Where Have All the Comedies Gone? I Need a Dose of the Brit Wit

While working from home today I turned to "Soul Men" on Showtime. Like so many other "comedies" I've seen in the last two to three years, this had the setup and the actors (Bernie Mac and Samuel L. Jackson) for a decent movie. The plot was very similar to "The Blues Brothers"—two men try to revive their motown band "Real Deal" from the 70s. However, it blew chunks.

But "Soul Men" accounts for just one horrible film in a long line of horrible films trying way, way too hard to be humorous. Every single spoof movie since "Scary Movie 2" (i.e., "Epic Movie," "Not Another Teen Movie 1, 2," and God knows how many more) has been more painful to watch than the one before. I'll admit, I haven't seen all of these movies—I'd like to think I have more of a life than that. But the days of Mel Brooks are long gone, and I'm not a huge Brooks fan; but when I watch the shit directors and writers today call "funny," I have to revel in the man's genius.

To give my readers some perspective on what I deem funny, I've compiled my top 10 favorite comedies (for this second), in no particular order and not including stand-up recordings:

• "Half Baked" (Duh.)


• "Life" (Martin Lawrence and Eddie Murphy make the best duo since Cheech and Chong.)


• "Young Frankenstein" (The horses nay every time Frau Brucher's name is said—come on! And Gene Wilder rocks at any time.)


• "Kingpin" (I still use "Munson" as a verb.)


• "Dumb and Dumber" ("Tell her I'm charming, with a rapist wit.")


• "Clue" (Madeline Kahn as crazy, full-of-unmitigated-rage Mrs. White. Enough said.)


• "Death at a Funeral" (British version. I love Uncle Alfie demanding where his tea is when he never asked for it to begin with.)


• Three Stooges (Obviously not a movie, but I have to include their stuff!)


• "Old School" (It's all-out debauchery and dirty, good times. You can't beat Vince Vaughn as a fast-talking electronics salesman, either.)


• "Drop Dead Gorgeous" (Adam West stars in the opening scene. Seriously.)

The next few movies in my Netflix queue include "Hot Tub Time Machine," which I've heard great things about from several people, the remake of "Get Smart," and then a whole big bunch of British bits—I'm going U.K., and I'm going back in time. The whole series of "Are You Being Served?" "Black Adder," "Keeping Up Appearances," and "Faulty Towers" wait in my queue. I hope the English bloody come through for me, because I am truly jaded on American comedy. ("Step Brothers" had me laughing hysterically, but that sentiment was shared by few.)

One day soon I hope I can write that I laughed consistently throughout two movies within a two-month span. One day...

Until then, I hope "Hot Tub Time Machine" lives up to the hype, and maybe my wish will come true sooner than I thought.

Staycation Fabulous: Part I

Daniel and I recently stayed two nights downtown at DoubletTree's Arctic Club Hotel, on 3rd and Columbia. The first thought that popped into my head when we walked in was the Overlook Hotel from "The Shining." I speak only of the decor and 1920s vibe of the film—no butchered twins showed up asking me to play, and I didn't try to get with the dead woman in the tub, but Daniel did. I really dug the place.

The feel of the lobby comforted me because of the dark oranges and browns everywhere, which are what reminded me of the movie most (Sick, right?). Pictures and names of very old men, white and native, who founded the region lined the walls behind the front desk, in the elevators, and in the hallways. I'm unsure if the lobby furniture was comfortable because I only sat on the bar stool, which suited my bum very nicely.

Room 901 suited us very nicely as well, despite the fact that only one robe hung in the closet. The Whirlpool bath rocked our world (not like that, perverts); the jets were far out. But be careful with the bubble bath—a dab'll do yeh. The rest is pretty standard: flat screen TV, WiFi, mini fridge with beer and wine, lots of window space and light. I ordered a kid's dish of pasta with butter and Parmesan and a tomato juice at 9:45 p.m., and the deal went down without a hitch.

Two weddings happened during our stay—one on Saturday, the other on Sunday. I had a far-fetched fantasy of crashing them, and maybe Daniel would have gone along with the idea, but when push comes to shove, we proved ball-less. Watching the bubbly being liberally passed out to guests in the lobby pre-reception delighted me and of course made me want to barge in and make the whole damn thing about us. But we walked around outside instead.

Even though downtown and Pioneer Square are only 20 minutes away from my neighborhood, I rarely go down there, especially since I work in Georgetown—with its broken pavement, train tracks that go nowhere, and grunge-fabulous restaurants. (That was just a side note, but while I'm on the subject, let me say that the GT section of Seattle has lots and lots of good bars and restaurants and a blunt but comforting attitude that says something like "tattoo but clean." Georgetown will be happening and overrun with hipsters in few short years. Get the Marco Polo fried chicken while the gettin's good.)

Anyhow, The Arctic Club gets 4 out of 5 stars from me. I may write about Chez Shea. Scallops were like butter.

Tiny Bubbles in the Mind

I proclaim this to be the summer of sparkling wine, champagne flutes, and cava blends. Prosecco, champagne, brut—all kinds, all grapes, all, if chilled to perfection, make every meal and gathering. Not only does the taste of a good bubbly send chills of satisfaction up my spine and down my arms, but the fuzzy, warm feeling that rises to my face and head exceeds any other alcohol buzz I've experienced. Liquor is quicker, but sparkling doesn't waste its time, either.

Last year, maybe a year and a half ago now, I discovered sparkling wine by the glass (bubbly can only be called "champagne" if it is from the Champagne region of France). My selection on a whim ended up suiting my mood so well, better than red wine, beer, or vodka. Needless to say, the first glass turned into the fourth, and I poured myself into bed that night with a splendid blanket wrapped around my now-soggy brain. As if my head was as fizzy as the drink in front of me. Bliss.

The best weddings are the ones that keep the champagne or sparkling wine flowing after the initial toast—if it's that kind of ceremony. But flowing bubbly can be dangerous; if the stuff at hand is good enough, it will go down the throat faster than your morning coffee. The coolness, the refreshing feeling on your tongue, and the carbonation settling in your stomach all culminate to make the first sip wonderful. Push the tongue to the roof of the mouth, and let the bubbles pop and break on the taste buds—there's nothing like it.

I appreciate a nice flute for my sparkling, but if the juice passes my taste test (I don't have a very developed palette), I'll take it in a keg cup. The flute works the best because you can see the bubbles rise up in one long stream to the top, before spreading across the surface like fireworks that burst out of a faint trail of light and smoke.

My find for the week (or perhaps the month), is Chateau St. Michelle's box of four sparkling wines for a total of $33, including tax. Outrageous—in a good way! I visited the winery in Woodinville, Washington, this past Sunday and had a great tasting of four wines for $10—a little steep, I think, but the pours are extremely generous. Go on a fairly empty stomach, and you should have a nice hitch in your giddy-up by the end of the second tasting. When you're done, buy a bottle of wine (or four), some cheese, and crackers to enjoy outside on the grounds. Don't forget your receipt for the tasting when you buy the bottle—you'll get 10 percent off your purchase, plus plastic cups and knives for the goods about to be had. You may also want to bring a blanket in case the tables and chairs are all taken. There is shade o' plenty, so this activity works very well for warm days.

Or find a nice blend in your local grocery store. I've bought lovely bubbling wines starting at $7—not bad for the floating feeling that will follow.

This I Know to Be True?

I lie. I tell "white" lies, make up random myths, and create facts to back up a story I am telling. To capture and maintain the attention of others, win an argument, or just entertain myself, I will fabricate whole pieces of history if need be.

But I truly believe when I am saying these things (like the sun produces both vitamin D and E) that they are true. Never am I able to name my source, yet there remains for every story out of my mouth a distinct memory somewhere in the dusty corners of my mind, blindly reasurring me of what I preach. Never does the thought cross my mind that the people listening to me think I'm stupid, crazy, or both.

Below is a list of things I once "knew" or "know" to be truthful, things I have picked up along the way. I'm not implying the following is completely false—some of this stuff could be true. I just take my word for it.

• There is a lymph node by the elbow, and when one has syphilis, that lymph node swells. That is why some people today grab the elbow when they shake hands with others; in a time when syphilis infected many people, fathers would take a hold of a man's elbow while shaking his hand if he was to court his daughter.
• The sun produces vitamin D and E.
• The body does not digest cheese while asleep.
• LA will no longer be inhabitable in 20 years (the first time I said this was probably 10 years ago).
• Defend yourself against a shark by sticking your hand in its gill.
• The ancient Romans lived very long lives because of the red wine they drank; it preserved their organs.
• Benadryl doesn't affect your liver.
• Women are the largest minority in the United States.
• The battle at Gettysburg started over shoes (check Ken Burns' documentary "The Civil War;" yet some still dispute this oversimplified truth).
• Mad Cow disease can remain dormant in one's system for up to 40 years; because of this, many elderly people who die with Alzheimer's never have autopsies performed on them—their loved ones assume dementia and old age have done the work, when really the culprit could be beef they ate years and years ago.
• The biggest reason men kill is to get back at their wives or girlfriends; therefore the victims are usually children in the family.
• Tequila works as an antiseptic for potential food poisoning caused by shellfish.
• Walt Disney's head is frozen.
• The aluminum in antiperspirant causes breast cancer.
• The body does not digest corn.
• The Three Stooges were the first comedians to publicly make fun of Hitler.

While I cannot vouch for any of these facts and statements (besides the Civil War/shoes bit), I take them to heart. You should, too. Why people doubt me, I have no idea; doesn't the information above sound right? Either way, I'm shooting tequila with Benadryl when I eat prawns, never having children, and grabbing an elbow the next time I meet a man for a friend (I've checked out my boyfriend's, he's clean).

Summer Stories and the Like

For the last several days the weather in Seattle has been, as in most places this time of year, consistent: consistently hot. The heat reaches its zenith here at about 4 p.m. and gradually recedes from there. By sun down, a cool breeze wafts off the water, filling my apartment with ocean scents: salt water, seaweed, and shellfish. The summer weather, when it finally arrives, is always worth the dreary, grey, drizzly wait, and not because you can see every mountain around you and the sky is cloudless; the climate in Seattle around summertime is great because it is totally bearable. Rarely does humidity make an appearance in the afternoon, and some mornings the air hangs thick with a chilly fog for a couple of hours. When the fog burns off, the people are ready for the sun, facing the sky in hopes of chipping away at the vitamin-D deficiencies most residents experience.

Summer is not always pleasant.

I spent the season in New Orleans in 2004. Needless to say, the heat brought me down, completely pulled me down to a level of total sloth energy and mild alcoholism. The window units in my and Brian's apartment hardly worked. Rats climbed on the trees outside, and the whole place always smelled like bacon. But those things are not the point. While New Orleans remains one of my favorite places on earth, I would not go back for a summer unless I lived in a fabulous, sweeping condo on St. Charles or Prytania and I could work from home (or not at all). This sounds spoiled and extravagant, and it is. But as I said, the heat and humidity down there is dangerous.

The heavy, dank, unrelenting weather in New Orleans during the summer months made me crazy, unorganized, frustrated, and crabby, not to mention sticky. I couldn't get my thoughts in order because I couldn't get relief from the elements. Granted, things may be different today; I'm no longer in college, and I'm much more organized in general. However, walking in and out of air conditioning, going from one extreme to another so frequently, I just don't know if I could ever do a summer down south again.

Maybe when I'm much older and my blood has thinned.

The best item I've discovered this summer is at Tully's coffee shops: the espresso milkshake, made with soft serve ice cream, vanilla and chocolate together. Once the caffeine kicks in, the treat doesn't last long.

I bid you good swimming, sunbathing, and cooling off!

Allergies, Horseface, and Seattle Drivers

Spring showed up a bit early in Seattle, and my allergies are paying the price. I'm going to take Benadryl shortly. But on a completely different note, I cannot stand Julia Roberts. My sources tell me she's a bitch in real life. It's not like I want this to be true, but I must listen to my sources—they never lie and are never wrong. However, "Something to Talk About" is on AMC. I'm loving it. Dare I say, loves it?

My eyes hurt from allergies!

But let me tell you what really taps my ass: Seattle drivers. Going slow. Putting their right blinkers on and turning the corner at .5 mile an hour. I go crazy. My blood pressure races. And what do most people tell me? "Calm down," "It's because you're from Boston," "What's the big deal?" I'll tell you what the big deal is, punks.

I have fucking places to go. I need to get somewhere. So what if I am in a rush? Drive down Greenwood Avenue at more than 20 miles an hour; if you don't, I'm going to beep at you. I'm going to lay on my horn and hope you get confused and feel bad about yourself. You should panic at the wheel if in my way. And unless you are completely oblivious, then you are deliberately trying to hurt my feelings and ruin my day by driving slowly. Move to the right-hand lane.

Sometimes my road rage gets out of control, which ends in embarrassment for me and whoever else might be in the car. (Things used to be a lot worse with my rage—I once bit the wheel of my dad's truck because I took a wrong turn on my way to Connecticut from Massachusetts.) Now a pumping of the fists and over exaggerated mouthing of swear words suffices. The middle finger, too.

My question is: Why is no one else in a rush in Seattle? Does traffic flow like this elsewhere? Of course. Is it acceptable? Not at all, mister. Not at all.

Leo Is Back

Tonight I saw "Shutter Island." I'll skip the cast and crew—you all have heard the Hollywood hoopla at this point. Let me say as a girl that grew up just a few years behind Leonardo DiCaprio, watching him and loving him, sticking by him through all his supermodels: He never left us. For all of you (and myself) that thought we lost Leo after "Romeo and Juliet," when he gay-ed himself beyond belief in "Titanic" by yelling that he was a king, you must see this movie. He is a sensitive cry-baby. No male actor cries better than Leonardo.

Aside from D-Cap, I enjoyed the rest of the movie. I wish, however, that I'd known that "Shutter Island" is a book before seeing the film. But it did provide enough padding and depth that I felt connected to the characters and setting after watching the flick for only a short while. The plot is there off the bat, so I won't cover it in this post.

Recommendation: Netflix—but at the top of the list

Shakin' the Day Away

As most people know (because I posted several videos of it on Facebook), I recently purchased the Shake Weight. Months ago I saw the infomercial and decided I needed this product; it was the first item I've ever bought from a TV ad. I wasn't even deterred by the hand job jokes that inevitably come (no pun intended) with this thing.

I've had the Shake Weight for three days now, and I love it. Standing up or sitting down, you can shake your fat in any situation. Working from home, I especially appreciate my "shakie." Not only is it effective—all the muscles in the upper body are flexed when you do shake properly—but it is fun, like the pogo balls we used to have.

I highly suggest the Shake Weight, regardless if you want it for fat burning or jerk off purposes. Satisfaction guaranteed.