Rudd Stud: Rhinestone in the Rough

Cardigan: Hearts & Roses London, Zulily; Top: Simply Vera, Kohl's; Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily; Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's; Green bracelet: Parade of Shoes; Red bangle: B Fabulous

Beading Rainbow Necklace

Sweater: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's; Boots: Apt. 9, Kohl's; Bag: Tatty Devine, Modcloth; Headband: Macy's; Coral bangle: Silver Linings, Ocean City; Black and white bracelet: Mixit, JCPenney

Un-Ugly Duckling Necklace

Paul Rudd is the kind of hot, hip, and self-deprecating-slightly-dorky leading man that makes women realize that men don't have to be testosterone-spewing alpha males to be sexy.  Just like sparkly stones don't have to be diamonds to be bedazzling (Rhinestone-encrusted jean jacket?  Yes, please!  Aunt Mitzi's tennis bracelet full of blood diamonds and also, possibly, the blood of Uncle Marve?  No thanks!).  So I was especially stoked to hear that Rudd is People's 2021 Sexiest Man Alive.  I'm so glad that this once-upon-a-time geeky dreamboat is finally getting his due.  Not that joining the Marvel universe as the world's most intrepid insect was too shabby either.  

Of course, true fans know that Rudd has had it going on since Clueless.  Awhile back, I read an article saying that Rudd, who played Alicia Silverstone's stepbrother-turned-love-interest in the iconic '90s flick, was "a wry forty-year-old" even then (his real age in the movie?  A callow twenty-nine.). 

Rudd's turn in Clueless is reason enough for me to pull out the plaid (yes, again!).  I'm particularly taken with these oh-so-'90s skirts.  All they need are a couple of big safety pins.  

Skirt: Almost Famous, Kohl's

Skirt: Almost Famous, Kohl's

What's more, their side-by-side contrasting plaid makes for an aesthetic that's classic-meets-edgy.  Kind of like the gentlemanly yet slightly snarky Rudd himself.  Who, by the way, in response to becoming officially "sexy," quipped that he'll now "have to spend more time on yachts."  

Oh, Paul.  That dry -- excuse me, wry -- sense of humor is why you'll always be the object of our (and Jennifer Aniston's) affections. 

Katy, Lou, and Limeade Too

Today is the first day of spring, which means that summer can't be far behind.  So, I'm fast-forwarding to flip flops and pool-worthy drinks (at least for this post.  I can't be held responsible if a parka rears its hood in April).  And this is what I think would happen if someone made a commercial about two of my favorite fun-in-the-sun brands.

Simply Limeade/Katy Perry Collection Collaboration brainstorming session:

Writer (reading draft): What could be better on a scorching hot day than sipping Simply Limeade in a brand-new pair of lime flip flops from the Katy Perry Collection?  Simply Limeade is tangy, sweet, and refreshing, like a surprise squirt from your crush at the carwash.  (A hose-wielding Lou Ferrigno emerges from behind a palm hedge.)  The flip flops smell like real limes, so with each broiling hot breeze, you'll get a whiff of fresh citrus, just the thing for masking those funky foot odors.  Talk about a silver -- excuse me -- lime lining!

Director: What happened to Katy Perry jumping out of the giant lime?

Assistant Director: We don't have the budget for Katy; we're spending too much on the cartoon dramatization of the funky foot odor and Ferrigno.  By the way, he said yes to the green body paint but no to the shorts.  He says they make him look like a pirate and wants to wear khakis instead.

Director: He'll wear the shorts and he'll like it!  And how do we not have the budget for Katy?  We're promoting her shoes!  

Assistant Director: Yes, but there's a clause in her contract . . .

Director:  Skip it.  Since we've already got Ferrigno, why don't we do a mock promo for an Avengers movie?  We'll call it Green Planet Peril.  The green planet can look like a lime and be inhabited by an army of miniature Hulks.  Thor and Iron Man have to return them to their original size.  Only it backfires when the Hulks get too big for their planet, causing it to explode, sending Simply Limeade all over the galaxy.  

Writer blinks and takes a swig of her limeade.

Assistant Director: I don't think Katy would like that.

Director: She would if we ask her to do the music.  You know, a fun, summer blockbuster version of "E.T." -- minus the Kanye.  (Notices Pizza Guy for the first time.)  Does this pizza have gluten-free crust?  Because I specifically specified gluten-free crust.  Gluten aggravates my acne.

Writer smirks, then catches herself and drinks more limeade.

Pizza Guy: Uh . . .  

Assistant Director: Dude, if we can't afford to star Katy Perry, then we can't afford her music.  Or the Avengers.

Director: First, do not call me dude.  Second, we wouldn't get Hemsworth and Downey Jr.  We'd get guys with dad bods and put them in Thor and Iron Man costumes from Target.  We'd run a disclaimer that says: "No Avengers participated in the making of this commercial.  Marvel maintains that Lou Feriggno is not and never was an Avenger."  It'd be true, but also ironic.  

Assistant Director: No, too messy.  We should chuck the Avengers idea but stick with Ferrigno.  Maybe we can even get Paul Rudd and Jason Segal to reenact that scene in I Love You Man where they beat him up.

Writer frowns.  The I Love You Man thing had been her idea, and Assistant Director told her to cut it.  But instead of saying so, she downs more limeade.

Pizza Guy: Epic!  I know those guys; I think they'd do it for free.

Director: Make it happen.  And get me an espresso.

Pizza Guy:  Sure thing, man.  But I don't work here . . .

Director: Make.  It.  Happen.  (Pizza Guy lopes off, gnawing on a slice and muttering, "Yummy yummy yummy, I've got wheat in my tummy."  Oblivious, Director turns to Assistant Director.)  If you're not careful, that kid's going to get your job.  Now, if we let Ferrigno wear the khakis, maybe he'll jump out of the lime . . .  

And  . . . scene.  Cheers to cooling off on a hot day with limeade, Katy kicks, and The Hulk.  And yes, my pic features the Marvel version of the not-so-jolly green giant instead of Ferrigno.  But that's because he's more photogenic.  

Khakis or not, Lou, it's true.

The Perks of Being a Peasant

Top: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

It seems like peasant tops and dresses are always in style.  Anytime anyone so much as thinks festival, boho, or Anthropologie sale rack, there they are, the ties of their wholesomely flattering drawstring necklines flowing as freely as if they'd just come from Woodstock or the compost pile of a community garden.  The popularity of the peasant aesthetic is a no-brainer.  Still, by all accounts, a peasant isn't a great thing to be. 

Dresses: Planet Gold, Macy's

Brainy or not, I fell for these farmer's daughter chic pieces priced for the proletariat (or what passes for the proletariat these days, the world having moved on from having one burlap sack per household).  I think each dress was less than fifteen dollars, although the promiscuity of my bargain hunting conquests prevents me from saying for sure.  I ordered them from the juniors section of Macy's, which gave me a thrill now that I've semi-graduated to the grown-up lady clothes known as misses.  That name's a bit insulting, don't you think?  As if a woman of a certain age with slightly more sophisticated tastes and generous proportions must be married or else.  And, by the same token, as if a svelte young thing couldn't and shouldn't be shopping for china.  So presumptuous!  Let crop top-clad coeds play house and fifty-five-year-olds troll for tail in sensible tweeds if they want to.

And yes, this time tail means men.  

Which reminds me of that Friends episode where Phoebe's dating two guys at once but complains that it's more like working in the field than playing the field.  Weirdly, this goes against what I just said about the supposed fun of stalking man meat.  But it also brings us back to the peasant thing, which is somehow both personified by and blown up by one Ms. Buffay.  

So thanks, Phoebe.  Even if you're not a peasant and your field is a park in the middle of the world's biggest city.  Your simple ways underscore wisdom, the kind best communicated through a song about a cat that reeks.  Regina Phalange has nothing on you, and not just because you married Paul Rudd.  

Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, however, is another story. 

Red, White, and Fruit: Sail Away, Sale Away, Snail Mail Play

This blog isn't always about the things that I make.  Sometimes it's about the things that I buy.  And the last best things that I bought were from Charming Charlie.  The online version, that is, as the nearest brick and mortar is kind of far from me.  Anyway, you know how sometimes you order something, and it comes and you're like, ugh, this sucks?  Well, this was the opposite of that.  (And no, Charming Charlie isn't paying me.  Although I kind of wish they would.  CC, if you're out there, throw some bangles my way tout de suite.)  Every piece was bigger and better than I thought it'd be.  I was especially excited because I'd first spotted the grape purse charm last year, and it was still in stock -- at half price!

Speaking of the funky bunch (and no, I don't mean you, Marky Mark), it's time for a rousing round of "one of these things is not like the others; one of these things just does not belong."  (Sing it loud, sing it proud, Bert and Ernie.)  'Cause we've got an anchor necklace; a red, white, and blue ice pop wristlet; and a star-spangled pouch -- which are all very nautical -- and a bunch of sparkly grapes -- which is not.  Unless, of course, the nautical in question refers to a yacht instead of a speedboat/sailboat/down-and-dirty dingy.  And what's a yacht without big, juicy grapes being served by Paul Rudd in a Speedo?  (Too far?  I was thisclose to calling this post Hoarder Up.  So.  Restraint practiced and all of that.)

That said, enjoy the soothing sounds of the Enya classic that has undoubtedly been playing in your head since you first scanned this title.  Also that not-so-soothing Styx classic.  I could go on, but like Michael Stipe, I've said too much.

So much for restraint.

At the Heart of the Batter: Conversation and Cupcakes With Christopher Walken

 Sweet Talk Brooch

Top (a dress!): Material Girl, Macy's

Skirt: Cat & Jack, Target

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

Sweet Talk Brooch and treats you haven't met yet.

Cupid's interrupting our regularly scheduled program to deliver this pressing bulletin: it's Valentine's Day.  Yes, that sweetest and most stylish of holidays is here.  And what better way to celebrate than with a heart-to-heart with your beloved over a selection of baked goods?  What's that you say?  You don't have a beloved?  Don't despair.  TV and movies go great with baked goods, and (bonus!) you don't have to share.  Nothing with Paul Rudd or Michael Cera, though (even if Michael does make a dashing Andrew Jackson in Drunk History) because a solo V-day is no time for dreamboats, however geeky.  What you need, my friends, is a weirdo, and that weirdo is Christopher Walken.  You can probably find him headlining an IFC marathon or in a bargain bin bonanza at your local Best Buy.

Anyhoo, this look-what-I-made-looking Sweet Talk Brooch is my love letter to romance and refined sugar.  Because no one, not even Christopher Walken, loves you like kitsch and corn syrup.

Getup and Go: Comic Book Costume Look

Rita Rainbow Necklace

Tee: JCPenney

Skirt: Ellen Tracy, JCPenney

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Nordstrom

Jacket: Gap outlet

Sunglasses: Brigantine beach shop

 Ribbon Rose Rainbow Necklace

Tunic: Bongo, Sears

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt: Bongo, Sears

Shoes: a.n.a., JCPenney

Bag: Nahui Ollin

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

Wonder Bread Woman Bow Barrette

Tee: JCPenney

Skirt: Decree, JCPenney

Shoes: Not Rated, Journeys

Bag: Nine West, Marshalls

Sunglasses: So, Kohl's

Marvel looks marvy for fifty.  Yep, that's half a century, or, time being money, one Ulysses S. Grant.  For, it was back in 1966 that the comic book giant launched "The Marvel Super Heroes" cartoon, a fun fact that I learned while checking out Kohl's limited edition line of Captain America-themed  clothing, even if I wasn't intrigued enough to take anything home.  No, no demure shield prints, sedate insignia, or Peter Pan collars for me, such style (under)statements being better left to the likes of DC's much-martyred Aquaman.  It was good old graphic novel-ty tees from J. C. Penney's or nothing.  Well, those and the banana-print tunic in outfit number two.  Because even superheroes need their potassium.  

Now, I'm no comic book queen.  But I've always been drawn to Marvel movies because they're about characters facing, not only external antagonists, but the challenge of their own inner demons, making them vulnerable and universally human.  I guess it's this appeal that keeps the remakes coming . . . and the Avengers avenging.  Since 2003, there have been three Bruce Banners: Eric Bana, Ed Norton, Mark Ruffalo . . . and, just because it's so dang funny, Lou Ferrigno as his un-Hulk (but equally angry) self in I Love You, Man.  That said, my Spidey senses suggested that Spider-Man was not an Avenger  -- misinformation exposed by a Google search confirming that he became one in May's Captain America: Civil War.  So much for depending on the intuitive powers of an arachnid.  His spirit animal's shortcomings aside, Spider-Man remains my favorite (un)caped crusader -- something that Debbie (Leslie Mann) of Knocked Up and I have in common.  (Sort of.)  Remember when she picks a fight with Pete (Paul Rudd) about spending too much time away from home, and he says that he went to the movies to see Spider-Man and that she wouldn't have liked it, and she wails, "I like Spider-Man!"?  In that vein, Rudd, in addition to being in I Love You, Man, is also -- oh, the connections -- the title character in Marvel's Ant-Man.  Although not exactly tee shirt-worthy, his Scott Lang is, as an ice cream scooping-work-release-program-minimum-wager, on the receiving end of one of comic book films' funniest one liners, namely: "Baskin Robbins always finds out."

So, it was with a hulkin' dose of Norse force that I set out, in my small way, to pay tribute, fighting my own design demons (and not a few rolls of wire gone wild) to make some stuff worthy of the superhuman (i.e. forever young) aesthetic.  Which is to say as bright and plastic and timeless as a mint-in-box action figure.  The Marvel look is striking yet simple, with its crayon box colors and clean cartoon graphics and flair for making everything from denim to dresses seem modern.  No tee (or DVD) collection is complete without it.      

On an unrelated note, I finally finished wearing all of my spring and summer clothes.  It took me six months, but I wore that wardrobe like never before in a Lollapalooza of layers and pattern-mixing abandon.  Which means that I'm now down to the tedious business of washing it all and somehow stuffing it, clown-car-style, back into my closet.

I guess that's my super power.

Climbing the Walls With Jericho, a Bear, and a Beetle

Unicorn University Necklace

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt: Modcloth

Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Belt: Kohl's

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's 

Wild Wagon Necklace

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Nordstrom

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

Bear Flare Necklace

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt: Modcloth

Shoes: Christian Siriano for Payless

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Kohl's

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

I'm kicking off this week's post with a look back at last week's episode of Bob's Burgers (just think of me as the John Oliver of cartoons).  It was about Tina, my favorite Belcher, and her obsession with her imaginary horse, Jericho.  Although not a unicorn (unlike the Unicorn University Necklace shown here, so named in the spirit of upwardly mobile and intellectual equines), Jericho wields his own special magic, his powers of the impossible far more ambitious than those filtered through any mere horn.  Because who needs that useless appendage when you've got the pipes of nice guy dreamboat Paul Rudd?  That's right, Ant Man himself voices Tina's beloved and completely unreal black stallion.  (Is it any wonder that she's besotted?)  In this far-fetched and quirky fairy tale of a Burgers installment, bookworm Tina channels Beauty and the Beast's Belle's bewitching blend of "strange but special" more strongly than ever.  You know, if Belle wore glasses and had the voice of a middle-aged man.  That said, Tina is so entrenched in her fantasy that she convinces dad Bob to enroll her in a local horse camp.  (Come to think of it, Bob is a little like Belle's father, Maurice.  Bob's a kindly if unsuccessful and somewhat ridiculed creator of weird burgers; Maurice is a kindly if unsuccessful and most definitely ridiculed creator of inventions.  Oh, Bob's Burgers writers, is there no end to your Beast parallels?).  The camp is a step down from the exclusive sleep-away version of Tina's dreams, but true to her sweet, grateful nature, she gallops off on the first day all smiles.  Yet as is so often the case with high expectations, the camp proves to be riddled with rules and realities that render it far less fanciful than her Jericho-headlined dreamworld.  To add insult to injury, she's assigned a steed so clumsy and smelly that she comes close to quitting.  Instead, she perseveres in true Tina fashion, entering the ring with, not Old Stinky, but the gentlemanly -- and very invisible -- Jericho.  Laughter - and a poignant lesson - ensue.        

Personally, I don't know what's with girls and horses.  I was never enamored with them, despite (or perhaps because of) having attended horse camp as a preteen.  My sister and I used to walk down the seemingly endless dirt road from the regular camp to the stables, dreaming of greener pastures lousy with horses that sounded, not like Paul Rudd (Clueless still being a figment of  Hollywood's imagination), but Luke Perry or Jonathan Taylor Thomas or whoever the big heartthrob was then.  Take it from me, there's nothing enchanting about manure in August.

Before I hit the dusty trail, here's a shot of a recently repainted Brigantine carwash.  Which doesn't, I realize, have anything to do with horses.  Unless you count that modern horse otherwise known as the car.  Its bright colors all but belt out Tote Trove, and the VW Beetle of the Wild Wagon Necklace fits right in with its punky palette.  

On that note, coming soon: surf shops for unicorns.   

A Prairie Gnome Companion: From Highbrow to Lowbrow and Every Hair in Between

Gnome Where You Want To Blossom Barrette Brooch

Tank: Marshalls

Cami: Worthington, JCPenney

Skirt: Lily Star, Kohl's

Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Modcloth

Bag: Glamour Damaged, Etsy

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Michaels 

 Radical Raspberry Mushroom Necklace

Sweater: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Cami: Worthington, JCPenney

Skirt: H&M

Shoes: Payless

Bags: Charming Charlie

Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

Jacket: Decree, JCPenney

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Marvelous Mint Mushroom Necklace

Dress: Ruby Rox, JCPenney

Cami: Worthington, JCPenney

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Call it Spring, JCPenney

Sunglasses: Michaels

Finally, I've gotten around to doing a post about the magic of mushrooms.  (No, not those mushrooms.)  You know.  The crayon box-colored, cartoonish kind often flanking smiling garden gnomes.  This week's pieces reflect the young-at-heart and enchanted spirit of these fanciful forest dwellers.  They make me think of Super Mario Brothers, Alice in Wonderland (although in that case the mushrooms were paired with a caterpillar as opposed to a gnome, one most certainly smoking something suspect), and the more imaginative photographs in my grade school science textbooks.  But this post is about none of those things.  It's about two women (characters, if we must), two mediums (books and movies), and two sets of dark, unruly eyebrows.  Such begins my compare and contrast of two stories I recently consumed, namely the now-classic French film Amelie and the memoir Unabrow by journalist and young adult fiction writer Una LaMarche.

We'll start with Unabrow (even if it does appear second in my list).  It was a gift from the husband, and I'd never heard of it, but as soon as I read the back cover, I knew that it was something I wanted to read.  Part coming-of-age saga, part feminist rant (which I mean in the very best way possible, being a regular espouser of rants) and part 1990s pop culture primer ("Melrose Place", "90210", "Friends", New Kids on the Block, and Salt n' Pepa references abound), LaMarche's memoir is edgy and funny as it follows one woman's quest for self acceptance -- and more manageable facial hair.   I like to think that one Una LaMarche (who is only two years older than I am) and I would have been fast friends had I grown up in Brooklyn instead of southern New Jersey.  But then, I'm sure most readers think that, which is a testament to LaMarche's craft.  She gamely reveals the kinds of memories experienced routinely by the precocious and geeky, one of which is her inexplicable crush on "A Prairie Home Companion's" Garrison Keillor.  Another is her collection of hand-written Christmas and birthday wish lists, one of which demands, "TROLLS!!!!! -- Big trolls, little trolls, every kind of troll!!!!!!  LOVE Trolls!!  I Want Lots!!!!" (122)  LaMarche moves easily from childhood embarrassments to teenage misadventures to awful first jobs to marriage to motherhood, and even, whimsically, to a segment on bathroom stall protocol, complete with diagrams (LaMarche subscribes to the get-in-and-get-out philosophy but not to the use of paper toilet seat covers).  Upon finishing this book, I promptly looked it, and LaMarche, up on Amazon, which led me to LaMarche's blog.  I can't tell you how weird it is to read a book and then be able to immediately communicate with its author, albeit via cyberspace.  It made me feel (just a wee bit) like a stalker.  Although I suppose an innocuous one-line comment expressing appreciation for indie bookstores and a bolo-wearing, dancing .gif of Paul Rudd doesn't necessarily scream restraining order (even if the image of Mr. Rudd getting jiggy with it only reinforced my hunch about LaMarche and I being kindred spirits).

As for Amelie, I bought it on clearance at Target years ago without ever having seen it and tore off the cellophane only last weekend.  My reluctance, I think, stemmed from the whole subtitle thing.  But I needn't have worried.  Amelie has enough brooding silences and wordless scenic shots that I could catch every line, even while crafting.  It's about (for anyone out there still scared of subtitles), a sensitive only child (Amelie, played by Audrey Tautou) raised by neurotic, over-protective parents.  Her father insists on home-schooling her because he believes she has a heart defect (she doesn't; it's only that her heart beats faster during the monthly medical exams that he, in his hyper-paranoid way, insists on administering).  Her mom, who has a bit of OCD, is crushed by a suicide jumper coming out of church, ironically after having prayed for a second child.  So Amelie grows up alone with her father, stretching the limits of her considerable imagination and eventually getting an apartment of her own and a job as waitress.  Things are fine but not exciting.  Until one night when she discovers a box of tiny treasures hidden behind the wall of her bathroom.  Transfixed, she decides to track down its owner.  She finds him and is touched by his happiness in being reunited with his childhood mementos.  Her success inspires her to perform random acts of kindness for strangers, coworkers, an enigmatic young man, and even her own father.  He has always wanted to travel but didn't on account of Amelie's (imagined) heart defect, so Amelie sends his beloved gnome around the world and arranges for her father to receive pictures of his ceramic pal in exotic locales (a slice of cinema that lives on even to this day in Travelocity ads).  Before long, Amelie's world expands, and she forges a friendship with a housebound artist who challenges her to change her life as she's changed the lives of so many others.  In its shy, unassuming, and very French way, Amelie reminds us that we have the power to chart our own destinies, whatever the obstacles, and that happiness is always worth the risk.  

So, what do Una and Amelie have in common? Both are still-waters-run-deep sort of types, subversive beneath layers of seeming submission (unless I'm reading too much into both of them, which is entirely possible but somehow works for the purposes of this post).  Both are thin despite eating tons of bread and pasta.  Both are odd.  And both are just trying, despite all of this, to get what they want out of life.  So, how are they different? (Because, to be fair, I promised a compare and contrast.)  One is American, one is French (although even the American one has a French-sounding last name)  And that's about all I've got.  As arguments go, it's a little lopsided, but then this post is about finding common ground as opposed to dividing and conquering.

Much like the ground where our fungi friends grow and prosper.      

Ryan's Goslings: We'd Follow You Anywhere . . .

. . . would be a fun name and tagline for a Ryan Gosling fan club.  At least, that's what I was thinking as I was making this Ryan-rific jewelry.  No, The Tote Trove doesn't suddenly have stars in its eyes (although if it did, then it would be Paul Rudd's mug winking amidst these rhinestones).  My little sister is getting married, and her co-matron of honor asked me to make this necklace and bracelet for her to wear at her bachelorette party.  (Kudos to her, by the way, for coming up with a classy alternative to the usual celebration of male nether regions.)  As luck would have it, I had plenty of charms and pendants just the right size for framing Ryan's kisser, and I was only too happy to contribute my craftiness to the heartthrob-themed hijinks.  Some wire and a few jump rings later, and I had a modern day Prince, ahem, Charming, on my hands.

Talk about one for the (note)books.

Movie Moment: This is 40

This isn't forty, but a random Brigantine sunset that I've decided to use in lieu of a movie poster because, as a reformed blogger, I no longer post purloined pictures.  (That having been said, I'm still not a reformed moviegoer, having smuggled Christmas-gifted chocolate-covered potato chips into the theater last night.)  Besides being beautiful, this sunset has that contemplative aura that accompanies all such photographs of natural phenomena.  Which makes it the perfect entree to a post about movie musing.

Judd Apatow's self-proclaimed "sort of sequel" to Knocked Up, This is 40 is the story of Pete (Paul Rudd) and Debbie (Leslie Mann), the always-caustic but once upwardly mobile couple with whom we first became acquainted in the background of Ben and Alison's baby drama.  A far cry from the affluent family that once sheltered Alison in its guest house, the troubled twosome and their two daughters weather financial problems complicated by relationship problems complicated by parent problems complicated by parenting problems complicated by the problems that come with the big 40.  The results are often more cutting than comic, straddling the murky middle ground between Apatow's raucous Knocked Up and his bleak Funny People. Even so, This is 40 emerges as the more satisfying and multi-faceted movie.

Debbie runs a clothing boutique from which she suspects her employees are stealing, and Pete has left the safe world of Sony to start his own (struggling) retro rock label.  But unlike the authors of idealistic destinies that run rampant in other kinds of movies, Pete and Debbie pay the price for their entrepreneurial existence and are so maxed out that they're in danger of losing their house.  It is this conflict, as well as finding time to be a couple in addition to parents, that is at the heart of this dark comedy, not the lure of infidelity, as in similarly genred but far less trenchant flicks such as The Change-Up and Hall Pass.          

As a thirty-year-old, not-quite-yet-married woman without kids, I won't pretend to be on intimate terms with Debbie's issues.  But I can say that they seemed real and disturbing and that despite my discomfort in witnessing them, I appreciated being exposed to a love story that was not sugar-coated.  Unlike your garden variety romantic comedy, This is 40 is about all the stuff that happens - and keeps happening - after the dust clears from the fairy tale wedding.  

Now that I've gotten all the serious stuff out of the way, I'd like to give a shout-out to Paul Rudd's hair.  It looks better than ever, even if his dad (a reprehensible mooch played by Albert Brooks) tells him to cut it.      

Movie Moment: Wanderlust

I was excited about Wanderlust.  Mostly because it starred Paul Rudd.  But also because it was a comedy about a yuppie couple (the other half of which is played by Jennifer Aniston) escaping the New York City rat race to start fresh on a Georgia commune.  I mean, what wouldn't be hilarious about that?

As it turned out, plenty.

Now, I realize it's a little early in the review for the snark snake to be rearing its ugly head.  And I hate to be that girl.  But I also hate to be dishonest.  So, that girl it is.

George (Paul Rudd) works in an office doing something boring.  Linda (Jennifer Aniston) bounces from jewelry making to ice cream making to making a documentary about penguins with testicular cancer.  Linda wants them to buy an apartment (er, micro-loft), so they do.  But then George gets laid off and they're forced to sell and move in with George's obnoxious brother and his family in Atlanta.  During the drive down, car trouble delivers them to the doorstep of Elysium, a utopian oasis in a gadget-crazy, dog-eat-dog world.  They spend an enchanted night there, an experience that renders life at George's brother's mansion the next day as even more abrasive.  George picks a fight and breaks a dish and before they know it, he and Linda are speeding back toward the serenity of the commune.

Only, Linda's not feeling it.  Weirded out by Elysium's doorless rooms, touchy-feely psychobabble, and unrelieved togetherness, she balks when George suggests they stay for two weeks.  Yet almost immediately the two do a switcheroo, with Linda embracing the alternative lifestyle and George longing for the square society they left behind (which makes perfect comedic sense, as Paul Rudd always plays the lone straight man swirling in a sea of chaos).  Nowhere is their disconnect as apparent as when George strums the Spin Doctors' "Two Princes" on a guitar only to be one-upped by his wife's soon-to-be paramour (Justin Theroux).  Weirdly, this is the movie's high point for me.  Not the part about Paul Rudd being dissed; I didn't like that at all.  But my favorite actor singing my favorite song?  That was downright, dare I say it, princely.

As for the rest of the movie, I couldn't help but feel that it needed to be either funnier in an over-the-top, can-you-believe-this? sort of way or more serious in a poignant, indie film, damn-that-really-made-me-think kind of way.  I think that's about as bitchy as I'm going to get.  Now that that's over with, I'll return to my happy place where Paul Rudd is still singing.

TV Tuesday: Casting My Vote for Parks and Recreation

As I've mentioned in many a TV-related post, it takes me awhile to warm up to new TV shows.  So, when "Parks snd Recreation" joined NBC's Thursday night lineup four seasons ago, I initially wrote it off as an "Office" knock-off.  Yet sometime between then and last season, something shifted, causing me to think, "Hey, what have I been missing?  This is a hoot!"  The "Parks" players are as eccentric as any you'd expect to find in the fictional small town of Pawnee, Indiana.  At the forefront is Leslie Knope (Amy Poehler), perky Deputy Parks Director extraordinaire.  Her boundless enthusiasm and can-do attitude lights a fire beneath even the most lackadaisical of her staff, namely her bureaucracy-hating, tells-it-like-it-is boss Ron (Nick Offerman) and chronically eye-rolling, deadpan intern April (Aubrey Plaza).  Luxury-loving and perennially besuited Tom (Aziz Ansari), "most beautiful nurse in the world" Ann (Rashida Jones), childlike amateur rocker Andy (Chris Pratt), overzealous health nut and optimist Chris (Rob Lowe), divaesque Donna (Retta), clueless but well-meaning Jerry (Jim O' Heir), and Leslie's level-headed beau Ben (Adam Scott) round out the rest of the public service circle.

This season we're treated to democracy in action as Leslie faces off with none other than Paul Rudd for a seat on city council.  Rudd is brilliant as pretty boy puppet Bobby Newport, spoiled son of Pawnee's premier candy company owner.  In the most recent episode Knope and Newport engage in that time-honored pre-election nail-biter, the debate.  Bobby vacantly delivers answers spoonfed to him by his shark of a campaign manager (Kathryn Hahn) while Leslie stands classily by, hiding her light under a bushel until the very end when she launches into an impassioned speech about her love for Pawnee and her duty to protect it.  The crowd goes wild; really, it's quite moving and inspirational.  Then, with perfect comic timing, Bobby saunters over to Leslie with all the bonhomie of a high school quarterback and tells her that he's so glad that that's all over with and why doesn't she come on over to the after-party at his dad's lake house?  Even when playing a jerk Mr. Rudd can't help but turn out to be nice :)        

Book Report (sort of): Geeky Dreamboats: A Celebration by Sarah O'Brien and Lacey Soslow

When I saw this Geeky Dreamboats: A Celebration book on Fred Flare, I knew I had to have it.  So when I opened it on my birthday last weekend, I was pleased as punch.  Once I started leafing through it I found it was - gasp - even funnier than I could have imagined.  Chock-full of favorites such as Michael Cera, Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie, Topher Grace, Adam Brody, Conan O'Brien, John Krasinski, and Paul Rudd (my personal favorite), this nearly pocket-sized who's who of nerdy knights in shining armor delivers a refreshingly quirky perspective on what makes a dude drool-worthy. 

Of course, some of the selections may raise an eyebrow.  But as O'Brien and Soslow explain, "Some of these cuties may appear a little dreamier than geeky or a little geekier than dreamy, but remember, the prevailing theme here is the beautiful and poetic combination that makes up the sexy nerd.  Not everyone strikes that perfect balance, but we've found a slew of cuties who come pretty close, and we've ranked their appeal with our trusty Geekboat Meter." (Introduction)  Well put, ladies. 

Whether you're thirteen or thirty, Geeky Dreamboats: A Celebration is sure to earn a top spot on your list of guilty pleasures.