Don’t feel blue

Blue Christmas?

Fear not, for I bring you glad tidings!

I didn’t mean to leave you all in a down mood, contemplating the potentiality of Hayden’s dwindling days as an eligible bachelor. Eek! Just seeing that in print gets me depressed. Since music—especially holiday music—always lifts my soul, perhaps it will lift yours as well. If you happen to get an iTunes gift card for Christmas and want to try out some unconventional holiday music, I heartily recommend Sixpence None the Richer’s Christmas album, “The Dawn of Grace.” Santa in a canoe? Yeah, you’ll find that little oddity on their track “Christmas Island.” They also have an awesome arrangement of “Silent Night.” Have a listen on their MySpace page.

Also check out BarlowGirl’s two tunes on this playlist (below). These gals have phenomenal harmony, which isn’t surprising since they’re a sibling trio.

I’ve thrown in a couple songs that I’ll be performing this Christmas season. On Christmas Eve I am singing in a barbershop quartet version of “O Holy Night.” It’s a shame the background noise drowns them out, but these ladies of the Dutch Mill Sweet Adelines Quartet (YouTube video) are singing the exact same arrangement. I sing the female equivalent of the bass part. So, the soli near the beginning (“it is the night of our dear savior’s birth”) is my part. No, we aren’t Sweet Adelines, although our soprano used to be. I’ve included Celtic Woman’s version here. Obviously not barbershop, but I won’t hold it against them. I’ll also be performing Chip Davis’ (Mannheim Steamroller) arrangement of “Greensleeves” (a.k.a. “What Child Is This?”) on recorder and flute. It should be real interesting since I have one recorder that plays good low notes and another that plays good high notes. Thus, I may need to juggle both recorders and my flute!

“The Wexford Carol” is a real oldie (12th century) but goodie. Amy Grant’s “Breath of Heaven (Mary’s Song)” is one of my faves. The Enya track was an iTunes freebie, so I threw it in. Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas” is how we’ll all be feeling if Hayden gets himself hitched. And I wrapped up my NEH Xmas playlist with the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s “Messiah,” a perennial favorite here in Ann Arbor. It’s a local tradition to sing the Chorus along with the UMS Choral Union. Yes, I’ve done it!

Title	Artist	Album
Carol of the Bells / Sing We Now of Christmas	BarlowGirl	Home for Christmas
The Wexford Carol	Celtic Woman	A Christmas Celebration
Angels We Have Heard On High	Sixpence None The Richer	The Dawn of Grace
The Last Christmas	Sixpence None The Richer	The Dawn of Grace
O Come, O Come Emmanuel	Sixpence None The Richer	The Dawn of Grace
Silent Night	Sixpence None The Richer	The Dawn of Grace
Riu Riu Chiu	Sixpence None The Richer	The Dawn of Grace
Carol of the Bells	Sixpence None The Richer	The Dawn of Grace
Christmas Island	Sixpence None The Richer	The Dawn of Grace
River	Sixpence None The Richer	The Dawn of Grace
Hayden should skip Christmas for Two	Sixpence None The Richer	The Dawn of Grace
Some Children See Him	Sixpence None The Richer	The Dawn of Grace
Blue Christmas	Elvis Presley	White Christmas
Hallelujah (Light Has Come)	BarlowGirl	Home for Christmas
Breath Of Heaven (Mary’s Song)	Amy Grant	Home For Christmas
O Come, O Come Emmanuel	Enya	O Come, O Come Emmanuel - Discovery Download
O Holy Night	Celtic Woman	A Christmas Celebration
Greensleeves	Mannheim Steamroller	A Fresh Aire Christmas
Messiah Highlights (Ed. Basil Lam): Hallelujah (Chorus)	Ambrosian Singers, Charles Mackerras & English Chamber Orchestra	100 Best Tunes

[24 December 2008]

 

Subliminally yours

Just Say No!

I can read minds. Well, I can read the cerebrums of Hayden’s fans. Absolutely. The holidays are fast approaching and we all know what that means. Tis the season for popping The Question. Thankfully, this hasn’t been an issue of concern for us in the past, but speculation that Hayden and Blanche may elope or get engaged—which they always deny—has run rampant for a while. It’s not that we don’t believe them… we just think they’re excellent equivocators. Tragically, when it comes to Blanche, Hayden has been in a state of kalopsia. I’m just saying that anything is possible. Including the nightmare scenario: Matrimony.

Now don’t panic. It’s not definite that Hayden will pop the question (historically he is a man of remarkable restraint), but we must gird ourselves for that awful possibility. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve are popular times for getting engaged. Thus, those of us here at NEH will be holding our collective breaths during the next two weeks. If we band together and employ our panoply of Jedi mind tricks, perhaps we can thwart a potential catastrophe.

Natch, I am torn. I should want him to be happy. His happiness should be paramount to all of us, oui? Instead, I am on pins and needles. I fear I may need to revisit my objections to cloning him.

In order to take our minds off this hymeneal holiday horror, I have penned an exquisite poem for the occasion.

Hayden is a sweetheart
Unpretentious, much less phony
Yet it’s high time that he realized
He’s not ready for matrimony.

His girlfriend seems terrific
All his dreams come true
Still, I have my reservations
Could it be he has no clue?

He thinks he ought to query her
While down on bended knee
About her feelings for him
Could she love him eternally?

I fear he’ll be heartbroken
When he hears that fatal sigh
“I once thought you were charming,” said she,
“But, dear boy, it’s all been one big lie!”

“I do want babies, I Petunia
I’m quite fond of Buddy, too
But… would you mind if I kept that swing you made
Even though I no longer love you?”

Please try to enjoy the holidays. I know it won’t be easy, but hang in there everybody! [23 December 2008]

My last missed opportunity

Missed Opportunity?

A strange thing happened to me the other day. I got a call at 8:15 in the morning from my casting agency. She got straight to the point. Could I get to the set of High School by 9:00? Nine o’clock A.M. Let’s see… the set is 45-50 minutes away. I’m standing here in my PJs. Uh, nope. I didn’t bother to pepper her with questions. If she was trying to line up someone at the 11th hour (literally), she didn’t need to waste time chit-chatting with me. She apologized for calling so early. Not a problem. My alarm had gone off 15 minutes earlier, which meant I was semi-conscious. My church has early morning services.

Yes, it was a Sunday morning. I don’t think they normally shoot on Sundays but the production is winding down, so maybe they had to squeeze in some weekend filming. I assumed the agency had sent out an e-mail query Friday night which I had missed. Not surprising since it had been a busy week: I had something scheduled every night last week. Thus, Thursday was the only night available to shop for Christmas gifts, Friday evening I wrapped them, and Saturday was the family celebration. Checking e-mail and working as an extra had been kind of low on the priority list.

I checked my e-mail when I returned to work Monday. The agency hadn’t sent out any calls for extras during the weekend. That seemed odd. Not even an urgent plea due to a last-minute cancellation. Why, then, had she called me? For continuity reasons they don’t usually allow extras to return to a set to shoot additional scenes. Maybe these scenes didn’t require extras who would be close to the camera, so they could reuse people. Yet, if that was the case, why not put out an urgent e-mail to everyone? No, she had called me specifically. But why?

Then it dawned on me… they probably needed a stand-in and I was the right gender and size (height/weight). For Mary Birdsong? Julia Ling? Both are 5'2" (1.57 m) and brunettes. Although I’m blonde, I remember they put a brunette wig on a dummy subbing for Julia’s character in the crash car. I can wear a wig as well as any dummy. Wait, that didn’t come out the way I meant it to! Don’t stand-ins get paid more than regular extras? They certainly get treated better. At least that’s what I was told by a woman who had been Rosie O’Donnell’s stand-in for three weeks. That extra cash sure would have been nice—to pay for a Christmas present or two. Drat! Still, it’s doubtful I could’ve made it to the set by 9 a.m. Even I’m not that good. Now, if I possessed David Rice’s special talent for teleportation…

Thus, it looks like a missed opportunity. It’s unlikely I would have gotten my name in the credits for being so-and-so’s stand-in since it was only a one-day gig. The regular stand-in probably called in sick. That would explain the lateness of the call. In fact, I was getting over a nasty cold myself. Anyway, I’ve learned a valuable lesson. Don’t immediately say “no” to an 11th-hour booking from your casting agency. Especially if one of Hayden’s films happens to be filming here, not that that was the case here.

Hilary Swank will be in town next month to film Betty Ann Waters. I hope I get a chance to work as an extra since it would be an easy commute for me. Ms. Swank is 5'6" (1.7 m) tall. I guess I won’t be acting as her stand-in. Oddly enough, if Blanche was filming in Michigan, I could probably be her stand-in. If her IMDb bio is to be believed, I am maybe an inch (2.5 cm) taller than her. Natch, I would be loathe to work with her (i.e., my competition), but if it meant the chance to steal meet her clingy boyfriend, bring it on! That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. Especially if he got confused and groped kissed me by mistake! Heh, heh.

UPDATE: Oops! Someone changed her height on the bio sheet from 5'1¾" (1.57 m) to 5'5" (1.65 m). I’m not buying it. She’s close to a foot (30.5 cm) shorter than Hayden, who is listed as 6'1½" (1.87 m). I’m not sure these biography sections can be trusted. [16 December 2008]

Alluring

Mi Casa es su Casa

The rumor mill has it that after construction is completed on Hayden’s new mansion house, Blanche will be shacking up with him. That’s right. Living in sin without benefit of a marriage certificate. Mind you, I’m not judging them. On the contrary. In these tough times one must find ways to economize, to stretch those millions as far as possible. A merger makes strategic sense. Two can live as cheaply as one. No doubt their financial portfolios have taken a mega hit in recent months (Lord knows mine has). I realize Blanche was looking forward to spreading her wealth, Obama-style, to the less fortunate (i.e., me, you), but it seems he might be reneging on that campaign promise. Anyway, I feel for those poor kids.

On the other hand, it could be that Hayden is one sly fox. Not only is he saving loonies on his heating bill by recruiting a toasty bed warmer, he’s obviously found a way to test Blanche’s ability to tolerate life in rural Canada. I mean, his farm ain’t exactly close to civilization. Uxbridge, Zephyr—wherever the heck it is he lives—she won’t be within walking distance of anything but trees, critters, and, if she’s real lucky, another farm or two. That’s solitude to the nth degree for a city girl.

I’ve been mulling over Hayden’s predicament for some time now. One would have to be blind not to notice how much he cares for Blanche, yet how to lure her away from La-La Land and keep her content to stay without having to chain her to something? Bilsons have lived and worked in L.A. for generations. Darn near a century by my estimate. That’s a lot of tradition to break away from. A born-and-bred Angeleno, Blanche has never lived anywhere that has seasons. For her, a parka is something you pack for a weekend ski trip, not everyday attire.

However, the question that likely keeps Hayden awake at night is… can she tolerate living with him 24/7? While that may sound like Heaven and Earth to you and me, the reality could be anything but. Chrish may have some habits that, while appearing amusing at first blush, are simply annoying on a daily basis. Toilet seats and toothpaste squeezing aside, there are lots of ways people drive their loved ones nutters. Take my mum, for instance. Love her dearly, but she insists on reading newspaper articles aloud because she finds them interesting. My ex thought it hilarious to fart under the bed covers then fan the fumes toward me. Juvenile? Annoying as hell? You betcha. But are these deal breakers in the Grand Scheme of Things? Only you we she can decide what she is willing to tolerate.

I suggest Hayden seriously test her commitment to him and to living—eternally and irrevocably—in Canada. Take away her Blackberry so she can only focus on him. Force her to watch Hockey Night in Canada religiously. Snowmobile every day until the snow melts. On her birthday, surprise her with a season pass to Maple Leafs games (and tear up her renewal form for Clippers tix). Tell her to leave her Lexus in California and buy her a clunky old pickup truck (nonchalantly offer that such trucks are considered très chic and she will be the envy of all her Canadian friends).

I wonder when he’ll break it to her that there are no Starbucks within walking distance? Yeah, she’ll need that clunker to travel the 15+ km to Markham civilization. Either that or trade her Starbucks travel mug for one from Tim Hortons. Frankly, I’m still trying to picture Thurman Murman in a miniature snowsuit, or a little straw hat and designer doggie dungarees. TM’s adjustment to farm life might be even more traumatic than Paris Hilton’s.

TM to Blanche: You want moi to consort with these… these potbellied pigs? These hick swine?! Darling, I don’t do porcine companions. If this ever got back to my bow-wow babes in Bev Hills I would be ruined! No more invitations to the spa with Princess and Snickers. A laughingstock!!

Yes, I’m afraid Blanche is not the only one Hayden will have to win over. I wish him luck.

P.S. Oh, and Hayden… don’t forget to tell her that yellow snow is considered a delicacy in Canada. Yum! [10 December 2008]

Don’t emulate this man!

Illegitimi Non Carborundum

Here it comes. My annual nag session (a few days late). Time to gently remind Hayden that “Smoking is hazardous to your health, darlin’.” As if he didn’t already know. This year my tactic is foolproof: I will guilt-trip him into quitting. Every time I hear about or see Hayden taking a drag on a cancer stick, it fills me with pain. Agony, I tell you. Why? Let me ’splain. [pause] No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

Girl likes boy. Girl snags boy. Girl takes a job and is quickly promoted. Girl suffers humiliating setback. Boy leaves girl. The End.

And the moral of the story is: Smoking causes pain.

What, you don’t get it? [sigh] Fine. I guess I’ll have to flesh out this little allegory.

Once upon a time there was a girl named… um, Petunia. She really liked this guy named… er, Buddy. She convinced Buddy that they should become a couple. He went to graduate school while she took a job at an insurance company. The nice man who hired Petunia felt that the job currently available was beneath her, but he expected another job—one more in line with her education and training—to open up soon. Impressed by the nice man’s faith in her, Petunia agreed to take the lesser job and wait for the better one.

She didn’t have to wait long. True to his word, the nice man promoted her. Her new job involved mostly math, which was Petunia’s strength, yet she struggled to master it. In fact, she couldn’t seem to grasp any of it. The harder Petunia worked, the more confused she became. She leaned on Buddy for support, but he grew increasingly impatient regarding Petunia’s plight.

A month passed. The nice man called Petunia into his office. He was sorry but her new assignment wasn’t working out. He had decided to send her back to her old job and promote someone else. Petunia felt humiliated by this demotion. Buddy merely grunted and turned a cold shoulder. The swine! He thought Petunia was a failure, which further deflated her fragile ego. A few weeks later, Buddy informed Petunia that he didn’t want to be a couple no more.

Petunia’s self-esteem tumbled into an abyss. Devastated, she prayed that Buddy would have a change of heart. Instead, he moved into the nice man’s house! Buddy’s change of address confused the post office, which started delivering Petunia’s mail to the nice man’s house. Awkward. To make matters worse, Buddy married the nice man’s daughter.

Petunia’d had enough. She decided to move back home to live with her parents temporarily, until she could get her groove back. On her last day of work, a co-worker approached her with a terrible secret: Petunia had been sabotaged! Those responsible for her training had engaged in despicable deeds. At the end of each day they had switched around the pages in Petunia’s binders so she couldn’t find the data tables and formulas necessary for her computations. They had given her low priority policies to work on while burying the “urgent” ones, to make it appear that she was neglecting them. Finally, knowing that she couldn’t tolerate cigarette smoke, they took turns smoking at adjacent desks in order to hinder her concentration.

Petunia was stunned. Why had they done this to her? It wasn’t personal, the co-worker assured her. The lady whom she had replaced, Dusty Springfield, had been a good pal of Petunia’s trainers. When Dusty asked for a raise, the nice man had said “No, ma’am.” So Dusty told him to take that job and shove it. Her sudden departure threw Dusty’s friends into a tailspin. They took out their anger on Dusty’s replacement… the unfortunate Petunia. It was their way of getting back at the nice man.

I know this Petunia girl. We go back a long way. She got a raw deal and she was never the same after that series of events. That’s why I get physically ill (and sad) whenever I see Hayden smoking. It’s a reminder of what poor Petunia endured. [sniff, sniff] I just wish Hayden would quit.

Note: “Illegitimi non carborundum” is a mock-Latin phrase loosely translated as “Don’t let the bastards get you down.” According to an article in the March ’08 issue of Details magazine, this phrase appears above Hayden’s kitchen cabinets. [24 November 2008]

Smash and dash

Crash ’n’ Burn Chill

I forgot to post my annual entry for the Great American Smokeout Challenge yesterday. Since it is kind of long, I may wait and post it next week.

“I was an extra in a car crash scene for a movie.” Gee, it sounds so glamourous. In reality, it’s more like watching paint dry for several hours, then… BAM! Someone dumps a can of paint on top of your head.

I was booked to be an “extra with car” for the movie High School, but given no insight into what that might entail. As it turns out, there was a Plan A and Plan B for filming that day. The director didn’t decide on a scene until shortly after my 7 a.m. arrival. Plan A was a scene at a warehouse in town. Plan B was, you guessed it, the car crash scene in a residential neighborhood.

The morning weather report was a high temperature in the low 30s°F (0°C); wind chill 12-14°F (-10°C). Brrrrr! I prayed that my role would involve remaining inside my car. Instructed to bring several clothing options and to dress in layers, I wore long johns under blue jeans, heavy wool socks, and an aqua v-neck sweater over a lavender t-shirt (plus 2 undershirts). The scene was scripted for medium (cool) weather, so long sleeves and lightweight jackets were okay. Wardrobe supplied me with a jean jacket to wear over my sweater.

There were five extras with vehicles: my dark green sedan, two yellow cars, a black convertible, and a blue van. After parking on a side street for nearly an hour, we met with the stunt coordinator to receive our assignments. Each driver was issued a two-way radio so we could hear all the cues from the director and stunt coordinator (plus most other crew chatter, which was quite fascinating). We didn’t put our vehicles into position until 10:30. The extras who would act as passersby didn’t arrive until closer to filming time.

The crash involved a van and a car. The car was hooked to a cable (to be erased in post-production) which was used to pull it into the intersection. The car’s “driver” was actually a costumed dummy. The van had a stunt driver and stunt doubles. One of the van’s occupants was supposed to be Adrien Brody’s character, a drug dealer. He definitely looked like a character, dressed in a long robe and crazy cap with his hair braided in cornrows. Yes, I saw him up close twice. No, he didn’t talk to me.

My car was directly behind the crash car, but I had to stay 3-4 car lengths behind. A police officer working security told me there were three cameras set up to film the crash. Depending on which camera shots they use, my car may be visible during the crash. (It should be visible in the post-crash part of the scene which was filmed later. In that scene the car’s driver, played by Julia Ling, is out of the car and talking to the driver seated inside the van, while I am standing in front of my car in the background, talking on my cell phone as if speaking to a 911 operator.)

Shortly after 1:00 p.m., the stunt coordinator and director gathered everyone together for a safety meeting to discuss expectations of how the crash scene would proceed. EMTs and fire extinguishers would be standing by. Three times they practiced pulling the crash car to its mark while counting down, 5-4-3-2-1. We had 5-6 dry runs involving all the vehicles. A couple of times we had to abort. Then it was time to film the actual crash. For obvious reasons, there could be only one take. Special FX had rigged it so the van’s windshield would explode. There was a neat area of shattered glass (did someone say Shattered Glass?) in the middle of the intersection after the crash. The impact was supposed to spin the car counter-clockwise so it would collide with another car parked along the curb. The van was to barrel straight through the intersection and veer right before stopping. It seemed to go off without a hitch.

That morning, director John Stalberg had given me instructions on what to do and say during the post-crash scene. I was a bit incredulous that he wanted me to speak, so I asked him specifically if I should talk, not pantomime, and he said “Yes.” ¡Ay, caramba! I spent most of my downtime concocting possible dialogue in my head. However, he must have reconsidered because I ended up pantomiming my part. Afterward, one of the PAs came over and told us (myself and 3 passerby extras) that we probably will be visible in the scene. Yes!

Although the director referred to me as a “Concerned Citizen” and an AD said I was the “Annoying Citizen,” I’m not sure my part was significant enough to warrant a mention in the credits. Still, the PA denoted the position of my car on a hand-drawn map of the intersection and asked what role the crew had conferred upon me. When I told him the various descriptives used, he decided to just put down my real name. Originally, the extra that drove the blue van was referred to on the call sheet as “Soccer Mom.” During rehearsals her van trailed the crash van, but the stunt coordinator took it out. I think she was miffed to get axed, but that’s show biz. They change a lot of stuff on the fly for a variety of reasons.

Despite my layers of clothing, it was brutally cold during my cell phone scene. We four extras stashed our winter coats and hats inside my car and jumped in between takes to warm ourselves. My hands felt like blocks of ice and turned beet red. I subsequently learned that the passerby extras had been given hand warmers, but not those of us driving cars. I was the only driver who had a role in the post-crash scene. I was also the last extra to leave the set because I had to wait for them to finish filming some of the dialogue before I could move my car. Ten and a half hours work. I lost 1.5 pounds (680 g), probably from all that shivering.

So, if you go to see High School and notice a blonde woman in the background with a Rudolph-red nose and hands—pacing and yammering on her cel—that would be me. [21 November 2008]

 

Hot tub escapades

Every Night I Yearn for You

Everything was in that one kiss

I was so prepared to hate Virgin Territory. I mean, when a film is released three years after it is made, you don’t have to be an Einstein to deduce it must be a stinker. Right?

Wrong. Now, I’m not saying that it is Oscar material. Far from it. Yet it had a certain charm, a definite appeal. The number one reason to like it: Blanche isn’t in it. True, her O.C. colleague Mischa Barton is, but Hayden didn’t fall for her. It’s easy to see why. Ms. Barton doesn’t exactly exude warmth and passion. “Cold fish” is the phrase that comes to mind. Still, even this icy maiden’s heart could be melted by our Romeo.

I’m also not saying that this was Hayden at his best, acting-wise. He is mostly decent, occasionally wonderful, but rarely disappointing. However, physically… um… sigh. Aside from a rather scrawny bod he looked… simply scrumptious. This just might be Hayden at the apex of his adorableness. Sadly, I do think he has outgrown the adorable stage, which started at, oh, birth and ended shortly before Jumper. He’s in another stage now. Haven’t quite figured out what to call it yet. I’ll get back to you on that.

What else to like? Well, there’s Hayden in leather breeches, Hayden wielding sabres, Hayden on horseback, come hither looks, soft red lips, Hayden in a nightshirt, Hayden with wet hair, wispy chest hair, hairy legs, long curly head of hair (shades of Anakin… mmmm). Yes, lots of glorious hair. Did I mention Hayden was wet?! Oh, yes indeed-y. More than once.

This film is a comedy. Sort of a cross between The Princess Bride and Romeo + Juliet. Not as ha-ha hilarious as the former, nor as jarringly contemporary as the latter. The musical score is pretty decent, with a few exceptions. Hayden’s acting chops are much more suited for this brand of wry humor. Giggle-worthy is his reaction when the Mother Superior of the convent tricks him into speaking (he pretends to be a deaf-mute in order to obtain employment as a gardener). “A miracle. I can speak!” And her reaction when she throws him out, “Wanker!” Yes, it’s quite bawdy but it has some good lines, most memorably this exchange between Lorenzo di Lamberti (Hayden) and the object of his infatuation, Pampinea Anastogi (Barton):

Pampinea (barely above a whisper): Every day I see you,
I am drawn to you.
Every night, as I sleep,
I yearn for you.
Every day. Every night.
{big juicy smooch}

Oh, did I mention he’s blindfolded during this scene? It was like watching my own private fantasies of Chrish & me come to life. How great would it be to do several takes of that? The only drawback—not being able to see his blue eyes.

Hayden revealed it was his first foray into nude scenes. Hot tub… hot nuns. In typical Hayden fashion, he admits to feeling sorry for these gals who have to disrobe and join him in the tub, mostly because he himself was uncomfortable. Gee, did he try to mitigate his pain by picturing them with their clothes ON? Snort. Earth to Hayden, I sincerely doubt the nuns regretted it. On the contrary, they insisted that Lorenzo was extremely beautiful; that he came directly from heaven. Amen to that, sisters!

If you aren’t a prude and want to see Hayden having some fun, this isn’t a bad little flick to see. Sure, any film about 14th century lust and randiness is bound to have a few juvenile moments (“Let’s take a look at the tackle!”), but there is a nasty villain Tim Roth (Incredible Hulk), pompous suitor Matthew Rhys (Brothers and Sisters), and even an Orlando Bloom look-alike. And, of course, there is Hayden. Hard to resist. [17 November 2008]

 

Are they voting or doting?

Hayden Votes?!?!

Anakin Skywalker: “Move along, this isn’t the voter you’re looking for…”

Hmmm, I don’t usually resort to hanging out in the underbelly of cyberspace (i.e., the gossip dungeons), but I came across this “pwecious” photo of our Hayden accompanying his lady to the voting booth last week (sad that she was incapable of performing the deed alone). Natch, it confused some of the commenters who realized he is Canadian and cannot vote. Not legally anyway.

Interesting that Blanche wore a short dress on voting day. So did I. We didn’t plan this, I swear! Alas, Chrish did not fly cross-country to help me vote (or ogle my legs). I assume he just couldn’t hack getting up so early (3-hour time diff), since I voted before going to work. While Blanche seems to be mourning the voting process (dressed in black sans veil), I went the patriotic red, white & blue route. Well, a red mini-dress with navy blazer and heels. Close enuf.

Speaking of voting day fashion, I see Hayden got all caught up in the moment and wore his “I Have A Dream/MLK” t-shirt. (sniff) For the record, my sis was born on the day MLK was assassinated. Yeah, the very day. Weirdness. It’s like Hayden’s tryin’ to send me a message or something. “I may be chained to with her, but my heart is really with you and yours.” Ha!

So, I tells ppl to go out and vote and whaddaya know… they actually go?! Didn’t know I had so much influence on the weak-minded. Power of da Force. Heh-heh.

Actually, I think it’s kind of cute that Hayden went. I bet he was simply curious about how we do it in the USA. Is it different than the Canadian process? I don’t think it’s all that mysterious. In my polling precinct you just fill out a sheet of paper, inking the bubble next to your candidate’s name, feed it to the ballot tabulatin’ machine, and voilà! You’re done. Frankly, I doubt it is much more complicated in… oh wait, this is the Republic of Kali-for-nee-ah we’re talking about. The Land of a Bazillion Ballot Proposals. I forgot that they don’t actually trust the legislators they elect to make the laws, so they legislate from the ballot box. Oops, my bad.

Yeah, you probably have to clear out half a day on your calendar to vote there. That’s probably why Hayden took along bottled water. He was in survival mode, poor fella. Me? The entire process took maybe 45 minutes: finding a parking space, filling out the application, showing photo I.D., validating my application against the book of registered voters, standing in line for a booth, voting, appeasing the ballot machine gods, and picking up my “I VOTED!” sticker. Yeah, phew! Hard work. Especially since Hayden wasn’t there to hold my hand.

In her November InStyle UK magazine interview, Blanche said she was pulling the lever for… wait for it… Barack Obama!!!! Hey, it was a big shock to me, too. Her being a celebrity/actor/entertainer/member of the creative community and all. Truth to power, babe! Unlike blabbermouth Blanche, I plan to keep y’all in suspense. Don’t want to alienate any of my fans, you understand. Right, all two of ’em.

Incidentally, these two lovebirds were spotted two days later, boarding an Air Canada flight to Toronto. And guess what? Hayden was wearing the same t-shirt. I guess he was running out of clean clothes and had to head back home to do laundry? That Blanche. She won’t even trust him with her washer & dryer? Tsk, tsk.

Check out my sweet blanky, pardner!

Changing subjects. I just had to share a pic of my newest cousin. Tristan’s the name, breaking hearts is his game. And that lovely, hand-knitted couture baby blanket he is cozying against? It’s made by his favorite cousin. Me! [13 November 2008]

 

One buck I'd like to snare!

Shining Hayden

Arriving home later than usual Friday night, a bright light caught my eye as I approached my house. Someone was in the woods behind my house, shining a light around. Now, this isn’t the first time individuals have trespassed on my family’s property and, given the close proximity to deer hunting season, I surmised it was probably some would-be hunter shining deer. That’s illegal, of course, but last I knew, so is trespassing. Sigh.

I pulled slowly into the driveway, but the old garage blocked my view of the woods. I swung my car into the backyard, pointing the headlights toward the source of the light which had now disappeared. Turning on my high beams, I wanted to let whomever was out there know that the jig was up. Certainly I had no intention of confronting trespasser(s) in the middle of the night, especially ones who might be in possession of a firearm. Instead, feeling timorous, I parked my car in the garage and went into the house. But after a few minutes I got antsy and decided to check the woods again. Had I imagined seeing that light? Nope. There it was again. However, this time it was pointed at the ground like someone was lighting their path as they walked. I grabbed the phone and dialed my parents’ number to let them know about this intruder. As I talked with my mom, I saw headlights and taillights appear on the other side of the creek. A pickup truck pulled out of the recently harvested cornfield and turned north (away from the house).

You’ve probably heard that saying, “He looked like a deer caught in the headlights,” right? If not, let me explain. You see, deer are momentarily mesmerized when a light is shone into their eyes, thus making them easy to kill. It’s really not very sporting, which is why it is illegal in these parts. Of course, these so-called hunters were likely interested in emptying our woods of its deer before the legal hunting season began. The nerve!

This incident reminded me of another deer-caught-in-the-headlights moment. Yep, I’m talking about Hayden in Jumper. I’ve come to the conclusion that his lackadaisical performance was a result of his growing infatuation with her… that Blanche woman, who played his love interest, Millie Harris. So taken was he by her ethereal beauty that he completely forgot how to act. That lost puppy dog look? Surely you remember… when he looked as though he was about to hurl his lunch on her? Yeah, that wasn’t acting. He really was feeling barfy—terrified that she might not be as crazy about him as he was about her.

Now, I haven’t sampled Blanche’s body of cinematic work. In fact I’ve seen precious little of it save for two episodes of The O.C. which left no lasting impression. Still, I gotta believe director Doug Liman probably regrets picking Blanche to play David Rice’s gal pal. How was he supposed to know that this winsome, doe-eyed slyph would reduce his lead actor to a useless clump of flesh? Or that she would become completely hypnotized by his natural comeliness and suavity? It was painfully obvious that Dougie never did a screen test of these two together before signing her (reports say Hayden was cast first). If the Limanator had performed this crucial step, their mutual paralysis would have been detected and disaster could have been averted. Instead, we got the debacle otherwise known as Jumper.

Simply put, that Blanche woman was shining our boy Hayden. Powerless to resist this huntress, he met his destruction, foundering in Hoolihan’s bar in Ann Arbor, the hotel in Rome, the airport, in Griffin’s lair. Thankfully, he reverted to his old self in scenes with Jamie Bell (fellow jumper Griffin) and Diane Lane (David’s mother). I haven’t heard any rumors of a sequel and since Hayden has reportedly signed on to a three-picture deal with Screen Gems, it seems unlikely that Jumper will go the way of the Bourne series. So, I guess I can kiss that fantasy of Hayden filming in Ann Arbor good-bye. That’s one buck I’m not going to catch. [10 November 2008]

 

My dream candidate

We, the Sheeple

Without tipping my hat, I just have to rant say the following:

I will be holding my nose as I vote for POTUS tomorrow. If it weren’t for my high school government teacher’s words haunting me, I would not vote at all. She would goad us, “If you don’t bother to vote you relinquish the right to criticize those who did.”

Okay, okay, so I will vote tomorrow, but only out of duty and because it is a right I did not earn but nonetheless enjoy as a citizen of this country. Neither candidate (Democrat or Republican), in my humble opinion, is capable of leading this country. Throw Hillary Clinton into the mix and my opinion would not change one iota. Three of the four presidential/veep candidates are U.S. senators. Ugh!

Given that Congress has lower approval ratings than George W. Bush, it confounds me how we even got to this sorry state. At least members of the House of Representatives are beholden to their constituents. Members of the Senate seem indebted only to their sense of self-importance and the special interest groups. Every year, my alma mater (Michigan State U.) reduces each department’s budget by 1% and asks them to justify any increase. Can you imagine our spendthrift Congress doing likewise?

We must choose between two weak senators—why? Because they are the candidates the media wanted and pushed hard for. Both were underdogs, yet rose to the top of the heap because the media wanted us—We, the Sheeple—to believe they were the absolute best we could do. WTF? Our media is consistently ranked below Bush and Congress in popularity. Both the media and Congress have won their reputations the hard way: they earned them (does the name Stephen Glass ring a bell?). This bitter gal who still clings to her religion is appalled by the dumbing down of our electorate.

It is my opinion that the next president of the United States will drag our great nation down into the abyss. We will flounder, economically and morally. Therefore, I am voting not for the best candidate or even a mediocre one, but for The One the one who will do the least amount of harm during the next four years. I hope and pray Americans will come to their senses, become more discerning and thoughtful, and elect a truly capable leader in 2012. McCain is not the answer. Neither is Obama.

However, let me thank both candidates for pulling out of Michigan, traditionally a battleground state, weeks ago. It was a uniquely tranquil experience to be excluded from the usual plethora of robocalls and political advertisements on TV.

Got 10 minutes to throw away spare? Here are two videos imploring you NOT to vote. Yes, really.

• Exhibit A :: “5 More Friends Uncensored” :: This excruciatingly long and patronizing vid is brought to you by a gaggle of narcissists Hollywood celebs. Thank goodness Hayden isn’t in it.
• Exhibit B :: “5 friends, 12 idiots” :: The spoof version. Also long, but I think that was by design.

UPDATE: Now, here’s a hilarious video. A Star Wars-ish take on the election. Vote for Lando Calrissian… or not!

I was an election (poll) worker for a two-year period. I would encourage everyone to do it. If nothing else, it’s a great civics lesson. Now, GO VOTE! [03 November 2008]