberly, assistant Mark and others involved with The Spirit. Picture it: Dish screaming directions at Superman upon reaching the Tribeca Grand. I see Him: the tall stooped behatted artist clad in black, puffing away on a butt. Mid-sentence, I hang up on Superman and run up to hug Frank Miller. That happens often. I forget everything when in the presence of greatness. Superman finally finds me and is pleasantly surprised to meet FM. We go into the event and gorge on hors d'oeuvres, sizing up outfits and snacks. Superman accosts the cater-waiters instead of waiting for them. He grabs two boxes of popcorn, a Snickers, and a Twix. We're both on diets. For starters, my starstruckedness is such that I spill my entire drink on Superman's crotch as the movie begins. I apologize for this and for hanging up on him. I warn him it might happen again and he's all-accepting. For Miller and Eisner fans, The Spirit is wildly fun with many luscious moments. Less violence than Sin City, no less fabulous cast, more comedy. Samuel L. Jackson and Scarlet Johannssen steal the show. I'm curious to see what mainstream viewers think. The world definitely needs a hero--I'd take Gabriel Macht any day!

Getting Into The Spirit

My biggest care in movie watching is running time. The Spirit is 103 minutes. Over 120 and I get super-fidgetty (Shakespeare and Wagner are OUT). Remember when movies were at least two hours? My attention span has waned with the times. Now, I get my array of coping tools to deal with running time agita. Flavored toothpicks, pen caps, paper clips, Tic Tacs, a quarter, knitting, water, and the cure-all: Altoids. In ten minutes, I'll walk .6 miles to my destination where I'll meet Superman. Can you tell I'm nervous? The last time I went to a Frank Miller movie screening, Matthew Modine stood ahead of me in line. The best part, he had to tell the ticket person who he was. I plan to act outraged when the list-master asks for my name. Don't you know who I am? It's Dish, B*tch!

Holiday Puffy

Dish put in Kramer vs. Kramer to feel nostalgia, but I ain't feeling it! I don't care anymore. Give me The Sound of Music, where family, love, hiding from Nazis, meddling nuns, Julia Andrews's helmet hair, and bursting into song are the norm. The only thing I'm enjoying in the former is JoBeth Williams's huge glasses.

Tomorrow, I see The Spirit, Frank Miller's new movie. Can't wait!
ps. Significance of title? Dish is getting FAT!

Made of What's in My Cat's Litter Box

In Made of Honor, someone took a big dump on a 90-page script, then hired Patrick Dempsey who is the new Clooney-from-ER-10-Years-Ago-Sort-Of (cute in the 80s but both became heartstopping as middle-aged actors on medical shows). The producers then transferred PD into a cutesy romantic comedy riddled with plot holes (sorta like One Fine Day) and tried to serve the steaming pile to a seemingly gullible public. Not even for the delightful resurgeance of Kadeem Hardison is this rentable. Not even if your dog needs a place to pee is it worth the pain of Netflix queue placement. The greatest offense is that Michelle Monaghan (maybe I'm totally misunderstanding) is supposed to be almost 30. She and Pattycake were in the same dorm ten years ago and became best friends since then. Using the Associative Property from Algebra I, Michelle and Pat are the same age. Sorry, but Patty ain't no pushing 30. I love him since the 1980s, but that trying-to-go-younger thing is an insult to us geriatrics. It was age that refined Dempsey into the fine wine of today. He didn't need so much concealer under his eyes in that museum scene (though the lights were bright and Dish enjoys dimmer bulbs, too). Sorry to be so harsh, but I expect more from the fine actors in this film.

Semantics

Today's Post claimed to show Jennifer Aniston naked. Of course, that's the reason why I bought the paper (along with their sudoku). As I turned the pages, I realized I'd been HAD! She's covering her more pertinent areas and they call that naked? Last I checked, naked meant removing all clothing. Dish would even demonstrate if offered enough money (like a million and a wide angle lens to put entire butt in frame). I know what you're thinking: Why does Dish want to see naked pics of Jennifer anyway? Why not? Another use for the Post is that it's throwing a Duran Duran sweepstakes which I entered. Fingers crossed!

Status of bruised leg: Turning yellow
Celebrity sightings: 0 and getting worried. Might redeem at special screening of The Spirit next week
Superman Status: Priceless, has introduced Dish to fluke (a kind of fish) and octopus
Fantasies of smoking cigs again: 20,000
When will Dish watch last night's ep of DSM: Right now!

Intolerance of Ugly

The news these days--sheesh. That Illinois governor should resign on the basis of being unattractive, as well as corrupt. All hail Obama for his call that Gov. Uggo resign (Uggo and Spitzer could grease up in a nice jacuzzi). Does Obama have actual power yet or are his "calls" just strong suggestions? I'm sure he could have me killed. Am intrigued by Patterson's appointment for Hill's replacement. I have strong opinions--please, let someone who is crazily experienced and not just eager get the job. As Michael Douglas says in The American President, "We've got serious problems and we need serious people to solve them..."

Speaking of serious problems, it's raining and Dish's hair is in full frizz. Superman is coming over. How to stop this monstrosity before it ruins my life? Maybe I could be governor...

ps. Desperate Housewives is a little stinky without Gale, though I'm enjoying Dana Delany getting some action.

Indiana's Crystal Crap

Sadly, Dish suffers from one of the following (too soon after falling in the subway gap at 149th Street Grand Concourse):

1. food poisoning from bad chicken at Whole Foods salad bar
2. a cute appendicitis (never an ugly one)
3. self-indulgent holiday blues while others are starving in Third World countries

Whatever the ailment, it's worse that Dishmama is France-bound for the next two weeks. To ease my pain, I slip in the latest Indiana Jones. After an hour, I have to interrupt to write how suck-tastic it is. Not only is Shia LeSmurf stinking up the screen as he gets whacked in the nuts by jungle flora, but Cate Blanchett's appalling caricature makes my stomach turn even more. I love Cate so I'm sure I'm just the wrong audience. The soothing metaphorical Tums comes in the form of Karen Allen who is always a joy to behold. How I will get through the last hour, I'm not sure, but I must. I'll do it for Karen who is also a knitter.