Patches? We don't need no stinking patches!

I love living in Pasadena. There is absolutely no where else I'd live in the greater LA area. The 'dena has unique restaurants, gorgeous historic architecture (which much of Southern California lacks), it's close to church(aka Dodger Stadium), and it's a fairly walkable town, which is unheard of in LA. And compared to the rest of the City of Angels, there seems to be less gratuitous plastic surgery per capita. WORD.

And now, Pasadena has just gone up a couple notches for me. For the month of July, the city is hosting a FREE film festival every weekend (I could kick myself for not finding this out earlier). And as if this couldn't get any better, are you ready for this Saturday's movie? TROOP BEVERLY HILLS! UH. MUH. GAH.

What classic film were you expecting me to get worked up over? The English Patient? Nay. Here's one thing you should know about Jen: she loves awesomely bad 80's movies, and Troop Beverly Hills is the epitome this genre. She also likes to periodically refer to herself in the third person. Both of these things don't bother her. Deal.

Back to the subject at hand: the cinematic gem that is TBH. Besides Shelley Long's alarmingly fake red hair in the flick, I loved the madcap adventures of Phyllis Nefler and her Wilderness Girls of extreme privilege. It parodies all the ridiculousness that was (and still is) the lifestyle of the wealthy in SoCal. Yet in the midst of all this materialism, this movie manages to have a huge heart. I remember watching the film 3,461 times when I was a wee Girl Scout in middle-class suburbia, wishing I could be so lucky as to have a camping backpack made by Giorgio, and have the opportunity to sell girl scout cookies in Beverly Hills to the likes of Kareem Abdul Jabbar and Pia Zadora. Of course, I DID sell Thin Mints and Tagalongs to this guy and his wife every year, but somehow it didn't feel like it counted, as it was a Glendora tract home, and not the hills of Beverly. Of course, now I realize I was fortunate to be a normal girl scout selling cookies in front of the local grocery store, and not through a star-studded telethon. But when you're 9, your life's wishlist is a bit different.

In short, I adore this movie, and I can't wait for Saturday. I'm bringing the fondue.

I don't understand....

1. Laker fans. They riot if we win, and they riot if we lose. But did you SEE that game last night? Unreal. Pau Gasol may look homeless, but that Spaniard is awesome.

2. Stupid people...it's Friday, and they've been everywhere this week. (I guess this goes hand in hand with #1) WHY are people so stupid? I forget that the rest of the world doesn't necessarily surround themselves with people of intelligence and common sense. If that came off as snobby, I totally meant it that way.

3. Men. Don't understand you people. End of story.

4. Why wine must contain so many calories. It's really cramping my style.

5. Where all the Sex and the City reruns went. They used to be EVERYWHERE. I can only watch so many episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond. Ugh.

6. Everybody Loves Raymond (since we're on the subject). People LOVE this show. I don't get it. It portrays husbands as bumbling idiots, and wives as nagging bitches. Yeah, that's NEVER been done in a sitcom before. Way to break new ground. It's painful for me to watch that show.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Gary Coleman

Arnold Jackson and his black goldfish, Abraham have been reunited in the big fishbowl in the sky. Arnold, maybe now you can ask God what Willis was talkin' about.




Your later years on earth did not look like a happy existence for you. I hope you rest in peace, Gary.

And this is why Pioneer Woman and I should be BFF's.

Ask any of my friends...I'm nothing short of a disciple of the Pioneer Woman. I never had any interest in life on a cattle ranch until I started reading her blog. And it just looks like so much darn fun. Hunky husband? Check. Cute kids? Check. Endless photo opportunities on the open plains? Check. Picture taking, cooking, and blog-writing for a living? CHECK. Plus, she's totally my people. I love her fabulous, self-deprecating sense of humor.

Today I read a post she wrote that made me love her a little more. She's the epitome of maturity. Much like myself.



Proof positive that we are kindred souls.



NOTE: I'm not creepy. I have a healthy, non-stalkery respect for PW. Thank you.

Horrifying...

I just read that Gary Busey is a father again. Can't there be a law requiring that he be sterilized? Or better yet, castrated? That gene pool should not be swam in by ANYONE. Heck, you shouldn't even stick a toe in to test the temperature. Gary Busey's DNA is how mutants are created. (Test results are still pending on this.)

Don't know who Gary Busey is? Consider yourself a better human being than I. Here's a video....

I don't understand....

I'm going to make this "I don't understand...." post a regular thing here on the Rant. Now, when I say "regular", God only knows how often that may be, as my posting has fallen embarrassingly short in 2010. I blame Facebook. Or rather, I blame my unhealthy attachment to Facebook. But let's give it a go anyway.

I don't understand....

1. Justin Bieber or "Bieber Fever". Anyone else feel like he looks like Keira Knightly in Domino?
2. Why we still hear about Kate Gosselin.
3. Why "Pretty Wild" has been given airtime on E!. I feel dumber just from seeing the commercials.
4. Why people say liberry, supposably, or Valentime's.
5. Blue Man Group. I've seen it 3 times, and granted, I enjoyed it. But when I think about it, I'm not quite sure why.

More to come...I hope.

I drink coffee now. God help you.

I have a lot of energy. I made it through college and my twenties without becoming a coffee drinker. People are amazed that I haven't succumbed to what every other American considers a crucial morning ritual. In fact, I don't drink caffeine at ALL. It makes me too jittery and nervous. I get BEYOND hyper. Don't like what it does to me.

Until now. My office was recently given one of those espresso machines. It makes individual cups of coffee from these little pods, and also has a separate machine to make milk foam. I decided to see what all the fuss was about, because everyone seems to be worshipping at the teet of this machine. So I had my pal Pants (an ex-Starbucks barista) walk me through the steps of making a latte. It's all a blur now, but there was sugar involved, and somewhere along the way caramel syrup was added as well. And the foam...oh the heavenly foam. Topped off with a cross-hatch of caramel sundae syrup, I was SOLD. I'm now on my 5th consecutive workday of a 10am coffee break. When my co-workers see me stride back to the break room with my mug, they know it means trouble. By Tuesday, Jasmin was advising people to grab a helmet as I walked back.

This is a Disney interpretation of what my co-workers go through when the blessed java hits my system: