Memory Lane Monday: Oscar Edition

How hilarious was Seth MacFarlane last night?! As far as Oscars go, last night was edgy, self-deprecating, and mocking. And I loved it. And say what you will about Seth -I will certainly admit that not all of his jokes played well- he didn't crash and burn like Anne Hathaway and James Franco. I've done some reading today and gathered tidbits of the vast spectrum of opinions about last night. I will spare everyone my bit-by-bit rebuttal as to why all the haters are just uptight or didn't understand context or satire, however biting it may have been (and come on people, Seth MacFarlane was tame last night. The man second-guessed a Kardashian joke for the love of Herbert!) I concluded last night before the show even started that no matter how awesome Seth could have been, you're never gonna wow the haters.

If you don't get this joke, I'm sorry, we can't be friends.

 Ok, ok. You caught me. I'm super biased. I'm in love with Seth MacFarlane and almost everything he does, so I went into the night expecting to thoroughly enjoy the Oscars. And I did. Case closed. I enjoyed it. If you didn't, then you are allowed your opinion. If you didn't find the "We Saw Your Boobs" song hilarious and cheeky, then you must live in a sad humorless world and I feel bad for you.  Or you're worried about *gasp* the children who were watching. Oh the children! God forbid you have to tell them what the word "boobs" means. It's prime time, folks. In NY the Oscars weren't over until midnight. If your child is scarred for life by the word boobs but staying up to watch the Oscars, I think your priorities are a little out of whack.

But enough about that. I really want to express my disappointment at the Wreck-it-Ralph snub. I saw Brave and I enjoyed it. Major congrats to Pixar on another Oscar win. It was a beautifully crafted film and looked gorgeous, but I thought Ralph was the better movie overall. Again, I'm biased, but so is the academy.

Etsy

I'm so happy Anne Hathaway won last night. Her acceptance speech left a little something to be desired, but she was incredible in Les Miserables (and for the love of god, Travolta, fucking learn how to say it correctly!) Boyfriend and I kicked off our Oscar nominated movie marathon with Les Miz last week. Do you want to know how much I loved that movie? I was a crying blubbering mess about 10 seconds into "Who Am I?" because Hugh Jackman is incredible. And by the end of the movie, I was sobbing. It was beautiful.

Speaking of ugly crying after movies, The Silver Linings Playbook brought out my ugly crying too. If you or someone you know has been touched by mental illness, I highly recommend seeing this film, although I will warn you that it may be triggering. It was for me. Everyone in this movie was spot-on amazing. Bradley Cooper's mood swings were incredible to watch as he swung in and out of a manic stage of Bi-Polar disorder. The portrayal of the ignorance and stigma surrounding mental illness-sufferers was all too real, heart-breaking, and enraging. After the movie was over, I had to sit in the bathroom and sob next to an endless roll of toilet paper. It was ugly. But that is what movies and art are meant to accomplish. They are meant to make you feel something. They hold a mirror up to life and society, and dare them to look deeply. This movie did that. I was disappointed Bradley Cooper didn't take the Oscar, but Daniel Day Lewis is always deserving, so I can't complain. This was the first time in a long time when I thought all of the nominees were amazing and you could have just drawn a name out of a hat and that person would have been deserving of the statuette.

So with how touched I was by Silver Linings, I was shocked and thrilled that J Law won. She is my favorite sexy Hollywood tomboy. And forever classy.

Adorable

I kind of hope she was flipping off the asshole reporter who asked her if she was worried that she had peaked too soon. Because fuck that guy, that's why.

So, before I start to ramble, last night was enjoyable. Plain and simple. I liked it. If you didn't, then you didn't. Let us all move on with our lives. So, in case you got up for a pee during the commercials last night, I leave you with this:

 
Greatest. Commercial. Ever.

And Then I Caught a Cold From Leonardo DiCaprio

I got to work on Martin Scorsese's new film The Wolf of Wall Street last Friday. To say that it was an amazing experience would be an understatement.

Source

My call time was 6am at a hotel in midtown. (I need to be somewhat vague about details because I have to honor the film's privacy. I don't want to get black-listed for being a chatty-Cathy.) When I got to holding, I assumed since the filming had been going on since last year, that I'd just be doing some B-roll crowd shots and junk. Amazingly, though, an AD came into our holding area after we'd been there for a couple hours to let us know how things worked on a Scorsese set, and how we were expected to behave when he was on set.  So first cool thing: I was actually getting to work on set with Martin Fucking Scorsese! "Marty" (as he goes by) expects absolute silence on set at all times and absolutely no cell phones and no picture-taking. If you broke these rules you would be kicked off set immediately and told to go home. Marty runs himself a tight ship. Then they sort of did a run-down of the scene and mentioned Leo. Second cool thing: Leonardo DiCaprio was in the scene we were filming! O. M. G. So, I got to spend all day in a room watching/working with Leo and Scorsese. Holy shit. I thought this alone would have been awesome enough. But it got a little bit better.

Source

As with most background gigs, there is a lot of waiting around doing nothing in between takes and shot setups. This gig was no different, except that there was definitely more excitement in the air than usual just because the vast majority of us had never worked on a Scorsese film before. Even so, I came prepared with my iPod, books, magazines, and my 3DS to fend off the boredom. Also, to stay awake. See, I was so pumped about working on this movie and so apprehensive about waking up early, that I could not for the life of me settle down and actually sleep Thursday night. I ended up just laying in bed until I had to wake up at 4am. Le sigh. I was so stupidly tired all day.

When it was time to go to set, everyone was buzzing about like intoxicated bees. The PAs quickly shushed us and lined all of us up to go take our places on set. Thankfully, the scene was a business seminar (sorry, gotta be vague, no spoilers) in the ballroom of a hotel which meant we all got to be sitting down. (Standing on set for 14 hours gets really old really fast.) Unfortunately for anyone sitting more than 7 rows back, they probably were not actually seen on camera. But, thems the breaks, kids. Fortunately for moi, I was in the 6th row on the aisle when it came to the group face shots, so I have a better chance of actually being in focus and seen in the film for about 3 seconds. But, I digress. 

Like this, except with Leo and Scorsese.

Once we were all placed and starting to get kind of antsy, Marty walked in. No fanfare. No introduction. Just boom there he was. A small wave of stunned silence washed over all of us in the room followed by quiet murmurs and excited whispers. I've honestly never worked on a set that was so quiet. It was kind of eerie at first, but by the end of the day I wished all sets could be quiet like this one. Marty chatted with his Director of Photography and other crew, then he turned and gave us a little nod and went to the back of the room behind a curtain where video village was set up. 

Then, Leo showed up. The ladies in the room were a little more vocal when he walked in -no one screamed or fainted or anything- but it was pretty balls-to-the-wall wonderful. Now, I want to make it clear that I've never been gaga in love with Leo. I've always thought he was easy on the eyes, but I've respected him and been impressed by him as an actor more than anything else (I mean did you see What's Eating Gilbert Grape?!) but never been head-over-heels in love with him. Even the year I went through my Bop and Tiger Beat faze and adorned my walls and closet doors with cute boys, I maybe had one pic of Leo in the mix (my heart-throbs of choice were Jonathan Taylor Thomas and Johnny Depp. Lord, I'm old.) Those pictures on my walls were quickly replaced with Star Wars posters and other geekery, but, again, I digress. 

I told you all this in the hopes that you can understand how impressive it is in the presence of Leo when he's working even for someone who isn't obsessed with him. It was amazing to see him switch from producer mode back to Leo mode and then right into his character in the blink of an eye. Boom producer talking film stuff with Marty. Boom Leo dicking around in the corner drinking some tea. Then BOOM in character and acting the pants off of everyone in the room (not literally, unfortunately.) He has this amazing presence. It's commanding but very calm and comfortable. I could spend hours in a room with him and feel amazing. Oh wait, I DID.

During one of the first takes we did, he was saying his lines, talking to the room, standing maybe 15 feet in front of me when he locked eyes with me and stared at me for a good beat while he was emphasizing something. I will say that again: 
Leonardo DiCaprio STARED INTO MY EYES! 

Again, I'm not gooey in love gaga about Leo, but when he locked eyes with me it was like he was speaking directly to me and no one else for that moment and I almost peed my pants, you guys. My whole body went hot and tingly like I was having a panic attack or like my blood sugar was low, but it was just every nerve ending in my body celebrating at once and then exploding my mind.

Seriously, it was like this, you guys.

And then my body melted. I literally felt like jello the rest of the day. Maybe it was the fact that by the time I actually went to bed that night, I'd been awake for nearly 36 hours, but I'm pretty sure it's because Leo fried my innards with his movie star eyes and his awesomeness. But I stayed in character even with all the melting and exploding.

In all seriousness, it was a once-in-a-lifetime super cool day for no other reason than to watch two amazingly talented legends in the film industry do what they do best. I got to sit and watch them work. I got to observe and learn from them. And I got paid for it. Nothing like being paid to stare at Leonardo DiCaprio all day, huh? I have the coolest fucking job ever. And did I mention that this was my first time working on a feature film? That's right, my first time working on a feature and it was a Martin Scorsese picture. God. Damn.

Oh yeah and the best part? Leo had a cold or a sinus infection or something. So, that mixed with his smoker's cough spewed millions of germy germs all over the lovely enclosed space we all shared for 14-ish hours. Now I have a sore throat and the sniffles. 
I blame Leo. 

Totally. Worth. It.

Meme-ory Lane Monday: Harlem Shake Edition

You guys remember the Harlem Shake, right? Well, it's a thing again. And for your viewing pleasure I bring you the White Liars version of the Harlem Shake.  You're welcome.

Gamer Love and Relationships

A conversation Boyfriend and I had the other night:

Boyfriend: So I had the opportunity to sleep with Meryl and I could probably still have a good relationship with Isabella, but I decided not to risk it.

Me: Uh-huh

Boyfriend: Meryl kind of wanted to be my girlfriend, but I'm already sleeping with Isabella and Isabella kind of already sleeps with everyone so it might be ok if I sleep with Meryl, but I don't want to ruin my relationship with Isabella. I'm torn.

Me: Ok

Boyfriend: I decided not to go for it. I like what I have with Isabella.

Me: Then you probably made the right decision.

Boyfriend: But Meryl gets some really bad-ass armor if we bang. *sigh* Oh well.

Me: You realize if anyone listening to this conversation had no clue we were talking about Dragon Age II, it would sound like we had the craziest open relationship ever, right?

Boyfriend: I love you.

Happy Hallmark-Makes-Lots-of-Money Day!

I was on the TVs tonight!

So, remember when I did some background work a month ago? Well, the episode aired tonight and I got to see my hammy mug on the TVs! In case you didn't watch Person of Interest or missed my face next to Jim Caveizel's head, I recorded it and Boyfriend edited it together. My total screen time was about 45 seconds. A 14 hour work day for 45 seconds of awesome. 

Totally. Worth. It. 

In a 45 minute episode, I was in 1% of it. I was in 1% of the episode titled "One Percent." 

IT'S SO META, YOU GUYS!!!!

So, without further ado, my 45 seconds of fame-ish-ness complete with commentary:



I'm totally famous. Prime time baby!!! Yeah!!!

I just want you guys to know that I'm not letting fame change me. As proof of that, I am currently sitting on my couch watching reruns of Friends on Nick at Nite, eating peanut butter pancakes. 

Because I'm famous. That's why.

All the Feels are Hurty

I wanted to write an epilogue or a follow-up on my couch saga stories today. It was going to be really funny. Unfortunately, I'm not feeling the funny today. I'm feeling all the feels, and they are hurty feels. An old friend of mine died yesterday and I just can't find the funny today.

Desi was kind of a private person until she got to know and trust you, so I will respect that about her by not revealing too many specific details about her or her passing. She had asthma and I guess she'd been battling pneumonia for the past month and it just took her away from us. 

Desi loved to laugh. She had a smile that would steal all the light in the room. She was full of life and joy and fun and love. Our time together as friends was briefer than I would have liked. We were only friends for about a year before I moved to the east coast, and she stayed in Colorado. Sadly, life and the miles got in the way, as it does when you grow up. We lost touch, but I always held a fondness for her and remembered the fun we had together. I don't know that I ever told her how awesome of a person she was. Now I will never get that chance. That's what hurts the most. The guilt. I should have tried harder to keep in touch. I should have tried harder to see her when I would go home to visit family.

The last time we spent time together was when she took me out for St. Patrick's Day the week before I moved to the East Coast. That was a great night. We had a lot of fun, as we always did. She was a constant in my life when everything felt like it was changing and moving too fast for me to keep up. 

Memories that flooded my brain at 4am when I was trying to sleep:
-She was afraid of bridges.
-The worst argument we ever had was about the correct pronunciation of the word "Ogle."
-I introduced her to Firefly and we were obsessed!
-At a family barbeque, her niece (or cousin, I can't remember the relative) asked me if we were "partners." It was really awkward. But, I now consider it a verification of true friendship when someone mistakens me and a girl friend for lesbians.
-She would crave rare steak after watching horror movies
-She had a special "Desi Dance" and it was hilarious and awesome


Sadly I only possess 2 pictures of us together. The rest I believe were on an SD card that was in my camera that got stolen a few years ago. But I have many memories of karaoke, dancing, drinking, late-night Taco Bell drive-thru, Firefly watching, and laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. God, girl, you were so fucking funny. I miss your laughter.

Rest in peace, Desi. You were fabulous and I hope you knew how loved you were. Sorry this isn't eloquent. It hurts too much.

Memory Lane Monday: The Saga of the Couch That Refused to Leave Part Deux

If you didn't read Part 1 of the Saga of the Couch That Refused to Leave, that's ok, it's not really vital to this part of the story, but it will make you understand that this is an ongoing saga, and not just a strange thing that happened one night. 
Anywho, on with Part 2!

Boyfriend and I are getting close to turning the big 3-0 (he's closer than I am, bwahaha.) When that happens, you start to think about "childish" parts of your life that may need to fall by the wayside to make room for new "more adult" practices (that wasn't meant to sound dirty.) One of those practices is moving. When you're young or in college you tend to move a lot. It's usually easy to bribe friends or loved ones to help you move with the promise of free pizza and beer. But, at a certain age you start to say to yourself, "I want to help my friends, but I reeeeeeeeeally don't want to do any heavy lifting" and pizza and beer bribes are no longer effective. That is one reason why Boyfriend and I said SCREW THIS when moving out of our Park Slope apartment into our current one. We made the greatest decision and investment of our lives: we hired professional movers. We are never not doing that again. They loaded everything into a truck and moved it across town and up 4 flights of stairs into the new apartment. Among these items moved was our loyal, comfy Big Purple Couch. I don't know how the movers got Big Purple Couch up the 4 flights of very narrow stairs, but they did.

Our movers were even more awesome than-OHMYGODNOTHINGISAWESOMERTHANTHIS!

Nearing the end of our first year in our current apartment, we noticed that the cushions on Big Purple Couch were sinking lower and lower. It was getting to a point where Big Purple Couch was not as comfy as it once was. Our backs and backsides were suffering. So much so, that we started talking about getting a new couch. It was almost as if the couch new what we were talking about because only a week after we first mentioned getting a new couch, Boyfriend sat down one afternoon and we heard a loud metal twang followed by the crunching of wood from inside the couch. Upon investigation it was apparent that Big Purple Couch would definitely need replacing. Two of the metal coil/zig-zaggy springs that gave support had completely snapped, most likely due to years of Boyfriend flopping down on the cushions with all of his weight couch old age.

Serendipitously, Boyfriend's boss had an unused couch in storage and offered to loan it to us until the time came when he forgot he owned it needed it again.  Boyfriend rented a truck and offered to pay our recently unemployed friend, Matt some money to help him move the new couch in and the Big Purple Couch out. The new couch was a light pistachio in color and thankfully came with a beige cover. It was also a pull-out couch. If you've never tried to move a pull-out couch, they are heavy. Imagine trying to lift a couch while your friend is sitting on it, if your friend weighed as mush as a folded up mattress surrounded by metal. It's kind of like that. Boyfriend and Matt amazingly got the new Pistachio Couch up 4 flights of stairs and into our apartment where I was waiting with plenty of water, tea, beer, etc. That was the hard part...or so we all thought.

Throughout the evening I had been making jokes about how everything in life could relate back to an episode of Friends (remember that show? I feel old.) As the boys were moving the heavy-ass Pistachio couch up the stairs, I was annoying entertaining them with a review of the Friends episode that fit this situation: The One With the Cop, in which Ross buys a new sofa and can't get it up the stairs. Hilarity ensues. (PIVOT!)

Source

After getting our "new" couch into the apartment, Matt and Boyfriend picked up the much lighter Big Purple Couch to take it downstairs to put on the street for the trash truck. But, Big Purple Couch had other plans. Getting down the stairs was much more of a struggle than expected. It was as if the stairwell got narrower and narrower the further down they went. Or as if the couch deliberately expanded itself. The boys struggled but managed to squeeze Big Purple Couch down the stairwell, until they got to the very last turn to the outside door. There was some sort of electrical box on the wall in the corner on the first flight of stairs blocking the couch. Matt and Boyfriend struggled and pushed and heaved and finagled for an hour. An. HOUR. It was not possible to get the couch down the stairs, which made absolutely no sense to us since the movers were able to get it up the stairs. Our tiny exhausted minds were blown as the oh-no-what-are-we-going-to-do-with-an-extra-couch-now thoughts began to sink in. We eventually hypothesized that when the springs had snapped, the couch frame expanded just enough to prevent it from fitting back down the stairs. We took the couch back up to our apartment to have a drink break and a brainstorming session.

Brilliant idea #1: We had roof access. We could take Big Purple Couch up to the roof until we could come up with a solution to getting it out of the building, like getting more people to help and maybe some ropes to lower down to the ground floor from the roof. This plan was quickly dashed when I discovered the assholes who own our building had installed an alarm and deadbolt on the door to the roof. 
To quote a wise man, Bobby Singer: Balls.

I love that our emergency exit is dead-bolted shut with a rusty latch. I feel so safe.

The hour was growing late and Matt had things to do and Boyfriend had to return the rented truck. And we were running out of options. Big Purple Couch could not stay in our apartment; we had absolutely no room. The roof was not an option. Our apartment was not an option. The hallway was not an option. In a fit of delirium brilliance that rivaled the first part of the Big Purple Couch's saga, I suggested something unthinkable that is a perfect example of life imitating art. 

Brilliant Idea #2: Like Ross, we would have to cut the couch into halves.  It was sad and hilarious at the same time. While we loved Big Purple Couch, it had died and we had no other choice. We had passed the point of no return. Armed with nothing more than a hand saw and pliers (and for the record, I do believe we are the only New Yorkers who own tools) Boyfriend and Matt successfully performed the couch-ectomy. It was loud. It was messy. It was exhausting.  For them, I'm sure. I just stood around and watched.

And documented the travesty of course

And yes, I am well aware of the ironic hilarity of the entire situation. The fact that this ridiculousness was a success can only prove that the universe has a sick and wicked sense of humor, and is a Friends fan. 

Men at work

Here ends the saga of the Big Purple Couch. It was a loved couch. It was a loyal couch. It was a warm couch. Literally. It was made of some sort of corduroy blend and that shit held heat in the summertime. 

But, as all things, it too had to have an end. As Boyfriend told me the other day when I was afraid this story had too sad of an ending for anyone other than me to find it funny: "It was a good couch, but its insides broke and we had to put it down. It was best for all involved." And this is why I love him. He will slay a dying couch for me and make me laugh when I wax nostalgic about it.

Bye-bye couch

fin

Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

I've concluded that unemployment playing video games like it's my job is probably not the healthiest of lifestyles. It's currently 8:53am on Saturday. I'm been awake since 2:00PM on Friday. My sleep schedule has been seriously out of whack for several weeks, but now it's getting out of control. Right now, my goal is to just stay awake for at least the next 7 hours and then hopefully a good night sleep will re-set whatever semblance of an internal sleep clock I may have.

It's Going to Be An Early Spring, You Guys!

Boyfriend and I were catching up on some TV on the DVR from this past week and Dr. Sanjay Gupta was a guest on Conan. Before he walked on stage this coversation took place:

Boyfriend: Let's see how crazy he gets this time.

Me: Huh?

Boyfriend: Sanjay Gupta. He's always kooky.

Me: Ummm...not really.

Boyfriend: Yeah, he- (Dr. Gupta walks on stage and greets Conan) Oh. Wait that's-

Me: Dr. Sanjay Gupta. Respected neurosurgeon, CNN medical guy, former Surgeon General Cadidate. 

Boyfriend: *exasperated sigh* I was thinking of the other guy...

Me: Depak Chopra? The spiritualist guy?

Boyfriend: *sigh*  Yes. I'm racist. (Note: this was said in the saddest, most-dejected way  possible. Boyfriend is not actually racist)

Me: *cackling* This is going on Twitter and Facebook and the blog. I'm starting a new trend: Boyfriend Shaming!

I Give you #BoyfriendShaming

P.S Please don't judge Boyfriend too harshly, he's not normally like this. In his defense, both Gupta and Chopra are doctors. I blame Punxutsawney Phil. I call do-over for Boyfriend today.