Caterwauling

Nice Hat, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

Not my most-shining example of brilliant photography, but I rather enjoyed this dude’s solution to being in the blazing-hot sun for four hours. (Am lobster-iffic in my own redness. Ow ow ow ow OW.)

I should have taken a glove myself — a foul ball bounced off the seat right in front of me and I could have caught it. (But the grilled wings from Hard Times commanded my attention instead.)

Of course, nine men with beers all lunged for it and nobody caught it because none of ’em would put down their bottles.

As a result? The ball girl got it and tossed it to a little kid. You should’ve heard them all complaining about that. …

Last night was a series of victories:

1. Getting to join Tiff at the Nats vs. Braves game (and the Nats won!)
2. Getting out of work at 4 p.m. (gasp!)
3. Not having to go home (bonus!)
4. Half-smoke and chili fries at Ben’s (need I say more?)

So what if I got the invitation in the middle of the day yesterday and when I went to find my tennis shoes, whoops, I realized I’d already taken them home. (Drat.)

Am officially the only idiot who tooled around the ballpark in heels. Feet all torn up today but that’s fine with me — we get to wear jeans! and casual shoes! to work today.

Life is good. Today, anyway!

Shiny New Stadium, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

Hello, poor little neglected blog. I’m going to get a cuppa java. Care for one, too? I know, sweet and light. BRB darling — have I told you how much I’ve missed you?

Been a busy lifetime coupla days in Caterwauling land. Decided to wander down to Southeast (*gulp*) to marvel at the Washington Nationals ballpark, as they were having an open house for folks to check out the new digs.

(I have about eleventy billion photos of it that I’ll upload to Flickr one of these years when I have free time — a girl’s gotta get ready for church at some point today.)

Anywhoo, the Open House was for folks who didn’t already procure season tix to go seat-hunting and, for folks like me who aren’t exactly avid baseball bimbos, to tempt us with sunshine and food vendors (mmm, Ben’s Chili Bowl — half smoke, no onions).

I was severely tempted to do a partial-season package just to get the seats I fell in love with. Although, let’s face it, I was most impressed with the PNC Diamond Sponsor seats, as they were the cushioned ones. (Those went for $22,100 a season per chair. Woo hoo — good to have goals, I guess!)

Actually, that was the neat thing about yesterday. The Nats were away and the game was playing on the shiny new JumboTron. So, you could pretty much plop down in any ole seat you wanted and could watch the game from the vantage point you deserve, even if it isn’t the one you can necessarily afford. 😉

I did end up buying some tickets to individual games instead of doing a package deal. That way, I could simply get the best-available seats on my desired days without being committed to a package that, I’m certain, simply won’t accommodate the Goddess’ hectic schedule. 🙂

We ended up rolling down to U Street, the home of the original Ben’s Chili Bowl, although that place was P-A-C-K-E-D and I didn’t want to go in. (I was thinking a half-smoke for lunch and a chili dog for dinner would be just the right combination to kill me.)

But alas, I did find solace (and a table) at the Love Cafe where we bought slices of cake but — oops — they ran out of forks. Classy. (Plastic ones were unearthed at some point, but in a cafe that seats 25 people, how hard is it to find/wash utensils?)

So, if you were ever wondering how to get a figure like mine, consider this: breakfast at Ben’s, lunch at Warren’s and dinner at Dave’s (that’d be Famous Dave’s). Yeesh. Almost beats the weekend of Brio, Carrabba’s (go for the white sangria. Seriously) and the Greene Turtle a coupla weeks ago. (Hey, I don’t have time to eat during the week. It all evens out.)

Now, I’ve got to go scrub mah butt go figure out how to pay for next weekend’s plans, too. Damn shiny-new baseball tickets sitting in my wallet. *shakes fist at heavens* Why did Nationals Park have to be so awesomely seductive as to lure me into wanting to be a baseball wench this spring?

New baby, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

It was a hockey night in D.C. but even though I was a block away from Verizon Center, I had better plans. Girlier plans. (Don’t get me wrong, I DO love me a good Caps game, but tonight? Girls ruled.)

Tiff got hooked up with Nintendo via Brand Enthusiasts and got all of her girl-geek friends hooked up with a schweet “thank-you for playing” gift (the Nintendo DS Lite, Brain Age and a charm bracelet, and four charms that we “earned” by playing four different types of games).

Oh, I’m a shameless marketing hussy. Let’s give Nintendo some lovin’ for inviting us to “A Girlfriends Guide to Gaming.”

I was afraid that we’d end up with pink DS Lites, but I had my choice of pink or black and of course you know what I would pick.

As if my carry-on suitcase isn’t packed enough with a laptop, iPhone, digital camera and other toys, now I’ll be toting my pretty little Nintendo everywhere, too. Although that gold charm bracelet will definitely stay put after tonight. 😉

The four charms are a light bulb, a high heel, a black-and-white checkerboard heart and a dog dish with a bone in it. Don’t ask — it makes perfect sense if you go to one of these soirees.

The gathering was at the Numark Gallery in Chinatown, and it was quite a unique, modern and yet cozy locale for this swank little event. A very clever little space — perfect for an evening of ladies being treated to wine, appetizers and technology that’s strong enough for a man, but made for a woman. 😉

Tons of people came out for this event, and Tiff admitted to “knowing” everyone but not having met several attendees anywhere offline before tonight.

But as for me? It was a big fat episode of “This is Your Life,” as I saw friends with whom I haven’t crossed paths in anywhere from three months to three years. I’m still blown away by how nice it is to pick up a conversation that was put down a long time ago, just like only a few days had passed.

What also knocks off my froggy socks is how many people read my blog … because they care and want to keep up with me. And I even heard a story that someone was INSPIRED by something I wrote, to emanate some creativity of her own! Seriously, what an honor! Am humbled. *blush* 😉

All right, it’s past midnight and I have to be in the office in entirely too few hours from now. (Read: earlier than usual.) But one last commentary: I left my car at a Metro stop and rode in, so I wouldn’t have to fuss with Chinatown parking on a game night.

And these two very-flamboyant boys got on with two very pretty, classy girls. And those boys (nope, not calling ’em “men”) were just so disgustingly rude and degrading to them. Just, the snotty, bitchy things they said … well, I’ve heard before.

Other than being annoyed, I was SO glad that the particular phase those girls are in, well, is OVAH for me. Thank the LORD above. That these two queeny little insecure boys felt the need to insult these two pretty girls? Not surprising, but not acceptable.

And it dawned on me that it’s a cycle — insecure little boys try desperately to put these girls down and they will STAY for the abuse until they wise up. But then they will go on to do great things and surround themselves with great people, and they, too, will be thrilled they outgrew that particular phase.

I wish them the strength to break away … they will be completely different people in 10 years.

Anyway, I digress. But yeah, tonight’s gifts for me were far greater than the tangible ones I hid in my purse from the throngs of game-goers on the Metro. Am so grateful for where I’ve been, how far I’ve come, and those who are here with me on the journey now.
*mwah!*

My day started off with laughter at Tom’s Tweet that “April Fools’ Day is like Easter for assholes,” and if THAT didn’t prove itself a dozen times over, I don’t know what else to say about the day.

I left work on time today — April Fools’! Ha. Actually I did sneak out prior to daylight drawing to a close, so for once the joke wasn’t on me.

Things I learned today:

1. Canada Dry sparkling green tea ginger ale does not completely suck, although it takes a while to get used to drinking fizzy iced tea.

2. The USB-powered desktop fundue set is simply an April Fools’ joke, but after spending Easter at the Melting Pot, I would totally buy one of these things for my desk.

3. When trapped in a boring meeting to which I have nothing to contribute, I can conjure up some pretty salacious visions to keep myself awake and occupied. *blush*

Other things I learned today:

In continuing my meanderings on what would I do with 30 days to live, today I find myself (theoretically) with 29 left and, damn, it would suck balls to have lost a whole day spending it the way this one went. 😉

Today’s ramblings are inspired by planning to eliminate a terminal case of the “Somedays.” For all of us who put our dreams on hold for when we’re better off financially, when we’ve lost X number of pounds, when we’ve put the kids in school or when we’ve washed that man right outta our hair … are we foregoing some level of happiness in the here and now until (insert event) occurs? And what if it doesn’t or, as we know, it takes longer than anticipated to come to fruition?

I made a list of all the things I’ve back-burnered till I got my career on track. Which happened almost two years ago when I was promoted to my own personal level of incompetence. But in order to remain competitive, I admit to giving up on things like cooking, cleaning (sigh), spending time with friends, dating actively and picking up the phone and seeing who’s available to raise some hell. A girl needs her beauty sleep, y’know?

Don’t get me wrong — I still do all of the above and then some, but not enough. Not with any amount of regularity or without emotions bordering sometimes on obligation. Yadda yadda gotta stay on the horse/use it or lose it blah blah cakes.

And not that I am forcing myself on anyone or feeling like I HAVE to see them. But more along the lines of, “I really do still care and will thus pull my turtle ass out of this turtle shell once in a while” and “No I really don’t want to see that movie or go to that restaurant but I’m craving social contact so much that I will suck it up because I miss my friend/want to go on this date/I can do what I want on my own time anyway.”

That sounds like more of a pity party (favors, anyone? I’m partial to the kazoo myself) than it is. But don’t feel sorry for me — I may not cook anymore, but to quote Barbra Streisand in “The Prince of Tides” (*swoon* — awesome movie. my favorite, even), “I may not know how to cook, but I know how to eat!”

Anyway, the point is, I always find myself waiting till I have more money to plan a trip (because, you know, cash does help). I keep waiting “till things calm down” to go to the gym. I anticipate finding the right outfit before I actively want to go out to meet someone for a drink. I keep waiting for a little health issue to pass before I feel like I can let a day go by without being preoccupied with it. I keep waiting for a particular miracle to happen before, well, my blood pressure can return to normal. I keep waiting for a day when I wake up looking PERFECT so I can go get that damn passport photo taken already. 😉

And really, what am I doing to enjoy/pursue the smaller pleasures in the interim that will ensure I’m healthy and ready for all those big “someday” things? And is it all enough?

Do we feel undeserving? Is that it? I know I’m not the only one with the “Someday Syndrome.” What keeps you from achieving greatness or at least enjoying the goodness that may be easier/quicker to reach?

There’s an offline discussion arising around the book “One Month to Live.” My copy hasn’t arrived yet, but the question arose today as to how I would spend my days differently if I only had 30 of ’em left.

You know, people always pontificate that they would travel. That seems to be the going theory — that they’d finally hop on a plane and see where they came from or go plant their butts on a beach till the end drew near.

I was thinking about my meager savings and wondered, “Wow, other than gas money to go *somewhere,* what else could I possibly afford? And wouldn’t the ‘right thing’ be to leave it all to my mom, anyway?”

A friend joked that we could always open up as many credit card accounts as possible. Of course, you have crap-credit me here, so I wouldn’t get much and of course I’d need about 40 cards to get to France. Hell, one card might get me to Manhattan, the next might get me to the Atlantic Ocean, another card might get me about 50 yards into the water. Oh well — at least I wouldn’t be around to have to pay them all back!

In seriousness, though, I wrote down what I would do if I were told, “All right, on April 30, you go *poof*.” Not astoundingly, this was it:

“I would either quit my job outright or hang in there till the next pay period ends BUT I’d work ‘normal’ hours. I’d stop resenting everything I believe to be unfair in every aspect of my world. I’d do a pre-need package with the closest funeral director and spend the rest of my savings on one last — er, first bona fide — vacation.

“Before I board that plane, though, I’d need to find time to write just a few more pages of that novel and to will my writings to the right person who will take care of my ideas for me.”

That’s some deep stuff or, at least, some deep shit anyway. When did I get so responsible as to ensure no one had to worry about paying my final tab? Why do I care so much about the writings that I’ve damn near outright abandoned? And who the hell would I designate to carry on the contents of my heart and mind — who do I trust that much?

And funny, too, how I just want to work one 40-hour week. 😉 LOL. If THAT’S all it would take for me to die happy. … 😉

But seriously, I keep talking about getting a passport. What if I did, in fact, go *poof* in a month? I wouldn’t be able to leave the country. (Although I’d be glad to go find something tropical that’s considered to be on U.S. soil. Puerto Rico doesn’t require a passport, right?)

I think the purpose of the exercise was to get us to think more existentially — to see whether we’d be prepared to go into that gentle good night because we know we’re going somewhere good, or whether we’d be scrambling to make everything right that we know is wrong.

I think it was also to kick us in the pants to forgive someone or apologize to someone else. Hey, I’ve forgiven everyone who needed it, even if I didn’t want to open the door to let them back into my life. I forgive in my heart. No need to actually say it out loud. Likewise, I may owe an apology or two. But I’m also not nuts enough to stalk people who don’t want to talk to me.

To everything, there is a season, and if the leaves were all doused with gasoline, there’s nothing to go back to. There’s a reason why some people make it into the next chapter of your life story and others need to be hit over the head with the hardcover version.

But yeah, I really don’t know what I’d do with a month left to live. The material things come to mind — book a cruise, eat at all my favorite restaurants, finally make time for my friends, drink expensive wine (i.e., uncork the good bottles I’ve been saving for a special occasion that I have yet to deign), etcetera.

I can joke that I would put my cat to sleep so I can meet her on the other side, but give me a few years without cleaning up her poop landmines, mmkay? But what I would definitely do is come up with the endings of my half- or unwritten books and tell the lucky beneficiary to write those stories or at least find a good writer/editor to make them happen.

I might also joke that I want to administer one good old-fashioned ass-kicking. Because I can, you know? What, you’re going to deny a dying woman’s God-given right to bitchslap those who deserve it so? Line ’em up!

What I don’t want is to spend that time sad or depressed. I earned every gray hair on this head, every laugh line around my eyes, every eyeroll at examples of immaturity, laziness, pettiness and whininess.

I was at a little gathering at my church, and someone got to talking about how differently it is when a Christ-follower is about to pass, compared to a non-religious person. She said how beautiful it is, to see the “saved” person ready to go be with his or her King. I hope to cultivate that kind of faith — I’m afraid, right now, I’d be more than just a little resentful on all that I was missing out on.

And to that end, I’d want one last kiss — a good one (sad how you have to qualify that). But not with that (theoretical) one eye open — a bona fide, eyes closed, heart racing, churning-lava-at-your-absolute-core, goose-bumps-inducing, life-altering, mood-ring-changing as body heat rises, moment of utter and complete surrender.

That last “first” kiss would serve as a reminder for when I’m up for reincarnation in one of these millennia — that I’d actually want to come back again just to be able to experience the warmth of someone else’s skin.

Maybe the best things in life are free, when you look at it that way. 😉

Anyway, I will no doubt have more existential angst over this subject when I get the book in-hand. But what I expect from myself and others in my circle who are in this little book club, is that we’ll probably all be changed for life by this exercise.

Went out last night, which in and of itself isn’t an unusual occurrence, but as ALWAYS there’s no such thing as the perfect evening.

I looked fine when I left the house — not exotic or anything, but you know. Clean. Slightly fashionable outfit. Makeup. All that happy crap.

And I know I looked in the mirror and must have approved myself before I left, but I had somewhat of a drive to go meet someone. So when I got to my destination, I did the whole freshening-up thing in the ladies’ room just to make sure I was still somewhat cute and fresh and all.

And I noticed that there was a big, oily stain on my green tank top. Bizarre.

Luckily, I had another shirt to pull over it (and I was headed into a movie. *whew*) but it didn’t cover it fully and I admit, I was all “WTF?” over the mystery stain.

I mean, I admit that I miss my mouth most of the time when I’m eating. I’m one of those women who doesn’t eat much on dates — not to be dainty or anything, because you can look at me and know I like food. So, it’s really pointless to pretend to eat like a bird when everybody at the table knows better.

But I end up “getting more on me than in me,” as I am fond of saying. (Ahem.) So, knowing that I tend to spill a lot, I tend not to want to eat at least until the evening is almost over.

Anywhoo, got through the movie. (I rather loved “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” although I highly doubt it’ll be nominated for Picture of the Year.) And as a side tangent, I was very depressed for a moment during the show when I realized I no longer put myself in the young heroine’s shoes but, instead, I related more to the dowdy (read, “older”) Miss Pettigrew. When did I stop being the heroine of my OWN fantasies? Lord. < / tangent >

Dinner was at Brio, which was wonderful of course. I’ve been to its counterpart (Bravo) a few times but this was waaayyy better. The Italian Wedding soup tipped me off, as I knew I had tasted that recipe before. I rocked some lobster risotto for dinner, and it almost usurped Carrabba’s as my favorite Italian restaurant.

Anyway, I don’t think anyone noticed the stain — which, when I got home, I found out the one side of my Wonderbra had EXPLODED and the gel is what leaked all over the shirt. (Joy.) Luckily, the theater was dark, the restaurant was dim and I toddled off on my merry way like a good girl so I could be up for church today. 😉

Proof positive once again that you can dress her up but you just can’t take her out!

Spent the morning in traffic court for a $140 ticket thanks to a suspended registration. Yippee.

I was dressed up and looking calm — it was interesting to see how many people wore their laundry-day best and looked annoyed to be there. C’mon — we were ALL annoyed to be there. No one was special in that regard.

There was an article in Slate recently in which they compared the uber-cool Bugs Bunny to the temperamental Daffy Duck in a political context. And while I think I’d rather have a president who is emotive because you can actually see that they care about the country, I’ll save that argument for April 22 (the Pennsylvania primary) if need be.

Oh, where was I? Yeah. I was trying to go the classy, cool and grateful route.

And it worked.

I was doing fine until my cop showed up. Yeesh. I was hoping she wouldn’t, not that she wasn’t a lovely person and all but because I didn’t want to pay my fine. (It was for not getting emissions done, which I did three days after I got the ticket for a splendid $400 fine.)

So, the judge called my cop’s name and brought 17 of us to the front of the room. And NO ONE before me got their fees waived. This judge wasn’t taking any crap from anybody.

Then it was my turn. I bid the judge good morning and stated my name (as these sessions get recorded). The judge asked the cop what she had to say about me. And she knocked off my bobby socks when she told the judge that she had nothing to say about me and that my charge should be dismissed.

!

!!

!!!

Holy shit!

I had all my paperwork ready to go, but nobody wanted to see it. I’m thinking she must have accessed my record and saw that I took care of everything in a hurry, because I was out that door in a hurry. Whee!

I remember her name because it’s a “Melrose Place” character name, too. Is it inappropriate to send a cop a thank-you note for not fricasseeing your ass when you probably really deserved it?

I had to stick around for a moment to get some paperwork from the clerk, and while I waited, I heard the next case. The guy was pulled over for the EXACT reason I was, and he didn’t fare so well.

The cop seemed surprised that he’d gotten his emissions done, and she asked him when he did it. She looked at his paper and said, “Yesterday? You waited until YESTERDAY?”

Needless to say, he had to pay his fine as I FROLICKED out the door.

To reward myself, I drove my ass straight over to Bed Bath & Beyond to get a duvet set that I’ve been coveting. I had seen it at the new Columbia Heights location last week and didn’t want to pay the full $150 for a lousy cover and two pillowcases. But today, I had a 20%-off coupon in my bag and spent the money earmarked to pay for my ticket on the start of my new bed ensemble. (I can’t justify parting with $50 for each sham and pillow right now.)

So, even though I consumed some meat today (seriously, the Fractured Prune is da bomb! And I took a Reese’s cup donut to go. Nom nom nom), it’s a Good Friday indeed!

Apparently I forgot to tell my friends that I went to see Bon Jovi at the Verizon Center last week. Which, come on — I missed them exactly once, the last time they toured. I was in Vegas or something. But alas, I gots me some Jersey Boy fix last week, as witnessed below:

I didn’t take the photo, so I can’t take credit for it. Shit, I was snapping shots with my iPhone and, while that’s one handy-dandy lil gadget, it doesn’t cut it when you’re sitting in section 407!

I was sitting with what I like to call the Jersey Syndicate — the over-30 crowd. There were three teen-agers two rows down who were dancing to all the new Bon Jovi songs, and they were sort of pissed at the rest of us for being just fine in our seats. Shit, we were all suffering from vertigo up in Peanut Heaven. (I was willing to pay for better seats, but apparently they were all sold out at 10 a.m. on the Saturday morning they went on sale. Humph.) No dancing for Goddess this time around!

What was funny was when the old stuff would come on (“Runaway,” “Keep the Faith,” “Sleep when I’m Dead”), the kiddos would sit down and go, “I don’t know that!” But the rest of us? Were singing at the top of our lungs — every single lyric, perfectly. It was awesome.

Video from the Chicago show of my favorite, favorite song, “These Days”:

*swoon*

Daughtry was the opener, which I had forgotten about until I got to Chinatown. OMG, you know I’m busy when I forget such crucial details. But when I bought the tickets, there was no assigned opening act and it was going to be a toss-up between the All-American Rejects (meh) and the glorious Chris Daughtry. I was one happy Goddess when I found out that it was going to be an excellent tour package.

Daughtry did an amazing version of “One” which I think was way better than the original U2 version but not quite as soulful as Mary J. Blige’s.

But dude knows how to cater to his hair-metal support group audience, as he played Motley Crue’s “Home Sweet Home” before leading into his own single “Home.” At that point my vertigo issues dissipated for the night, as I was creaming my jeans and was happily stuck to my chair for the duration. 😉

Speaking of hair metal mania, I am jonesing to go to Rocklahoma in July. d00d! Bret Michaels, Warrant, Cinderella, L.A. Guns, Enuff Z’Nuff, Tesla, Night Ranger, Pretty Boy Floyd, Tora Tora, XYZ, Trixter, Kingdom Come, Triumph … holy shit, the list goes on and on.

It may be the year of the rat, but 2008 is turning out to be the year of the AquaNet. Sweet! 🙂

Drove to Alexandria for the AMC Oscar Showcase yesterday and all I can say is, wow, does my ass hurt. Next year, note to self: Buy one of those foam seat donuts because, even though the allure of watching five back-to-back movies means not having to come up with any real conversation for the day, it also means you will be seated for the duration.

I was under the impression that there would be a dinner break or, at least, more than five minutes between the closing credits of one show and the preview roll of the next film. No big deal, but really, you had several hundred people subsisting on free popcorn, lots of soda and whatever concessions (mmm, Reese’s Pieces) are your particular poison.

In any event, yay for a nice day, double-yay for catching up with my friends between films, and boo-hiss to the asshole next to me who insisted on filling up my cupholder with her garbage (and not getting up to throw it away), as my cups kept getting kicked in its little place on the floor as people kept coming and going to the bathroom. *slap*

It was a nice day to get cultured, as many of the movies nominated for tonight’s “Best Picture” award would never normally make it to my “must-see” list. So for the first time, I’ll be able to root for my favorite and be able to compare apples to apples.

So, the movie reviews? I haz ’em. In order viewed:

Michael Clayton — I could not stop staring at George Clooney’s lips. I could ride those to glory. :9 Oh, wait, I was supposed to review the film, yes? All right, it was an excellent surprise. I wasn’t attracted to it in the previews, but anything this man touches, turns to magic. He was a star litigator who has spent 17 years with a firm as its “janitor” — the clean-up boy for everybody else’s messes. I think this could be the universal pick for best flick because the story has a lovely twist at the end. Plus, it’s one of the rare stories that you immerse yourself in and, when it’s over, you feel like you need a cigarette — it’s that satisfying!

There Will be Blood — I don’t even know where to begin with this one. Daniel Day-Lewis was fantastic (and sort of hot, in a cowboy-turned-oilman sort of way, but that conjures up images of our president and now I’m squicked out. Ew.) as Daniel Plainview, who takes residents of small towns brimming with oil for a ride in the early 1900s. Tiff wondered aloud where Paul Dano’s Oscar nod was, because his role as the wise Paul and also the Bible-thumping Eli was creepily memorable. It had one of those, “Mmmmkay?” endings, because it was downright weird but at least you understood it.

Atonement — I knew this one was going to be dark, but I was ready to slit MY wrists at the end. The scenery was absolutely amazing — from the fields and rivers and flowers to the war-torn streets of England and France during World War II. The music was just as beautiful and heart-wrenching as the backdrop. Briony Tallis purposely, incorrectly, identifies her sister’s suitor as her cousin’s attacker, and we see how one little white lie goes on to destroy every life it ever touched. And in the end, the only happy moment? Was a lie. An absolute lie. And the only one of them who went on to live a long, fulfilling life? Was Briony. *thunk*

Juno — This one gets my vote for the Oscar, probably because it kept me from killing myself yesterday from these abysmally dark movies. Plus, it’s the genre I love most, so I am biased. Ellen Page is awesome — she’s someone you would want to hang out with as “Juno,” a sweetly cocky knocked-up 16-year-old whose heart is pure and whose intentions are never anything but good. I may have to do a full writeup on this one but I will say this: My heart broke with her love for the baby daddy (“Bleeker”) — it’s one thing to not be with him, but it’s another to see him going after other girls when you’re right there, wishing for him all along and he either doesn’t have a clue (in Bleeker’s case) or doesn’t WANT to have a clue. Anywhoo, Tiff and I cried at the end, so that’s my definition of an awesome movie.

No Country for Old Men — Not only were my friends and I mystified by the ending (and not in a good way), but women STOPPED ME IN THE BATHROOM to see what I made of the “resolution.” Oh my God, Tom was right when he said that we couldn’t have seen that movie earlier in the showcase because we wouldn’t have been able to stop thinking long enough to enjoy the other movies. The moment it ended, I said, “I can haz new ending, yes?” There was money, drugs and murder — lots of murder, in cold blood and no signs of this killer ever being caught. Tommy Lee Jones was awesome, as was Josh Brolin. And honestly, I was more scared of Javier Bardem’s bob haircut than I was of his taste for homicide. I am still scratching my ass over this one, which probably makes it the clear Oscar winner because even smart people don’t understand it.