Julie & Julia

I know, I know...y'all voted for Up. But what is there to say other than that it's brilliant, hilarious and endearing and it will be one of the few movies that we'll all be able to stomach for the 100th time when our little tiny ones get to the point of shoveling DVD's back into the machine over and over again until one day it breaks because the younger one put cheetos in it and then we'll upgrade to the bitchin system whereby the kid will be choosing from our library of movies on a menu stored on some hard drive or some distant server on the interweb. Yep, that will be some fancy shizzle. Of course, to be clear, I will not let BHB watch TV until he's 8. Ahem.

So let's talk about Julie & Julia instead.

First of all, in one of the two stories featured in the movie you'll find another blogger success story. I mean, other than Dooce. All of us bloggly blogesses of the off-blue screen secretly (or not) imagine this to be our story. Start a blog. A reader stumbles by and due to the sheer brilliance of the writing, offers a book deal. We write a book. Due to the sheer genius of the book (or the catchy concept) we get a movie deal. Life is forever good as we rake in the residuals and book deals and speaking engagements. Our children are proud to call us Mommy and we can hire full time help.

Joy. Ease. Love-filled life and shiny teeth.

So there's that, so that part was definitely interesting to me. When the Julie character was all a twitter about the 20 comments on her blog and she got all to be the all-too-annoying-self-obsessed-no-sex having-blogger I turned to cute hubs and said nervously in a high-pitched voice, 'Oh haha she does not remind you of anyone, does she?' These striking similarities to persons fictional or otherwise is not why I didn't love the movie.

I found it to be many charming moments piled up with pretty people and some fun for sure, however, my takeaway was that it was plotless and flat. I give it a C+. If you loved it, I won't be hurt if you click away. Go ahead. Hit an ad on the way out, would you? Oh crap, I don't think I'm supposed to say those things. Well damn if Google sees this and takes away my adsense and the 6.42 I've earned so far so be it.

Let me back up, I loved Meryl Streep. I mean, comon'. She is so freakin' cute and just nails it. She literally channels these people, I mean the characters she plays whether they are real or otherwise. She is an American treasure and I l-l-l-l-love her. She deserved the Golden Globe and I loved her speech. So there. I also loved Stanly Tucci. He's another actor who deserves a hell of a lot more praise and great roles than he receives. And wait, I also really enjoyed Amy Adams and whoever that dude is who played her man. I found their love believable. So by now you're wondering - uh, you give it a C? I do. All of these likable people in great costumes tracking along with one historic cookbook does not a great movie make.

*Spoiler Alert!* (I promised I'd do this, here it is)

Even if these are real people - we need a plot! We need to be taken on a ride! There was some danger around Senator McCarthy and Julia's hubs getting into trouble but that fizzled off into whatever nothingness. There was some danger that Julia didn't (gasp) like what Julie was doing. And that's bad! I mean, really bad, right? Well it's shuffled off the screen in a big act 3 wrap up that I didn't find satisfying.

*Alert over* - (resume reading if you care to)

Then there is the problem of the music. Movie music is such tricky business, it my mind it's pretty rarely done perfectly. The music in this movie is all Cute and Spunky and like Pointing to the screen with a big 'Something interesting is coming!' and 'Don't you like the shiny lighting?' kinda deal. That may be a bit harsh but I will say when the credits were rolling I didn't want to hang out to hear more. I ran away.

Now let's address one more thing, if you haven't thought of it already. This is a big year and awards season for women directors. Which I think is freakin' fantastic. So I feel a bit out of line or out of synch by doggin' on our girl Nora Ephron. Historically speaking I personally loved Sleepless in Seattle and hated, really hated You've Got Mail. So you know, sometimes she hits, sometimes not so much, like ANY filmmaker. Sometimes I just think I should have some solidarity or something like that with the womens directors (s on the end of women intentional) but end of day I'm just interested in honesty and truthful moments. Oh and as you've already noticed, a plot.

It's too bad I don't have the strength or courage to see The Hurt Locker, which I hear is amazing. It's just that I literally cannot watch war movies or overly suspenseful films without throwing up. Yep, I truly am a sensitive lil thing. Director Katheryn Bigelow is apparently a total rock star in this thriller/psycho fear genre and I guess I'll never see her work. But you know, let's give a big what-what to the awesomely successful action-flick chick-director.

Okay then, there you go.

UP - A
Julie & Julia - C+

Sleepless in LA,



PS - Uhm - btw - should I keep doing this movie thing? So far, so fun, but you know...I don't know. Let me know.

PPS - I also want to give a bit shout out of thanks for your birthday comments and lovin'. I truly and totally appreciated your words. And to quickly summarize - the day it was a mix of crappy and sweet. Birthday's really can be stoopid. It's all about expectation management I suppose. I'm sure 40 will be no problem there. Ahem.

16 Candles

So tomorrow is my birthday. I'm going to be 39 (for the first time) and it's trippin' my sh_ out.

For the record, my adorable step-dad would prefer I didn't swear, so to honor his readership and the fact that he cares enough to tell me his opinion, I am going to ix-nay on the four letter words from here on out. I mean, I think you'll still effin' know what I mean, but perhaps LCD has just become a softer, sweeter place.

Birthday's are just weird. First of all, a lil shout out of huge thanks to my Mom! Whatup Momma! Thanks for um, you know, OUCH. I've realized that instead of this day being all about me, I think it's time to share just a little bit of the good stuff with the woman who suffered mightily to bring my tiny pink butt to the planet. In fact, now that I know the score, it's high time to write 38 thank you notes for the last 38 celebrations. Damn. But now I know.

And my Mom was awesome at throwing birthday parties, I've got seriously big shoes to fill in that department. I think my high school friends started to look forward to the fun party coming a few weeks after Christmas, 'cause she always rocked it.  Let's run down a few, shall we?

• Sweet 16 was a bitchin' 50's themed party and we all wore poodle skirts. My Dad and his best-friend DJ'd the event with all of 'their' music and we cleared the dining room out and did our best swing-dancin'. Only trouble had to do with Dad's BF who was visiting for a few weeks and trying to sober-up down in Florida. Dontcha know he picked that night to relapse into a pool of booze which turned him into a puddle. The net-net was a really uncomfortable moment where he swerved me around the dance floor and pawed the back of my poodle. THAT was a pretty crappy high school moment. Ahem, yea. Kinda dark, sorry about that. Also need to apologize for an unfortunate rash of alliteration. The sad fact is that he died later that year from complications from his alcoholism.
  

• For 17 she did a super cool scavenger hunt. Since we were all driving then, she had clues hidden all over town. One required a purchase at the McDonald's drive-through for (how she got them to participate is beyond me) and a crazy-dig-up-something-thing on the side of a lonely stretch of a brand new road. It was an all afternoon affair of driving and laughing and some actual thinking to solve her smarty-pants clues. My dad even built a rough little wooden treasure chest to hold all of the goodies for the team that won. In fact, I still have it in all of it's splinteree glory. Wait a minute, I have to disclose this lil tidbit...it currently holds all of my journals. Ha! How precious right? About time to retrieve that from storage for the old bonfire. Godforbid anyone read those. Oh wait, isn't that what this blog is? E-journal 2009-2010.
  

• 18 was the best. To celebrate my then new ability to gamble, the rents threw a Gambling Night. No kidding. They rented all of these tables including craps, black-jack and roulette. Their friends were the dealers all smiles in bow-ties. There were lessons on how to play the games and we all got big piles of tiny pink and blue monopoly money. Then we bid on prizes at the end of the night, the most memorable was the giant Hershey's kiss. What a fun night for us big shot seniors to get all fanced up in our fancy-wear. She even served us caviar and sparkling apple cider as champagne. Genius.

I think maybe the last birthday I looked forward to was 1996 when I turned 25 and could like, finally rent a car. Other than that, they have been steadily losing their charm. I do have to say the cute hubs rocked 30 pretty hard by surprising me by flying my best-friend from HS into town. He dropped me off at a massage place and when I walked into the heavy incensed air and soothing music - there she was. I almost fainted. He then sent us on a scavenger hunt around town (hmm, a theme) which was hilarious and amazing and then surprised me again that night with twenty-five of my favorite people at my favorite restaurant. He was already, you know, my fiance at the time - but his stock went up pretty high after that one.

So to summarize, I guess birthdays can be aiight. Honestly I'm already mentally blowing by these days and the hubs birthday in February because I'm all a quiver about BHB's birthday in April. It just feels like it ain't about us anymore. And as you can see that's a pretty good idea. Plans for the weekend are minimal but I will be enjoying one of the last weekends that my folks will be around. Let's not talk about the mighty withdrawal that is coming when they actually depart, it's just best not to. Nope, let's not. Let's just enjoy not-turning-40 for one more year.

For fun here are a few pics from birthday's past.

That's the BF. Even though we haven't lived in the same state since we were 20, we often manage to celebrate our birthday's together. This is the birthday after the toughest Christmas ever, 2006. Drinking was an excellent idea then, or so I thought. I love bar self-portraits.

Oh lookie!  Here I am enjoying another vice that I no longer imbibe in. If you ever go by FU Sugar you'll see that it's going ah, pretty well. I've only slipped a few times since Halloween. Tomorrow is tempting though. Look at that cake! Be strong Jane, be strong.

By the way, I have to apologize for all of the naval gazing and bio-pic quality of recent posts. I guess this entry into a new year as a new parent is creating the space for too much rumination.

And finally, don't forget to vote in Movie Monday. You'll make my whole birthday with your vote. Or a comment. OR if you really want to make an old lady happy, toss a few bucks on our movie. (or see sidebar to left) Time is growing short.

Ain't that the truth?

Yours in cusp of the middle age,

Wordless Wednesday: Meet the Cousins Edition

The Constant Gardener

Day late on the Movie Monday again 'cause I needed help writing this. I mean, until this minute I was calling the movie The Constant Gardner - which cute hubs pointed out might be fine if Jennifer Gardner (or to be accurate, Garner) was in it. But no, it's Gardener. Got it hubs, I put the vowel in. So since he's so damn smart, he can help me write this. I'll start.

Me: Let's start with the title, no matter how you spell it, I'm still trying to decide if it's a good title or not. I took a great screenwriting class from the dude who wrote Save the Cat and his claim is that a movie title should 'say what it is!' Ah yes, just found a little article of him talking about it here.

So while our protagonist does quite a bit of gardening in the movie, and you know, it's pretty, I never found a real compelling reason for this phrase to be on the marquee. I kept waiting for that 'gardener of souls' business or somekind of deeper metaphorical-ee type entrance into why this is the title. And shoot, Rebecca voted for this movie 'cause she thought she'd hear some valuable tips about some veggies and dirt. See what I mean? Not so much. It's more of a espionage, love triangle, thriller type dealee with some killer-diller filmmaking. But maybe the hubs saw the deeper meaning for the title.

Hubs: Thought about fibbing here, but no - I didn't see the title as a strong point either. Sure, I got the broader reference and all. But when referring to the movie, I've needed a couple of seconds for it to pop into my old mind. I neglected to ask my mom about it - she is a true constant gardener and likes Ralph Feinnes. She would've expected a HGTV epic.

But then, this isn't a Hollywood movie and came from a English novel - an artsy martini with a fartsy garnish. My suspicion is that John le Carre (the author) might've used Save the Cat to swat a roach, but likely hasn't cracked the cover in the other sense.  Want a Hollywood, Save the Cat title? Howzabout 'Take My Wife, Alive, Please'. But with the title and the trailer and Ralph as the lead and a foreign settng, I was in deep, dark, sweaty fear of being tortured by another The English Patient (or The English Not So Patient), another movie to make Catholic Mass look like Cirque du Soliel. I knew if I saw anything like another panning shot of a damned plane soaring over desert to orchestral masturbation, I’d go Elvis on our television.

Me: I liked English Patient fine. I can see why it struck a fear chord in the hubs though, here's a poster comparison:

Btw, I didn't know Elvis shot his TV, did you? Huh. That's fun. So while I did not share the EP fear that he did, I will say I have my own espionage-shoot-em-up-in-another-land movie fear. Well, to be honest I don't like guns. I know, you're thinking - boy your Hollywood career is going to be short. Yea, I know. I really love it when filmmakers can make a movie that keeps the stakes high without the lethal piece of metal. It's just such a shortcut, you know? Anyhoo. What's interesting about this movie is that despite the aforementioned potential pitfalls for me, I thought it was an excellent piece of filmmaking. Oh sure the academy did too since it was up for four oscars and some golden globes n' shizzle so I'm not exactly providing a uniqe POV there. What was cool is that I turned it off at one point and thought, "oh it's that type of movie..." but when I was compelled to finish watching once tiny boy was in bed, I was really impressed by the way it developed in really surprising ways and my once opinions about the characters was 180'd.

By the way, I'm being super vague so that if you decide based on our vaguities that you want to netflix it, you won't be robbed of the goodies. If I ever bust into a spoiler alert, I'll be sure to say so. So yea. I really liked it. It's the type of movie that haunts and wanders through random thought moments and daydreams. It was beautifully shot. So, two rattles up from me.

Hubs: Ditto on the rattles. And nice investigative work on those posters, baby!

I've come to really appreciate films like this. The movie - in script, direction, and editing - is an elegant mess that capitalizes on our minds' ability to cobble together disparate images and details to form a story. I love this style, dammit. It mimics the movies we see in our heads. And as Jane hinted, it felt like a sometimes dream/sometimes nightmare. There's a precision to it (that I wish I fully understood) that fuels the chaotic essence at the heart of the story. The world is disquietingly random, even on a good day. Relationships - and our imaginations within them - are not under our control, no matter how passionate or defined they seem. And Africa has become a dusty and brutal political clusterboink - though mostly degrades to a simple and horrible anarchy - that the rest of the world could conceivably be sucked into.

The added beauty is that I'm not sure it would be considered a political story. And that's brilliant. No preaching. The basic story is the struggle of a complex love, and the political turbulence is the vivid backdrop. Yet it's more powerful because of it's gravitational dance with the characters from a slight distance. It's a beautiful thing to observe. And I'm picky - a preachy movie with an upfront agenda is as interesting to me as Ann Coulter bitching about the price of cocaine.

The movie is haunting after the credits. But as a new dad, a film like this haunts me again because of nurturing a 9-month-old boy into this wondrous and fucked world. Love and hate. I love brave movies like this with their necessary realism. And I hate stories depicting the world as a place where people (not shown in the film, thank god) will hang a man upside down from a tree, skin him alive, then stuff his own genitalia into his mouth during his last breaths. Christ, that was hard to write. And it was hard to hear in the story. And I wish I could believe that it never happens, or even that it's just distant, heinous evil that can't touch us. What can I say? How can both this story and the BHB's sweet face both exist, here and now. And how will I explain those shitty things? Will I be able to prepare my guy to find some comfort amidst these conditions? Will he he understand that this place is perfect, even though there is no such thing as our concept of perfection? Years and years to go. Then tomorrow is today, and the answers won't be easier. Nevertheless, in the end, he'll have to find him for himself. I wonder if, and pray that I can lose fear to provide an example.

Me: Aw. Good. Now you can see why I love him so, what an awesome brain.

Putting the poll up for next week now. Vote on over there to your left, as you can see I (ok, we) are having fun with this.

Happy Monday (ahem) to you!

P.S. - If you are a link follower at all, you'll notice I'm amazonin' it alot. I've decided to become an 'associate'. Full disclosure seems like a good thing.

A Beautiful Mind

I guess we should have seen the signs. But we didn't know.

Even though a family member had at one time been diagnosed as schizophrenic, it didn't occur to us to worry.

Every two year old has temper tantrums. Tons of high school kids have drug problems. Lots of people have perfect pitch and vocabularies that surpass their knowledge and learning level.

You can't really worry too much about schizophrenia being a family trait when the affected family member managed to recover from that terrifying diagnosis through the use of self discipline and willpower. This is a fact. He stopped exhibiting symptoms and in relatively short order become not only a contributing  and well member of society, but a pretty incredible dude and artist as well. Add into the mix great teeth and an amazing combination of accountability and sincerity. How did he move out of that diagnosis you ask? He did it by getting really, really specific with his food choices. He went vegan. He started getting blood tests and managing every aspect of his blood chemistry, sugar, potassium, iron, etc etc you name it, he watched it. He meditated. He did yoga. You know what? He did it right and the result was miraculous.

So when my brother was in his late teens and dabbling in psychedelics we all thought, ah well... it's a phase. Sure it's ridiculous that he barely made it out of high school considering his remarkable IQ but. You know, drugs and alcohol, it's almost cliche.  It was about the time Tough Love was introduced, so we dished that up.

I had gone to acting school for two years and already beat-up and disillusioned by that career choice before the age of 20, I decided to move across the country. I arranged to waitress in South Dakota for the summer to raise money for my new life in California. A few days after I arrived there, my world crumbled. After a fun day of rock climbing with some brand new friends I got a note on my dorm door that there was an emergency and I needed to call home. After many calls with trembling hands I finally heard the word. My dad was dead. He had Lupus so it shouldn't have come as a surprise, but he was always insisting that the 'wolf wouldn't get him' and we believed him. So it was an unbearable surprise.

Now I see that it was the perfect storm. An angst-filled young man, drugs and alcohol, a terrible tragedy. The current reality is no surprise to any health professional or anyone who knows anything about mental illness. But we didn't know, we couldn't know. We were torn apart, blown apart by our loss and our grief and inability to know how to be a family. After the services I continued on to California. My mom found her way into grief groups and then an RV and traveled the country for a few years to deal with the loss of her beloved 46 year old husband.

And my little brother spiraled. More drugs. More alcohol. A diagnosis: manic-depressive. Then the jail stints. A car fire...was it an insurance scam? We wondered.

About that time I was making my way into film school, into the jagermeister bottle and up and down big rocks in Joshua Tree. My brother's dramas were far off and incomprehensible to me. I think about my early 20-self sometimes and wonder if she could have done something to help him. To alter his terrible path. And sometimes I let myself off that sharp hook with some of the words already written above. How could I have known? And sometimes the nails into my hands are very painful. I could have...I should have...If only. But I didn't.

The years have unfolded in a movie-of-the-week-after-school-special plot line involving more jailtime, homelessness and a long unsuccessful line of halfway houses. My mom has kept a running document of all of the events of his life so she can give it to the next social worker or the next counselor or hospital. By now if printed it would be about a ream of  paper.  In my late 20's I did a big rescue effort. I flew to Florida and hunkered down for two months to do my big sister duty. First I had him Baker Acted into the hospital so that he could finally get the help and meds he needed to get straightened out. The result wasn't great. Thirty or so days of hospital life and his voice in my head. 'I hate you for doing this, I'll never forgive you'. Awesome.

It's a fucked up disease, that's for sure. As a family member, it's impossible to know how to be. We have alternated between being very involved and very hands off and the results don't seem to change based on our efforts. Some suggest to deal with him like you do with someone addicted to drugs or booze. As in, do not help them unless they are helping themselves...they have to 'want it'. And while he has a dual-diagnosis (addicted and schizophrenic) I think it's much more complex. He's got rude and mean-spirited voices talking to him in his head. He argues with them all the time, sometimes they win. In fact more often than not they win. When the voices start arguing with me, I have to get off the phone at that point 'cause I am bound to lose and strain my own version of sanity in the process.

Not long after the big rescue effort came the 'I can only love him from afar' era. He can be incredibly manipulative when there is money or musical instruments to be had, which to my mind is confusing. How does he have the prescience to be able to manipulate reality to his preferred end? It's strange but true. So to avoid getting caught in that trap, I decided that I wouldn't give him money or material things, only my ear over the phone and my love from 3,000 miles away. Needless to say, my mom has been through the ringer on this one. About eleven years after my Dad passed she married an extraordinary guy. He's seen the both of them through many, many variations on the themes of hands off to very hands on and miraculously has the willingness to answer the midnight calls and go on the jail visits. I think we all consider ourselves lucky that our new family member would be such a giant of a guy to be able to handle such a brutal and constant source of pain and awkward and unruly variables.

For years I had strong opinions of how my Mom 'should be doing it' and for some reason I was convinced I had a line on what correct action was. Interesting how the birth of my son has ripped that smug knowingness from my gut. I realize now I know nothing. I do know that schizophrenia (and addiction) is a family disease and you'd be right if you thought 'Gosh I bet that scares her a little bit'. You betcha. If my son starts to go down these roads in a few years, can I help him? Can I save him from the horrible fate of loneliness, despair and social outcast?

For those of you who have been around LCD, you might remember the PSA that I made about an organization that helps mentally ill get off the street. Remember, the one that should have won that damn Emmy? I'm putting it here again.

Thanks for watching and reading. Oh and voting, if you please (to the left). Tell me what to type about for Movie Monday.

Yours in joy and pain,

Wordless Wednesday: (okay Thursday) Getty Edition

Food Inc

thanks to those who voted in the schmancy movie poll over there to the left. Cause let's be clear any viewer participation at all (be it comment, follow or vote) in this blog makes me feel UBER special. So here goes.

Time for another edition of: Monday Movies: Masterpiece or Meh? (or something in-between)

Watch this movie.
Don't wait.


I"m so tempted to end here. Bwha hahaha! It is tempting.

But I won't. So let me 'splain.

You know how we just go along eating the food, you know the food that we get at the Crazy Chicken (El Pollo Loco) or MickeyD's (um, I don't go there dammit) or that nice restaurant where we're spending 20 bucks a plate. We think 'Gosh, I'm sure it's safe. I'm sure the animals that we're eating were treated with... okay they were killed but at least fed and had a little bit of animal joy, some lil piece of what I would consider to be humane treatment. I don't really know where this food came from but since that chef is so swell and the food tastes SO Good, you know, it's gotta be good.

And scene. End of thought process.

Food Inc asks you to actually think about your food, about the places it's been, who is getting paid along the way and what is at risk. It's one of those 'eye opening' documentaries. I've been known to avoid these films, I'll think. 'Gawd, I can't see another movie about government corruption (duh, we know!) or how evil we are to civilians in Iraq, or entire villages of people that are starving, I'll really start crying and never stop.' Because I know it, I know it and it's upsetting and I feel powerless and there is rarely anything if much I can do. But I do watch them, occasionally. And get upset.

I was feeling pretty bold when I sidled up to Food Inc. But I was pleasantly surprised. While I did get a little smack down of reality that was tough to swallow (get it?) , I also got a nice little edu-macation and importantly I liked the filmmaking alot. No small thing for me, if you're going to scare me or inform me or inspire me, thanks so much for taking the time to make killer graphics or really interesting visuals that wouldn't be caught dead in a Ken Burns film.

If you've read The Omnivore's Dilemma, you know the dealio. The movie is based on this book by Micheal Pollan and he tells the story of how the majority of our food is 'industrialized' down to the control of seeds and comes from 3 or 4 corporation who are trying to squash (trying? well, often succeeding) the little farmers. Most farmers are working for these corporations and let's just say it's not a good scenario.

So while I have a lot more to learn and a whole heck of a lot to think about, I am very glad I watched this film. The images of the industrialized chicken houses and slaughter houses and the facts about how 90% of what we eat has CORN in it (as in derived from, or fed, or syruped or whatevs) shook me to my core. I cannot continue to eat what I was eating and pretend I don't know what is going on.

And of course I was looking at the film with one hand over my eyes, but the other one waving with a little Amen brother! Tell it! This shizzle has got to change. It's funny how the little one who is still eating what I'm eating (and now a whole lotta baby mush that I make at a furious pace to keep up with his little growing belly) is making me care, really care about these issues. And of course not just what he is eating now, but more than that, what planet and food system will he inherit.

But what's awesome about Food Inc is that I felt immediately empowered with the information I need to make a few changes that I DO believe will make a difference. At first I decided to become a Vegetarian. And then I decided that I would like to support farmers who treat the animals well and let's get honest I really like chicken, but it does mean I just can't eat the random 'don't know the backstory chicken' anymore. So I become an Integritarian. And OH yes I did just make that up, and OH yes I feel prettttty proud of it.  As in, I eat with integrity.

What's tricky about that is all of the food labels that can kick your ass in a fit of semantic confusion. Does organic mean free range? Nope, not necessarily. Does free-range mean they get to wander the forest? Nope, rarely at best. So I'm still digging through all of this as well as bugging the butcher at Whole Foods about his Organic chickens from Mary's. So far his answers were pretty darn good, but I'm thinking I'd like to go to her farm and see for myself so that I can be sure to feel good about eating what she produces. In fact the film features a farmer named Joel Salatin who literally has happy pigs rolling around behind him in the interview and they are literally - as happy as pigs in shit. I thought...I could eat the animals who lived that sweet life. And apparently this guy sells to Chipotle Mexican Grill, and they are one of his biggest customers. Pretty darn cool. Chipotle claims that their chicken and pork is completely 'natural' as in, not from industrialized farms. And their beef is 50% there. Ok, a place I can go out and eat chicken if I'd like to...they make being an Integritarian easier. Godblessem.

I do feel like I can be a part of a massive necessary change by voting for a different world with my  dollar. By refusing to support those thoughtless, heartless and dangerous industrialized foods at every turn possible. And so, I buy the organics. I go to the farmer's market. I am done with the meats unless I know what farm and how and why and I must say I'm pretty afraid of the fishes. The food choices are slimming (as in what's avail) of course it wouldn't break my heart if that was the result on my butt too. When I went all evangelical about this on Facebook a few weeks ago a friend of mine told me she pulled corn and evil meats and the rest out of her diet when this movie came out last summer and has since lost a ton of weight. I just saw her the other day and I'm here to tell you, watching this movie just might make you hot. She looks GOOD.

Next on my netflix in the 'I'm feeling brave' category.
King Corn.

Alrightee then. We'll see if I get to enjoy any movies between now and then, I'll try to give you some more swell choices for next week. Thanks again for playing.

Rock on super chics!