I will be chasing the Twilight

I confess, I went to a matinee showing of "Twilight" today. And. I really liked it.

Yes, it's a teen drama. Yes, there was no nudity, not even a hint of sexuality but it was still very steamy. Yes, it's probably wrong that I enjoyed it that much, but I did.

Normally I'm drawn to the action-packed, gritty types. "Fight Club" and the "Godfather" top my list of favs. But every girl wants that sweep-you-off-your-feet romance that takes the breath from your lungs and squeezes your heart. It's enchanting. It's compelling. It's unnatural for a vampire to care for a human girl and want to protect her. Alright. It's weird.

I don't care. I like it.

And I really want her big sexy hair. A girl can dream, right?

Because it feels good

I've been scouring the Internet for a Fight Club tee shirt that makes my tits look big. Found this instead.

Sure, gas prices are high and it costs a mortgage payment to feed your family, but there are still good things in the world.

A plague on both your houses

I curse the foul and evil day that I ever heard the words, "The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl."

Seriously, this may be one of the stupidest movies ever made. Even worse, dear brother-in-law, than our beloved "High School Musical." (Only 9 more days until "High School Musical 2." Get your head in the game!)

And of course, the ball of fire loves it.

But my mild annoyance went to brain-exploding horror when I noticed at the closing credits that this giant piece of shit was directed by Robert Rodriguez. Hello... I said, Robert. Rodriguez. The director who most recently did a funky little B-movie double feature called "Grindhouse" with the master of gore, Quentin Tarentino. The same director who brought Frank Miller's graphic novel, "Sin City" to life. The very Rodriguez who also directed one of my personal favorites, "Desperado."

As an aside, "Desperado" sealed my fate as a lover of both Salma Hayek and Antonio Banderas. If I were to ever have the three-some of my dreams, they would be on the bed, beckoning me into latino passion. This movie also has an amazing soundtrack, featuring Los Lobos , Carlos Santana and Tito & Tarantula. And it includes a song written by Slash from Guns N' Roses, who apparently -- like myself -- has a weakness for that incredibly sensual latin guitar.

It's not that I expect directors like Rodriguez to avoid certain generes, such as children's movies, it's just that I expect his movies to be a step above everyone else's. Is that a double standard? Yes, absolutely. Do I feel guilty about that? Not in the least...

Love connection

In a totally unrelated conversation today, I was talking about the movie "The Little Princess," which was directed by Alfonso Cuaron, who I think is a wonderful cinamatographer. He also directed my favorite Harry Potter movie to date, "Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban." The fact that Gary Oldman is in that movie only enhances it for me. Vampire, drug addict, werewolf -- damn, that man can act.

Cuaron also collaborated on the beautifully tragic, but wickedly compelling, "Pan's Labyrinth." But he's probably most well-known for his coming-of-age story, "Y Tu Mama Tambien," which I also highly recommend.

So in the course of discussing Alfonso and his previous works, I stumbled on the fact that he's in pre-production on a movie version of The History of Love.

This is a beautiful and fabulous book. If you've never read it, I recommend it. It's authored by a young woman, but it's the story of old men. I've always thought that was so amazing, how a young person can write about being old. The imagination that must take. To be a fiction writer, you must have a sense of your characters. If you've never been in love, how can you write about the gut-wrenching loss of heartbreak? How can you describe the twisted anguish of desire that rips your mind in two? It takes a talent that many wish for, but only few enjoy.

What must a life be like when it's nearing the finish, worrying about who and when someone will find your old, used up self, dead in your old, used up apartment.

"When they write my obituary. Tomorrow. Or the next day. It will say, LEO GURSKEY IS SURVIVED BY AN APARTMENT FULL OF SHIT. I'm surprised I haven't been buried alive. The place isn't big. I have to struggle to keep a path clear between bed and toilet, toilet and kitchen table, kitchen table and front door. If I want to get from the toilet to the front door, impossible, I have to go by way of the kitchent table. I like to imagine the bed as home plate, the toilet as first, the kitchen table as second, the front door as third: should the doorbell ring while I am lying in bed, I have to round the toilet and the kitchen table in order to arrive at the door."

I just hope it's as beautifully directed.

Shut the fuck up, Donny

Last night we had a few hours to kill, so we took the ball of fire to see the latest in a string of cutsey children's movies, "Surf's Up."

In a clever twist on cartoons, this movie is made to look, feel and sound like a documentary on surfing penguins.

It's a fun movie with a great cast (is that the right word?) of voices including Shia LaBeouf whom I adore from "Holes," James Woods and Jeff Bridges.

It took the hubby most of the movie to figure out Jeff Bridges from his voice. He knew it sounded familiar. Finally he placed him -- it was The Dude from one of my all-time favorite movies, "The Big Lebowski."

I admit to being a Coen Brother junkie anyway, but "The Big Lebowski" was the movie that pushed me from adoration into what tantamounts to minor obsession.

The Dude and his chohorts use the f-word 281 times in that movie. And all instances are totally fucking appropriate.

After seeing that movie, I would repeat the phrase "shut the fuck up, Donny" or "peed on MY fucking rug" ad-nauseum.

There is a minor scene in "Surf's Up" where one of the interviews includes some little penguins discussing what makes a winner. One of the little guys uses the phrase, "dirty trash can full of poop."

In a sort of revisionist history, the ball of fire has taken to repeating this phrase, followed by galeful giggles constantly.

Is this my punishment for my Coen brother fascination? I don't know. But it's not fucking funny!

Recognition

I've mentioned before that I like Jack Black. I know it besmirches my reputation to admit this publicly, but I can't help it. He's funny as hell and he uses the f-word alot -- both admirable traits alone.

This weekend, after both sister and baby were put to bed, my brother-in-law (who is also a rabid movie fan) popped in "Tenacious D: The Pick of Destiny."

Not a good movie. Yet I laughed in several places, much like in "Anchorman."

One of the final scenes involved a duel between Tenacious D and Satan, which is the basis for their most well-known song, "Tribute."

I knew there was something familiar about Satan -- the way he gyrated his hips, flicked his tongue and grinned maniacly -- it resonated with me.

At the end of the movie, I checked the credits and I'll be damned, it was Dave Grohl, front man for my all-time favorite band, The Foo Fighters.

I knew he and Jack Black had a history, but it was still surprising to see him in this shitty movie.

While I claim Chris Cornell is my musical muse, my equivilent of a soul mate, Dave would be my dirty, nasty, friend-with-benefits who I would never tell my other friends that I kept on my booty call list.

Actually he would be the only name on the booty call list because you know he would do anything at anytime. He's just that nasty..

Martin's shorts

I've been spending a lot of time with another man lately. He's mature, debonair and very Italian. He's an artist, passionate and yet he has a very dark streak which is revealed in his art. I want to run my fingers through his silver hair and tweak his beak of a nose under his pop-bottle glasses...

Actually, I've never met the guy, but I am a huge fan of the works of Martin Scorsese, and I recently enjoyed the lastest addition to his dossier, "The Departed." And when I say "enjoyed," what I really mean is that I was freaking crazy about it and had to discuss it, ad nauseum, for hours after we watched it.

It was so freaking good -- violent, Oh LORDY -- that I stopped it about half-way through to annouce to the hubby that THIS was a good movie!

I had a similar reaction the first time I saw "Goodfellas," which still ranks as one of my all-time favorites.

I also watched "Raging Bull" from start to finish this weekend as well. Not as good for me, but still memorable. It was during that film that it struck my why I like Scorsese so much, it's his view of relationships -- specifically how they eviscerate you.

Years ago I wrote a short story about a woman who has an affair, kills her lover and is sent to an insane assylum where she remains catatonic (yet narrates) through most of the story. The whole point of the story was that men that we love are one of the few things that can truly ruin a woman. There's something about that person -- the way they seep into your skin, how you can close your eyes and recall exactly how they taste -- that makes them lethal.

It's a concept I tried to convey, but I believe Martin has perfected time and time again, and that's what makes his movies so unbelievably compelling for me.

That and his mastery of the f-word. My lord, does that man know how to cuss!

Fatter and more delicious

The hubby and I are big movie fans. Before we had the ball of fire, going to the movies was a mainstay for entertainment. Since having the kid, we content ourselves with taking him to see movies, such as Arthur and the Incredibles. We checked that one out this weekend and really enjoyed it.

As it turns out, the ball of fire is also a fan of the movies. Watching a movie is a favorite pasttime when we either need to settle down for a nap, or he's just woken up from one.

Yesterday, we were flipping around and he caught a 10-second glimpse of the Golden Voyage of Sinbad. He insisted we go back and watch all of the "pirate" movie.

It was G rated, plus I had seen it before and knew there wasn't much by way of gore, so we watched it.

I remember loving these movies as a kid. Ray Harryhausen was the animator who did all the cool mythical beasts like the centaur, Medusa in Clash of the Titans or the skeletons in Jason and the Argonauts. A lot of animators today claim him as the father of animation.

As a side note, if you've ever seen Monsters Inc., when Mike takes his girlfriend Celia to the very expensive and hard-to-get-into restaurant Harryhausens, it's a nod from the animators to the original animator himself.

So we watched Sinbad and I kinda smirked at some of the cheesy dialogue and "action" scenes. But one line in particular stood out from the rest.

When a merchant offered a slave girl to Sinbad, he noted that she was very curvaceous. "Not as fat and delicious as I like them, but still very attractive."

I actually laughed out loud at that one. But then I had to wonder, where are all the men who like the fat and delicious women? Today It seems like skinny and nearly anorexic is the preferred body type, whereas fat and delicious is the norm.

I think it's good to be reminded that fat and delicious is a lot more fun on cold winter nights when what you really want is a giant batch of cookies and a nice long cuddle.

Anyone for a snickerdoodle?

Puttin' on the ritz

Everyone has a little repertoire about the movies that moved them or the books that change their lives, and I am no different.

In fact, one of the movies that moved me is a funky off-beat comedy called Young Frankenstein. It's one of the movies I watch every time it's on television, and when I'm in the mood for "something" it usually fits the bill. I love the subtle, and not-so-subtle humor, and the comedic facial expressions. And frankly Madeline Khan is just divine. She's a missed talent. I also like to quote movies and this one is full of fabulous one-liners.

So I was very saddened to hear that Peter Boyle died yesterday. "Puttin' on the Ritz" is one of the silly songs I like to sing to the ball of fire when we're getting ready to go somewhere and he's feeling uncooperative. I earn appreciative giggles when I sing the chorus in the same tenor as Boyle did in his role as the monster.

Of course Boyle earned his marks as the grumpy father from "Everybody Loves Raymond," but I'll always remember him as the monster.

Oh, you men are all alike. Seven or eight quick ones and then you're out with the boys to boast and brag.

Tingling with anticipation

I have been in love with James Bond since the first time I saw Goldfinger when I was in my early 2os. Yes, I was a late bloomer -- where Bond was concerned anyway. But it started a love affair that has endured and left me quivering for each new addition to the cannon. And as any good Bond, femme fatale, I am a purist who believe that the real bond is Sean Connory and all others are secondary ... although I wouldn't kick Pierce out of my bed anytime soon.

What I like best about the movies are the lighthearted aspects --- the quips that drip with erotica, the action scenes that defy reason or sometimes are outright funny. It weaves and ducks into a fabulous albeit thin story that I could watch again and again.

Needless to say, I have greatly anticipated the newest movie despite my reservations about Daniel Craig. I was lackluster about his role as Ted Hughes in Slyvia and less than impressed with his gangster-son role in Road to Perdition. But I so desperately want my next dose of Bond, I will hope for the best. Pete Travers of Rolling Stone seemed to like it, and he tends to agree with my opinon. I expect good things.

And then ... and then... I found out that Chris Cornell (cue angelic chorus) is singing the infamous Bond song for this movie. Chris, who fronted Soundgarden. Chris, who loved me up with Temple of the Dog. And Chris, who twinkled my toes with Audioslave. Chris is my music equivilent of a soul mate. What Chris touches turns to gold.

And suddenly that tingling just moved a little further south.

"My name is Plenty."

"But of course you are"

"Plenty O'Toole"

"Aaah, named after your father perhaps?."