Through the Looking Glass

This writer's strike has given me a red rump lately. No, not because my fave shows have gone M.I.A. (But now that you mention it, I wonder what Meredith and McDreamy are up to....) Anyways, living in and around Los Angeles through the WGA storm, I've yet to see any actual evidence of a strike.* Eighty-six days in, and it's still all smoke and mirrors if you ask me. It's dissapointing. I wanna see picket lines! You know, crowds of scripters carrying burning torches and tossing their failed screenplays into bonfires. Where are the writer riots??! I half-expected Akiva Goldsman to smash through a Paramount window with an Olivetti-Royal Premier Plus Typewriter. Nope. Nuthin'.

Alas, the reality is that the strike isn't an illusion. I have friends who were unfortunately fired from their jobs this past week. Now, who knows what the future holds for them. They may have to start selling meth. Or perhaps begin turning tricks on Miracle Mile. Or even (dare I say it) work in reality television! Ugh, the mere thought of that makes my skin shiver. Let's just hope, for their sake, it's resolved soon.

...Oh, who am I kidding. I miss McDreamy!

*The picture above is courtesy of my friend Yaniv. I have no idea where he ran into this. I personally think he staged it.

Steal My Heart

Don't tell Diablo. I have another girl crush. I don't know what's wrong with me these days! But I've been hypnotized by her sixties-style voice.

Someone dry off my seat.

Her name is NICOLE ATKINS.

This Blows

Through the wake of all my car problems, it seemed only fitting to encounter yet another one. On the way home last night, through the heavy rain pour, I attempted to protect my blog-writing, Diablo-loving life by racing through the storm as quickly as possible.

...fine. Okay, I admit, American Idol was just about to start.

Anyways, talk about a case of karmic retribution! The tire of my putrid-smelling car rental blew on the 405 freeway. Immediately, I resorted to my Bo Duke driving skills. *don't slam on the brakes. don't slam on the brakes.*

Then, I was fortunate enough to pull off the freeway and into a run-down gas station. However, the damn gass attendants brushed me off when I asked for tire-changin' help! I was a stranded bastard somewhere between a dark alley and The Crip's hang out. I scanned the lot for any approachable Samaritans, and spotted mini-Bill Gates in a silver Mercedes. As I moved forth, he and I exchanged glances. I'm pretty sure he feared me. Yes, all 125 pounds of me. Thankfully, another kind sir intervened and assisted in my tire-change. After an hour of dodging bullets and avoiding muggings, I was on my way home (finally!).

Now, after surviving my near-death experience, I get to drive around in Jethro's run-down station wagon with a nasty-ass spare tire.

Heath Ledger (1979 - 2008)

In Memory of Heath Ledger (1979 - 2008)

Who created one of the best characters ever shown on screen.

INT: RIVERTON, WYOMING: DEL MAR TRAILER HOUSE: DAY: 1984:

ENNIS, back inside now, notices that ALMA JR. has left her sweater hanging over her chair.

He picks it up, hurries back to the door, opens it.

Sees she's long gone.

Folds the sweater.  Goes to a little closet, opens the door.  He places ALMA JR.'s sweater on the top shelf of the closet.

And there, on the back of the closet door, WE SEE THE SHIRTS, on a wire hangar suspended from a nail, and next to them, a postcard of Brokeback Mountain, tacked onto the door.

He has taken his shirt from inside of JACK'S and has carefully tucked JACK'S shirt down inside his own.

He snaps the top button of one of the shirts.

Looks at the ensemble through a few swinging tears.

ENNIS

Jack, I swear...

Stands there for a moment.

Then closes the closet door.

He looks out the window, at the great bleakness of the vast northern plains...

THE END

A Morning Quickie

Only three things in this Ambien-tastic world is important enough to get my apathetic-ass out of bed at 5:30 in the frickin' morning. One: a 7a.m. departure to the Caribbeans. Two: James Marsden. And three: the Oscar Nominations telecast. That's right! At the wee hours, I braved the morning dew (sans coffee) and caught a glimpse of who the Academy deemed special enough to nominate.

Instead of yet another recap of the nominations, all of which can be found at The Film Experience, I thought I'd just give a BIG shout-out to the little film that did. Holy ish! I was très excited with all the nominations Juno scored. I admit, upon announcing Jason Reitman's name for Best Director, I almost had an accident. Yeah, that early, I'm really at my most unattractive. However, I couldn't be more thrilled.

Okay lads and ladies, it's time for mommy's caffeine.

P.S. Technically, this isn't a post about DC - a Diablog if you will. It's really about the nominations.

Seriously, not a single mention of my hetero lover.

Fine, I'll put another dollar in the Diablo jar.

The Apple of my Eye

During my weekly mall excursion, I thought it pertinent to stop on by the Apple shop to see what neat, little gizmos they had in store (literally). I consider it mandatory to keep up to date with today's current technology. And when I say "keep up to date", I really mean "check my email on one of their sample computers and fiddle around with an iPhone (as if I were fortunate enough to afford one)". Oh, don't lie, ya'll do the same thing. Anyways, as I stood amongst the Apple savvy customers, I totally noticed one thing - the employees.

I'm not sure if you've ever noticed, but a good fraction of the Apple employees are oddly attractive! Yes, I admit, there are those unfortunate few that look like Dustin Diamond and Sloth Fratelli's love child - ah, I love The Goonies. However, when you really take a gander at the select few, you'll actually notice that we have some nerdalicious hotties on our hands. You know, the type of guys who sport (and rock) the 5 o'clock shadows and All-Star converses. The ones who've been seriously lifting those 15 pound dumbbells, which totally shows underneath those lime green Apple t-shirts. It's no wonder why they hire a couple dozen employees. It's a completely strategic sales technique used to push those products.

Fuck it. I'm gonna fake a break on my MacBook and head back to the mall. This time, I'll add a little cologne.

Diablo Cody Rewind

Before you ridicule me for my constant DC obsession, let me just preface this post by reminding ya'll that the picture is merely a carry-over. My friend, Lawrence, sent it to me solely to remind me how much of a doof-ass I was. Anyways, I feel inclined to break the picture down. It's such a clear display of what the day consisted of.

1) If you look passed the blursula, it appears as though the sheer disdain from waiting in line has soaked in. Not true. It was just a photo op to pitch the camera. However, I must admit that the anticipation made my stomach curl. Felt as though I downed a fist-full of laxatives and washed it down with prune juice. Classy. I know.

2) As I waited patiently, I eavesdropped to the kind sir in front of me. He brought his A-game! He made mad convo about the Wizard of Gore. Ku-dos man, you have decent taste in slasher movies. If I was better prepared, I'd have presented her with a bottle of Snow Peak Peach flavored Boones.

3) Being the vain, narcisischick I am (not really), I asked Larz if my hair looked okay. I'm not kidding, my hair has the tendency to friz on overcast days. I'm talking Diana Ross....with a perm....being electrocuted.

4) Kindly, the sweet girl behind me said I "looked good". However, the more I examine this picture, the more I'm convinced she's looking disgustedly at my hair.

5) Oh, my heterosexual lover. Apparently, before Lawrence took the picture, she said, "Don't let me flash the camera too much. Wait a sec, let me stack them on the glass." Then, in Diablo Cody fashion, she puts her ladies on the counter top. That a girl!