Journalist. Mother. Bunny enthusiast. Pop culture junkie.

Journalist. Mother. Bunny enthusiast. Pop culture junkie.

Monday, December 31, 2012

Shit I taught you in 2012

1. Yes, there is a how-to guide on how to be a hipster.

2. Kate Middleton's cousin likes to take her clothes off.

3. Tom Hank's son is a douchebag.

4. Warren Beatty's son is a daughter.

5. Nail art is really, really old.

6. There are fast food workers who LOVE their jobs.

7. I introduced you to the world's most eligible bachelors.

8. Barbie is a real person.

9. Tom Cruise is an equal opportunity Casanova.

10. I've been using Twitter for 15 years.

11. Paranormal activity is real.

12. I'm an emotional wreck.

Happy New Year!

Friday, December 28, 2012

(Un) Happy Birthday

I'm alive, I swear.

This week has been one of the most emotionally draining and horrific weeks of my life.

I think the lowest point was when I found myself sobbing on my bathroom floor at 3:30 a.m. on my birthday. What a fabulous way to start the next year of my life.

Yeah, my birthday was yesterday.

I don't want to get into all the dirty little details, but let's just say there were certain people who made my life a living hell.

I haven't been getting much sleep either. Like, I think it has been over three months since I've had more than five hours of sleep at night.

Despite being an exhausted sad wreck, there were some highlights.

My friend Andrew and I had a joint birthday party last week. My best friend Jonny flew in from New York City just to attend. I hadn't seen him since this summer!

Here are some photos:

Me & Andrew

Me & Jonny

Me & Rian

My friend Craig

It was a fun time with lots of people. We even had a few party crashers, who we welcomed because they brought expensive booze.

Craig (above) made me the most amazing Morrissey-themed birthday present which I immediately put up in my apartment next to my Marilyn wine bottles:

So, see, my life isn't really that bad. I have wonderful friends.

Anyway, I'm sorry for not being around lately. The stress of the holidays, mixed in with a jaw-dropping amount of work, just took over my life this month.

I hope your December has been awesome!

Monday, December 17, 2012

(my moment of silence)

In the past few days, I've written three blog posts.

One filled with hatred.

One filled with sadness.

One filled with exasperation.

But I scrapped them all.

Innocence was murdered on Friday.

There are no words.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Once Upon a Time: Nargis

I'm sorry, I have been so swamped with work lately. Having time to post has become a rarity, I'm afraid.

In the meantime, please check out my latest guest post for Tanvi. It's about a real-life Bollywood love story.

You can check it out here.

Let me know what you think!

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Don't they know it's the end of the world.

Clueless. Girl, Interrupted. Eight Mile.

Her films defined a generation. But when your career hits a snag, the Midas touch of Hollywood turns to ash within the blink of an eye.

With rumors of prescription drug abuse and anorexia, the film offers stopped coming. She clung to whatever independent or low-budget movie she could score, no matter how terrible the script.

She fell in love with a con artist, who flaunted himself as a rich, powerful producer with connections. After they married, the financially struggling actress was paying off her unemployed husband's debt.

In the final two weeks of her life, she was so sick with pneumonia, her lips were blue. She could barely breathe. Yet she was still playing nurse to her ailing mother and husband, who were also sick. Her domineering husband convinced her that they didn't need a doctor.

One afternoon, she was on the floor, unable to breath, her face turning blue. She refused to go to the emergency room. Instead, she told her mother she was going to die. Nobody called 911.

Five hours later, her prediction came true.

After her death, the bitter reality became painfully obvious: If Brittany Murphy had seen a physician at any point before her death, she wouldn't have died. By not seeking medical help, Brittany Murphy had essentially killed herself.

I've always seen myself as one of those 'show people.' My earliest memories are wanting and needing to entertain people, like a gypsy traveler who goes from place to place, city to city, performing for audiences and reaching people.

Everybody has difficult years, but a lot of times the difficult years end up being the greatest years of your whole entire life, if you survive them.

God forgot to give me the jealous bone.

I'm a giver. I have learned to be selective of the people in my world, because if I love someone, I will give them my blood, whatever they need. In doing so, one can end up with little left for themselves. It's a lesson in self-preservation that I'm still learning. If you don't have yourself, you have nothing to give.

I don't even take myself seriously, so how could I possibly take Hollywood seriously?

I have always wanted to be really tall for a day. That's kind of a superficial thing. I'm 5'3, but for one day I would love to be 5'9 and tower over everybody.

 I can't believe that people actually know my first and last name. I think it's really, really, gosh-darn neat.

 I think to call my mom and I best friends is almost an insult to our relationship. She's the greatest in the whole wide world, and I don't feel closer to anyone. She's a pillar of strength, and she doesn't flaunt it. She has this will - she just knows she can get through things. It's inspiring.

It's easy to get wrapped up in sharing everyday life with a partner. It's fun to get lost in love and romance. It's the best. But holding on to yourself while doing that is the most important thing.

I would like to be very, very, very, very old.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Read all about it? Or not.

This might sound strange coming from a news reporter, but I don't like to read the news.

My life is already so stressful, that whenever I hear or read about something horrifically tragic, I get way too emotionally involved. I just can't handle it.

There are too many murders. Too many freak accidents. Too many victims.

Whenever I learn about a horrible incident, I obsess over it. The story doesn't leave my mind, and I wallow in it for the rest of the day.

For example, about one month ago, I happened upon a story about a mentally disabled janitor who was the helpless victim of mistaken identity. His name was Otto.

Police had been notified that a man matching Otto's description had stolen money from an ATM at a convenience store.

Enter poor Otto. Apparently his usual routine had been to always buy a soda and Snickers bar from that store, after work. Unfortunately, he happened to be doing that when someone stole money from the ATM machine. The police arrived at the store, saw Otto, and without any warning, they struck him seven times in eight seconds with a baton and stun-gunned him to the ground.

The officers hogtied Otto, put a rubber mask over his mouth, and sat on him. Otto literally had no idea what was going on, while he was being brutally tortured. When officers taunted him, he breathlessly insisted he hadn't done anything wrong. He eventually lost consciousness.

The police later determined that he had not committed any crime.

He died the next day from his injuries.

Otto's last words had been "All I wanted was a Snickers bar."

A few weeks ago, the main officer at the scene was sentenced to only four years in prison for the wrongful torture and murder of Otto. Figure that one out.

I had the misfortune of reading this article before bed. It haunted me.

I felt sick to my stomach, thinking about poor Otto. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and I turned, my hate for those police officers and my fury at the world in general growing with every hour.

At 3 a.m. that night, Rian was astonished to turn on the light to see me curled up in my rocking chair across the room, sobbing.

"All he wanted was a Snickers bar," I wailed.


So, I stay away from the news.

Fortunately, as a reporter, I cover local government. I'll write a 20-inch article on rezoning ordinances over a brutal murder any day.

I think what freaks me out the most is that it seems like there is more bad news these days than good. Did we always have so many mass shootings? This many domestic violence killings? Police brutality?

Or maybe our ability to access every news story in the world only makes us feel that way. The internet has made the world seem much smaller. And more dangerous.

I'm not sure what's worse: being bombarded with every tragedy in the world or living in blissful ignorance.


So, am I the only one relieved that the big news story this week is Kate's pregnancy?

Monday, December 3, 2012

Anna Karenina

This might come as a surprise to you, but one of my favorite novels is Anna Karenina.

I don't really broadcast this fact because it seems so cliché and pretentious.

But, it's a book that really did resonate with me and made an impression in my life. Plus, I was one of the few who read it for pleasure, rather than being forced to in school. And that always makes a difference. So, obviously, I was counting down the days until the film came out.

Unfortunately, I had high expectations. After all, my heart was stolen by Greta Garbo in the 1935 version. But that film only told a sliver of the actual story. I was hoping the Keira Knightley version would be all that, and more.

Well, let's start out with the positives.

The film is breathtakingly gorgeous. I wouldn't even call it a film. I would call it a work of art. The costumes are dazzling. The production design is spectacular. It flows like an enchanted ballet, rather than a movie. It is set on a single soundstage, rather than actual outdoor locations. It's one of the most unique films I've ever seen in that respect. Very mesmerizing to watch.

But, that's where the magic ends.

The film lacked the one quality that would have made it perfect: passion.

Anna Karenina is one of the greatest love stories of all time. And yet, there was absolutely NO chemistry between Keira Knightley as Anna and Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who played her young lover, Count Vronsky. Their romance was totally unbelievable to me.

I don't totally blame Keira. She looks divine in the film (although a little young and less curvy than I imagined). But I think Count Vronsky was terribly miscast. I personally didn't find Aaron handsome or charming in this role.

In fact, the only actor who I really appreciated in the film was Jude Law, who plays Anna's reserved and heartbreakingly forgiving husband. His portrayal of an aloof, yet humbled political figure, was actually very touching.

While I thought Keira did an okay acting job in the film, I wasn't blown away. I suppose trying to live up to Garbo was too much to ask, but unfortunately that's what ultimately happens when you take on a role this huge. She just didn't compare. Not by a long shot.

But her beauty lit up the screen, which makes her lack of charisma slightly forgiving.

Overall, I thought the movie was very lovely and ethereal, but disappointing for an avid fan of the book.

If you have money to burn, I would suggest seeing it on the big-screen because it's very beautiful to watch.

But don't expect anything more.