Mike is the man. The end.

Happy New Year!

Thank God 2006 is over. I wish you all a happy and healthy 2007...filled with fantastic TV and less shitty movies.

And for the love of God...

Watch FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS...it's the best new show on Network TV...it's the real deal, guys and you're missing out on it. The geniuses at NBC have moved it against American Idol, so I'm sure it's in great peril now. It's up to us to save it, people. Go forth and watch the drama, the action, the heartache, the tension, the fabulousness that is FNL. Go on...watch it now!

Damn You, Robert Redford!

So, I've had a rough few months...scratch that...a rough year. I know I'm not starving in Rwanda, or a homeless Katrina victim, or even poor K Fed., but this has been one bitch of a year. So, the other day, my hubby left on a business trip and I was left alone on a very long, hot, boring Sunday to my own devices. Not a good idea. I was flipping the channels and found "The Horse Whisperer" on FX. The quality of the broadcast was crap...I could barely see what was happening, so I thought, hey, I have the DVD, why don't I just watch it for old times sake. When will I learn.

I have to explain that...old times sake. I'm a serious Robert Redford fan. Of course I love all his old movies, and even some of the new ones are chick flick favorites (Um...Up Close and Personal anyone?). About 10 years ago, I read The Horse Whisperer book and loved it. Don't get me wrong, it's NO literary masterpiece...the ending is HORRIBLE and so much of it was cheesy cliche. When I heard Redford was adapting it, I knew this was something that could be saved and made into an amazing film. If anyone could do it, it was Redford. This was the first moment I thought, I wish I knew how to write, because I'd love to make this into a screenplay (Ah, youth).

So not only do I love Redford...I love horses. I've been an Equestrian since I was 9 years old. They are such beautiful, fun, loving creatures. My sisters and I went to see the movie together when it came out... and bawled from start to finish. I was completely obsessed with this version...Robert Redford was perfect as the Whisperer, Chris Cooper flawless as his rancher brother, Kristin Scott Thomas fabulous as the selfish, but determined mother to the wounded young girl played by the revelation that was Scarlett Johannson at only 13 years old. I ended up seeing it 6 times in the theater because I wanted to make sure I didn't miss a single frame.

So, life goes on, and I let my obsession of this movie go and moved on to other movies and TV shows. That is, until the other day when I succumbed to the memory and decided it would be a fine idea to press that play button. Fine idea my ass...I just ended up drowning in a river of tears. How did this happen? I know EVERY shot of the damn movie, how could it still affect me like this?

Well, maybe it has something to do with the shitty year I've had. My plate is overflowing with sorrow and stress. From my Mother-in-law's murder, to my anxiety disorder, to leaving LA to move to NYC with my hubby...it's all been piling up, and about to topple over. I should have been watching Happy Gilmore!

As I blew my nose for the hundredth time, it hit me. I needed to watch this movie. I needed to drown in the river of tears in order to throw myself a life preserver. This time, the tears weren't about the horse, or the wounded girl, or troubled mother daughter relationship, or unrequited love, or the road not taken, or triumph over tragedy. It was about me, watching a broken horse and feeling like I knew exactly what that horse felt like. Terrified, dark, alone, bitter and most of all, sad. Where the hell is my whisperer? What will allow me to dust myself off and get back on the proverbial horse?

Who the fuck knows...but I do know: I don't have a whisperer...I don't have a savior...what I do have is me...still here...still breathing, and finally starting to process the horror of the last year. That's got to count for something in this fucked up world. DAMN YOU ROBERT REDFORD for your accidentally cathartic movie!

Who the Frak Do I Have to Frak?!?!?

I have to come to a serious conclusion...it's not pretty. I...am...a Sci-Fi...geek. How did this happen to me? I mean, I always loved the X-Files and Millenium, and was obsessed with V as a kid, but that couldn't mean I was a Sci-Fi geek, right? I don't watch Stargate, or Farscape, or travel to Comic Con. I like Grey's Anatomy, and House, and Weeds! I'm still okay...right?

Then the day came when I watched my first Battlestar Galactica...and it's become my downfall. I was about 2 Seasons late to the BG party, but a friend lent me the first Season, and it wasn't long before the word "Frak" came into my vocabulary with ease. For those of you who don't know, "Frak" is their made up swear word to replace our "Fuck," and the characters use is at liberally as comedians. The first time it slipped into conversation, my husband was disturbed to say the least.

I even got my therapist hooked. You know it's bad when your therapist sends you an email about "Frak" parties being held for the Season 3 premiere on October 6th, and you actually giggle. When is that last time you giggled? I mean, I giggled because it's so crazy to imagine all these Sci-Fi geeks holding parties for a TV show...I'm picturing people in spacesuits, carrying fake laser guns and downing green jello shots. That's giggle worthy.

Then I heard Season 2.5 was coming out on DVD on the 18th, and I was really excited. More excited than I should have been for a DVD set...like, planning my trip to Best Buy excited. Unfortunatley, I got the stomach flu. Frak! I dragged my ass out of the house two days later, and it was SOLD OUT. What the frak? So then, my sweet hubby tried to find it at Fry's and a different Best Buy...all SOLD OUT. Who the frak do I have to frak to get these DVDs! During my search and recovery mission, it dawned on me...Oh no...I am a Sci-Fi geek!!! I'm actually seriously disturbed and pissed that I couldn't get my hands on these DVDs.

Finally, I remembered my secret weapon DVD store: Borders. Not as many people know about Borders and their selection of DVD sets. The prices aren't phenomenal, but selection is key. FINALLY, after a very long week with no BG, we made it to Borders, and my husband told me they were sold out. FRAK ME! Then I saw the twinkle in his eye and realized he was kidding. He, in fact, had snagged me the very last copy of BG 2.5 in the entire world...probably ripping it out of the hands of some 15 year old, brace-faced, voice-cracking, hormonally-challenged boy. I love my husband.

I need help.

Premieres...Sweet, Sweet Premieres

THANK GOD...at last the new season of TV begins. Although I loved seeing new episodes of Rescue Me and The Closer over the summer, I've been going nuts without Grey's Anatomy, House, Family Guy, and...wait, that's not very many shows at all. That my friends, is the scary state of TV these days. Is there hope for a fuller TiVo schedule this fall? Let's take a peak at what's to come.

I've alreay seen Studio 60 (could you ooze anymore of your neurotic personality off the page, Sorkin?), Smith (cool cast, and feature-like), Shark (another variation of the crooked lawyer switching to the good guys' side), and Jericho (dear God, the cheese...the cheese! But the beginning mushroom cloud business is terrifying if you like that kind of panic attack after your dinner). All of which I'm willing to give another shot, but don't hold out much hope for giving any of them the season pass thumbs up. I'm further ahead on the Fox shows since they start so early. My friend's hubby is the EP and director on Justice...which is glossy and fun and you just gotta love Victor Garber. And Standoff is growing on me, but the jury is still out on that one...there were some seriously huge "OH NO THEY DID'INT" moments.

So what's next? The only thing I'm truly looking forward to is Grey's Anatomy's premiere on Thursday. And, I'm not excited about whether or not Meredith will pick McDreamy or McVet, I could actually care less. I'm just happy to have all the characters and some of the best ensemble writing on TV back. A lot of my writer friends think Grey's has hit their second season slump already, and maybe it has. However, no other show on TV makes me look forward to a certain day of the week more than Grey's. I love reading the writers' blogs, love reading the TWoP snarky recaps, I love the music, and I love the over the topness of it all. Bring it on...Seriously.

My new discovery (hello, where the frack have I been) is the fabulous Battlestar Galactica. This show can make anyone a sci-fi geek because it's just so completely addicting and well made. Everything is there: A slightly dirtier, believable world of Galactica...not the typical glossy, high tech sci-worlds of other shows. And then there's the sex...and not just run of the mill tv sex but some seriously hot cylon/human sex. And then there's the complexity of the relationships between the characters...father/son, commander/subordinate, chief/groundlings, cylon/human, lover/co-worker, etc. And the atmosphere is incredibly charged...which is eerily reminiscent of the post-9/11 politics and panic when terrorism invades a culture. Battlestar does this a million times better than the forced and cheesy panic seen in Jericho.

And now, what's left...I'm going to give Brothers and Sisters, What about Brian, the Nine, Heroes, and I'm sure something else I'm leaving off the list. But the moral of this story is I LOVE NEW TV!!!

Like Out of A Movie

Has something happened to you in your life, and someone actually says, "Holy shit, that's like out of a movie!" Ooooooh baby, you have no idea. Welcome to my world for the last month.

With a tragedy as gigantic, all consuming and horrific as what has befallen my family, the word "normal" ceases to exist. Life inherently will never be the same. Denny was taken so violently, and as if those thoughts aren't traumatic enough, I keep thinking about the future. My kids will have no Grandma, my sister-in-law won't have her mom to help plan her wedding, or guide her through having a baby, and my father-in-law will never be able to celebrate a holiday or anniversary without a deep and hollow pain. The past month has been filled with tears, anxiety, fear, and crazy stories...and just now we can start to see the gentle footsteps of a family moving toward the future, and away from the terror of that day.

I can't get over the generosity and kindness we've experienced in the last month - receiving cards from all over the country, Denny's foundation getting almost 30k in donations, and the hugs and kisses from those I didn't even know cared that much. But some of the stories from our time in Long Island are too good to not share in my blog...truly, they are "Out of a Movie." I kept feeling like I was stuck in the middle of Garden State and Moonlight Mile the whole two weeks of my stay. Surreal to say the least.

The first one happened early on in Shiva. My father-in-law has a huge amount of insanely loyal clients from his CPA business, including several people in the restaurant business. One large client owns a chain of old-school family-style Italian places in Long Island and Florida. The patriarch of the family and his two handsome, slick-backed hair and gold chained sons entered the house and gave their heartfelt condolences to everyone. They, along with so many other people uttered the words, "Please let us know if there is anything we can do for you." Having heard this sentence a million times already, we had all perfected the polite and wistful nod, then looking away we say, "Oh thank you, that's so kind. We'll let you know, of course." Usually people shake their heads, processing that there will never be anything anyone can do to make such a situation better, and then promptly move on to the buffet. In this case, the boys and their father stared my father-in-law square in the eyes and said, "No, I don't think you understand. If there is ANYTHING we can do to make this better, we'll do it." OOOOOOOHHHHHH, that kind of anything, spreads across all of our faces as we realize he's talking about a Sopranos type solution for the guy who killed Denny. Family-style Italian took on a whole new meaning that day.

Another time, we were at a Friday night temple service as a kind of thank you to the Rabbi who performed Denny's memorial service. I'm a shiksa and had never stepped foot inside a temple before, and was pleasantly surprised by what I saw. It was very church-like; open and airy. The service was a lot longer than church, even though it's a reform temple, so people were a little antsy to say the least. It's Friday people! What do you expect! But I couldn't stop cracking up...whether it's church or temple, people always start talking loudly while trying to sound hushed. Behind me were my husband's cousin, and her parents. They couldn't stop discussing the song/prayer book:

S: I can't read this book. It's wrong.
Dad: No this is the way it should be.
S: It's not left to right, it's right to left. That's wrong.
Dad: Just read the pages, S.
S: I'm just saying.
Dad: It's a reform temple, this is how they do it.
S: Well it's weird that's all I'm saying.
Dad: It's easier, what are you complaining about?
S: Nothing! Just saying
Dad: Fine
S: It's weird
Dad: S!!!
S: Nevermind

Then, the Rabbi very sweetly mentioned Denny, and how she was a queen in our family, and how she will be missed. We all got teary eyed as the Rabbi asked the crowd to do a rememberance and prayer "shout out," if you will. People started speaking the names of loved ones who had passed away or needed a prayer said for them. At the very end, we hear a fairly old guy yell out in a thick Long Island accent , "Formah, President Fow'rd" (translation, former President Gerald Ford). We all looked at each other and started cracking up as silently as possible. Former President Ford? Where the hell did that come from? Only in Long Island...only in Long Island.

It was like out of a movie.

There Are Snakes on My Motherfucking Vacations

I have to admit something...I am one of the few people who initially thought that Snakes on a Plane was the most retarded idea since Gigli. I'm here to say now, and I hope you are all listening because this is a rare thing for me to admit, but here goes: I WAS WRONG. I can't wait to see those snakes and Samuel L. Jackson and Juliana Margulies on the motherfucking plane. I admit, clever marketing and peer pressure did aid in changing my position...and then there was the riot at Comic-Con for T-shirts and such. Now, I'm waiting with baited breath to see what I now think will be an enormous, kicking Pirates 2's box office numbers in the ass, insanly quotable hit.

I was recently on vacation with most of my family at our cabin in Bass Lake. Early in the week, my mom and I hung out at the cabin while my Dad, brother and his girlfriend, my sister and her boyfriend, and my youngest sister went to Yosemite to kayak and hike for the day. They came back hungry and tired, but by God had they entertained themselves. The exchange went like this:

Brother: We were floating down the river in the raft...it was really cool.
Me: Did you see any wildlife?
Girlfriend: We saw a bear!
Brother: There was a bear in the motherfucking trees!
Younger Sister: You should have seen the fat squirrels...there were fat squirrels in this motherfucking park!
Brother: There are fish in this motherfucking river!

This went on for ten minutes and got extremely creative and witty...way more so than the above exchange, but I can't recall all of their genius. I was cracking up and thought, if they are quoting the movie before it even comes out, can you imagine the schtick factor after it's been seen opening weekend? I sudder to think.

This whole Snakes on a Plane phenomenon got me thinking about where the snakes are in my life. I didn't have to look far.

I'm sure most of you have been on the universally torturous "family vacation." Does anything else strike as much fear in the hearts of the young? I still have visions of long, hot and cramped minivan drives through windy mountain roads, or God forbid, the 5 highway from L.A to S.F. We used to have a ratty beat up trailer that my parents would haul all over the state. We'd go to lakes, camp grounds, and even braved circa 1980's smog-filled Disneyland. The whole trailer could fit in half of my bedroom, and we managed to sleep 7 comfortably...sorta. But I did love it...the musty smell, the holey fabric and foam cushions, a bunk bed that would make a clausterphobic beg for mercy, the fact that our table converted into a bed, and of course, the chemical toilet (there was no shower). Ah, the family vacation. You know what I'm talking about, don't you. THE HORROR.

Now that I'm older and married, the parentals tried to mix it up in January by taking us all on a Cruise to the Caribbean. The cruise had its own drama: My older black sheep brother decided to act like a 15 year old getting wasted for the first time. He kicked my younger brother out of their cabin at 4:30 AM so he could bang a total stranger the second night in on the cruise...and then there was the karaoke incident. Need I say more. My younger sister acted like a 15 year old in love for the first time...mooning over her new boyfriend constantly, and running to the ship's computer center every five minutes to have (guessing here) cybersex to tide her over until her return. My dad was getting more and more toasty every night...AWKWARD to say the least, while my mom, desperate for my attention and love prattled on about the community theater show she was in (Nunsense...DEAR GOD...no pun intended), and begged me at every turn to teach her how to do a time step tap dance. If this wasn't enought to deal with, I was trying to keep my head above water just having been given my first opportunity to pitch at Disney on "Kim Possible." My hubby came down with a nasty cold the second day in and snored so loudly, that I had to drug myself nightly with Xanax to get any sleep. Basically, it was the fucking Titanic without the sinking and death. So, you could say I was looking forward to the more subdued and predictable comforts of the Bass Lake vacation.
When will I friggin' learn.

Bass Lake...it's a eutopia of pine trees, ridiculously phalic speed boats, a famous burger shack, and the blue-green lake itself. It's only an hour from Yosemite, but feels a million years away as I watch the over-sized, florescent tank topped fathers heard their mulleted sons toward the family's pride and joy...their ski boat named Bikini Tini. Not being pretentious or class-conscious here...it's just the way laid back Bass Lake is these days. The good thing about going the same place every year for vacation is the inherent comfort of going to the same old places. Every year is identical: We ride out to a cove with a large rock and jump off of it to prove our strength and bravery...we ride out to the mouth of the lake, where the water has created a natural water slide...we walk down for Shaved ice cones sold by a Evangelical Christian (my sister complained about not gettin enough syrup in her cone...I told her to tell the lady that Jesus would never have jipped us on syrup)...we go once or twice to the movie theater in Oakhurst that plays first run movies for only $5.75...we have drinks at the hotel on the lake and eat really naughty fried appetizers...we walk down at night for ice cream cones...and my favorite thing, which is riding across the lake to eat the famous Forks burgers... masterpieces of grilled sourdough, thousand island, cheese, etc. Nirvana every time.
So with my mind filled with 17 years of Bass Lake summer's past, I just assumed it would be the same old same old. And to the outsider it was.

But then I realized...the snakes aren't just in the motherfucking plane...they had invaded my family. To the outsider a snake may look docile, quiet, even peaceful...most move slowly and deliberately, seeming harmless and benign. My mother's behavior slithered along like this the first few days, and then quietly, she shed her skin revealing her more cunning, manipulative side...coiling herself tightly and waiting to strike. Coil 1 - First came the few mentions that my husband failed to make it on the trip (Read: He obviously hates us and can't stand to be with us for more than five minutes). Coil 2 - Her comments about coming to visit me, unless I was not feeling up to it (Read: I want to visit but guilting you about not wanting me to visit could actually be more fun). And then the actual strike - She told me that a pain I have in my side could be a tumor, and that I should get a can scan as soon as possible (Read: I'm so desperate to have you dependant upon me, I hope you have a tumor). Add those incidents and a full day alone of her yacking on about her never-ending fascination with obituaries and my favorite game, "Who's dead now?" gave me the worst spasm in my neck that I've EVER had. I knew it was time to get out of the path of the snake before the venom took me down for good.

The saying usually goes, "You can't go home again." However, they need to add a few locations to sentiment...You can't go home, or on a cruise, or to your family's cabin again. I just can't go fucking anywhere without coming across some motherfucking snakes. However snakey they can be, they are still my family, and watching them navigate relationships can be like being trapped with snakes on a plane. ENTERTAINING AS FUCK!!!