Movie Review: Juno

I just got back from seeing the movie Juno. I had been wanting to see it since I first saw the trailer, naturally, and it was fantastic, as I'm sure most people suspected it would be.

I was shopping at The Grove all by my lonesome, a state I've often found myself in lately. So, I decided to pop into the theater after having my fill of the crowds of people mindlessly herding themselves around the stores and walkways. Much to my delight, the next showing of the movie was only 15 minutes away and moreover, was not sold out. I don't know if I've ever gone to a movie by myself, but I highly recommend it; great 'me' time. Had I the time before the movie started, I would have dropped my multiple bulky bagfuls of purchases in the car, since there was no one there with me to watch them while I went to the bathroom or got popcorn and I felt I little awkward lugging them around everywhere, but c'est la vie.

Back to the movie. Fantastic. Or rather, stupendous - a word I sort of forgot about until I heard it used in the movie. Juno was positively charming, the movie itself and the main character. The movie in a way reminded me of Wes Anderson flicks, artistically and in its quirkiness. Like Anderson's, this movie took a dark situational reality and made it seem sweet, pretty, and even funny.

The dialogue was hilarious. Juno, the main character, made me wish I was in high school again, though I would have to pass on the whole being pregnant thing. She had me wishing I could go back and do it all over again, knowing that I know now about personal identity, since Juno seemed to approach her experience with a sort of mature mentality the first time around. I am now a huge Ellen Page fan. I wasn't sure how much I liked her as an actress after having seen Hard Candy, but I think her character in that was just a little too hard core for me. Plus I'm a bit sarcastic myself at times, and I felt like I identified with her personality in this movie. Oh and the father was hilarious too. One thing that disappointed me was Jason Bateman's character. I won't say why because I don't want to give anything away. But I am a huge Jason Bateman fan and I didn't like to see him portrayed in a negative light.

Other random great aspects: I loved the soundtrack. Very whimsical and innocent (and oh how I love the indie). Plus, I'm a fan of the fact that Diablo Cody is now a household name. At least in my household. Between me and me. Despite the fact that she may have been very well-known in the writing community prior to this. A scenario which, in turn, makes me a fan of hers. I find her situation inspiring and intend to learn much more about her.

In the end, I loved Juno and I highly recommend it to anyone on the fence about seeing it.

Just a little something

The Kevin & Bean morning radio show was having quite the interesting discussion about Scientology this morning during my brief drive to work. I really wanted to sit and my car and listen, but would have been late for work. Luckily the show is podcasted, so I'd check it out if you're at all interested.

Changing gears quite a bit... it's adorable picture time!!





At what point does it become inappropriate for me to be posting pictures of them in the bathtub? If you had listened to Kevin & Bean this morning, this post would be coming full circle!

oh, and, by the way...

...I L.O.V.E. Michael Madsen.

Talk about cool factor... the eyebrow expressions... YES.

That's just, like, my opinion, man.

I'm watching "Reservoir Dogs" while reading Palahniuk's Rant and drinking a nip of Jameson, neat. If that's not cool, I don't know what is.

Maybe if I was listening to some Miles Davis in the background.

The highlight of my night last night had to be watching, live and in concert, a version of the song "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause" as performed by Twisted Sister.

Judging by the way the lead singer's hot pink leather pants shifted when he did the air splits, I'm pretty sure they are the same pair he wore twenty years ago. Just an observation.



Twisted Sister at The House of Blues Los Angeles, Live Nation holiday party.

Well I'll be...

I really must say, for a world population that is growing at exponential rates, it seems to get smaller and smaller day by day...

Just a moment ago, completely on a whim, I decided to Google my grandmother's name. My mother's mother is named Betty Jane Wilcox (which, by the way, I've always thought was a rad name. "Betty Jane" - so classic). The first few results I get are for commercial genealogy sites, so I read on. Then I see a real hit entitled "Wilcox Family Heirloom". "Hmm, interesting," I think to myself. I click the link. This is the page I am directed to.

If you notice, this Craigslist posting is filed under the city of Detroit. My grandmother did in fact grow up in Detroit before moving to the Los Angeles area when she was about ten years old. So now my curiosity is quite piqued. I just sent a response email to this mystery person. It was pretty comical when my computer froze as I was trying to reply to the posting; I had a bit of a panic attack because I was in such a flurry to get to the bottom of this.

So now I play the waiting game. Interesting little mystery, no? I'll let you all know how it pans out.

A little bit about me... much like every other post.

I was tagged by Kels, this is the first time I have been tagged so here goes...

Here are the The Rules: Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to then report this on their own blog with their 7 things as well as these rules. They then need to tag others and list their names on their blog. They are also asked to leave a comment for each of the tagged, to let them know that they have been tagged and to read the blog.

1. I eat until the point of pain at nearly every meal. I'm not exaggerating; I specifically said 'nearly' as opposed to 'every' even though it feels like this happens at every single meal. I don't know what's wrong with me. Ask any one of my friends. At the end of every meal there comes an agonizing groan and statement along the lines of, "why did I do thaaaat... why did I eat sooo muuuch...". I guess I just love food a little too much. And I have very little will power and self-control when it comes to delicious tastes. If my individual physiology were inclined towards obesity, I'd be screwed.

2. Sometimes I just go out and buy new socks and underwear because I don't feel like doing laundry. At this point I I have enough pairs of underwear to last me about a month and a half without having to do laundry. 40+ pairs of undies seems like a lot, no?
(and it goes without saying that I have enough regular clothing to also maintain this lack of laundry-doing habit)

3. I've never had my ears pierced. The only thing I have ever had pierced is my nose, going on 7 years now.

4. I love to sing. I've been told by some people that I have a great voice and yet others wince and ask me to stop singing when they hear me. I've always been perplexed at how two opposite reactions could emerge, as if the interpretation of a pleasant melody is completely subjective. Yes, some voices are better than others, but how can one person perceive a singing voice as pretty while another scoffs as if their ears are in pain. As a result, I am very self-conscious about my singing voice and thus have not cultivated the skill as much as I wish I had over the years... despite the fact that I love to sing.

5. I have an odd obsession with zombie/vampire horror flicks even though they terrify me. I mean really, it's a little masochistic of me. I'll have horribly vivid zombie nightmares and then the very next day I'll suggest going to see 28 Weeks Later.

6. I've never broken a bone or even had stitches. Hmm, well I guess that's one way to jinx myself.

7. I pride myself on being athletic - a guy's girl - even though I know deep down that I'm really not. I just throw and catch well.

Hmmm... I'm not quite sure who to tag, since I don't have many blog buddies. Marissa writes in her MySpace blog, so I'll tag her; Marissa, you've been tagged! Aaaand... I'd tag Jon but 1. he only posts videos on his blog and doesn't talk about himself and 2. I don't think he'd post it in his MySpace blog. I'll also tag Vrej - I think he'd do it in his MySpace blog, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't read this so I'll have to alert him. Lastly, maybe Josh will do it. Josh, don't feel obligated. But you know, if you're bored...

Representative of Basic Cable Network Related To News Dispersal Thinks Me Amusing

Last week I had the task of pitching a very high profile and well respected female reporter, from a network regarded as a "most trusted name in news" - that's about as much as I can say without stating who and which one. The pitch was in regards to a princess-related product line belonging to one of our clients - again, I'm not that comfortable sharing the client's name. As it usually goes, I send an email pitch first, before calling and hashing out my idea over the phone. Despite this order of operations, reporters seldom even see my pitch before I call, either because it was filtered directly to spam, they automatically delete emails from unknown addresses, or they are simply just too busy to read it, all of which I understand because many of the people I pitch to probably receive about 20 new pitches each day.

Well, I sent my email pitch to this reporter last week, only to receive no response. On Friday I send the pitch again. I call to follow-up, but get sent to her voicemail. I leave my message, explaining why I'm calling and the duplicate emails I have sent. And, as usual, I feel a little silly about seemingly harassing them, as it would appear to the untrained eye. Tonight, Monday, I receive this email response from said well known reporter:

"You left a very impressive pitch voicemail. Alas, I’m not doing this type of story these days. I’m doing funny pieces pegged to politics and news events. I especially liked how you chortled a bit as you threatened to follow up. Very entertaining but I’m afraid it’s not my thing at the moment. I’m a princess-free zone."

Despite having been declined on my story idea, I couldn't help but laugh out loud at this response. I then forwarded it to my bosses who got an even bigger kick out of it than I did; they held their stomachs and laughed uncontrollably - and have been doing so intermittently for the past 15 minutes - and told me I need to think of something really witty to respond with... such a task shouldn't be hard. I'm completely kidding ;) god knows I'm going to over-think my response so much that the topic will infiltrate my dreams tonight. I get very easily flattered when I receive responses like this from people in high places, even if they ARE turning me down.

I just reread my last post and cracked up. Sometimes I wonder if anyone in the world amuses herself as much as I do. I'm hoping that's not a bad thing...

The Product of Developmental Retardation: How Not To Be Like Me

I was reading a Newsweek article today on how a woman's fertility may in some ways be subject to her diet. And no, I'm neither attempting to create little Stephanies, nor using my diet as some sort of natural means of birth control. Anyway, a certain scenario emerged in my thoughts as I read. You see, my sisters stand 5' 10" and 5' 8.5" tall (that .5" does matter). I stand 5' 7" tall. It occurred to me that a likely reason why I may be the runt of the litter is that my father smoked around me - often in relatively closed quarters of the house - for a good chunk of my growing years. This was not the case when my sisters were children. Now, I know this has nothing to do with fertility, per se, but the article got me in the growth and development line of thinking. When I was a child I always said I wanted to grow to be 5'9"... I wonder if I had any true chance of making it there. Maybe I just got more of my mom's genes. She was 5' 6.75".

Another largely unrelated topic that I reflected upon today, among many, many other days throughout my life, involves the concept of identity. I've dealt with a precarious coincidence over the years, one which has caused me to think that it's really no coincidence at all. It seems I've been living a dual identity. For as long as I can remember, nearly every time someone forgets or fumbles on my name, I am mistaken for a 'Jennifer'. This might not seem odd at first; Jennifer, much like Stephanie, is made of three syllables, has the same 'fff' 'nnn' and 'eh' sounds, and I'd consider them to be more common names than not. But this has even happened with people - nay, strangers! - who hadn't really ever heard my name before - people who had never been introduced to me, or who actually mistook me in a public place for a friend of theirs who happened to be named, you guessed it, Jennifer. Let's just put it this way: by the time I was no more than 10 years-old, I had been mistaken as a 'Jennifer' so many times that even at that tender age, I thought those happenstances were extremely uncanny. At that age I had never experienced an 'uncanny' situation nor did I even know what the word meant. But I have a distinct memory of the point in time when I started to be weirded out by this nominal identity that new people who crossed my path clung to. Sure, I've gotten a 'Samantha' a few times over the years - but no more than a few times, and proportionally speaking, those 'Samanthas' in no way even remotely compare to the dozens of 'Jennifers' I've received. And this strange trend still occurs to this day! As often as new people forget my name, I get called Jennifer (and considering ya meet people out at bars or parties, people's memories aren't exactly at their peak, you know how the story goes - I encounter plenty of name-forgetters).

So how has this strange misnomer affected my sense of self? Has it stunted my development or impeded any deep self-exploration in some way? Perhaps it's offered me a more liberating self-perception: I don't have to by any one thing in particular, I can be many things, varying kinds of people within my one person. Then again, maybe it's the reason I talk to myself when I'm alone, as if I have many different personalities keeping me company.

Daily Conversations

Pet Peeve # 57:

When people say 'pacific' instead of 'specific'. Jesus, there's not a single vocab flub that could make a person sound stupider.

Sit tight, little buddy.

My sister recently attempted a family portrait for Christmas cards this year. Her youngest child, Oliver, has also recently become extremely mobile. Apparently this picture represents the common theme of all those she took that day:

Don't quote me boy, I ain't said sh*t

That lyric has been stuck in my head for the past few days, but not the N.W.A. version... it's the Dynamite Hack remix (yes, I had to Wikipedia the song to find out who sings that folk/rock version).

The PR Week issue that I am quoted in arrived today and of course I'm nitpicking about the single sentence they used, just as I knew I would. I was very curious to see what they would choose to quote me on, since I was asked about 20 questions during our 5-10 minute phone conversation. I'm fine with the quote they chose, however I'm irked at myself for saying "they're positioning themselves" in reference to our client's plan of brand positioning, rather than "we're positioning them". I feel like I should have taken more credit on behalf of our agency's plan of attack. But in the end, I guess our client was in fact the one who decided how they want to market their new product, so perhaps I'm being too hard on myself.

However they did cite something incorrectly. They said our client was present at the Grammy's, when really they were at the Golden Globes. Hope there are no repercussions on that one, since you know who will be taking the fall.

Writers Strike Provides Distraction

There are 10,000 writers marching in front of my building right now, making their way west on Hollywood Blvd.

It's times like this that I wish I had listened to Josh when he said, "you should really go with a digital camera that uses AA batteries, rather than a rechargeable. You know that when that crucial photo-op comes you're camera is going to unexpectedly die." He was right. I got about 4 crappy pictures before I was instructed to change my battery pack.

I was first disrupted by multiple long, deep train-like horns. I thought myself, "hmm, that's odd. There are no trains on Hollywood and Cahuenga." So I went out to investigate. The horns I heard were actually coming from 4 or 5 eighteen wheelers which were ever-so slowly paving the way for 10,000 picketing would-be writers dressed in red and chanting, "when I say 'union' you say 'power' 'union'... 'POWER', 'union'... 'POWER'!!" There were people on stilts, in costumes, helicopters in the sky and more camera crews than I could care to begin counting.

But alas... my attempt at amateur journalism is halted by the fact that my camera is out of batteries. That's not a good sign.

Well well well

Guess who's going to be quoted in Monday's issue of PR Week. Go ahead, guess!

Just a little something

So I have a big event for work tonight: High School Musical 2 DVD red carpet/screening/press junket/release party. These HSM movies (as we call it in the biz) are wildly popular with the media, which is a little surprising to me considering that it it began as a made for TV movie. It obviously helps that the original film's soundtrack was the bestselling album of 2006 - a stat which shocks me, but then seems pretty logical once I think about it; there isn't much to compete with in the category of children's music. I figure, if you estimate that 15% of the entire population are between the ages of 6-16 and they are all listening to the same thing, then that single musical phenomenon is already making a huge mark by affecting 15% of the population. Now, the other 85% of the population may not even include active music listeners, and for each age group and demographic there are multiple categories of music interest, plus multiple bands in each category. Oh, and the immense media interest has also probably been aided by the fact that one of HSM's hot little underage stars has had nude pictures circulating. I'll let you know how she looks in person and whether or not she lives up to all the hype.

But in reality, I think the only people who care that I'll be among all these young stars are my little cousins, who are obsessed with all things Disney. Unfortunately, and as pathetic as this sounds, I won't even be able to brag to them, my only interested audience, about my shoulder rubbing because if I do I will never hear the end of it: 'why didn't you take us!! You HAVE to take us next time!!' And no matter how many times I explain it they won't understand what 'work' actually means.

So check out Access Hollywood, Extra, or E! Entertainment tomorrow night and you might catch a glimpse of me in the background on the red carpet. It's sort of inevitable when working the carpet for these events - since there isn't much space to work with you always end up in the back of the crews' shots. It's kind of fun. Tell me if I look professional.

That's all. I didn't really have much to say, I just hadn't written in awhile. I've been lagging on posting my most recent round of nieces/nephew photos from last weekend. But there ARE new ones, and they ARE just as adorable as ever (naturally).

Sooo....

Being the stereotypically over-excited aunt that I am, I have more pictures for you, dear readers. The last round that I posted were of my nieces in their Halloween costumes. Well, after two pre-Halloween parties in those costumes, I guess they got tired of them and decided to dress themselves for trick-or-treating on the actual big night.

Elise (right) said she was a “Cowgirl Princess” (she was obviously channeling memory of her original cowgirl costume, though this new one doesn’t really scream either cowgirl or princess. Still adorable, of course.). And Celeste (left) declared herself to be a “Fairy God” (yes, fairy GOD. I wonder what sort of religion my sister is practicing that house; I’m pretty sure the one we were raised with would consider that blasphemy… well, at least she’s encouraging open-mindedness.) Oliver, the bebe, was dressed as an octopus and apparently remained in the costume without fussing for a few hours.

These children brighten my world:

Where does it go?

It's funny how some days you think you're on top of the world. You start your day off right: wake up early, make a delicious batch of whole wheat pancakes, have time to relax and drink your coffee at home, feel great in the brand new cozy sweater you chose for a cloudy and cold Autumn day... all those things prepare for what will come next in your day. Before even leaving for work you feel great about the tasks that lie ahead of you, you feel excited and motivated to go into work and conquer, produce. You know you're on top of all you projects and you think you're doing a great job.

And then a bomb drops. And it makes you feel like crap. Makes you feel like the little seven year old boy who trots home from school and can't wait until his dad gets home from work to tell him about the A++ he got on his arithmetic test. Daddy get homes. But when little Joey, bursting with excitement and pride, gushes about his more than perfect grade, daddy, wreaking of dissatisfaction, gruffly remarks, 'now if you can only learn to hit the ball at t-ball practice.'

That's how I feel.
I hate trying to salvage a lost sense of worth and motivation. I want my morning back. Wah.

Our plight as writers

I've officially decided to pledge my allegiance to the writers strike. Sure, I realize I'm not actually an employed writer and thus not legitimately striking from anything, but I just want them to know where my loyalty lies. And yeah, it's not like I'm going to stop writing blog entries or anything because let's face it folks, this is the only creative outlet I have left... for the moment. So I'm really just joining the writers strike in spirit, I suppose.

But now that I think about it, I'm not going to get to watch new episodes of my favorite shows. They're sort of betraying me, as a fan and supporter of their work. Come to think of it, maybe this is my opportunity to strike! No no, not 'strike' like I was talking about before; 'strike' as in lunge, attack. Yes! Here's my window to get noticed, amidst lack of true professional talent... THAT'S IT! Fuck the writers strike! The fair weather is shifting my way!!

BUUUAAHAHAHAA!!!

The Big Cheese

We had another big event last night for the DVD release of Ratatouille, held at Social Hollywood. It was actually a really cute, fun, and majorly expansive setup, far larger than I had anticipated. I was wishing last night that I had brought my camera to take pictures of the extravaganza, but it seems that I never have my camera with me at the opportune times. My coworker took a couple photos on her phone, so below is one of the inside bar area. In addition to that room (and all the delicious gourmet buffet food) there was a huge entry room that housed a "Cars" Blu-ray setup.

But by far, my favorite part was the French inspired patio where an all night tasting of high end cheeses and wines ensued. My god, was that fantastic. I definitely gorged myself last night... if you know me, you know how passionate I am about cheese. The top notch cheese that was being served was a triple creme sheep's milk that goes for over $100/lb!! The best part: the cheese server noticed how enthralled I was with their offerings so he packed up at least a quarter lb. of that triple cream, as well as some fantastic aged Gouda for me to take home. I have about $60 worth of delectable cheese in my fridge at home, all compacted onto one tiny plastic to-go plate. I got the cheese shop's card, and it turns out they are local (as opposed to the wine experts, whom I believe were not). However, I don't see myself heading to the valley to spend $25 on a slice of cheese any time soon... unfortunately.

Before I could enjoy the open bar and wine/cheese tasting, however, I had to help manage the red carpet. Notable names included Brian Dennehy, John Ratzenberger, Patton Oswalt, the Oscar winning creators of movies like Toy Story, The Incredibles, Cars, and Ratatouille, and probably my favorite of all, Cheech Marin. No, I didn't shake any hands, but I did rub some shoulders, literally... it gets crowded on the carpet. Oh, and I also shared an intimate moment with THIS guy, who had the audacity to grab the glass of Cafe Boheme from my hands and take a taste for himself. Sure, I could have said 'no' but I have too many fond movie memories of him from childhood as 'that guy who's in everything'. I hold him near and dear.