All the world's a parade....but outside my front door?

Okay, so I realize this isn't exactly breaking news, but I feel compelled to share a totally ridiculous story from Beth's Insane Neighborhood.

(Quick aside to remind Loyal Readers that while I like to say I live in "North Beach" the reality is that I live just one block from San Francisco's Pier 39, which is the biggest, noisest tourist trap in the City. Tour buses, drunk vacationing frat boys, fanny packs, rental cars and lost German tourists consulting folded maps are all part of my daily life.)


So there I am, in my apartment, on a weekend. I putter away all Saturday in the house...Sunday comes along and I decide to get out of the apartment, if only to run a few errands and see the world. Plus the traffic and noise outside is incredibly loud, even more so than normal. The noise is a strange combination of motorcycles, tour buses, techno music, shouting and horses trotting by. Horses? Seriously?


I get dressed and head out my front door. And immediately find that only ten feet from my front door is Ground Zero of the North Beach Italian Heritage Parade, which consists of floats, marching bands, Italian flag-decorated fire trucks, ladies in hot pants, cars shaped like bowls of spaghetti, representatives of the Boudin bakery walking alligator-shaped loaves of bread on leashes....you name it and it was sitting right in front of my apartment building ready to head up Columbus Avenue. For those who know it, Caeser's restaurant near my place looked like a pinata had exploded on it from all of the balloons and streamers and festivities taking place on its front steps.

It's very surreal to come across a parade completely unawares, and stranger still to have one just sneak up on your neighborhood and your apartment building like that. Parades are by nature kind of ridiculous and they're downright trippy when they come out of the blue. One certainly doesn't expect the U.S. Marine Corp. marching band to be outside their front door, does one? Here I thought I could just easily sneak off to Bed Bath and Beyond on a lazy Sunday afternoon, but that quickly proved impossible when the Columbus Salami Company truck rolled by with patrons throwing hard candy at my head. Was there a memo somewhere that I missed? I feel like this happened last year too which makes me feel especially clueless.

Ultimately I ended up sticking around the neighborhood - walking around sort of aimlessly while I tried to get my head around all of the stimuli around me. Costumed versions of Christopher Columbus and Queen Isabella...local government representatives waving at crowds...baton-throwing junior high girls....all right there in one giant Columbus Day celebratory par-tay. Who knew?

At home, I have a framed postcard right near my front door that reminds me that "76.2% percent of people leave their house every day." Frankly after my parade trauma, I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing.

A few words on Dolly Parton

I ask you, World at Large, what could be better than a Dolly Parton concert? Puppies? Unicorns? Rainbows? Maybe. But Dolly's pretty close up there. Having seen her show in Seattle this weekend I can say there are few comparisons to Dolly and that's not a bad thing.

For one, the woman played NINE friggin' instruments (a third of which were rhinestone encrusted), sung her own songs (which - get this - SHE WROTE HERSELF), had two costume changes and still rocked out the platinum wig and sparkly fringly cocktail dresses at age 62.

For two, when you're in a crowd of Dolly Parton fans, there's absolutely no room for cynicism or posturing. It's just not allowed. There is no "cool crowd" to mock you and make you feel bad about yourself. You have to surrender to the ridiculousness and joy of being in a stadium with drag queens and gay boys and professional-grade mullet-wearing country fans and 60-year-old librarians all of whom are dancing around to "9 to 5" and "Thank God I'm a Country Girl" and there's something, well, very weird, but also very wonderful about that.

All I needed was a (Botox free) Kenny Rogers for the Islands in the Stream portion of the show and I can say all was complete.

A Lesson in You Tube, Where Beth Learns WAY Too Much About Vincent D'Onofrio

File this one under "Embarrassing Confessionals," kids. So I keep hearing about this new fangled thing called "YouTube" on the InterWeb that the young kids keep paying so much attention to, and sure enough I spent most of last weekend seriously obsessed with it. Seriously It started off innocently enough where I was trying to find this clip from "Law and Order: Criminal Intent" for someone involving Vincent D'Onofrio.

(Side Note: I heart Vincent D'Onofrio. I mean, I HEART HIM. He meets all of my Soul Mate Requirements of being ridiculous tall and slightly wounded and very likely depressed and he gets me all melty. But I digress.)

So there I am, on YouTube, trolling for clips of Law and Order: Criminal Intent and then I get distracted by all of the videos of Vincent that are available and I can't very well not check them out, right? Except, well clearly I've been living in a cave since the mid 90's, because I'm amazed at the sheer number of fan sites/music video montages that are both really really creepy/stalkerish and totally, completely hypnotic/mesmerizing. I mean, have you seen these, people? And of course I can't turn away. Hours pass. Contacts dry out. I find myself unable to stop watching the 540 Vincent D'Onofrio-related clips from movies and TV and interviews and photo shoots because the Internet is a harsh mistress and she demands your attention, dammit.

Is is possible to spent an entire Saturday night watching some stranger's homemade videos set to ridiculously cheesy romantic music just to watch Vincent D'Onofrio have a rough sex scene with a C-grade actress in a movie from 1994? Um, yeah. Just like it's possible to watch about a zillion photo slide shows of him set to syrupy Sarah McLachlan music while his sad dopey Bobby Goren mug glows on my laptop.

This is officially time for Beth to Get A Life. Either that or to figure out how to make a slideshow of her own so I can stop feeling dirty and just sign on to the dark side of Internet video fan sites. In the meantime, I'm just sayin' if you happen across a Vincent D'Onofrio 2009 wall calendar I won't be sad if it shows up in my stocking.

An Open Letter to Netflix

Dear Netflix,

Jesus, are you trying to kill me here? Seriously, guys, when a person rents The Savages, Atonement, and Lars and the Real Girl all at the same time you really ought to include either a complimentary box of Kleenex or a gallon size drum of Prozac with the DVDs.

Because that person will start off with Lars and the Real Girl thinking "Boy, this looks like one really quirky indie comedy right here!", only she will end up being depressed after only a few minutes of watching it. She will once again realize how insanely talented Ryan Gosling is but feel frustrated because she never ends up actually connecting with the character of Lars and instead just thinks that it's sad enough that this guy is so withdrawn and isolated to come up with the concept of Bianca, but even sadder that we're supposed to expect the whole town to go along with the idea for 90 consecutive minutes. Sigh.

Then that person will pop in "The Notebook" and hope to be cheered up by a hunkier, less crazy version of Ryan Gosling and she'll remember what a piece of crap Hallmark/Lifetime pablum-fest that movie is (even WITH the kiss in the rain) and end up throwing the DVD across the room.

Then, later on, she'll try and watch The Savages because if there's one thing that never fails this person it's Philip Seymour Hoffman. Plus, with Laura Linney to boot, how can this movie be a bad thing? I'll tell you how, Netflix. It's about a brother and sister who have to put their dementia-ridden father into a nursing home. Um, nothing funny or quirky about that, not even in a dark-comedy sort of way, is there, Netflix? It's just dark. And more depressing. And very tiring.

So finally, this person will watch Atonement. Because surely a beautiful period film with James McAvoy (who, if you'll recall, Netflix, this person once referred to as "Mr. Yum-nus" from The Chronicles of Narnia) can't be all bad, right? So this person will watch the film and start to feel better because even after a horrible lie made in childhood, things ultimately end up alright and our two lovers are brought together again - OH WAIT THEY NEVER GET BACK TOGETHER BECAUSE THEY BOTH DIE HORRIBLE HORRIBLE DEATHS AND NOTHING CAN EVER BE PUT RIGHT AGAIN....ahem. Sorry, Netflix.

You see where I'm going with this, Netflix? Be careful what you mail to people in those little red envelopes. Just sayin'.

Your movie fan,

Beth

Staying Young@Heart

So there's this documentary out, which I really want to see, called Young @ Heart about this choral group made up of folks in their 70's, 80's and even 90's who sing punk songs. Sonic Youth, Coldplay, Lou Reed, the Ramones....you get the picture.

And seriously, every time I go to You Tube and check out their performances I find myself laughing and sobbing at the same time. Tears full on rolling down the cheeks while giggling. Even when I know exactly what to expect it still just slays me. Love 'em, love 'em, LOVE. THEM. Below is a version of "Stayin' Alive/I Will Survive" that brightens my day every time I see it....but if you're feeling like you need something heavier, then go to You Tube and watch the performance of Dylan's "Forever Young" they do at a prison and you will be blubbering like a little girl. You've been warned.

Oh, and BTW, if you think you see Justin Timberlake in this you're right. No joke!



Oh, did I mention I've recently learned how to embed videos into my blog?

I'm not proud of this....

...but first of all, I just learned about MTV's "The Hills" like less than a month ago and it has proven to be more addictive than a vial of crack stuffed inside of a Twinkie and sprinkled with Oxycontin and soaked in heroin (a combination I would imagine to be very, very addictive).

So here I am, just now learning who Spencer is and who Lauren is and why they talk the way they do and struggling to figure out how she makes out with someone with that weird flesh colored beard, but I digress. While the rest of the world has been watching this insanity for two seasons, I'm just now looping myself in in the middle of Season Three. I am so, like, totally behind the curve, yah?

And then - God Bless You Broadband! - I just learned tonight that MTV.com features full episodes of The Hills that you can download and watch online. The whole series to date. Right there at my fingertips.

I can feel the brain cells slipping away now. Don't say you haven't been warned if I start talking like a 19 year old socialite because it will only mean that I have been watching this show for the next 458 consecutive hours.

How is it that MTV was able to make me fall in love with it all over again a mere 20 years after Kevin and Julie had their argument about racism on the front steps of their luxury loft on the first season of The Real World? Don't make me quit you, MTV. Seriously, it's for realsies this time.

Open Letter to the movie"The Notebook"

Dear the movie "The Notebook,"

One might think that because you were only $10 at Target this weekend, that it would be okay for you to come home with me. The fact that I've become deeply crushy on Ryan Gosling lately made you all the more appealing - I mean seriously, look at him. Who wouldn't spend ten bucks on that?

And yet. Not since I went on that weird emotional Hallmark/Lifetime Movie Of The Week Tivo marathon last Christmas have I experienced such mindless, saccharin pablum. You, the movie "The Notebook," were awful. As in, You-had-me-at-hello/Bridges of Madison County cheese-coated awful.

Where to even begin here? Was it the utter lack of subtlety inherent in any Nicolas Sparks movie, or the total lack of sophistication and coherence that disappointed me most? You're telling me the best that a dark, brooding soul like Ryan Gosling can do on a first date is take his girl to Small Town Main Street and tell her how he used to lay down smack in the middle of the street at night and watch the traffic lights switch from red to green? He is supposed to be borderline retarded?

Remind me to write an open letter to James Gartner about his work in this movie and then roll it up and whap him upside the head with it. Ryan Gosling, we have to talk about this. Do you hear me, young man? Joan Allen and Sam Shepherd, don't think you're getting off easy, either.

Feeling like I could have just spend the $10 on more Method cleaning products and been a lot happier,

Beth

Revisiting the Corey Cold War

For those younger readers of the World of Beth, allow me to share a history lesson from the days of 1987. America was in the midst of a Cold War. The country was divided into a bitter rivalry. The world had Corey-mania. Families and neighborhoods and entire communities were shattered by the division between those pre-teen girls who had deep gooey crushes on goofball Corey Haim, and those (like me) who were more enamored with the darker, sulky soul of Corey Feldman. Seriously.

And now, because history repeats itself every 20 years, we’re revisiting the Corey Cold War in the form of A&E’s “The Two Coreys,” which might be the most pathetic and entertaining show airing today. It’s set up basically like an Odd Couple Meets The Now 35-Year Old Lost Boys, where Corey Haim (fresh from rehab, natch) moves in with Corey Feldman and his very hot wife, who is like 21 or something.

First off, it's alarming to note that these boys actually look exactly like they did 20 years ago. Okay, for the most part. Okay, so Corey Haim is a LOT rougher around the edges than he was in Lucas. But still. Corey Haim is all hapless and goofy and actually pretty sad because he’s a little, um, washed up and Corey Feldman is all goth and smoker-voiced and vegan and actually pretty sad because he’s, um, the more successful of the Two Coreys apparently. By Corey Standards, that is. Don't even get me started on the episode where Corey Haim loses it and starts crying when he finds out he won't be cast in the Lost Boys 2.

Don't judge me too harshly, World at Large, but I can’t get enough of this show. It's like a train wreck that's sponsored by Tiger Beat magazine, and who among us mortals can resist that?

Beth's First Wild Parrot Sighting

It started off as a pretty ordinary day...went to work as always...decided upon driving home to expand my knowledge of area Target stores (including one that was recommended to me in Colma, no less, where 73 percent of the residents are, ahem, dead...)...bought some cat litter and then returned my Flexcar to its parking lot to head home.

All was normal and ordinary.

And then I heard the screeching. And then I saw people (okay, tourists mostly) looking up curiously. And then I saw them. A flock of brillilant green parrots swooping overhead - the very same parrots from that great documentary a few years ago, "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill." I forgot what a cool film that was - check out the trailer online and I challenge you not to get a little teared-up. Wild parrots clearly rock the house...and apparently they live right in my neighborhood.

Very, very cool.

Abandon Hope Of Being a Hipster, All Yee Who Enter Here

The World of Beth arrives in San Francisco!

After signing my lease and checking out my very empty, very tiny, very expensive, apartment, Heidi and I hit the streets for some Hot Tourist Action until my stuff arrives bright and early tomorrow morning.

Cable car tour of the city? Check. Lunch on Fisherman's Wharf? Check. Ghiradelli Square? Hell yes. Obligatory pictures of the Golden Gate bridge? You know it. I've got exactly six months in my mind to get this touristy crap out of my system before I have to turn into a hardened local, so I might as well immerse myself now and enjoy it.

On an unrelated note, we watched this very odd documentary called "Starbucking" that was advertised as being hilarious and quirky and it was more just kind of disturbing and sad. One man's quest to visit every Starbucks in the world - interesting idea, no? Perhaps I could start some similar obsession now that I'm just an hour outside of wine country - visit every winery in Napa and Sonoma? Or perhaps every used book store in San Francisco? Oh right. I've got work. That. Best to enjoy the next day or so until I have to resume my normal responsible=person life...

An Open Letter to the Cast, Crew and Producers of “The Holiday,”

Dear Cast, Crew and Producers of “The Holiday,”

Not since “13 Going on 30” have I desperately longed for a time machine, so that I could travel back to the Beth of Two Hours Ago, wrestle her/me to the ground and wrench the remote control from her/my hands so that I could get those two utterly wasted hours back. I feel robbed of my time after watching this fluffy, predictable mess, and these days I don’t have a lot of time to spare, which makes this movie all the more bothersome.

Listen, you’re all smart people. You’re all talented. I like you all, especially you, Jude Law, when you wear dorky glasses like you did. But, seriously, what were you thinking when you read this script? In the first 37 seconds, the following things are painfully, painfully obvious: Kate Winslet’s character will find her girl-power and Cameron Diaz’s character will learn to cry. Jude Law will be Flawed Somehow But Still Win Over The Pretty Girl and Jack Black’s doughy character will be cheated on by his supermodel/actress girlfriend and he will realize the Right Girl Was There All Along.

Sigh. See? I just gave away the entire plot in two sentences. Look, I swear my heart is not made of coal, I cry at Extreme Home Makeover like the rest of the world does. But oh, the things I could have spent my $3.99 on instead of this mess! I urge you all to go out and make some smart indie hipster movie to cleanse your souls of The Holiday immediately.

Until then,
Beth

A couple days ago I got hit with a weird eye infection/allergic reaction thing where my eyes basically puffed up and weeped all day, making me look like I was having a nervous breakdown all day long. But I digress. The point is, I stayed home from work and found myself watching TV off and on throughout the day.

During which I saw a commercial for the new Volvo S80. The commercial features a woman walking to her car, late at night, alone, her 3-inch heels click-clicking their way to her reliable safe Volvo after a hard day of working at the local Swedish blond furniture factory. But then (cue creepy music), as she takes out her remote to unlock her Volvo during the dead of night, she notices the remote’s HEARTBEAT DETECTOR feature is blinking – i.e., Ax Murderer In The Car Alert! Ax Murderer In The Car Alert! - and she immediately turns around and scurries to safety.

So, this is good….I guess? Sort of? Engh? I think I just find the whole scenario rather terrifying – that so many people are being attacked by freakshows hiding out in their Volvos that they needed to design and market and install a remote control HEARTBEAT DETECTOR as part of your remote keyless entry systems. The world's a scary place - I'm glad Volvo's creating ways to keep us safe, but this just creeps me out because it's a threat and a danger I didn't really even pay attention to that regularly.

As Engadget noted last year, I’m glad I just have to deal with the regular homeless/crazy non-Volvo-lurking weirdos on my public transportation system rather than fighting them off in my own car.

And speaking of hot new shows to check out... **

So.....The Riches on FX. Anyone? Bueller? Anyone at all?

First of all, thanks to the Alert Member of World of Beth that tipped me off to this show, and to the fact that Eddie Izzard is playing a suburban dad and that he looks actually kind of, well, manly and dad-like these days. File that in a gigantic file called "Who'd A Thunk It? (and/or Possible Signs of The Coming Apocalypse)."

I've had a bit of a perverse thing for Eddie Izzard for a while because he's very funny and he's very smart and he brings the two together brilliantly, but his whole cross dressing and lip gloss thing really limited how far my fantasies could progress with him. Let's face it, at its most wicked, my Eddie Izzard dream date consisted of my running into him at a cocktail party after I had sucked down a few too many dirty martinis and the two of us would get into an animated contest where we would make up increasingly snarky comments about the party's attendees. We would be deliciously bitchy together. Annnnnnd....that's about it. But I digress.....


Seriously, a suburban dad? I'm afraid there's just no room for me in that little fantasy world. As for the show, I'm more impressed so far with Minnie Driver. She really broke my heart in the scene where she came out of prison and was all alone and damaged-looking. Let's see how long it stays on the air and where it goes from here.

** Dude, my posts NEVER synch up like this, what's going on?

You are OUT OF CONTROL, Extreme Makeover Home Edition

Tonight "Extreme Makeover Home Edition" took the "Extreme" part way, way, WAY too seriously. Can I just offer a summary from this week's 2-part episode?

• A Marine needs a new home. (Really, this should be enough, but wait...)
• This Marine saved the lives of two police officers on 9/11. (but wait, there's more)
• After saving the lives of these two cops, the Marine just disappeared, and they were unable to ever thank or acknowledge him. (oh MAN...)
• While working on a sculpture for the Marine's house, (a sculpture, incidently of the American flag) a staffer is injured. (the American flag, people)
• The injured staffer is actually British, making it all the more poignant that he's injured while working on the American flag. (i.e., "We are all Americans...")
• The injured staffer is understandably scared and weeps for most of his ride to the hospital, confessing that his wife is pregnant with TRIPLETS. (Jesus, triplets, people)
• While in the hospital, the injured British worker bravely and sternly tells Ty that he has to promise to "finish the flag" for the Marine. (Again, the injured British worker with TRIPLETS on the way that has been injured while carving an AMERICAN FLAG...)
• Back at the work site, Pauly is presented with a set of flags from the local Marine recruiting group to honor the hero. (This actually isn't too extreme, Pauly cries in Every. Single. Episode.)
• A gospel singer sings "God Bless America" while the local police department raises these three flags on this guys' front yard. (Kleenex is being pulled out by the dozen at this point...)
• On the day of the unveiling, the crowd waiting for the family chants "USA! USA! USA!" There are are American flags up the wazoo and Marines march in formation to escort him to his front door. (I....I....just...)
• When the marine gets to see the new house, he WEEPS. (Yes, he weeps. A big, burly stoic Marine loses it and weeps)
• For the big finale, Ty presents a carved foot locker that he built for the Marine which holds the boots this guy wore on September 11 that still have dust on them from the buildings. Ty then points out that the soles of the shoes are melted. From the heat of the rubble. The shoes. That the Marine. Wore. When he anonymously saved the lives of two police officers. On 9/11.....

Seriously, Extreme Makeover Home Edition, it's TOO MUCH this week. You need to step off for a month or so so that I can pull myself together after this one.

One Punk, Under God

Interesting find on the Sundance Channel this weekend - looks like Jay Bakker, son of Jim and Tammy Faye, has his own show about his alterna-church Revolution. I'm not a card carrying member, but I like his approach and the idea behind Revolution:

"To show all people the unconditional love and grace of Jesus without any reservations because of their lifestyle or religious background, past or future. This love has no agenda behind it (I Cor. 13:5). This grace sets no timeline on personal change or standards for spiritual growth (Romans 4:4-5). The idea is to be a part of people’s lives because we truly care for them rather than to fulfill a religious duty; to walk with them through all their struggles as a part of their life, not as a religious outsider."

Seems like a solid answer to the "What Would Jesus Do?" question that too many folks use to shun and punish those who's lives they don't agree with.

I'm just sayin'.

Excuse me while I whine a bit here

Look, I'm sorry to be a whiny, pouty, irritable little baby right now, but the weather people are predicting another 12-16 inches of snow in Denver to start tomorrow, which will continue right into Saturday , which is right about the time I'm supposed to leave on a giant jet plane and return home.

Which means, if the city is shut down by another blizzard, I could either be stuck in Denver for another 1-3 days or potentially stuck at the airport, which does not make me happy AT ALL.

Which means. Just. Well. It just means I have to feel like a whiny, pouty, irritiable little baby, I guess. It hasn't even started snowing, so I'm just being prematurely panicky and whiny. I get that. I'm tired. I'm sick of frickin' dial up. I hate smelling like an ashtray and I'm starting to miss my bed and my obese cat and my stuff and my life and the thought of being stuck away from it for another 3 days just seems a little overwhelming.

Seriously, Denver, TWO blizzards in a two-week period that coincide with Christmas holiday travel? WTF, Denver? You're on my list, pal. Watch it.

The Bad Movie Marathon Continues

Today, while nursing a fierce hangover that nearly crippled me and made me retarded, I caught up on my Cheesy God-Awful Christmas Movie Obsession. Today's movie was "Santa Baby," a made-for-TV offering for the ABC Family Channel (strike one) which starred Jenny McCarthy (strike two) as a high powered corporate consultant type who is, um, Santa's daughter (strike three).

I have to confess that the main reason I Tivo-ed this movie is that it was directed by Ron Underwood, who I mistook for Ron Livingston, who is the guy who played Peter Gibbons from Office Space. My bad. My really bad.

In a nutshell, Santa has a heart attack, Mrs. Claus phones up her sort-of estranged city slicker daughter and asks her to come home and help out the family business this year. Santa is played by George Wendt which I was skeptical about (would Santa be a barfly?), but he was quite charming actually. You GO, former Norm, with your charming made-for-TV movie self!

And, in another nutshell, my hangover is finally clearing up at now 6:16 on Sunday night while I'm sipping some Detox tea and trying to squeeze some productivity into what's left of the day.

Apologies in advance to Dolly Parton

Recently my friends and I gathered around a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and the CMT holiday movie “A Smoky Mountain Christmas,” starring (and co-written by) Dolly Parton.

I realize that making snarky comments about Dolly Parton is a risky business, because after all, that woman is as sweet as a soft caramel melting in hot chocolate poured over a cupcake served in a bowl of powdered sugar and as wholesome as a kitten wrapped around a harp seal pup tucked inside of a rainbow guarded by unicorns, but I’m going to have to go out on a limb and say, Dolly, honey, your movie was freakin’ weird.

On the most basic level, the move was a variation on Snow White set during the holidays. Except the dashing prince was known as “Mountain Dan” and played by Lee Majors (hi, Bionic Man!) wearing the World’s Worst Fake Beard EVER. And the dwarves were instead orphans dressed in Depression-era clothes who may or may not have been related even though one of them was black and none of the others were. And the only black orphan was named “String Bean” which was also weird, because none of the other orphans had folksy names, but were instead named “Josh,” “Mary,” “Freddie,” etc. And the fact that, now that I think about it, everyone in the quaint mountain town were dressed in Depression-era clothes which seemed especially disorienting because the movie was, after all, set in the (then) present day of 1986. Seriously, no one could ship a box of Pac-Man or Miami Vice t-shirts to the Ozarks for these residents?

Overall, I guess, sort of, kind of, the movie wasn't that bad. It was a Dolly Parton Christmas movie after all and you get to watch her sing and play the guitar with her ginormous fake nails and giggle and say those Mountain People sayings that she’s famous for. It’s good times as long as you’re not looking for something, say, coherent.

I’d like to close by calling out a review of “A Smoky Mountain Christmas” from alert North Carolinian Amazon.com reviewer J. White who says: “The story is a bit hoakey, but I don't mind it since it is a good story with no political correctness or other garbage such as the A Very Muppet Christmas was laden with.”

Yup. Thanks J. White. I sense another blog post comin’ up quicker than a gathering of ants after a spill of honey mixed with molasses and maple syrup stirred with sweet Carolina tea.

You don’t dis the Muppets and get away with it on MY watch, pal.

Curse you, Hallmark Channel! CURSE YOU!

In making this confession, I realize I’m scrapping any sense of hipster/indie-film-fan street cred I ever had. And I didn’t have much to begin with, folks. But (deep breath) my name is Beth, and I’ve been Tivo-ing an alarming amount of Christmas movies from both the Hallmark Channel and Lifetime this holiday season.

(World at Large: “Hi Beth.”)

We’re not even talking kitschy retro movies like Emmet Otter’s Jugband Christmas (truly, the best holiday movie EVER), we’re talking movies with hokey soundtracks and appalling scripts about city slickers that learn to love Small Town Life and the Importance of Family over Christmas.

I need help. I need to re-watch Sid and Nancy and recapture my bitter inner film snob. Maybe after one more Hallmark Original movie though...

Stabler Versus Goren, the Debate Rages

It’s no secret that I’m a wee bit obsessed with Law and Order SVU and Law and Order CI. I’ve had multiple conversations with folks about my little problem, and without fail the discussion always turns to the red-hot debate of Who Is The Hotter Investigator – Detective Bobby Goren of CI, or Detective Elliott Stabler of SVU? As someone suggested recently, it’s like the next generation of the Ginger versus Mary Ann debate.

For this gal, hands down, it’s Detective Goren. No question. He’s all weird and socially inept and uber-tall and brilliant and insightful about totally random stuff. How could you not heart him? Yeah, I know Stabler’s all masculine and steely-jawed, but he lacks the insight and the sensitivity of Goran. Goran's like this gigantic freakshow/autistic teddy bear that you just want to snuggle up with. Plus there was that one episode where Stabler showed off his way-too-tiny speedo underwear and that just tramautized me off of him for good.

Where do YOU stand on this debate?