The Women
Here is an example of when being a crackhead does not work in your favor:
Last night, Tatum O'Neal got arrested for buying drugs. She pulled the whole, "Do you know who I am?" bit, then said she's researching a role as a crackhead. But here's the thing: Tatum O'Neal's history with drug abuse has been well documented, even by the actress herself. So, um, then, wouldn't her life have been research for the role? "So yeah, I'm studying how to be a crackhead for a movie, because being a crackhead in real life didn't really prepare me for this challenge and I want to, um, explore my art." How Method.
It's not like anybody is expected to think clearly while they're buying crack, but really, that was the worst excuse ever. But truly, when it comes down to it, this story is very sad. She was clean for a while. Relapses are heartbreaking because for a while there was hope, and then ... there isn't. Not for a while, anyway.
Anyway.
This weekend was crappy and also delightful:
CRAPPY
Stephanie was supposed to come to town for her second attempt in the past year to see Duran Duran — or, as she's taken to calling them, Nick Rhodes & The Others — but for the second time in the past year, her plans were thwarted. (First time: She made it to New York for the band's show on Broadway, but the morning of the concert, the stagehands went on strike and it was canceled. This time: sick husband. "He better have ebola, for me to miss this," she said.)
DELIGHTFUL
I slept. And slept and slept and slept and slept. For the first time in months.
CRAPPY
With Stephanie in Boston and Stacy — with whom I see Nick Rhodes & The Others as often as possible — in San Francisco, and the fact that the show was in Central Park and it was pouring rain outside, I was totally unmotivated to go at all, never mind find someone to go with me. (A note on this: I have no problem going to concerts by myself. I do it all the time. With certain bands and certain levels of fandom, you sometimes want to go with people who are just as maniacal about the music as you are. Then there are the times when you feel more generous with your fandom and want to bring someone along who isn't as stalker-y as you are but is open-minded. I just wasn't feeling maniacal about anything that night.) I sat on the couch until the last possible minute moaning, "Am I lame if I stay home?"
DELIGHTFUL
Stacy, in true BFF form, took on the laziness-intervention I asked her to stage for me and successfully talked me into going. "Oh, I've been there," she said. "You've seen them a million times. You don't want to get out of bed. You're exhausted and antisocial and you feel blah. But also? Even a bad Duran show is a great Duran show, so you know you'll have an awesome time, and if you find out there was a Finn moment and you missed it, you'll kick yourself." Then she asked me what song I most wanted to hear, and I said "Hold Back the Rain." "Oh, and it's pouring outside? They'll for sure play that!" she said.
CRAPPY
They didn't play "Hold Back the Rain." In the rain! Whatever!
DELIGHTFUL
Concerts really are so much more fun when you're wet.
CRAPPY
Except when everyone puts up their umbrellas and you can't see anything.
DELIGHTFUL
But then the sky clears and people collapse their umbrellas, and everything was smashing. The weather even made the band more human, as evidenced by the fact that the humidity made Nick Rhodes's hair frizz.
CRAPPY
I discovered yesterday while making dinner for some friends that a) despite certain efforts to enjoy cooking, I still stress out like a freak while doing it; and b) this does not bring out the softer side of my temper. This conversation happened:
ME: [looking forlornly at a recipe that called for 4-ounce pieces of chicken when the packages of chicken breasts I had were calculated in pounds] Josh, please help me figure this out. I don't do math and my brain is fried. Should I cut these pieces in half or in thirds?
JOSH: [walks over to help] Well, first of all, you're using the wrong knife.
ME: [glaring at him] I didn't ask if I was using the right knife. I asked you to do the math. I can't do the math.
JOSH: But you asked for my help.
ME: WITH THE MATH. THE MATH. I DON'T CARE ABOUT MY TECHNIQUE. JUST TELL ME WHERE TO CUT THIS THING. I DON'T WANT YOU TO TELL ME I'M DOING SOMETHING WRONG. I JUST WANT TO CUT THE FUCKING CHICKEN.
This did not go over well. Compounded by the fact that I was completely intimidated by cooking for a group of foodies when I am, unfortunately, not one, and I'm completely insecure in the kitchen, this was not my best moment.
DELIGHTFUL
1. I apologized.
2. I realized that I can make pieces of chicken as big or as small as I please.
3. Dinner came out fine. I sort of surprised myself, to be honest, because I got so frustrated that I gave up on using recipes and just threw stuff together and it became something somewhat edible. I've never trusted my cooking instincts, which is why I'm better at baking (specific instructions + specific measurements = good), so the fact that I cobbled together a main course largely on instinct was very reassuring. And if it was terrible, my friends were gracious and complimentary as always, so they left me none the wiser, which is another reason why they're awesome.
4. The company was splendid. Most weeks, I meet up with a group of girlfriends for what we call Dames of Sunday Night. We all bring food to someone's apartment and then watch films from the '30s, '40s and '50s, movies with fast-talking, sharp-dressing broads, very Rosalind Russell. Speaking of whom, last night's flick was The Women. So good.
ALSO DELIGHTFUL
My brother-in-law does not have ebola.
ALSO ALSO DELIGHTFUL
Honestly, people? Ridiculous.
Last night, Tatum O'Neal got arrested for buying drugs. She pulled the whole, "Do you know who I am?" bit, then said she's researching a role as a crackhead. But here's the thing: Tatum O'Neal's history with drug abuse has been well documented, even by the actress herself. So, um, then, wouldn't her life have been research for the role? "So yeah, I'm studying how to be a crackhead for a movie, because being a crackhead in real life didn't really prepare me for this challenge and I want to, um, explore my art." How Method.
It's not like anybody is expected to think clearly while they're buying crack, but really, that was the worst excuse ever. But truly, when it comes down to it, this story is very sad. She was clean for a while. Relapses are heartbreaking because for a while there was hope, and then ... there isn't. Not for a while, anyway.
Anyway.
This weekend was crappy and also delightful:
CRAPPY
Stephanie was supposed to come to town for her second attempt in the past year to see Duran Duran — or, as she's taken to calling them, Nick Rhodes & The Others — but for the second time in the past year, her plans were thwarted. (First time: She made it to New York for the band's show on Broadway, but the morning of the concert, the stagehands went on strike and it was canceled. This time: sick husband. "He better have ebola, for me to miss this," she said.)
DELIGHTFUL
I slept. And slept and slept and slept and slept. For the first time in months.
CRAPPY
With Stephanie in Boston and Stacy — with whom I see Nick Rhodes & The Others as often as possible — in San Francisco, and the fact that the show was in Central Park and it was pouring rain outside, I was totally unmotivated to go at all, never mind find someone to go with me. (A note on this: I have no problem going to concerts by myself. I do it all the time. With certain bands and certain levels of fandom, you sometimes want to go with people who are just as maniacal about the music as you are. Then there are the times when you feel more generous with your fandom and want to bring someone along who isn't as stalker-y as you are but is open-minded. I just wasn't feeling maniacal about anything that night.) I sat on the couch until the last possible minute moaning, "Am I lame if I stay home?"
DELIGHTFUL
Stacy, in true BFF form, took on the laziness-intervention I asked her to stage for me and successfully talked me into going. "Oh, I've been there," she said. "You've seen them a million times. You don't want to get out of bed. You're exhausted and antisocial and you feel blah. But also? Even a bad Duran show is a great Duran show, so you know you'll have an awesome time, and if you find out there was a Finn moment and you missed it, you'll kick yourself." Then she asked me what song I most wanted to hear, and I said "Hold Back the Rain." "Oh, and it's pouring outside? They'll for sure play that!" she said.
CRAPPY
They didn't play "Hold Back the Rain." In the rain! Whatever!
DELIGHTFUL
Concerts really are so much more fun when you're wet.
CRAPPY
Except when everyone puts up their umbrellas and you can't see anything.
DELIGHTFUL
But then the sky clears and people collapse their umbrellas, and everything was smashing. The weather even made the band more human, as evidenced by the fact that the humidity made Nick Rhodes's hair frizz.
CRAPPY
I discovered yesterday while making dinner for some friends that a) despite certain efforts to enjoy cooking, I still stress out like a freak while doing it; and b) this does not bring out the softer side of my temper. This conversation happened:
ME: [looking forlornly at a recipe that called for 4-ounce pieces of chicken when the packages of chicken breasts I had were calculated in pounds] Josh, please help me figure this out. I don't do math and my brain is fried. Should I cut these pieces in half or in thirds?
JOSH: [walks over to help] Well, first of all, you're using the wrong knife.
ME: [glaring at him] I didn't ask if I was using the right knife. I asked you to do the math. I can't do the math.
JOSH: But you asked for my help.
ME: WITH THE MATH. THE MATH. I DON'T CARE ABOUT MY TECHNIQUE. JUST TELL ME WHERE TO CUT THIS THING. I DON'T WANT YOU TO TELL ME I'M DOING SOMETHING WRONG. I JUST WANT TO CUT THE FUCKING CHICKEN.
This did not go over well. Compounded by the fact that I was completely intimidated by cooking for a group of foodies when I am, unfortunately, not one, and I'm completely insecure in the kitchen, this was not my best moment.
DELIGHTFUL
1. I apologized.
2. I realized that I can make pieces of chicken as big or as small as I please.
3. Dinner came out fine. I sort of surprised myself, to be honest, because I got so frustrated that I gave up on using recipes and just threw stuff together and it became something somewhat edible. I've never trusted my cooking instincts, which is why I'm better at baking (specific instructions + specific measurements = good), so the fact that I cobbled together a main course largely on instinct was very reassuring. And if it was terrible, my friends were gracious and complimentary as always, so they left me none the wiser, which is another reason why they're awesome.
4. The company was splendid. Most weeks, I meet up with a group of girlfriends for what we call Dames of Sunday Night. We all bring food to someone's apartment and then watch films from the '30s, '40s and '50s, movies with fast-talking, sharp-dressing broads, very Rosalind Russell. Speaking of whom, last night's flick was The Women. So good.
ALSO DELIGHTFUL
My brother-in-law does not have ebola.
ALSO ALSO DELIGHTFUL
Honestly, people? Ridiculous.
Labels: family, food, friends, health, New York, pop culture, the hubs, weather
posted by Marla at 10:40 AM
7 Comments:
Oh my gosh "The Women" is one of my top-five favorite movies of all time. I first saw it on Easter Sunday, 2001 -- I was in London and I got the last ticket for a screening that was part of a Joan Crawford film festival. That's when I fell in love with Norma Shearer. A whole new obsession!
Rumors surface from time to time that there will be a remake of "The Women" starring Julia Roberts and blah blah blah. It keeps getting stalled, though. I wonder why? Oh yeah, because it's A TERRIBLE IDEA. Gah.
Oh, it is indeed happening. And it's happening with Meg Ryan and Eva Mendes. Due out in September. Sort of makes you want to cry, doesn't it?
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0430770/
Look at the energy Norma Shearer brought to Mary and then ... Meg Ryan? Really?
I guess the good news is, if it stars Meg Ryan, it won't be taken seriously. The whole idea makes me sad for our times, though. 70 years ago it was mildly progressive to make a movie with an all-female cast. Today, um, it isn't.
If it makes you feel better your brother-in-law still doesn't have ebola but he is - one week later - still coughing. I guess this is what happens when you haven't coughed in 5 years... things tend to build up a bit.
Nick Rhodes' frizzy hair. And I didn't get to see it. L'sigh.
I finally watched the snoring duck! It sounds kind of like Big Bird when he sleeps. Who knew that was biologically sound?
This sentence keeps making me laugh: "Here is an example of when being a crackhead does not work in your favor."
Ooh, I like the Big Bird comparison, Mollie. You just know Big Bird snores like that. I keep picturing the snores coming through the two holes in the top of his beak. Do ducks really have those holes, or is it just my cartoony imagination? Do you know the holes I'm talking about, or am I crazy?
Also: The Women really is the only film I can think of with an all-female cast. Can you think of any others? Or, per your previous comment, was it so progressive back then, and we've regressed terribly since? I keep thinking that most largely female casted films still at least have the knowing grizzled bartender in them. Hm.
I'm loving the whole crossword connection on your blog, by the way. What a splendid way to unexpectedly corral more readers!
Marla! I love your Dames idea. Did you know that in my late-in-life infatuation with community theatre I played Miriam...the Paulette Goddard role in the movie (who gets hauled off a horse and slapped around. I got slapped around, but no horse.)
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