The Gang's All Here: The Muppets Movie

The other night I took a walk down memory lane. The vehicle was The Muppets, a surprisingly good movie musical about the things that get left behind in our rush to be grownups. The gang was all there –Kermit, Miss Piggy, Fozzie and Animal. And by the time I heard the bom bom bom of The Muppet Show theme song, I had already been transported well back into my childhood. How many movies these days allow us to live out our nostalgia intact, without ruining the very essence of the thing we miss? These muppets haven’t been dumbed down or tampered with or coaxed into playing some saccharine version of themselves. They may be a little older, a little banged up, but as soon they appear on screen its clear they have the same charming presence and quirky personalities as they did in their heyday.

The power of seeing your childhood victorious on screen can be an easy thrill, but it doesn’t have to come cheap, and with this film it sure doesn’t. Witty and at times venturing into the absurd, this muppets film is pure theatrical showmanship with a tinge of mania and desperation. What if Kermit doesn't succeed and the muppets lose their theater? The same fear is present for the filmmakers, who have been given the burden of one last chance to see if there’s still any love (or money) left in these characters. Fortunately, in Nicholas Stoller and Jason Segal’s deft hands, there appears to be life after death. They take a risk with Chris Cooper rapping, and with the chorus of chickens singing a G-rated version of Cee-lo Green's Fuck You, but both gambles turn out to integrate seamlessly into the fabric of what Muppetdom and this film are all about. The muppets live for the pure joy of entertaining and their happiness is infectious. I found myself wiping many tears of laughter and delight from my eyes and already making promises to myself to come back to see it again.

Stories from LA LA Land

So I've been bugging my best friend Liz to write this story out for about a week now, and it was definitely worth the wait:

'Take me to LA's hottest, most expensive restaurant,' my friend Kate from NYC demanded of me for her one night in town, so I took her to Foxtail around 9:30 on a magical Thursday night. For all you East-Coasters, Foxtail is a supper club/ night club brought to you by the famed party promoter Brent Bolthouse of "The Hills" fame and Sam Nazarian, the brains behind Hyde, Area, and other LA nightlife giants. About thirty seconds into dinner, I noticed Ryan Phillipe sitting two tables away in the uncomfortably small restaurant. How was the food? I have no idea, I was too busy trying to make eyes at Ryan Phillipe, downing a bottle of Prosecco, and pretending to listen to my friend chatter. Our plans were to stay at Foxtail after dinner and make our way into the night club area. Done eating, we stepped out for a cigarette and were immediately bombarded by the papparazzi. Somehow, by complete chance, we had stumbled onto Nicole Richie's birthday party, which was taking place that night in the nightclub area of Foxtail. It was insane! There were at least 40 paparazzos standing there, waiting, hungry for some money shots. There was even a little 7 year-old paparazzo with a disposable camera, I'm sure tagging along with her Papa-razzi (true anecdote; pun intended.) At this point, Britney Spears came in. Then Nicky Hilton. (You can see the back of my head around second 48 of the pap video. I am legend.) Then Janet Jackson and Jermaine Durpre. Then Paris Hilton and Benji Madden. Then Lisa Kudrow (really? seriously?). After the brouhaha died down, Kate and I proceeded to walk back in, but were immediately stopped at the door. "It's a closed party." We had stepped out for 20 minutes, tops, but they refused to let us back in. After some wheeling and dealing which I will not bore you with, Kate and I finally made our way to the party. (But just know-- getting in was NOT easy. In all seriousness, its probably the most difficult thing I've ever done). Anyway. In a 20 x 20 room with approximately 15 of the most famous young celebrities in Hollywood- here are my observations:+/-

1. Paris Hilton and Benji Madden seem very much in love. They were all over each other and I don't think it's just for show. I think he is actually crazy about her. This is most likely due to the fact that he is really ugly in real life, and she is fairly nice looking. 2. I heard Amanda Bynes scream out, "Suck my titties" while telling a story to her entourage. I want to be her friend. 3. No one (except us) was really drunk. 4. Adrian Grenier is really hot. Which brings me to the crux of my night.... 1:45 a.m., and I am many drinks deep. Suddenly, the crowd clears from around Adrian Grenier, and I carpe diem. I walk up to him and start grinding up against him Night at the Roxbury style. We dance for a little and then I walk away, playing coy. A little while later, he comes up to me and Kate, and stands there, watching us dance. I decided to wait and let him make the move, play it cool- it pretty much always works. 5. Playing it cool with celebrities does NOT work. While waiting for him to approach me, two girls pounced on him like starving Vietnamese tigers. Within 5 minutes, Adrian Grenier was leaving Foxtail (and dashing my dreams) with a girl on each arm. Even though, I didn't end up canoodling with Adrian Grenier, that night I broke up with my boyfriend. Dancing with Adrian Grenier made me feel like I could do better. I know, it sounds like a pretty terrible way to end the night, but really there is a happy ending! A week later, I ran into Adrian Grenier. He remembered me, and we've been dating ever since. We have planted a tomato garden together, and he's brought up marriage! ...Actually thats not true. The next day I woke up boyfriend-less, hungover, and $ 200 poorer. 4 days later, I was groveling to my boyfriend to get back together. In the end though, it was the most ridiculous and fun night I've had in a long time. Happy Birthday Nicole Richie!

More Video for your Monday

After May 22nd I Can Die Happy

New Signs of the Apocalypse: McCain and Montag '08?!

I thought after surviving Y2K, Earth was in the clear for at least a century. Well today's headline seems to prove that in fact, hell has frozen over. Heidi Montag, the she-devil of everyone's favorite vacuous MTV program has endorsed John McCain who has scrambled to return the praise. According to Time.com, McCain has responded to the endorsement by saying: "I'm honored to have Heidi's support and I want to assure her that I never miss an episode of 'The Hills,' especially since the new season started."

    Has Heidi confused the presidential election with a wet t-shirt contest in Cabo? This isn't MTV, my dear, and no one gives a crap about what you have to say if it isn't about your hack boyfriend, nose job, or upcoming sex tape. Thats right, because we all know you're not going to let LC upstage you in that arena.

    And McCain, who with each day acts more and more like a showpony than a statesman, may think this somehow endears him to a more youthful population. Well, he's probably right. The under-18 population. What an excellent strategy for attracting a larger voter base.

    How long til the NYTimes breaks the Montag/McCain sex scandal? Let's hope the apocalypse hits first.

Travel: Harder Better Faster Stronger.

Vitamin water is so passe. When most music artists choose to brand themselves with second and third careers, they tend to be in fashion. Or in bad movies. Not so with Kanye West. Two days ago, the college dropout launched Kanye Travel to fulfill the travel needs of his legion of white middle class followers. Next time someone compliments me on my low fare to Vegas, I'll just tell them "Kanye got it for me".

Damn it Feels Good To Be A Gangster

So today I was blessed to find in my gmail inbox a guest post from the venerable Ms Allison Metz, of the Midwest Metz's:

When I was first asked to write on a topic that I consider myself to be an expert on, I questioned whether or not I was good enough to appear in Awkward/Juxtaposition. Certain that I possessed enough awkwardness to make up for any lack of talent in the blogging world, I forged forward. Just as a side note, some of you might be familiar with my work in The Mount Holyoke News. Perhaps that really analytical piece I wrote on honey mustard? Rest assured, I AM available for autographs.

Enough about me, I want to get to the meat of a really important issue. Lately I’ve been referred to as the connoisseur of reality television. It’s not a title I take lightly. It takes many years of practice to be considered an expert in this field. You may be wondering how I acquired such an important position at a very young age. It’s taken a lot of time and effort, but every day when I come home from work, I plop myself in front of the television and watch anywhere from two to four hours of pure crap. I’ve learned a lot and that’s what I’m here to write about.

Before I unveil this masterpiece, let me first begin by telling all of you non-reality lovers to shut the hell up. If one more of you tells me I’m sick, wasting my time or don’t recognize quality television programs, I will spit on you and your mother. I watch reality television because I love to watch stupid people. They make me feel good about myself. And no one makes me feel better about myself than the Real Housewives of New York City. Bravo’s newest show, a spin-off of the Real Housewives of Orange County, follows five wealthy women around as they make pretentious comments, date ugly men and spend a lot of money on outdated clothing.

I’ve read a lot of pretentious reviews of this show and they’re all wrong. +/-

This is not social commentary, this is not reverse feminism, this is just plain old good shit. In order for you to truly understand how amazing this show is, allow me to provide you with a brief description of the characters.

Ramona: O, Ramona. I usually don’t like to use this phrase when referring to women, but she’s a stupid whore. Her daughter and husband think so too, but they let her do her thing. I’ve watched Ramona push her friend into a pool, threaten to drown a dog and walk around in a bra she thought was a shirt. Just to provide you with an accurate mental picture, she resembles Britney Spears, after she went crazy.

Jill: Jill, Jill, Jill. When will you realize you’re ugly? Jill is from Long Island and thinks she’s important. She’s not. To make her feel better about herself, she brings her gay friend in a pink cowboy hat every where she goes and makes sure everyone in the room knows that he is gay, just in case we couldn’t figure it out.

Countess a.k.a. LuAnn: You’re name is LuAnn, therefore you can’t be pretentious, but you still are. She’s one of the better housewives because she’s a bitch and not afraid to admit it. As a side note, her husband is anywhere from 20-70 years older than her.

Bethenny: She’s my fav. She knows her friends suck, and constantly points out their flaws. She also dates a bald, divorced man. She likes to rub his head and ask when they’ll get married.

Alex: I saved the best for last. She can’t afford to live in Manhattan, but to make up for her move to Brooklyn, she is the most pretentious of all the women. She shows off her saggy butt as she vacations in St. Barts. Alex also has the most peculiar home life. She’s actually married to a gay man. Unfortunately, both her and her husband are in denial about his sexuality. Her children are named Francois and Johan. They have French names and are learning to speak French, but aren’t actually French. In fact, they have no connection to France whatsoever. Her kids are also partially retarded. They can’t form words and were denied entrance to every private school in NYC.

So tune in and stop pretending you’re not intrigued. Tuesdays at 10 on Bravo. It will no doubt change your entire perspective on television.

It used to be cool...and now its awesome.

click it to see it up close. I realize there are some crucial artifacts missing, like Penny Hardaway sneakers and Tonya Harding.

Hallmark for Hipsters and More!

In case you've been living under a rock. Better.Than.Hallmark. On an unrelated note, does anyone else find Garrison Keillor incredibly sexy? Okay, maybe not the man, but there is something about his wry humor about the current era and his nostalgia for the radio era that is both soothing and a turn-on. Like drinking scotch on the rocks with Harrison Ford. Well, maybe that's just me. http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/03/12/opinion/edkeillor.php Even better, check out A Prarie Home Companion on iTunes podcasts.