Oh, God, No...the Hair. THE HAIR!!!!

Things are happening whiplash-fast with the presidential run...I am heartsick that Romney has dropped out. As a rabbit, I cannot vote, nor would I vote for him, I was just mesmerized by his hair. It is SO HARD for men to style their hair, as most of them like to keep it short and neat, but without proper texturizing or application of product, the natural growth direction leaves a man's style to fate. What usually occurs is the product of happenstance. And when the cut is merely sensible, a most boring 'do is the result.

Not Mitt. His hair is architectural in its beauty - good loft, razor sharp profile, and that hint of silver at the temples men would kill for.

I'll miss you, Mitt's hair.

Quote of the Day

Over my morning tea, I read today's LA Times. There's a long article about Jimmy Carter trying to heal the rift between the Southern Baptist Church's liberal and conservative factions. It ends with:

' Homosexuality, contraceptives, the role of women, the role of church and state -- "all of those things are deeply felt beliefs on the part of human beings," Carter said. "I have deep feelings on all those subjects of my own.

"But I don't see why those beliefs should separate you from me, if both of us believe in Christ and believe in furthering God's kingdom." '

Aye Aye!

If I Hear ONE MORE TIME...

...1. "I stand for Change" (Barack Obama)

...2. "I have 35 years of experience"

...3. "I'm the son of a mill worker" (John Edwards - even in his concession speech!)

I get that everyone has their catch phrases. They're marketing themselves. But it's getting a little overkill, isn't it?

And PS: I am utterly fascinated by Mitt Romney's hair. Is that weird?

PPS: I tried to watch the debates, but Golden Girls was rerunning on Lifetime at the same time. Sorry - Bea Arthur beats out Wolf Blitzer anytime.

I Feel Used

Dee and, to a lesser extent, R, have decided to participate in a movement, I don't really know what it's called, but basically you buy everything used for one year. Naturally this doesn't apply to underwear or god forbid socks, but all things from one's car to one's turtle neck must not be brand new.

It's a reaction against a materialistic society and also an attempt to cut down on using global resources. What we have found, however, is that we spend most of our money on food. And of course, that's brand new. And to cut down on costs, both environmental and monetary, it would be best to buy from local farmers at a market, but all of those are during the work week or on the weekend a good 30 minute drive away.

So far, then, not changing the world much. But Dee has managed to erase every Jcrew sale email alert that's come her way. I asked her why she didn't just unsubscribe; she shook her head and said, I just can't do it. I waslked away before things got ugly. There's always eBay, I said. There's always ebay.

Modern Badassery

Friends,
remember the old days of badassery? Rambo, the Terminator, Robocop? Hulking monolithic men who shot bullets out of their gigantic guns, or actual arms, depending on their hybrid infrastructure?

Whilst the new enlightened male of the '00/aughts can go too far to downright wussy, there has emerged a new breed of badass in pop culture, and herewith I offer three of
my favorites:


1. Matt Damon as Jason Bourne. A no brainer. He renewed his career with this role, and though he looks no taller than say 5'10" and looks as if he should be installed as homecoming king, his intense intellect and way with the martial arts ensures his station as #1 badass today.



2. Damien Lewis as Charlie Crews in the NBC drama, Life. I've gone on and on about this show, and Crews' character - a blend of winking humor, metaphysical exploration, and laser-sharp intellect - is one of the most distinctive and, strangely enough, poignant portrayals from the fall '07 season. Crews has been in jail for over a decade for a crime he didnt' commit; after a few rough months (years?) he comes across a book about zen, and doesn't look back. Lewis (British by birth) never pushes the zen; he half smirks at it and half depends on it for sanity. His partner, Dani (Sarah Shahi) is stuck with him after her own bout with rehab, but she sees enough of his badass jail survival skills in his many encounters with criminals to have a respect for him that grows from grudging to relatively enthusiastic. He brutally attacks a guy who hit his girlfriend. He nearly shivs - illegally - a suspect. He is a thin, ginger-haired, pale guy- and he is a baddass.



3. You'd think I'd be sick of Law and Order by now. But they've surprised me- with the excellent Linus Roache joining the crew, and badass Jeremy Sisto. Sisto was first inducted into my personal badass club during the underrated Kidnapped; now he's back as Interpol-ish NYPD detetive Lupo, a dark guy with enough sardonic wit to instill a Jerry-Orbach-esque bite back into the proceedings. He looks like the slightly dirty boy who sat in the back of class in 8th grade and was into cars, but with his heavy lidded intensity, he is pure badass.

These men make me, a diminutive rabbit with a penchant for pink bowties, think that I too, could be a badass. Well, in my dreams, anyways.

In the Paris Apartment

RUDE Des Rosiers


Just off our street in the early morning hours

Friends,
I'm finally back, after a wonderful trip to Paris with my roommates R and Dee. They had a magnificent time and of course, so did I.

I will have to say, the French are a complicated bunch. They are considered rude, I found, probably because they are just not overemotive. Whereas Americans are loud and hearts-on-sleeved, the French are merely efficiently polite. And they ARE polite, never failing to greet with "bonjour" and dismiss with "au revoir." in between, however, you never know what you're going to get.

Dee is conversational in French, if said conversationalist speaks a little slower than average. Thus, when approaching a cafe and being seated, at first, she handled it all in French. When the waiter responded with hurried French, her blank stare and/or stutter elicited, a couple times, eye rolls and more quick French, stubbornly refusing to speak English (but accidentally slipping it in out of habit, no doubt).

One excellent example of the mix of French attitudes happened in a boulangerie just outside of our apartment building, on the fashionable Rue Des Rosiers in the Marais district. Dee approached the young boulangier and asked for "un baguette et un pain du chocolate" (should have been AU chocolat, but close enough, n'est-ce pas?). The shopkeeper responded in rapid french, to which Dee Responded, "Je ne comprends pas" (I do not understand.) She got another eye roll, a look of bare tolerance.

A woman to her left asked in accented English, "Do you speak English?" "Yes," Dee responded. The woman offered a reply, "I understood you. You were right." It was a nice show of support from the French citizenry!

Finally, she started to speak in Franglais from the start to show them that 1. she understood enough french to get by but that 2. she was American if they chose to speak to her in English.

This proved much more successful. In fact, the last place we dined, the waitress knew no English (even though the gimmick of the place was that they sold american food! We were dying for a burger - well, Dee and R, anyways). Dee reassured her it was okay and they got through with Dee's french just fine. See??? Nous ne sommes pas les Americains stupides! (Or is it, stupides Americains?)

Further, our landlord had a bit of a temper. Dee tried to open the washer/dryer door when she thought she unlocked it, and yet the door wouldn't budge. The landlord checked it out and sent an accusatory message that Dee broke the handle (and what a piece of le merde - handles don't just crack off here in the good ol' US of A and that he was keeping all of our security deposit to fix - $500 Euros!! Shortly thereafter, he cooled off and sent another text relenting, that he'd keep 200E cash and call it a day.

Not so fast, Dee thought. She said she couldn't get a cash advance (true - and we were paying for most things by credit card and only had 15 E left), nor was she going to leave 200E anyways for a stupid shittily made washer/dryer handle that, after extensive research, she learnt cost only 15E to replace. Plus the wretched W/D was on warranty. Dee left a check for 200 E post dated, plus the 15E cash to pay for deposit fees, and said she would cancel the check if she did not receive an invoice proving the cost of repairs.

Well, somehow it worked. The landlord sent an email after we got back to the states all polite and kind, saying it only cost 50 E total, he'd keep the 15E and forgive the rest. Oh, and he hopes we stay there again!

Dee is going to send him the 35 E difference anyway, pleased that once again the complicated french attitudes unravelled with general kindness. And when the exchange rate once again turns favorable (you know - when piggies fly!) - she will request to stay in the delightful wee apartment again.

This is a no-brainer - the Marais is one of the hippest areas in Paris. Oddly, it's a mix of Jewish and gay citizens, much like West Hollywood. Is that the key for hip areas? The Jews and the Gays, living side by side in harmony? Needless to say, it was one of the most fun areas in town and we were right in the heart of it, as well as centrally located within all the beautiful museums and landmarks.


Oh, Art!

Another fascinating aspect of the French we did not know of is how generally bizarre and cheesy their television is. Now, of course, American TV runs the gamut from gritty and intelligent to suitable only for cross-eyed three year olds (and yet marketed to adults).

But tell me this: WOuld this man be a pop star in America?



Imagine a boy in Gap jeans and plain oxford shirt studying for his exams in the back stacks of the college library. Imagine a whiserpery half-assed falsetto out of his mouth. This man is Christophe Willem. He is a star. In France.

He's a winner of their version of "Idol," and apparently his nickname was the "Turtle." No merde! At least my beloved Clay Aiken, dorky as he was, has a voice that rivals and surpasses most established pop stars. OH, we laughed our asses off at him!

A major highlight of tv there, however, was a completely uncensored version of Showgirls that was playing when we got back from New Yar's eve celebrations on the Pont Whathaveyou over the Seine. The movie is way better in French - Elizabeth Berkley is a damned near genius en francais, vraiment.

So, whilst Americans can be butt scratching morons, the French all seem cool, aloof and collected. The fact we watch "American Gladiators" just fits - and superb shows like, say, "The Wire" happily coexist. The snobby French watch programs with a Turtle turned pop singer and...Showgirls.

Fascinating! Utterly fascinating!

And last but not least, I am a strict vegetarian, and objected to every morsel of meat Dee and R gobbled down. But I must say, this was the culinary highlight:




Yes, a ham sandwich. Not just any. Thick slices, sauteed all day in onions and mushrooms, toopped with dijon mayonaise that cleared Dee's sinuses better than a double dose of Claritin. (I did sample the mustard, and the delightful baguette holding it all together.) She still raves about it. And guess where it was from? Some street fair! It cost 8 E and was served under a tent. Can you believe!

Now, understand - these are my top five foods:

1. Coffee
2. Bread
3. Cheese
4. Chocolate
5. Vodka

Wine is somewhere in the top 10. Paris is basically built around providing all of its denizens with my top four favourite foods at ALL TIMES. And you have HOURS to eat them. See, the French don't really work that m uch (okay, okay, they do, but i found it odd that the SUPERMARKET was closed on New YEars day), so they have plenty of time to eat. Then, they have to walk a mile to get where they're going next, so they stay super trim and fit. Is this a magic, wonderful world, or what??? Heaven, really!


With that, I put my (cyber)pen down and vow, with more ambition than usual, to return more often this year. I always say this, but then get distracted, by something, whether it's a new book, a new addition to the family (a cute dog which I shall discuss in detail later - unless he eats me ho ho ho ha ha - eh...), or a particularly wonderful run of TV, like Austen Month on PBS. A bunny only has so many hours in the day. Then again, my needs for self expression get the better of me. So check back, and ta ta for now, as Dee used to say in junior high...

Another Hourly Mistake

As you may know, I'm a huge fan of the new show Reaper. Ray Wise should earn some sort of respectable award (although I'm sure he won't) for the squirrel-feeding, death-inducing, omelette-making suave satan.

However, I've found it doesn't warrant an hour (just like The Office). It forces some character moves for the sake of time, like the ongoing, ad nauseum crisis of our hero, Sam, against the Devil, even though Sam obviously enjoys now getting to be a badass and ridding the world of demons. So every time there's some sort of "Why do I have to do this?" whining versus the Devil even though Sam was glowing in triumph from his demon defeat the last week.

Plus, it takes forever to find and fight the demons, and even longer to muddle through Sam's latest obstacle to hooking up with Andi.

Last week's was above par and handled the lack of time constraints wonderfully. But I must say, packing a substantial amount of emotion and plot into a satisfying, not too rushed half hour is Aliens in America, the comedy about a Pakastani exchange student living with a frustrated nerd, and how their friendship both helps and hurts said nerd's high school existence. It's high concept that only needs 30 minutes a week to advance the story or else it too would become tired.

Only soap operas should be allowed to add filler to an hour broadcast, in my humble opinion.

So Sue Me: National Treasure

Being from the land of Lincoln, the preview for the next National Treasure (: Book of Secrets) piqued my interest. Our hero, Ben Gates, played by Nic Cage, learns of possible evidence that his ancestors were Lincoln assassination conspirators.

Inflamed with patriotic fury, he sets out to claim that that just isn't true.

It looked somewhat interesting in a big, dumb action movie kind of way, and hey, Helen Mirren's in it.

So to fully appreciate it when I see it in December, I rented the original.

I found it really entertaining and funny, and Ben has the perfect blend of wit, earnestness and smarts of any action hero. He's a brainiac not a brawniac. I especially enjoyed Justin Bartha as Riley, his wiseacre computer whiz sidekick. He layed it on perhaps a little thick here and there, but most of the time his jokes hit the jackpot. Or, jokepot.

So sue me. I liked it!