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February 2006

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Pink Mood

This reviewer saw The Pink Panther as I did. And does a good job of explaining why someone like me would like Martin's Clouseau better than Sellers'.

There's no news yet on the shake up of my little world, but I did find a great pair of pants at Marshalls yesterday. They have a label in them that I normally see at Lord & Taylor, but were only $16.99. It's important to stop and appreciate this kind of thing. :-)

Monday, February 13, 2006

Steve Martin

really is a god. A couple (hundred) of people have said, "Well, he's no Peter Sellers."

So what? Here's what I say. Peter Sellers was no Steve Martin. And hello? Which old guy would I not kick out of bed? Please. No contest.

He's not that old, of course. We're all ten years younger than we were going to be in ten years when we were ten years younger than we are now.

And Peter Sellers, being dead, deserves all the praise a once funny-yet-deep actor can get. However, people have a tendency to over-glorify something once it's gone. Do any of you even remember the original Pink Panther movies? Honestly? Because, really, not so much, okay? The first one was kind of funny, and enjoyable for nostalgia of how badly women were treated on film in the sixties. Most of the others blew, maybe because the 70s weren't the 60s, and Sellers himself ended up hating having anything to do with them. That is because he was an "artist," dontcha know. Who can blame him? Blake Edwards totally didn't know how to quit while he was ahead.

But besides all that, the fact remains that Steve Martin is a brilliant man, all on his own terms, and I love him. He is now 5 years older than Peter Sellers was when he died, but he's never lost his sensual appeal. Plenty of other actors have, quite a few of whom were once on a magazine cover touting their ultimate sexiness. Now they're just puffy and irritating. My pantheon is reserved for a few select actors who have been, are, and always will be, innately attractive for more than just sharp cheekbones and pouty lips. And this particular specimen stays permanently at the top of the list.

By the way, ignore the critics. The new Pink Panther movie is funny. Really. And I don't even like that kind of movie. Go see it. Don't act like you're too good for broad comedy, or for anything that isn't going to be on critic lists at the end of the year. You miss out on too much fun that way. Besides, the field of "broad comedy" is very--broad, anyway. It's not like this is Tim Allen pretending to be a dog, you know? It's Steve Martin, swearing to us that he is not making fun of French people.

Plus, his moustache is a hoot.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Oh, it's snowing.

The weather forecast was extremely accurate. Snow came when it was supposed to, came down about as much as it was supposed to, and is now leaving about when it was supposed. There's about a foot out there. It wouldn't be a big deal so much if it weren't that we've had almost none this year, plus very few freezing days.

Naturally, the town did us a favor by barricading in our driveway with snow from the street, and that took awhile to clear. Then I did the smart girly girl's method of driveway clearing. After the end was cleared, I backed the van up and down a couple of times to make tracks, then just cleared those. They'll be covered again by nighttime, but at least won't turn to ice. Then I cleared the walkway and front steps and called it a day.

I hate winter but love snow. While it's snowing, I feel fresh and alive. The rest of the time, just cold and miserable.

LP left here 90 minutes ago, and would normally be almost in Philadelphia. Instead, he just called me to say he's only about 30 miles away. Whee.

Here are some pictures of the pretty.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Pausing for a moment

Life just got chaotic. It may, well, will certainly continue that way for the next month. I am heartbroken. But the way hearts work, sometimes they take a bit of time to rest from the pain of breakage, either because they get tired, or because the rest of the body just has too much to do. So, follow along as I watch the Winter Olympics Opening Ceremony.

I like this opening ceremony. But I always do, and I love Italy, though I've never been there, so that makes it cool. Italians, you gotta groove with their very particular thought processes, otherwise the things they do often seem a bit odd. It's no Albertville, but it's nice. I mean, the ceremonies are always crazy, right? I like the disco parade of athletes. I wanted Costas to shut up about Iran's potential nukes, though. Dude. And wow, is he not-tall, or what?

Latvia and Lebanon got to enter to Just Can't Get Enough by Depeche Mode. I'd want that to be my Olympic neo-disco entry song, I guess. Interesting that nearly all of it is American, a little bit British, and almost no European stuff.

Don't you love the countries with only one athlete? And it's so great that there are 6 African countries there. Algeria, with some fairly Italian-looking people, of course, Kenya, Madagascar, Morocco, Senegal, and South Africa.

I love that people from an Italian town collected money to help the Moldova team participate. I love the Winter Olympics. Despite the ongoing controversies, they always seems more pure and beautiful to me than the Summer ones. I can watch every event with pleasure, except ice hockey.

And do you also play, "Which countries will be divided by civil war or political egress during the next four years?" Poor Montenegro. Or really, poor Serbia. They just can't get along with anyone, can they?

I have mixed feelings about the Olympics advertising. I love that we get some of the best and most creative efforts. But hate that it's often for gross stuff I'd never buy.

Molto amo gli italiani. And this happy post-parade flag toss is lovely. I don't really understand why we get to see a reenactment of the Birth of Venus, but why not, you know? Bob says it's to give us a flavor of Italian art. Mary Carelli says the Renaissance actually began in Italy. So there. Thanks, Mar. These sun and moon balloons are pretty awesome. I hope I can find pictures of them next time I have leisure to poke around on the internet. Bob? Bob. This has nothing to do with Michelle Kwan. Stop talking and let Mary take over. She's odd, but makes way more sense. I do wonder if she scared her children when she sang lullabies to them.

Oh. It just wouldn't be Olde Europe without a dancing clown representing the future, would it? This is so crazy. Why don't I get to be in Italy? None of this makes any sense, yet it really actually does. And of course there'd be a Ferrari. Although, it would have been poetic justice to make it a Fiat, instead.

Dumbest American quote on the Olympics so far comes from Sharon Glinn, of the St. Petersburg Times, "Bob Costas returns for his sixth stint as prime time Olympics host for NBC's coverage of the Turin - well, make that Torino - Winter Games. The network has decided that Turin doesn't sound as nice as what the Italians call it, so Torino it will be."

There has to be some reason for calling a town by its real name, I guess. The fact that it sounds nice matters far more than any consideration for the people who happen to actually live there under that name.