this one's for my fellow Project Runway fans...

...of which I know there are at *least* two of you.  

So,  remember in the finale how Nina was all, "Kenley, your work is pretty, however awfully familiar."  And Kenley was all, "Oh no you didn't!  Don't you be calling me a plagiarist.  My shit's legit!" 

Well, so much for legit, Kenley.  Boo!

act one of the godfather (facebook news feed edition)

This isn't the first time that I've shamelessly stolen from McSweeney's (and, frankly, it probably won't be the last), but after reading this, I had a nearly impossible time rewatching The Godfather without thinking of it in terms of a Facebook News Feed. I'm too lazy to do the entire film, but I did do the first act, and it went a little something like this:

Michael Corleone is back from the war.

Michael Corleone and Kay Adams are attending an event: The Fabulous Wedding of Connie Corleone and Carlo Rizzi.

Don Corleone has joined the group "Sicilian Mafia Bosses Who Can Refuse no Favor at their Daughter's Wedding."

Don Corleone is busy.

-                     -                   -

Sonny Corleone has been Superpokin'!

-                        -                          -

Johhny Fontane has added "starring in Jack Woltz's new war picture" to his list of interests.

Jack Woltz is no longer friends with Johnny Fontane.

Don Corleone thinks Johnny Fontane is a crybaby, but cannot refuse his godson this favor.

-                       -                         -

Jack Woltz has become a fan of stud horses.

Don Corleone has given Jack Woltz an offer he can't refuse.

Jack Woltz isn't about to let no greasy-haired goomba push him around!

Don Corleone has thrown a decapitated horse head at Jack Woltz.

Jack Woltz and Johnny Fontane are now friends.

oscar overview: written by other people, but approved of by me

I'm far too tired today to develop my own ideas, so instead here's a collection of thoughts expressed on other blogs written by other people, people who appear way more capable of expressing their post-Oscar night opinions than I could ever hope to be. So maybe I didn't say these things, but I agree with them all the same.

On Enchanted's three nominated songs:

If I never hear another song from Enchanted, I'm fine with that. Honestly. In fact, if there's a way to go back and erase my having heard them in the first place, I'm game, even if it means losing a few other nonessential brain functions.

- John Williams (A Special Way of Being Afraid)

Regarding Marion Cotillard taking home the Best Actress award:

She’s French, she made a really moving biopic that no one saw about singer no one’s heard of, and she’s coincidentally beautiful. La Vie en Rose was a movie for grown-ups, and the Academy ultimately is composed of people who want to feel like they’re making the most professionally respectable choice available. Cotillard’s winning out over Page doesn’t have anything to do with their respective performances; Cotillard is the classy choice, which means Page was never even in it.

- Daniel Carlson (Pajiba)

On Costume Design:

Thank god Elizabeth won for Costume Design. I was starting to worry no one would ever recognize the brilliance in recreating old, giant dresses.

- (I Watch Stuff)

On Jon Stewart as host/Marketa Irglova's acceptance speech:

One of the three best moments of the evening was when he escorted that nice Czech Once girl back out to give her thank-you speech. It was like the kids standing on their desks at the end of Dead Poets Society.

- David Edelstein (The Projectionist)

Regarding Tilda Swindon's Best Supporting Actress win:

I was really surprised that Cate Blanchett didn’t win for her portrayal of Bob Dylan in I’m Not There considering the Oscars' love affair with the actress. I was even more surprised, though, that David Bowie instead won the award in full Ziggy Stardust attire, surprisingly without his Spiders from Mars.

- Taylor (Music for Kids Who Can't Read Good)

On being torn over whether to love or hate Marion Cotillard's weird quilt dress:

On one hand, it looks like what might happen if fish scales and lace mated. On the other, it's French and so is she, and she's so pretty and she was so, so lovely and adorable when she won, and you know what? I think I might sort of....like it. She looks like a sexy fish-lady on her wedding day...

- Jessica (Go Fug Yourself)

i'm reasonably confident i can beat ken jennings in these jeopardy! categories

(I'm stealing from McSweeney's, but it's okay since other, better people have done it before me.)

Clue quotes

horror movies

zombies: identification, fight, flight

snarky nicknames for your neighbors

getting lost

song lyrics

shades of Behr paint

installments of The Babysitter's Club series

creative swearing

excuses for why i can't possibly cook tonight

justifications for purchasing another pair of shoes

fantasy sports team names involving Bea Arthur

saving Hyrule from certain doom

reducing babies and teenage girls to tears

sass

a fair and balanced review of four relatively recent dvd releases

In the interest of writing balanced reviews I have asked Sister Marie (who taught me religion, art and literature from 6th through 8th grade) and RJ (the somewhat pervy kid from my 6th hour who suffers from a surplus of self-esteem) to assist me by throwing in their two cents. So, in no particular order, we'll begin with:

A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints: A gritty, coming-of-age story of a boy growing up in New York City.
Me: It was okay. The story line was interesting enough it was very well acted and it certainly didn't lack for intensity, however it just felt like it was trying too hard.
Sister Marie: Oh my! I have to say, I was thoroughly appalled by this. Such language! Those kids in that movie all needed a few raps on the knuckle with a ruler if you ask me. And you should know that the title is completely misleading. There isn't a single saint in this entire movie. Not one. Hmpf.
RJ: Laaaaaaame. I got all excited because there were boobs in the first 15 minutes, but after that one scene - no more boobs. And those guys all thought they were so tough, but I could take every single one of them, easy. Have you seen my muscles??

Volver: A mother returns from the dead to help her daughters and resolve messes she left behind.
Me: This was such an elegant movie. Beautifully shot, wonderfully written, fantastically acted. So nice I watched it twice.
Sister Marie: That one daughter - Sole- seemed like a good Catholic girl, but I counted and this movie displayed three of the Deadly Sins committed without any remorse. And that Penelope Cruz is such a little Mary Magdalene! Disgusting.
RJ: Man, this movie had subtitles. So lame. Do you really expect me to read a movie? But Penelope Cruz is hot and her boobs are freakin' huge, so I half watched it on mute while listening to Ludacris and punishing my pecs, which are awesome by the way. Wanna see 'em?

Infamous: Yet another Truman Capote biopic.
Me: Even though Toby Jones's Capote was probably more true to life than Philip Seymour Hoffman's and the film itself was solid in all respects, this movie couldn't get out Capote's shadow for me. Worth watching, but not passionately endorsed.
Sister Marie: I really don't understand why people are so interested in that little sodomite. Filth. Absolute filth.
RJ: Oh my God! That guy was soooooooo gay!!! Did you see him kiss that one dude! Gross. I had to start a fight with some random dude just to take back some of my man cred.

Children of Men: A dystopian film set in 2027 describing a global epidemic of infertility, leaving the fate of humanity hanging in the balance.
Me: This movie was fantastic on every single level. How it didn't get a Best Picture nomination escapes me.
Sister Marie: Watch this movie closely. This is exactly the sort of future we have to look forward to if we continue to keep abortion legal, start to condone gay marriage, use Ouija boards to channel spirits and keep MTV on the air. Do you really think God doesn't mind these things? Read your Revelations, children - famine and pestilence aren't too far behind!
RJ: Huh? Sorry. Are we still doing this? So... you're kinda hot. Want to see my muscles?

(In retrospect, I'm not sure that this was such a great idea after all. Let's never speak of this again, shall we?)

Post-Script: About mid-way through writing this it occurred to me that this post is a blatant rip-off of Steve's recent review of the new Kings of Leon album. Oh well. You know what they say about imitation and flattery. And how God smites all plagiarists.

thou shall not make some noise for detroit

I found this little gem on A Special Way of Being Afraid, a blog which you really should be reading by the way. So start already. As for the song, like so very many things that are British, I love it. The artist goes by Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip, a name which is a mouthful, ridiculous, and completely awesome. I've watched this video something like fifteen times since yesterday and I can't get lines like:

"Thou shall not judge a book by its cover. Thou shall not judge Lethal Weapon by Danny Glover."

"Thou shall not shake it like a polaroid picture. Thou shall not wish your girlfriend was a freak like me."

"Thou shall not use poetry, art or music to get into girls' pants. Use it to get into their heads."

out of my silly little head. I happen to find it awfully catchy and terribly clever but please, judge for yourself.

sweetness and light

Dear me. Teaching nearly one hundred freshmen how to write a research paper, read good and do other things good too has effectively turned my brain to mush. Oh, how I want to write something clever and funny and interesting, but I seem to have completely misplaced both my attention span and my commitment to task completion. So instead, here are the lyrics from that Portastatic song that I've been obsessively listening to for the past week or so. And please know that if you asked nicely, it's true - I would sing a song of sweetness and light for you. Punk.

Oh look what just came rolling down this morning's face.
Some shiny tears from sleepy eyes,
won't go to waste.
I've got a Lucite frame.
Then filling up with grain,
in red with one wax pencil
we mark the time and date.

I'm going to turn this truck around,
when we run out of space.

You say, "Why can't you sing of hopeful things
and skies that go from grey to blue?"
I know my voice is like a broken saw.
I know my voice is like a tightening screw.
If I could write a song of sweetness and light for you,
oh honey that's just the first thing that I would do.
Yeah I would, too.

There is a temperature where even we must take the armor off,
a point at which the carapace can just dissolve.
And while the river rises cool and clear around our knees,
we'll watch while clouds that covered us are broken by the breeze.

You say, "Why can't you sing of hopeful things,
and skies that go from grey to blue?"
I know my voice is like a broken saw.
I know my voice is like a sickly shrew.
If I could sing a song of sweetness and light for you,
oh honey that's just the first thing that I would do.

Yeah I would, too.