Back in 2001, I sent out a few movie reviews via e-mail. What I really wanted was a blog but I guess I didn’t know how to do it and it wasn’t so easy as it is now, so I used e-mail to send reviews to people I knew (not all of whom asked for it, by the way). Since I’ve just been rewatching Saturday Night Fever, I started thinking about the first movie I reviewed via e-mail – Staying Alive. Plus, a friend who used to get the e-mails asked me a couple of weeks ago why I don’t do them anymore. I found this interesting – someone WANTED more of my weird “reviews” of movies that had been out for years. Anyway, I combed through my old e-mails and found the review.
Category Archives: Reviews
The Official Preppy Handbook: Managing Those Dollah Billz
This is where things get complicated in the Prep lifestyle. If you’re serious about being a Prep, you’ve got to back up your rep with some serious cash, or at least the illusion of it. How do you create that illusion? Well, hopefully you don’t have to because you’ve got a trust fund. Barring that, you can cultivate an air of richness that you pair it with enough turtlenecks and an easygoing relationship with a credit card. Here are some do’s and don’t gleaned from the Handbook.
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The Official Preppy Handbook: Of Ducks and Dogs
Hey, Bunny here! Back with OPH tips for selecting a pet.
But first, let me say that this Preppy duck motif has been weighing heavily on my mind since last night (see last post). My home is really not duck-compliant. So I did some searching on Craig’s List to find some duck-related items I could purchase to Preppify my environment.
I found a Shoveler Duck Print with the added note of, “Finally an Upscale Duck Print!” Apparently a lot of people are selling down-market duck prints out there. Buyer beware and all that. The print is limited edition, signed and out-of-circulation. It can be mine for only $575. The seller says, “It was more than just another print of a handsome duck, it was a limited edition done by someone with an artistic flair not totally concerned with replicating the Shoveler like a photo, but as concerned with bringing the feeling of the wild with the picture in an artistic manner.”
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The Official Preppy Handbook In A Web 2.0 World
Do you by any chance remember The Official Preppy Handbook? I do. I own a copy. It was published in 1980 (retailed in paperback for $3.95) and was probably ahead of the curve, getting out there before “preppy” officially became part of the lexicon and something of a punchline in the mid-to-late 80s. Essentially, it’s a humorous book, of course, but it also served as a kind of a road map for how to be prep, even if you weren’t born into the lifestyle and felt so inclined. The introduction states that, “Preppies don’t have to be rich, Caucasian, frequenters of Bermuda or ace tennis players.” The book has a certain something in common with today’s Gossip Girl and makes you think a bit more deeply about Gwyneth Paltrow, Izod and Ivy League schools.
It also makes me think about pink and green, a color combo I still associate with Prep, turtlenecks with repeating patterns of tiny whales spouting water or apples, wool blazers and movies like St. Elmo’s Fire. Ah, good times.
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A Grand (?) Finale: Who Will Start the Bidding?
This season of Real Housewives NY culminated in Jill’s charity “function,” which we’ve been hearing about every episode.
First, let me say how shocked I was by their low ticket sales five days out from the event. They hadn’t even broken even yet. Actually, this is comforting since it’s the same way a gala event I had to plan this year went, although we had at least broken even on ticket sales prior to the event. I just figured that, with all the fab people they claim to know, they would have had many more than 170 people.
And, as often happens on committees, some members did next to nothing and some got really pissy about how things should be done. Alex, for example, hadn’t even invited anyone as of the final committee meeting. Her excuse: I was busy. Too busy to send out an e-mail or ask four or six friends to go? Yes, this happens all the time. I bet anything that she could have told them exactly what dress she was planning on wearing but somehow inviting guests had slipped her mind. Later, she made a point during her “camera talk” time to say that she and Simon had called some people and got a few to go. Yeah, right.
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Dare To Be Average
Lorna Martin, the author of the memoir Girl on the Couch, had a reasonably “good” life. She worked as a writer for the Observor. She had a loving family and a group of girlfriends. But when she found herself involved in a love triangle that was threatening to become a love square, she decided to begin psychotherapy in order to get down to the bottom of things.
While I tend to think we are just about one block away from the end of Memoir Street, another one always pops up that catches my eye. I wonder, “Is there anything new to tell?” And in this case in particular, “Is there anything new to tell us about therapy?” As mentioned before, this is not a book about what we would refer to as “mental illness” but more about the feeling and position in life of being blocked. Or maybe it could be better described as feeling as if you are forever waking up in the middle of the woods with no idea how you got there and even less of an idea about how to get out. It’s confusion wrapped up with lack of perspective, ingrained habits, runaway emotions and bad memories. And yes, it’s very real, even if it lacks a name like manic depression (perhaps Martin defines it best through the use of the term “normal neurotic”).
Of Jibs and Owls and Dolphins
OK, this week we’ve got more trouble for Chrysler, the swine flu, Justice Souter announcing his retirement and yet I spend my time wondering why Kelly and Bethenny on Real Housewives of New York keep trying to talk things out and get along.
Look, sometimes, for whatever reason, two people just don’t like the cut of each others jibs and that’s that. I know I’ve experienced it many times – both ways, meaning, that plenty of people don’t like my jib and I don’t care for the jibs of some others. (What is a jib? It is a type of sail on a ship and the expression may go back to pirate times, old-timey pirates, not the Pirates 2.0 we’re dealing with now. Essentially the expression means, “I don’t like your face.”)
Forget The Beef. Where’s the Glamor?
I know I’ve said it before in various ways, but the Housewives of New York are really just teaching us one thing over and over again: that everyone’s life is mundane in its own way. It was driven home to me again on the latest episode about Halloween when everyone was in a tizzy about the parties coming up that week and then, once they were at the parties, it seemed to be about standing around together to drink and eat or to drink and complain. I can’t imagine why they were so excited. It seemed like much more work than it was worth. Where’s the glamor? The glitz? The spice? The tits?
Um… Housewives? We Need to Talk.
Housewives, you’re letting me down. Well, except for Countess LuAnn. LuAnn never lets me down. But the rest of you… You’re really boring.
The last episode I watched involved the unveiling of Jill’s new decor in her condo, which is pretty/ugly and not comfy-looking at all. The dining room looks OK; the rest looks like a boutique hotel and I don’t mean that in a good way. It looks like the lobby of a W Hotel – its not exactly the place you want to curl up and watch a movie or talk on the phone while in your PJs. And the kitchen! I know New York apartments and condos are small but that kitchen is fit for a boat.
Unfortunately, It Happens Every Day…
When I read about the new memoir Happens Every Day: An All Too-True Story, I knew I would read it as soon as I could get it from the library. I picked it up on Wednesday evening and finished it Thursday night. The reviews I’ve since read on Amazon all say about the same: “I couldn’t stop reading this book,” “This is a page-turner,” etc.
And it’s true – I wanted to get to the end of the book so I could find out what happens. If someone is spilling a good story, I stick around until the end. But now that I’ve reached the end, there are more questions than anything close to an answer.