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The Irish Al Capone

You know, there is much wisdom in the current trend to give children unusual names. I say that because my brother and his two sons have very straightforward White Anglo-Saxon Protestant names.

Which it turns out they share with Irish terrorists, so they are on the no-fly lists.

This was especially a problem as they tried to fly out to vacation in Palm Springs last week. The cranky NWA employee at the ticket counter (are they getting screwed on contract negotiations? on the merger with Delta?) was completely flummoxed by the fact that my 12 year old nephew was a child, and thus did not have a driver's license to verify that he was not some radical IRA member bent on making a point to the English. In Palm Springs.

So this cranky employee just kept typing away at her terminal, and not saying anything to my brother or his wife about what was going on. For forty minutes. As the time for the flight got closer and closer and they started to get panicky about actually making the plane.

"What's going on?" they asked.

Cranky NWA employee said nothing for a long time, then said she couldn't clear my nephew to fly.

This has happened before, and it has taken a supervisor to come over and input some sort of override, which is pretty easy to convince them to do, since my 12 year old nephew is short and wiry and looks younger than his 8 year old brother.

"It would take too long to send you over to the supervisor. You will miss your plane," says cranky employee. "Of course, you are going to miss your plane anyway."

Finally, someone gets wind of the situation, and a supervisor comes over, and the problem is resolved in 10 seconds. They manage to make the plane, but are NOT in the most relaxed mood. Except for my nephew, who has now dubbed himself "The Irish Al Capone," and demands to be treated with RESPECT!

End of the Trip

Message to Mom and Dad.

Do you hear that?

Yeah, that.

What is it?

Silence? Silence?

So that's what it sounds like. Hunh.

Actually, I bet your ears are still ringing from having the seven of us all at once. Thanks for having us.

All About Camoflauge

It is a well known fact that herbivores must remain active throughout the desert day, as they must constantly seek and consume grasses. Thus, the highly specialized herbivore, the golf ball, can be found in its natural grassy habitat throughout all daylight hours.


















The wily golf ball, cautiously approaching a water hole.


This means that those who would prey on the golf ball must also be active, even when the sun is high and the visibility is good. The successful golfer must be prepared for many different terrains and exposures.

This explains the recently discovered (by me) and named (also by me) Distinctive Golfer Banding. Evolutionary science now has the answer to why so many retired men living in golf communities have developed banded legs. Current research is ongoing as to whether the age and handicap of the golfer can be calculated by the visible banding.

Some are noticeably banded around the ankle, with pale, soft colored feet, and a demarcation above the ankle bone.



















A clearly marked ankle band.

A slightly lower line can sometimes be discerned below the ankle bone. It is not known whether this is inconsistent with an upper ankle band, or might even be limited to the female of the species.


















Above and below the ankle banding.

More commonly found is the mid-calf band, which can be found both with and without the ankle banding. In the latter case, the mid-calf band is more striking when there is no secondary banding below the ankle.

Rarely is seen the below-the-knee band, although scientists are divided as to whether this is simply because Scottish golfers in their native land never experience sun, or whether they are genetically incapable of developing this uniquely male banding. Scientists from Scotland themselves insist it's because they are too manly, and too busy tossing cabers and drinking whiskey to develop this mark.

Traditionally, the knees are the epicenter for the darkest color of the banding, followed by a fairly universal stripe no more than two inches above the kneecap. Some researchers have reported the existence of another line as much as 4-6 inches above that one, although this mark is not universally observable during times of peak golfer activity.





















Banding visible away from golf ball hunting grounds.

Similar to leg banding is arm banding, although this is not as unique to the golfer, and is rarely visible due to the golfer's sleeve length being statistically invariable.

Once golfer leg banding has been thoroughly studied, science can move on to other forms of this distinctive human marking.

Your call is important to us. . . .

Because I am stuck on hold after being transferred three times, I am recommending this as an improvement over what I am hearing this precise moment!

Extreme Sheep LED Art

Who says shepherds do nothing all day? This is definitely worth a look, an amazed shake of the head, and a pledge to do something with your own life that is at least as lasting as this video.

MP3 of Doom

I've been trying to maintain some connection to music created this century, and have occasionally leaned on Tonk's music to do so. Fortunately, she is incredibly tolerant, and has agreed to let me listen to what she likes on one condition.

That she never comes home to find me cleaning the kitchen while singing the Pussycat Dolls' "Don'tcha."



And who can blame her?

So, just for fun, she played Modest Mouse's song "Dashboard," which is a delightful little ditty about the destruction of an automobile being tolerable, as long as the radio still works.



I like this song, and liked it when she first played it for me about two years ago. It has taken the intervening two years to find out that the download from iTunes was saved on the old computer, which thereafter acquired OS Alzheimer's and had to be put out of its misery.

Well, I'm not to cheap to drop $0.99 on something I know I like, so I downloaded it. And got a look at the name of the album for the first time:






















We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank.

Now that's a cheery little pop title that's bound to get the kids flocking to the record store demanding to buy it! I'm thinking of making it my new motto. Useful in so many situations!

IRS: Why didn't you file your taxes for the last seven years?
Me: We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank!

Police Officer: Ma'am, do you have any idea how fast you were driving? Have you been drinking this evening?
Me: We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank!

Family: Ewww! We hate this dinner you cooked us! What is it anyway?
Me: We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank!

See? Now I never be at a loss for words!

Headed for NYC

Clan Evil is headed to the Big Apple this weekend to watch Our Very Own Tonks sing with her school choir at Carnegie Hall. This is such an exciting opportunity for her, and she left today with the other 75 members. The remaining Evil Family members take off tomorrow on a 1:00 p.m. flight, so we are closing up the castle for a few days.

It's time to leave the horrible weather we've been having here. It got pretty warm over last weekend, with highs in the 40s, teasing us with the prospect that winter might actually be over for the year. HA! Because then we had two solid days of hazy grayness, followed by a freezing of all the slush generated by the warmer days, capped by snow. And bitter cold. Again.

It's pretty disheartening to drive the kids to school when the temperature is -4, with a predicted high of 10. I've literally gotten the inside of my nostrils frozen, which is a painful as it sounds.

Even if NYC isn't by any stretch of the imagination tropical, at least is it different. We fly back on Monday, and then back out on Tuesday to Palm Springs. Which I am really looking forward to, because I am TIRED of being COLD.

Confidential to Cpt. Sweetie

If it should happen that you arrive home tomorrow and find no trace of me, it might be possible to conclude that I have succumbed to temptation, jumped a flight to NYC, and am planning to live at the Ed Sullivan Theater to get the benefit of U2 on Letterman this coming week.

Oh, and you might have to post some bail. . .

Tails From The Dog Park

One thing that five inches of fresh snow does--it refreshes the dog park.

All that melting and refreezing made a circuit through the park nearly impossible for quite a while. The paths go up hills and along eroded ridges, and it's taking your life into your hands to try to track across a good portion of the park.

But fresh snow covers up the ice, and fresh snow a couple of days ago means that many dogs have re-carved the pathways, and pushed down the snow into a packed layer that safely covers the ice. So no more booby-traps walking on hidden ice and ending up on your tailbone.

So Bermondsey got to go to the dog park today, and run in the snow.

Weekends are a little hard for him, though, as most of the dogs out on a weekend day are big dogs who need to burn off a LOT of energy. This makes Bermondsey nervous, as he has learned about comparative sizes, and has realized that he is usually the small one. Comparatively. He's been run over, knocked over, and lifted off his feet by a nose between his legs, and he's not enjoyed any of that, thank you very much.

Today was much the same, although with a bunch of dogs I haven't seen before. It is truly amazing what different shapes and sizes they come in, and what their owners have named them. "Rocky" and "Lainie" were having a contretemps--although they both looked anatomically female. Who says "Rocky" has to be only a boy's name anyway? There was a huge Newfoundland, and his companion who was an entire standard deviation smaller, and with a smooth head that looked like there was some Laborador in him as well.

The dog who left just before we did looked like a white Golden Retriever, although both bigger and taller than a true Retriever. His name was "Howard."

Who names their dog "Howard?" Why would you name a dog "Howard?" I can't think of any Howards who seem like the kind of person you would name a dog after. There are just no associations I can think of that would lead to someone saying "Hey! What a great name for a dog!"

Howard Cosell. Howard the Duck. Castle Howard. Katherine Howard, married and beheaded by Henry VIII. Howard Johnson's. Nope--not a dog-worthy connection.

Just before we left, Bermondsey was sniffing along the entrance gate, where many dogs leave their calling cards to announce their arrival. As he was pacing the length of the chain-link fence, a much larger dog was walking the other side, lifted his leg and left his signature in the snow. AFTER hitting Bermondsey in the ear and down half the length of his body.

So now we are both sitting in the parlor, drying out from the resulting bath.

Bitch Gets Served

Man, I gotta be careful what I grouse about. I posted this series of complaints (poetic, yes, but still complaining), took a shower and came out to near white-out conditions. It's like God said, "You complaining about monochrome? I'll GIVE you monochrome." The snow had been drifting down like someone sifting flour, but 20 minutes later, it was filling the air nearly solid.

It was so snowy that even the dog--who usually is willing to go as many more blocks as he can get away with--didn't make it all the way around one. Tonks and Sursels remember only one snow day in the 10 years of attending their school, and school closed early.

Driving to pick them up, the snow was so heavy that I could see maybe 200 feet in front of me--that means that I couldn't even see traffic lights until I was 4 houses away from the intersections. At least one car got stuck on the piled up snow IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET. I watched an SUV fishtail its way around a left turn and nearly end up facing the direction it came from. That weather was nasty!

So today? Brilliant cloudless blue sky. Light so bright you might be fooled into thinking it's summer already. A good 5 inches of snow, which even now is starting to melt off the roofs.

Hand Jive Maximus

Because this eased the grumpy slightly, I am sharing it with you. Because I won't share my tequila, which also helps with the grumpies.

Weather Report--Snow, Dammit.

Can I just say that this freeze and thaw cycle we having going here is playing merry HELL with my mental condition? Yesterday it was so warm, that all the new snow that fell over the weekend has melted entirely, leaving deep puddles around the place, since the ground is still frozen solid so none of it gets absorbed.

Then, of course, the temperature drops significantly below freezing, and we get ice slicks everywhere.

Kids come out of school mid-afternoon, their coats slung over their arms, as it is far to warm to wear them, the sun shines, and we all get a glimpse of what spring looks like in other parts of the country. We wear waterproof boots--unlined, because of the warmth, then our footprints freeze into the slush overnight, and we trip and slide over our own tracks.

The sun melts the snow off of cars, leaving the encapsulated dirt behind, covering the paint with an encrustation like acne of the particulate matter from the atmosphere. The snow runs off, forming stalactites, which eventually reach the ground, forming a colonnade of ice immobilizing the car into place. When one's car has been literally frozen to the ground, it takes the driver by surprise, and cannot possibly be good for the tires either.

When the melt happens, certain plants are uncovered, flash frozen in their chlorophylled greenness, tricking the eye into believing that the pachysandra is growing again! And then, it snows.

The sky is a uniform murky gray; so opaque that any sunlight is evenly diffused across the landscape with a dully indistinct light as if even God has switched to compact fluorescent lighting to save on energy bills. The trees are starkly black, the profusion of tiny branches brutally distinct against the scrim of the sky, looking like wild haired witches with uncombed locks. Everything out my window is weathered and monochrome--the wooden fences turned silvery gray, the beige of the cement foundation and unpainted wood of the garage, the lightless windows that pierce the gloom inside where the cars sit cold and silent. The sky, the dingy white car parked on the street, the unfaced masonry of the apartment building across the way, the husks of whatever weeds volunteered themselves on the construction rubble around the new garage. Gray and dreary and gray.

The dead brown of winter lawns is slowly filling with new snow, the hollows among the clumps of plants only accentuating the dreary color of dormant gardens. Except where the snow falls, smooth and deceitful over the slicks of frozen water that have turned in the cold to dangerous ice. Snow that will continue to fall until it forces us outside to shovel and blow its accumulation off our driveways and sidewalks, then scurry to move our cars out of the way of the snowplows, that close off the ends of our drives and walks so we have to shovel and blow them out again.

Thank god I'm getting out of here in three weeks. It's this sort of weather that makes Scandanavians so dour, and keeps the population of Greenland suicidal. At least I have the promise of desert warmth in March to keep me going. Eventually this will all go away, just not soon enough for my taste.

Just Because

Found this, courtesy of Cakewrecks, and it's just so beautiful that I thought I'd share it.

Enjoy!

FanGirl, Part 2

So, the new U2 album comes out on Tuesday. Do you suppose that explains Philip Seymour Hoffman's knit cap at the Oscars on Sunday?






















A tribute to The Edge?




















Works for me!

FanGIrl Says "SQUEEEE!"

I am informed that the whitest thing to do in the world is to listen to U2. So sue me.
















The new album, "No Line On The Horizon" is available to stream from U2.com, and I'm just paying it over and over.






















"Get On Your Boots" has been out for a couple of weeks now.



Official, un-embeddable video is here.

Much of the rest of the album is similar--a mix of elements that are practically proprietary with stuff unlike what we've heard from them before. The more I listen, the more addicted I'm getting!
























Just as fun, my boys will be on David Letterman ALL WEEK next week. As if they have to do anything to promote an album. But no doubt, I'll be up late and glued to the TV from 10:35 until Craig Ferguson starts interviewing guests.






















Not that U2 is going to be on Ferguson; I just love watching him too.

Oscars Fashion Smack Down!

Yeah, you know you want it. You know you've been waiting for it.

So, here it is, in alphabetical order.


Adams, Amy





















This, I love. The dress is unusual, the jewel tones go well with her skin, but the NECKLACE is da BOMB. It's huge and NOT made of diamonds. The multicolored cabochons play off her green eyes and red hair, and make her good looks more striking than ever. Adams's coloring can look pastel, or even faded, her hair tending toward strawberry blonde rather than red, and her eyes going gray rather than green. Sometimes it's hard to look at her and see her as a Hollywood star, compared to the more vivid looks of actresses like Penelope Cruz or Anne Hathaway.

But with this outfit, she claims her own good looks and projects them to the back of the theater. I love love love this daring look.



Anniston, Jennifer



















Love the dress, hate the hair. While white does nothing to dispell the persistent impression that Aniston as actually allergic to color, it's at least a chance from the endless black. The hair looks like a style I wore back in 8th grade to keep it out of my face during gym class. But even as bad as the hair is, the date is worse.

Is it just me, or does John Mayer give other people the creeps?



Berry, Halle




















Another genetic experiment gone horribly, horribly right. Sometimes it's hard to believe that human beings can really look this good. The same species that brought us Howard Stern brings us Halle Berry? Are we absolutely certain about that?

Unusually for Berry, her dress didn't pick up a lot of attention this year. She's lovely, it's perfect, blah blah blah. . . More daring this year is her hair, which is as long as it's been in recent memory. I love the way it frames her face in close-up, while not being overwhelming at a distance.

Beyonce



















Another in the endless supply of metallic gold mermaid gowns presented by the House of Knowles. This one is unusual in that the gold is (at least technically) not the fabric, but only the detailing. While I totally applaud Beyonce for acknowledging and flaunting her curves (a lesson rejected by so many lollipop starlets these days, Kate Bosworth), this one might have been better with less gold and more black. I would personally have not added the gold-trimmed panel to the back of the gown as well as the front, but for some reason, she didn't ask me. I wonder why?

Still, however garish she ended up looking, she's still one amazingly beautiful human being, and it was far better than the red sequinned leotard she had to wear on stage, right?


Cotillard, Marion




















She's French. Nuff said.


Cruz, Penelope



















Dress, we are told, is a 60 year old vintage Balmain. We are not told if it was originally worn by Cruz's grandmother to her own wedding. Do I like it? No. Is it heinous? No. Could it be worse? Yes, except that whatever is wrong with the dress is more than overshadowed by the bangs.

Everybody's mother has, at one time or another, said "You are such a pretty girl. Why do you hide it with the ugly hair?" Penelope Cruz's mother was apparently not available pre-Oscars. I never realized that you could be a perfectly beautiful as Penelope Cruz and still mess it up so easily.

I insanely covet the necklace and earrings, however.

Cyrus, Miley




















While not literally a Disney Princess, she is clearly channelling the Little Mermaid Goes To Hollywood, with the fishscale tiers and oyster (complete with pearl) on the belt. Is it a bit much? Yeah. A bit. It's not the ugliest Oscar gown ever seen, but no the best either. In fact, it kind of looks like the kind of gown a 16 year old girl who has never been to prom might choose--

Oh. Well. Never mind.


Hathaway, Anne





















I love this dress. It's got such shimmer and shine, without being overwhelming. Not many dresses pull off this much crystal without looking completely costume-like. *cough* sarajessicaparker *cough* She looks tall, slim, elegant, and totally comfortable. Hathaway has an unconventional beauty, and her large features can look too big for her face sometimes. Here, she balances her strong features, her pale skin, and her unusual look for an absolutely wonderful presentation. You can't even see any nerves about her upcoming stage stealing number with Hugh Jackman!



Henson, Taraji P.





















Why the "P"? Are there that many "Taraji Hensons" in Hollywood that we need to differentiate between them? If there are any others, they may as well retire their names, as this one totally dominates. She looks young, fresh, lovely in white, which so beautifully compliments her skin tone. (Are you taking notes, Nicole Kidman?) The necklace has the dark brilliance of vintage jewelry, and the dress has structure and interest, so it doesn't look like she took the wrong turn to the altar.

Best of all, none of it overwhelms her eyes, her smile, and those adorable dimples. The question is not who is Taraji P. Henson wearing, but who got to dress Taraji.


Jolie, Angelina




















You know, she's come a long way since making out with Billy Bob Thornton in the limo on the way over. She looks graceful, elegant, menacing. Somebody on line called her the "perfect Disney villain" to follow all the Disney princesses. She's even got the green covered, with her ginormous earrings and ring. She looks cool, remote, and like she's not even trying very hard. Like a black hole, she swallows all the attention and light pointed her way, and doesn't let any of it get away.

It's not even a look you can really analyze. Does it work? Absolutely. Why does it work? Who knows? It's almost not fashion any more, but pure icon status. Does anybody really analyze what the Statue of Liberty is wearing?

Kidman, Nicole (a/k/a The Botox Kid)




















She's lovely, of course, but in a "extruded plastic from Mattel Oscar Barbie (TM)" kind of way. The dress does nothing for her, and while I hope she's happy and has a happy life, can we just not see her for a while? Please?

Leo, Melissa





















Love the bronze color on the dress. The spider necklace is a bound to have a story behind it--it's a whimsical touch the Oscars don't see much any more. The hair? The hair is straight out of 1983, when Princess Diana grew hers out and was much mocked as "Dynasty Di." Someone should fire that hairstylist because the Do makes Leo look like a bad flashback.


Portman, Natalie




















Okay, she's stunning. She's got the carriage of a ballerina, and the brains of Albert Einstein. So why is she wearing Evan Rachel Wood's dress, only in little girl pink, with sparkles? She carries it off, because she's Natalie frickin' Portman, but I don't like it. On screen, the color made her skin look like she'd spent too much time in a convection oven, and her hair is too tight--it looks too much like she's wearing a net over her head but forgot to put the wig on over it.

If you needed any more proof that Debbie Matanopoulos is a waste of airtime, this is it--she declared Portman the Best Dressed at the Oscars.


Parker, Sarah Jessica



















Hidden in the deepest, darkest corner of her shallow fashionistia heart, lies the desire to be nothing more than a pretty, pretty princess. With a belt. I guess the SATC version of New York really is Disneyland.



Rinna, Lisa





















Huh. What can you say? Dress and earrings are fine, more like a "Daytime Emmy" standard than an Oscar one, but really, who is looking at the dress? Girlfriend is 45 years old, and only about 5 days older than Phoebe Cates. Let's go to the close-up of Cates for comparison:




















Cates looks beautiful--happy, healthy, and 15 years younger than her age. Rinna, on the other hand, looks increasingly like Catwoman. No, not Halle Berry. Jocelyn Wildenstein.





















Brain bleach!

Tomei, Marisa





















This one is such an interesting dress, and could have so easily looked like a pile of folded napkins fresh from the restaurant laundry. But it doesn't! Instead, it looks like Tomei is delicately folded inside an elaborate origami package, like an expensive gift from a luxury Japanese store. The millions of tiny pleats compliment her tiny frame, while at the same time allowing her to look strong and confident, rather than tiny and fragile.

Sure, she's got the asymmetic Golden Globes thing going, but the dress itself is engineered so that the uneven elements are balanced out in a complicated and artistic way. The bust of the dress is not overly complicated (I'm looking at YOU, Kate Winslet!), and serves to frame Tomei's gorgeous hair and make-up, before flowing into the more elaborate pleating below.

Very very well played!


Witherspoon, Reese



















A darling woman, and I love the cobalt and black combination. She is so fair, that the dark combination of colors is really rather daring, and wouldn't work except that the blue makes her eyes stand out.

That said, I just want to run up and adjust the fabric over her shoulders, so it lies flat and even on both sides. And maybe so it covers the sheer stuff that is actually holding the dress up. And the dress itself is a confusing mess of lines--why does the black sheer fabric stop and start all over her body? And can somebody do something with her messy hair?


Winslet, Kate




















Love the hair--very Grace Kelly, don't you think? Elegant, clean, let's us see that amazing face. The dress? Not so much. The color is fabulous, looking like a gun metal gray on screen, but it's just too busy! The asymmetical thing is already overdone--was over done back at the Golden Globes, IMHO. And a belt too. Also a GG meme. I'm not fond of the left boob pleating and the right boob hammock of fabric, either. It's like her dress is trying to cop a feel under a blanket or something. Add that distracting lacy panel down the left side, and the cool sophistication of the color has been overwhelmed and cheapened. I'd have rather seen the dress just be a one-shouldered toga at the top, and some minimal pleating at the bottom. She looks strong and beautiful from the neck up, and like she has to ignore what is going on underneath her chin.

Maybe it's a metaphor for her role in The Reader?


Wood, Evan Rachel.




















Again, making a fashion statement of independence from the schlock Goth of Marilyn Manson. Pale skin, soft make-up, blush colored gown. The kind of look a vampire wouldn't be caught dead in, right? Okay, so maybe the eleborate cris-crossed pleating hints at a sort of "kinder gentler bondage"-- at least you can be sure that no blood would be drawn, because that's a stain that would never come out of that dress.

Honestly, she looks lovely, elegant, self-assured. So why is she back with MM?

Oscar Fashion Pose Off

This game is from E!Online, and asks you to pick a fashion winner through brackets to a winner.
As you can see, I ended up picking Marisa Tomei.


Give it a shot, and report your winners here in the comments!

Surely, Knave, Thou Jests

Of course, I'm reading Oscar broadcast coverage, when this bit turned up from Salon's indie/alt movie reviewer, Andrew O'Hehir, on the "failure" of a Best Picture nomination for Dark Knight:

Time was, a movie that combined that degree of artistic ambition and popular success, from "Lawrence of Arabia" to "Titanic" to the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, would have been a shoo-in for a best-picture nomination.

Wait--are you serious? Seriously? Are you saying that just because a movie with poor characterization, lazy plot, appalling dialogue and no reason for its existence other than its special effects won a Best Picture award, (yes, I'm looking at you, Titanic) that it's a travesty that another one also didn't win?

You can't mean that, O'Hehir. Really, you can't. Just because a movie makes a big BOOM sound with a ton of money and special effects does NOT mean that it somehow deserves to be a Best Picture nominee. Titanic, as bad as it was as a movie, at least felt like a "Big Night At The Movies" when you saw it. It was a period costume drama, with the ability to be pretentious because it was about True History, even if the Jack and Rose story was just made up. It pushed all the right buttons of a Best Picture: old fashioned costumes, doomed True Love, big stars, elaborate sets, historical "insight," and a 3+ hour running time. All of which managed to combine with a well timed Oscar campaign that ended before the backlash hit.

Which is to say that Titanic is probably NOT the movie that will be admired as the best of that year--just that it had the ingredients and timing to win the balloting at that particular moment. It does not serve as a justification why Dark Knight "should" have been nominated too. The argument would be more persuasive if you were able to point out how Dark Knight was better than Titanic, not how similar it was.

The argument that Dark Knight and Slumdog Millionaire are similar also doesn't do the job. Dark Knight, however brilliantly filmed and tricked out in special effects, suffers from it's roots. It was a comic book, for god's sake. Lowbrow from the word go. The last comic book story nominated for a Best Picture award was probably Beauty and the Beast, and that was such an anomoly that they created a new category so it wouldn't happen again.

Whatever validity the Oscars have for their own existence may be debated, and maybe there is no reason for them to exist. But they are what they are, and they are not there to celebrate their lowest common denominators. Isn't making billions at the box office enough for you? Can't you spare a little love for the movies that only people wearing tuxedos and dancing with top hats love too?

Name Changes?

While watching the Oscars last night, I was informed that Cpt. Sweetie had cast a hypothetical story of the kidlets' lives. Sursels, he decided, would be best played by Drew Barrymore. Tonks agreed. So, who would play Tonks? I thought perhaps someone like Diane Lane or Diane Kruger--elegant, smart, strong, lovely. Cpt. Sweetie more or less settled on Charlize Theron--same criteria, higher cheekbones.

My favorite moment? Was when the camera cut to Kate Winslet, and Cpt. Sweetie said with some surprise "She looks just like you!"

How can I not love that man?

So, should I change their names again? Drew and Charlize, or keep Sursels and Tonks?