Full Circle

October 1997: My first celebrity sighting in New York was Harrison Ford. I was walking to work. Wearing a sexy mid-life crisis hoop earring in his ear, he crossed my path. I dropped everything in my hands, and he half-smirked.

Today: Some associates and I discuss the term "jumping the shark" which I'm told has been replaced by "blowing up the refrigerator" from the latest Indiana Jones movie. This provokes my question of how much "work" Harrison Ford has had. (I won't say how much but: TONS) My associates inform me that he and Callista live a block away from me. I snarf my Sprite. Now I can stop playing computer solitaire because I am so doing walk-bys. Maybe Harry will recognize me. After all, I still have my librarian look (now stolen by the Republican VP candidate). Maybe he'll let me advise him on scripts. Maybe he could read to me in that melodic voice. Maybe we'll ride on a magic carpet to Candyland and build a fortress of lemon drops and strawberry taffy. At least, that's what I'll see when he gets around to passing me the doobie he must have smoked to make Hollywood Homicide.

Nasty Truckstop Sex with Gale Harold

Now that I've got your attention...Dish took a break from tennis to watch The Unseen, which stars The Second Coming (not Obama but Gale Harold). I'll tell you what's unseen: full frontal. But who cares? Dish just wants art (which happens briefly in a dark bathroom with a girl who is not me, though as usual, it's over in thirty seconds). First thought: Southern accents in movies make me gassy because actors often overdo it on the twang. Gale sounded freakishly authentic. You'd think he actually came from the South. I adore the South. My heart is there with all the artery-clogging food and lush scenery. I could deal with hicksville as long as I could sip spiked mint juleps on a porch and wear sundresses. But back to the flick: In a nutshell, BFFs Steve Harris (who I heart madly) and Gale are estranged due to some terrible tragedy (usually involving Daddy's peen). Steve comes back when his dad dies and clashes with Gale over his little blind brother, Richard Simmons. Richard and Steve bond, which pisses Gale off. Tragedy ensues.

Though it has some slow moments and painful cliches (ex: someone sings "Amazing Grace"), compelling performances by Steve, Gale, and Catherine Dent carry the story. Gale's scene at the end was electric and I lost count in my knitting--a big deal since Dish can multi-task. And sorry, Gale: facial hair, a baseball cap and swigging JD in front of a Confederate flag won't kill my love for you, though I await nicer attire and hair on Desperate Housewives.

Ps to Point Break Up

Maybe it's not so silly to use surfing as a break-up reason. I've had my share of sad excuses to dump people. Ex-BF 2, 9 and 16 dumped me because I was just too amazing*. Most ridiculous is Ex-BF 6 breaking up with me because I was pushing a shopping cart too fast*.

Poor Julia. If it's even true and I hope it isn't. I'd be so pissssssssssed for her.

*Code for "I wanna bang other people."

Point Break Up?

Every thirty years, I pick up a National Enquirer. For reals, not since I'm ten and lovin' John Travolta circa Grease. It seems so flimsy for $3.49, which could get me four rolls of toilet paper. Forgive me, I have some kind of bug, so I figured some noxious gossip would cure me.

According to NE, Julia's marriage is in trouble because Danny is surfing too much. Say it ain't so! Could he really be like Keanu in Point Break? I envision a teary Julia saying, "You got that look in your eye" before Danny squeaks away in his wet suit, ditching her and his three kids. I mean, who would choose a surf board over Julia (and her guzillions and that smile and the amazing amounts of time you could spend in a knitting store with her)?

Message to Danny: You may be hot but if you leave her, you will never find a woman to rename a production company after you again. She is as good as you will ever, ever get. In fact, she is better. Divorce will render you penniless, blacklisted, it will be your fault even if it isn't, your kids will loathe you and you will find yourself covered in barf in a skanky Motel 6 room with god-knows-who next to you, greasy hair and no money. Think about it.

Then again, one should never believe gossip and I hope this story isn't true.

Again Undecided...

Dish is still reeling from CNN/MSNBC eternal gang-banging of Hillary and the setting of Obama in the golden sunlight of virtue and idealism. How much more will they focus on her ugly clothes, her audacity at wanting to run for the White House (hasn't that crazy old lady done enough?), how dare she cry, or complain about media gang-banging, or let her husband get a blow job (and she probably made him do it just to get sympathy). You wonder, and I'll steal this from someone, how many of these pundits have severe mommy issues...It's easy to ambush Hillary for all the rage men feel towards women. Ex-BF 16 certainly loved to do it--call her unattractive, insensitive, corrupt, cold, manipulative and all while overlooking any of her accomplishments. Funny how, even though she's depicted as the Wicked Witch, Hillary is still the big topic for these losers. Mommy always has the last word, mfs.

ps. John King seems the most benign so far.

Wake Up with Gale Harold

Wake: A dick flick with four tormented brothers dealing with sick mommy (hello, story of every boy's life). The brothers converge over the woman who carried them in her uterus, they agonize, they bring home some trampy babes, they take all kinds of pills and dance. Then...someone goes a little too far and, of course, someone vomits.

Overacting is so fun and I adored the cliche-drunk-ex-con brother who wore a fringed swede jacket and stumbled into things. He took to the medicine and liquor cabinets like Dish to a bag of Cheetos. There's an unplugged do-gooder and another drunk brother. Everyone is miserable--at least secretly. Most impressive was Gale Harold who played a different character from the one at our favorite club, Babylon. Here he's tormented, sensitive and cranky (oh wait, that's Brian Kinney, too, but different I swear). Because Gale's so haunted by demons, I just wanted to give him a hug and a box of crayons so he could draw a picture of his feelings (and take off his shirt). I also wanted to forget that he wears his mother's bathrobe during his moment of freakage.

Every time someone said "bro," "man," or "brother," I did a shot (of orange juice since I'm still sick).

If you're already feeling iffy in the emotions department, don't watch this. If you enjoy dark mind-f*ck family flicks about tormenting your siblings and killing your mom, rent it now. Oh, and Martin Landau rocks big-time!

Present in Her Pastels

Dish is officially on board the Obama train thanks to Hillary's amazing speech. Though shivering with a fever, I was warmed by her "sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits" remark and will do whatever she wants. She addressed her angry supporters--me--and made it clear why I have to vote for Obama. [superficial aside: who thought ANYONE could look fetching in orange? Hillary blossoms in her pastels.] While her pissed off tone often worked against her, it was exactly what the floor needed last night. Liked too how she acknowledged that McCain was her friend. This is business, not personal. Well, maybe a little personal.

More on celebrity stuff after I view Wake, which promises me a little Gale Harold. First, work and sweating out this boogie fever.

The Hair and the Fury

Tonight, my hair hurts. Dish has thick hair so growth causes pain. It's nice to have this problem, right Bruce Willis and Donald Trump? In addition to icing my head, I'm watching tennis and creeping ever so slightly over to the Dem convention. Truth: I'm one of those angry female Hillary supporters. Because I'm never passionate about politics, my rage doesn't feel baseless. I wanted this woman who'd been beaten around by everyone (She asked for it, right?) to be on top. For all the times when I was ignored in college Latin over boys, endless directives by all-knowing paternal XYs and didn't feel confident enough to say "shut up," the shoddy treatment by crude oil traders when I was a secretary, touchy-grabs in the office, a vicious mugging by men whose fate and mine were decided by men, the expectation that I would fall in line and breed and marry--as sexist as it is, I wanted Hillary in the most powerful office. Poor me, right? It's tough being human, having people focus on your clothes, your cheating husband, your privilege, your skills of manipulation. It's tough being anything these days.

I came of age during anti-female backlash fresh from the 70s so having a strong visible enduring female role model other than my mother is special. My excitement for this election is gone but I can't wait to see what Hillary will say tonight. I am trying to like Obama but my dinner keeps rising at the thought of voting for him. I'm sure he's a good man. I feel sympathy for Michelle because now that Hillary is out, interesting media has circulated around her failings. Despite my hesitancy, I'll do the right thing--more likely, the left--though I'll have an empty stomach when I pull the lever.

Sorry for the rant but there's nothing on TV tonight and I have no desire to watch Deja Vu, the one with Denzel and not Stephen Dillane (which is corny but kinda fab). And my hair hurts.