Nobody's Going To Put You In A Corner

When May I Call On You?

With my newly piqued interest in the world of the occult and my desire to prolong my denial that I, in fact, do not secretly wish to be a Vampire, I decided to give True Blood a taste.

First thoughts? I honestly don't know. Once I got past the fact that no one can play Southerners, not even Southerners, it became easier to stomach their botched Louisiana garbled language. Anna Paquin, (whom I have peed next to, I'll have you know) won a Golden Globe for this. My question is this: Really? I mean, she's adorable and all. While I enjoy that she's not playing it too dark and mysterious and in the constant need of saving, she's a bit too bubbly and pony tail flipping for my taste.

Stephen Moyer on the other hand... Holy Hot Tamale. His British tongue has sufficiently licked the underbelly of the swampy Louisiana terrain. With his smoldering undead eyes and his ability to always remain in fantastic lighting, I'm fully on board for what his character has to offer. And no, this is not in the interest of my, "Wouldn't it be cool to be alive forever" thing.

Sookie's best friend Tara enjoys pulling the Julia ala Designing Women card every other act while delivering a not so eloquent, "Go fuck yourself, I'm black!" speech. While I might be able to appreciate more if she wasn't channeling Wanda Sykes, I just can't quite buy certain aspects about her character. And while we're on that subject, what's going on with Sookie's pervy brother? Let's chat. Sookie's grandmother? Is she the beacon of murder updates in the town? She bursts in every other scene after an alarming phone call from a neighbor.

As for the rest of the show, I was honestly hoping for better writing from Alan Ball. I mean, this man did write Six Feet Under and American Beauty. (A quick trip to IMDB also told me that he was the story editor for Grace Under Fire...also a great show.) I enjoy that it's not pretentious in its exposition. They give you the story without sugaring its devices and breaks it out honestly. But still... I mean, come on, it's a little silly. (I did just read all four volumes of Twilight, so perhaps I shouldn't hate so much.)

That being said, I woke up with a strong desire to watch the rest of the season. Perhaps it's my call of the nightlife, perhaps it's my itch for immortality. Count me in, True Blood. Let's see what'cha got.

Now enjoy the opening credits. Some might say, (I might say) it's better than the show.

Turns Out, Guy Fieri Isn't Bobby Flay

Perhaps it's a known fact among my circle of friends that when it comes to the issue of Guy Fieri, that douche bag from Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, that I tend to become a tad irate.

He has tainted the very essence of TGIFriday's with his backwards sunglasses, his SUM 41 hairstyle, and his tendency to exude ridiculous remarks. "That's fierce, brother!" is no way to define the level of heat from a chicken wing. You are not a cook, Guy Fieri, you are a tool bag.

My hatred turned to confusion upon my recent discovery that Guy Fieri is not, in fact, Bobby Flay. I've been assuming this entire time that Bobby Flay was the one giving chicken wings a bad name. If someone were to bring up Bobby Flay in conversation, I would interrupt them with, "Fuck Bobby Flay!" No one seemed to share my level of hatred for Bobby Flay and I couldn't understand it. When pressed, my reasons were seemingly superficial. "Because he's stupid," I'd say. No one seemed to challenge me on this fact and it continued to remain common knowledge that Bobby Flay was a terrible person in my book.

So...Mystery Solved. Guy Fieri is not, in fact, Bobby Flay.

Fuck Bobby Flay!

Un-Cool

It seems to be a growing trend that movies work to uphold the concept that couples who have found love, might not have it for very long. That a decision you thought was right, might reveal itself to be wrong when you least expect it.

Case in point: Serendipity. What a pile of garbage. And you know what's terrible? Every time it comes on TV, I have to watch it. I hate this movie.

It constantly begs its viewer to question everything, to wonder what would be different if you had made a different choice. Films like this serve as a cautionary tale. One mistep and you could end up settling, and who wants to settle?

While I should be enthralled over the fact that John Cusack is starring in yet another movie of opportune moments involving inclimate weather, it's difficult to accept its message. Not to mention that two engagements were called off over a feeling. One of them, including the actress Bridget Moynahan who's been broken hearted in Sex and the City, that awful show Six Degrees, Serendipity and from what I've come to understand, also in real life. While I believe in destiny and the magic that can exist between two people, I'm troubled by the fact that we're told to question our judgement.

On another note, high five to John Corbett for delivering one of my Top 5 lines in a romantic comedy. "You can't fend off an army of bloodthirsty Vikings with a Shenai. It's illogical."

I Was Just In The Neighborhood

As an avid Television viewer, I'd like to pull the plug on an issue that's been plaguing me. We're all aware of the phrase, "I was just in the neighborhood." Friends seem to say it all the time when popping in. Men say it to women who stand at the door in their bathrobes as they conveniently show up for bed time. Mother-in-laws say this when they stop by with freshly-made cakes.

Now, I'm not doubting that people unexpectedly stop by to say hello. I guess what I'm saying is, no one in New York stops by to say hello.

The characters of Seinfeld seem to do this with great ease. They flock to Jerry's apartment from all over Manhattan. They come bearing clever anecdotes and shocking replies received from snarky Deli owners. They burst in without removing their coats, deliver their latest news and are out the door in less than five minutes.

I have friends in Manhattan that I enjoy seeing. You know what I do when I get there? I ask if I can stay over. It's quite a haul to get places in the city. You're battling sometimes-working trains, overcrowded buses, expensive cab rides and let's not get into the weather. Once I get there, I'm ready to settle in with a drink, maybe some dinner... Any good movies on?

Perhaps this is combined with the fact that I live in Brooklyn and certain luxuries like 24 hour drug stores are only found in Manhattan. Some weekends I question if I can do without soap until Monday. More often than not, I do. If people like Elaine and George can travel great distances just to deliver a message, then I'm clearly out of my league here.

If you get a text that says, "I was just in the neighborhood and decided not to stop" then you know why.