Girl Detective

For my husband it’s football season. For me, it begins with Entertainment Weekly’s Fall TV Preview. Since I’m a subscriber this year, it was delivered to my home, and I didn’t have to spend fruitless weeks scanning the shelves at Target, and harassing the booksellers at Barnes and Noble to see when it hit the stand.

This year, though, I’ve let a lot more TV-critic cooks in the kitchen of my what-to-watch debate. I started out with a long list. I pared it down to a short list. I think I’ve rebounded back up to a long list, though perhaps a slightly different one.

Aiding and abetting me in my Fall TV nerdish obsessing:

The girls at Everybody Loves Saturday Night

The vidiots at TeeVee

Maureen Ryan’s The Watcher at The Chicago Tribune

The new Variety television blog Season Pass, especially its geek-tastic critic’s pick chart

Returning shows I’m going to watch:

How I Met Your Mother (I picked this up in summer reruns; it’s hilarious)
Heroes
Bones
House
My Name is Earl
The Office
30 Rock (also started watching this summer; it’s also hilarious)
Friday Night Lights (can’t fight the acclaim any longer; I’ll start watching this fall)

After much rumination, I think I’m going to audition these new shows for my roster:

Monday, I’ll have to choose among The Big Bang Theory, Chuck, and Aliens in America, since my Tivo can only record two shows at once. (Oh, hardship.)

Tuesday has The Reaper.

Wednesday, I am geekily excited for Bionic Woman; Jaime Summers was one of my first childhood heroines. Even though reviews have been mixed, I’m hoping for a Battlestar Galactic-like reboot. Pushing Daisies is also getting mixed reviews, but sounds so divisive I’m wondering which end I’d fall on. And Peter Krause in Dirty Sexy Money seems like a no brainer.

Thursday I might check out Big Shots, because Veronica Mars creator Rob Thomas was brought on as a producer.

And Friday’s Women’s Murder Club might have potential.

The moment of truth: if I watch all these shows every week, my total weekly TV consumption will be, drumroll please….

Fourteen. Ack. An average of two hours per night. Forget it. I need to read, too. If only I can restrain myself, and leave others to uncover the trash and treasures, I may still make my book challenge by the end of the year.

I was surprised to find that I couldn’t find a list of the ten essential wardrobe items prescribed by Tim Gunn, on his new show Tim Gunn’s Guide to Style. Fortunately, the list wasn’t hard to find elsewhere, thanks to the Budget Babe. (I don’t call myself Girl Detective for nothing; Google is my friend.)

After my sister Sydney helped me rock Value City over the weekend, I own one of everything on this list except a trench coat. I think this short list could meet almost all the dress up/dress down occasions in life.

Tim Gunn’s 10 Essential Items Every Woman Needs
- Basic black dress
- Trench coat
- Classic dress pants
- Classic white shirt
- Skirt
- Blazer
- Day dress
- Cashmere sweater
- Jeans
- A comfortable alternative to a sweatsuit

Anthony Lane gushes over Leica cameras at the New Yorker, while Scott Beale from Laughing Squid anoints the Fuji Finepix F50SE as his favorite digital point-and-shoot model, ahead of the Leica-lensed Panasonic Lumix. (Links from Arts and Letters Daily and Boing Boing, respectively)

in a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day.

The Guardian reprints an excerpt of an interview with F. Scott Fitzgerald, who is so sad and garrulous he could be a character in one of his own books. (Link from Bookslut)

Is it me, or does this designer resemble Fitzgerald and his wild hair?

Meanwhile, 4yo Drake got bored with the Guppy on a Swing Show, so he went inside. Minutes later I heard a crash and a yell. I rushed to the porch. Drake was standing next to an upended shoe rack, which he’d obviously climbed up on and fallen off of.

Me: Are you OK?
Drake: Yes.
Me: Why were you climbing on the rack.
Drake points at the duster I’ve put up high.
Me, puzzled: What were you going to do with the duster?
Drake, looking at me as if I’m an idiot: Dust, mom.

Good for me that “sheesh” and “duh” are not in his vocabulary, yet.

19mo Guppy loves to swing. Last week he was on the jungle gym, and yelled, “Stah!” for stop, so I halted the swing. He grinned at me slyly, then said decisively, “Fing!” I began to push him again. He continued to exercise his will over what I did, with me in full collusion. We went through this cycle about a half dozen more times, then I laughed and asked him if I was a clown for his amusement.

He shook his head, “No, Da-yeh.”

“Dad is a clown for your amusement?” I asked to clarify.

He nodded his head twice, and said “Mmm-hmmm!”

#61 in my 2007 movie challenge was Hairspray, the movie musical. This is one of those movies that exemplifies how the “Oh, I don’t like so and so” reason for skipping a movie can result in a real loss. The director, Adam Shankman, has worked on some terrible films. I don’t like Johh Travolta, and the thought of him donning a fat suit and playing a woman was a significant deterrent to my seeing this movie. Imagine my surprise, then, when I liked both the movie and his performance, which was a touching portrait of a shy woman who became a recluse after she became severely overweight. Her daughter Tracy, played radiantly by Nikki Blonsky, draws her out of her shell, and both go on to a happy ending that isn’t marred by contrived weight loss. Christopher Walken and Michelle Pfeiffer were also great, and looked like they had a great time. This movie was a lot of fun. The songs were catchy, the dance numbers well choreographed, and the characters engaging.

#60 in my 2007 movie challenge was West Side Story, a long-unwatched movie gathering dust on our Tivo hard drive. It’s understandable we’d put it off; it’s not often we have enough time and energy for a three-hour movie. We split it into two nights. WSS is a riff on Romeo and Juliet, set in 50’s America and substituting racial tension for the rival families of the original play. It’s a film that I’m glad to have seen for it’s importance to my film literacy, but it wasn’t one I enjoyed a great deal. I found Natalie Woods’s accent especially irritating. Some of the musical numbers were great, and it’s important to note that musical movies simply weren’t done that way prior to this film. I liked the opening number, Natalie Woods’s “I Feel Pretty”, and Rita Moreno’s “America”. These were early on, though, and most of the following ones were not as lively. The studio freaked out when the original director, Jerome Robbins, choreographer and director of the Broadway show, looked to go over budget. They fired him after he’d completed four numbers (”Cool” in addition to the above mentioned three), and hired Robert Wise to complete the film. Both directors eventually shared the Best Picture Oscar. The result is a dated musical that occasionally sparkles with the possibility of what might have been.

ALoTTFMA compiled reader votes to come up with their top ten songs of the 90’s. I think they did a good job. For me, “Nothing Compares 2U” was a song from the beginning of a relationship, “You Oughtta Know” was the anthem for the end of it, “One” is the song that my next boyfriend and eventual husband G. Grod claimed was “they best song on the best album ever,” even though he’s a huge fan of Pearl Jam and “Jeremy”. And my best friends were REM geeks who so loved “Losing My Religion” that they learned to sing it in French, and did so at their favorite corner bar in Philly, Dooby’s. (They did that even when they weren’t drunk.)

The geek pecking order is uncovered by The Brunching Shuttlecocks.

I fall in the fourth level of geekdom, as a comic-book fan who reads superhero books, though I think Daredevil might be the only one right now.

One of my friends was disturbed when she learned about furrie fans. I don’t think she’d be surprised to find where they sit on the chart.

#59 in my 2007 movie challenge was Superbad. I thought it was pretty good. Funny, raunchy, and real, if you’re a teen boy, that is. The female characters, though, were two dimensional and hardly complicated enough to compete with the three protagonists. There was a drunk, horny, intimidating one. There was a nice, sober, intimidatingly pretty one. There was a drunk, sexy, scarily menstruating one. One had a large chest. And one wore a thong.

As a thinking woman, I feel I should have disliked this movie. Instead, I found the boys geekily charming, especially Michael Cera and newcomer Christopher Mintz-Plasse. I only wish the creators had gone the extra mile to make the objects of their affections more realistic.

#58 in my 2007 movie challenge was Stardust, the film adaptation of the beautiful graphic novel by Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess. It was a box-office disappointment, but I enjoyed it a lot. Michelle Pfeiffer almost stole the movie with her chilling turn as an aging witch. There were so many other gems, though, like Robert DeNiro’s pirate and the ghostly gallery of dead princes. It was cheeky, bawdy, and reminiscent of The Princess Bride. I thought it was a lot of fun.

#57 in my 2007 movie challenge was Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The new director, David Yates, had the unenviable task of adapting the longest, most rambling of the Potter books. Amazingly, the result was the shortest of the movies. Like most of them, it was good but not great. It cut out one of the book’s most satifying subplots, about Neville. The young actors continue to get better, and Helena Bonham Carter was well cast as the villainess–sexy, crazy, and truly cruel. Apparently, she got a little too method in the filming, and punctured “Neville’s” eardrum with her wand. Imelda Staunton did a tremendous job as the evil Dolores Umbridge, aided immeasurably by a great wardrobe and wonderful set decorations.

#55 in my 2007 movie challenge was Paul Greengrass’s Bourne Supremacy. More murder, more mayhem, another great car chase, and that famous scene with a magazine. The second frenetic installment of the trilogy continues the tradition of a fast-paced thriller that doesn’t require you to check your brain at the door. I enjoyed it at least as much as I did the Bourne Identity, and more than I did the first time I watched it. I was glad to have re-watched it before seeing The Bourne Ultimatum. But will someone please feed Joan Allen?

So far this year, I’ve had the dubious honor of helping to boot off the show an extremely likeable, open-hearted orphan with a lilting Southern accent, and now, last night, I got to be part of the hunting party who smashed the hopes and dreams of a cancer survivor. Short of biting the heads off kittens while dressed up as a storm trooper, I don’t think I could look any less sympathetic.

Anthony Bourdain continues to win my affection with funny, incisive commentary both on Top Chef and on his blog.

“Snacks on a Plane” Heh, heh. GREAT title, I thought. The chefs were awakened by Padma, who got in bed and tussled with Casey, but was more prim in the boys room. What IS with Brian and that hat he wears to sleep in? CJ, though, seemed quite happy to see Padma, and continued his flirtatious banter. They were challenged to make her breakfast, and it sounded like everyone did a good job, though Brian got dinged for blackberry seeds in the smoothie. Spazzy Hung broke a bottle of oil so there was glass and oil on the floor, then he denied it; badly done, but he pulled out the win anyway by adding Grand Marnier to his smoothie and making a simple but exquisite steak and eggs. They then received plane tickets to Newark NJ. Upon arrival they were told their next challenge would be about plane food. The next day, they were tasked with creating a dish for first-class passengers. They had a tough time in an unfamiliar kitchen. CJ faltered badly with the timing of his dish, and early finisher Hung looked selfish for not volunteering to help him catch up, though other chefs did, as they’ve picked up that working with each other rather than for themselves succeeds all around.

This episode spawned some of the nastiest comments I’ve heard.

On Sara’s salmon: “So overcooked it’s like catfood! (Bourdain) Also, “It’s not an afterthought, it’s a fourth or fifth thought.”
On Brian’s hash: “It was disgusting,” stated flatly by Colicchio
And the death knell: “The worst dish we’ve had in three seasons” by Colicchio about CJ’s broccolini.

Padma looked down and then up with tears in her eyes (?!) before telling CJ to pack his knives.

For the second week, Casey took top spot, and earned a sweet prize. I have to take back what I wrote about her not making it to the end. What I’m now enjoying about Top Chef is that it is so variable. Great chefs can make terrible decisions, or even just bad choices, that spiral out of control. I have no idea which of the final five are going to be the final three, but I really enjoyed seeing the camaraderie and support of all the chefs but Hung, who seems to be the only cut-throat thinking contender left.

Wednesdays are new comic days. We usually go to a certain pizza place for a quick dinner, then to the comic shop to pick up the new titles. G. Grod wanted to do something different from pizza, though, so he drove to another nearby restaurant. As he pulled in, 4yo Drake’s voice rose in a shout, “NO! Pizza!” Surprised at the immediate vehemence, G. tried to reason with him. Then he pulled out of the parking lot, drove to the usual place, and as we pulled in the parking lot 19mo Guppy grinned, clapped his hands, and said, “Yay! Pees-ah!” over and over. Children love routine, and we learned not to mess with it last night. And we got a free pepperoni kids pizza when the kitchen had an oops, G. and I tried a very good salame e funghi pizza with LOTS of garlic, so things turned out well.

At the comic shop, Guppy insisted on being put down, not carried, and proceeded to run four laps around an aisle. I picked him up again before damage occurred, but he lunged toward a plush character, grabbed it and began yelling “Muh-tee!” (Monkey) He clutched it to his heart, then pronounced “My muh-tee” and was so absurdly cute that we could hardly deny him the toy.

Meanwhile, I tried to interest Drake in the very nice and inexpensive first volume of the graphic novel starring Guppy’s “monkey”, but he was having none of it. Instead, he picked out and insisted on the second volume of a teen girl’s manga title; we grudgingly bought him the first volume a few weeks ago. “Let the kid get what he wants,” laughed the owner, as I grumbled and wrote out the check.

Yes, we could have protested, but why? Guppy clearly was enamored with the toy, as Drake was with the book. And all of us enjoyed the pizza. It is more clear than ever to G. Grod and me who is in charge at our house. The animals are running the zoo.

After waking at 5:45 am, 19MO Guppy spent most of the morning crying for one reason or another. 4YO Drake spent it doing his version of beatbox and Fatboy Slim refrains over and over. And over. Customer service for problems with my Dell computer notebook is slow to respond. Customer service for problems with my Verizon Nokia cell phone are time-suckingly slow and ineffective. (I will leave brand names up until issues are resolved, so that others may be warned.)

I was dilatory last night and spent time obsessing over upcoming new TV shows rather than finishing my book for book group tonight. I couldn’t find one of Guppy’s shoes, and had to dig out a replacement from Drake’s hand me downs. Tigh! Tigh! he yelled, then defeated the velcro straps in a trice. I went to get the next bigger size of shoes, and Guppy had his first go in shoe-lace shoes, and didn’t seem to enjoy the experience at all. Drake has outgrown all his shoes.

On the bright side, Guppy is now napping. Drake agreed to wear the new shoes I got him last night (and they fit! and have style!). G. Grod made me two smashing cappuccinos this morning, plus left a half cup in the coffee pot. I have many tasty pastries in the house: cherry pomegran toaster pastry, banana strawberry bread, strawberry/white-chocolate-chip scones, and a Thunder Cookie from Positively 3rd Street Bakery. I finished my book. And I probably have about ten minutes before I have to deal with customer service again. I’m going out with smart, interesting friends tonight to a good local restaurant to discuss an intriguing book.

So life’s a mixed bag, weighing a little heavily toward the annoying today. Not surprising. But there’s lots of good to answer the bad, if I let it.

Well, duh, but bravo for someone inventing a machine that tries to remedy things. (Link from Boing Boing)

#54 in my 2007 movie challenge was The Bourne Identity, the first in the Bourne trilogy. It was directed by Doug Liman, who also did Swingers and Go. Apparently, he angered the studio by going over schedule and over budget because he insisted on going back to film a new car-chase sequence. I think that car-chase scene helped make the movie successful enough to ensure a sequel, but Liman was removed as director, and Paul Greengrass, known for Bloody Sunday and later for United 93, was brought in.

Matt Damon, a native of South Boston, is surprisingly effective as Jason Bourne, an amnesiac trying to find out who he is, and why everyone is trying to kill him. He asks Franka Potente for a ride, and the film explodes in almost non-stop action from there. Bourne is a trained killer, and incredibly resourceful. The supporting cast is impressive, too. Potente brings a human touch to Bourne’s tough guy, and effectively gives the audience someone to relate to. She’s joined by Brian Cox, Chris Cooper, Julia Stiles, and Clive Owen. This is a smart, effective action movie that was well worth seeing again.