Archive for the ‘movies’ Category

You may remember my strange infatuation with men who three, maybe four, other people in this world also find attractive. One of those men, who I forgot to mention, is dear Tom Hulce.

Tom is probably best known for his eponymous role in Amadeus. The first time I saw Amadeus, I was four years old. My mother took me, a four-year-old, to see it when it was first released. I’m sure the other patrons were none-too-pleased to see a very young child in the theatre with them, but they had no reason to worry. I was utterly infatuated with the movie, my mother recalls, and stood on my seat in the back of the theatre the entire time, my little eyes fixated on the screen.

I obviously didn’t develop a crush on Tom Hulce until much later on in life, around 13 years old. His portrayal of Mozart is what did it for me: a brilliant, misunderstood, ridiculous imp of a man. Perfect for a similarly-misunderstood 13-year-old who also likes to tell fart jokes and play classical pieces on her viola at the school bus stop while getting teased by all the other middle schoolers. I also adored his antics in Animal House, but it was Amadeus that truly endeared him to me.

While I still harbor the same great and undying love for Amadeus that was born in 1984, my crush on Tom Hulce faded somewhere around the end of middle school and I hadn’t given him any thought at all until today. I was browsing my typical, classless gossip sites and stumbled upon…

What is this???

What has become of you, Tom Hulce, you great wooly mammoth of a man?  Where is my young imp?

This must be where youthful crushes go to die…


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Some time soon, I will sit down and do this amazing trip more justice.  But for today, I am exhausted and so I offer only this photo gallery (with comments!) and a few random videos I uploaded to YouTube.


Pictures Of England

Driving Through Bollington

White Nancy


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Oh Dear God

I started reading the Harry Potter books when I was in college.  It was only slightly mortifying at the time to be caught with what were seen — at the time — as children’s books.  But I noticed that other people were also reading them on the sly, and that this whole “Harry Potter thing” really seemed to be catching fire, so my embarassment was mostly tempered by these occurrences.

By the time the last Harry Potter book came out, I was on a downhill slide — not the big fan I once was — from when the books really hit their stride with The Goblet of Fire and The Order of the PhoenixHalf-Blood Prince had been a mild disappointment for me and I was really only anticipating the last book because I felt that I needed closure for characters in which I’d been invested for almost seven years.

So, it was with a deep sense of irony and self-effacing humor that my friends and I went down to the West Alabama Bookstop (& Theatre!) for the midnight release party of The Deathly Hallows.  Even the release party itself was deflated and tired and smaller than the riotous release party had been for Half-Blood Prince.  Clearly, I was not the only one hanging on by a thread, ready to end this marathon.

After reading The Deathly Hallows, I managed to come away even more disappointed.  And not just with the book, but with the way that the entire series ended.  And also a little disappointed in myself for getting so interested in what eventually turned out to be mostly sound and fury.

But what struck me this morning as I perused the gossip websites was the news that the final book will be released as two movies — and will be released when I am 31 years old.

I am not comfortable contemplating the idea that I will eventually turn 30 years old, much less 31.  That’s one step closer to 40 and then 50 and then 60 and then diapers, bedpans and death.  Say what you will.  Mock me.  But I’m not ready to get any older than I already am, especially since I’ve accomplished about three out of one hundred things that I had hoped to accomplish at this point in my life.

Also…there’s the nagging feeling that perhaps 31 is too old to see a Harry Potter movie without the benefit of Netflix.  Someone please tell me that I’m wrong and being foolish.  And that it’s normal for a 27 year old to be having an overly-early-midlife, Harry Potter-induced crisis.

I always knew that Harry Potter would turn out to be evil in some way…

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I love and am married to a man despite the fact that he does not share — even in a single, tiny way — the deep and abiding devotion that I have for The Royal Tenenbaums and Lou Reed.

I should get a Nobel prize for this.

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Apropos of absolutely nothing (except, perhaps, for listening to a lot of Bjork), I’ve been having very strong urges to see Matthew Barney’s Cremaster Cycle yet again.

Should I see a physician for this or something?

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In yet another embarassing turn in my world of bizarre celebrity crushes (starting with Michael Biehn and progressing through Peter Weller, Alan Rickman and Jake Weber), I have a new celebrity crush that is, perhaps, the most bizarre one yet: Bryan Cranston.  Yes, that Bryan Cranston; he of Seinfeld dentistry and browbeaten Hal fame.

Seriously?  What is wrong with the reticular activating system in my brain’s cortex that causes me to have crushes on men who — for lack of a better term — are “unconventionally attractive” at best?  I’ve never been attracted to the swarthy Brad Pitt type, the suave George Clooney type, or even the non-threatening Matt Damon type.

It’s always the guys who look interesting, both in the literal sense of the word and in that other, vaguely rude sense, the one where you tell a friend who you’re desperately trying to set up with a chick that she “has a great personality” or “makes her own clothes” because you can’t really say anything about her looks without saying something that would come across as “she got beat with the ugly stick, bad.”  I like men who haven’t had good looks to rely on throughout their lives and have instead developed strong personalities and deep intellects and undiscovered or unappreciated talents and interests.

With that in mind, I stick by my latest celebrity crush, strange as it may be.  And, hey, you’ve got to admit: he looks pretty damn hot here, like a straight Tom Ford:

Cranston is the Hotness

Aaaaand, I’m out.  This is all my work-addled brain could put together after a long weekend and a hard Monday…

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That’s Twice

Poking around on YouTube today, I found my favorite scene from my favorite movie ever and I feel compelled now to share it with you:

If this isn’t the most beautiful, most romantic, most amazing move you’ve ever seen, I’ll send you a little, black piece of charcoal through the mail so that you can place it in that sad, empty cavity where your heart should be.

“Forget for this moment the smog and the cars and the restaurants and the skating and remember only this:  a kiss may not be the truth, but it is what we wish were true.”

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