Doc Tuesday

After surviving our journeys to work amidst the arctic vortex today, we came home to bowls of soup with a side of Blackfish and then Bully.

And we reached the conclusion that humans are the worst.

But soup is good.

Movie Review: Austenland

Sometimes I think the Internet is a place where we can share stories, not to bring us together in some dumb, kumbaya way but more in a "I'm going to do this, and tell you about it, so you don't have to do it yourself."

Guys. I saw Austenland for you last night. You're welcome. You can cross it off your list and get on with other things. 

Here's the thing: it wasn't terrible. It also wasn't good. It just was. It just kind of just sat there. With its boobs pushed all the way up to its chin. 

Another, perhaps more appropriate name for the movie would have been, Watch Jennifer Coolidge be herself for 97 Minutes or maybe Try to Figure out Where you Know that Guy From (Hint: It's Flight of the Concords).

There were very funny parts to this movie. Literally, every third time Jennifer Coolidge opened her mouth, I laughed. She is a funny person and this movie would have just sunk without her energy.

And that, my friends, is my problem with Keri Russell. She has no energy. She just was kind of on screen, saying lines, being pretty and everyone crossed their fingers that that would be enough. It totally was not, for me anyway. 

It was a cute movie with a dumb-but-fun premise - and with many another actress in that lead part, it would have been worth renting on RedBox (do people still do that?)

At the end, there was this funny-enough credits bit that, in theory, was hilarious, but in actuality, was Keri Russell looking very hard like she was trying to have fun and be relaxed. And that was kind of the whole movie. It's like she wasn't really in on the joke that this movie was dumb and everyone was just having a stupid fun time. 

That being said: Jennifer Coolidge killed it. The blonde girl doing Regency Prancercise killed it. Jane Seymour's taxidermined lamb was totally underutilized. 

It was worth the price of admission ($0). It totally belongs in the canon of movies you Netflix on Sunday morning because you are too hungover to get off the couch. 

Also, one million Internet points to someone who can get me one of those "I Love Mr. Darcy" bags that she carries.

Not Harry Potter.

This weekend, I was a very good girlfriend and went to see Magic Mike.

Boyfriend doesn't really agree with this statement. But here's the thing. He has all these new coworkers and I am trying to be a very good work-girlfriend so when some of the other +1/SO's said they were planning an outing to see Magic Mike - I selflessly agreed to go with them to make Boyfriend look better at work. What can I say, I'm a saint.

Magic Mike was surprisingly plotty for a movie about strippers. Meaning, I felt that I had to care about far more peoples' feelings and outcomes than I was really antisipating. More dancing, less emotions is pretty much my review.

And then?! The credits rolled and I found out that, what the what?! Steven Soderbergh directed this smoldering pile of man meat and cliched backstories.

For those of you who are my little sister, let me feel you in - Steven Soderbergh directed Erin Brockovich, Sex, Lies & Videotape, Ocean's 11 (and 12, and 13). He won an Academy Award for Traffic.

What the blunt is Steven Soderbergh doing directing this? Seriously...what?! how?!

I feel like the story of this movie eerily mimics Channing Tatum's actual life, where he is living this life as a stripper and has a dream and since he's so pretty, everyone just tells him to go for his dreams, even though he has shown that he isn't really good at the thing he wants to do in his dream world, because really?! things for pretty people (whether producing butt-ugly furniture or making really terrible movies) tend to work out.

Also, did anyone else envision - mid-talky part of the movie when Channing Tatum's face is all scrunched up with acting - a moment during filming when Cha-Ta threw a fit and yelled, "I don't want to say all these words, I Just Want To Dance."
 
That being said - I like dancing. And being the best girlfriend a guy could possibly ask for...

March Awesomeness

March tends to be kind of a throwaway month as we all sit on the edges of our seats waiting for Chicago Summer but for some reason, this March is going to be amazing.  More details to come once all these totally amazing things have happened.

Tonight - This (to eat)

Next Thursday (through Monday) - This (to experience)

Then bright and early the next Saturday - This (to get ridiculous)

Then the next Friday, at 10 PM - This (to watch)

*edited to add* how could I forget?! - This (to watch as well)

And then to round out the month, on the 30th - This (to listen to)

This month is also going to have a lot of challenges and some tears as I try to work through a lot of stuff. But knowing that there is something awesome happening every. single. week should give me the motivation I need to get through all the crappy stuff.

Happy March!

Crap comes to Pemberley

Oh man, this may be the last time I try to read one of these books-based-on-books-that-I-already-love.

Image (via)

The first chapter or so of Death Comes to Pemberley was awesome. The rest was pretty much crap. First boring crap where nothing really happened and then implausible crap that made me want to punch P. J. James (who is apparently, NOT a man, as the Southwest employee told me rather emphatically as I was telling her about my opinion of the book) in the throat.

I am not sure why I thought that this wouldn't be disappointing, maybe because they advertised it on the back of the New Yorker, maybe because Lydia is secretly my favorite Bennett sister (I am a big fan of doing things just for the story, as is she - trust me). But this was a mega let down.

Speaking of Lydia, for some reason as I read this book, I was not picturing Colin Firth or Kiera Knightly or anyone EXCEPT I could pretty much hear Jena Malone reading Lydia's dialogue in my head. Say what you will about her as an actress, but clearly she leaves a lasting impression.

Of all the things that pissed me off about this book (and there were MANY) - the thing that got my goat the most? The cross over business between the books (I won't ruin it and tell you how it affects the story, but I feel like you have a right to be warned against such atrocities). I am not quite sure who died and named P.D. James queen, but there needs to be a coup d'etat. Pronto. You cannot just wave your magic freaking quill pen and connect imaginary dots between Emma, Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion. You. Can. Not. I do not care how many old ladies think you're really great.

Thank goodness it was over quickly. And for the record, I knew who did it all along.

Book 14 - Emma

Guys!  I read another book!  That's what I've been doing instead of writing blogs.  I get exactly 6 minutes of quiet time a day and I spend it reading (and checking facebook).  Sorry, folks.

 image (via)

So, I read Emma.

And technically, this should count as a re-read as (apparently) I read it in college, however, I think it is one of those books I read the first three pages of and was like, "yeah, I can bullshit my way through any assignments that get tossed my direction.  Next!" (in my own defense, I was supposed to read something like 40 books that semester, and, actually attempt a social life...clearly the booze won, every time).

Anyway, so I read Emma.  And it took me longer than I was expecting, but I've been traveling and, again, I am a terrible person.  Also, the beginning of Emma is pretty long with way more exposition than was really necessary.  Reading the book was kind of like taking a mental bath.  Occasionally I paid attention to my surroundings, but mostly I just enjoyed the words and how they sounded and how easy it was to find the funny in this particular book.

I struggled with the funny in Pride and Prejudice.  Everyone is so concerned with being smart in that book that they left me behind.  But in this, I got to enjoy Miss Bates and Harriet along with everyone else.

Guys, Jane Austen writing Miss Bates is, to me, the epitome of my writing goals.  I am pretty close, but man, the way you can just hear her talking.  Its so awesome to me.  I got sick of reading it to myself because I found her so tedious.  Any book that brings out an emotion like that deserves two thumbs up (even though I know I have friends who don't agree with my assessment).

Also, can we talk about how big a douche Frank Churchill is?  Oh man, douchewaffle of the century.  I tots would have fallen for him.  What a mess.

And let me just say - Jane Austen knows how to build an effin' moment.  You spend most of the book just hanging out and then all of a sudden there is Mr. Knightley professing his love.  I literally squeeled.  Squeeeeeeeled and then bent my knees and tucked my feet up and brought the book closer to my face as if proximity to the pages made the story more likely to happen to me.  Even if Mr. Knightley is, for all intents and purposes, a fuddy-duddy it must be nice to swept off your feet, regency style.

Also, fun note -  I bought this from Bookworm, my favorite used book store and paid $4, only to turn it over and discover that back in the day (early 90's?) it retailed for $2.50.  I am such a sucker.

Pie in the sky and other things...

As promised - here are some tart pictures. Like I said before, it was surprisingly easy although the raspberry topping I thought was going to coagulate, but instead it stayed really runny and got everywhere and made everything sticky. When I make it again, I will just put raspberries on top and have the sauce on the side. Anyway here it is before raspberry sauce:
And after I poured the sauce but before it got all over everything.
Everyone said it tasted really good, which is all that matters.

And in non-Suzy Homemaker news - my March Madness pool is OVER. All of my final 4 picks are out of the tournament all ready - this is shocking and depressing especially after years past. When my baby sister is doing better than me in picking college basketball teams I hang my head in shame (although, she is about to go to college and I am long out of it - so I guess she should be better at it than I).

This was my social weekend, which was lovely. I have become quite the homebody in my old age, but I still know how to get down. I think the homebody-ness comes from wanting to save money and having something pretty phenomenal to come home to and watching my weight and all sorts of other things. Also, I just was looking over Boyfriend's shoulder when I saw an atrocious picture of me recently posted on facebook. And I want to cry. Its awful. Not cute or funny awful, just really unattractive and I can't untag it. I have to wait 2 more weeks before it will disappear. I know this isn't an actual sad thing like world hunger but for me, its pretty miserable. Does that make me totally self centered? Yes. But what can you do?

And with that, I am done blogging for the night. I just got really depressed really fast.

I'm sorry I bit you... and pulled your hair... and punched you in the face...

So, today was lame in so many ways which is why Lilo and Stitch, white wine and some sweatpants are quite perfect.

Also, I think I love this movie so much because I feel like Lilo...when I'm not feeling like Stitch.