Musings and movie reviews

You've got to be kidding....

Being new to the blogging world, I decided to see what the other folks wrote about. So, I start browsing through the blogs on Blogger.com. About two blogs down from mine, there's a porn blog. Come back! At least wait until I finish... here's something to tide you over:

"Oh, Oh! Right there! Mmm.... yes! yes!"

Okay, where was I? Yes. I realized I'd stumbled upon a porn blog by the plethora of porn ads that preceded the actual writing, which looked just like my teaser, but strewn with dirty words. There were guys with two girls, girls with three guys, mom gang-bangs. And the final one? "Matures with Blacks". I kid you not. Not "old ladies with hot young ebony studs", but "matures", like some old broad is not going to buy the porn because it suggests she's old.
To quote my hero, the Wicked Witch of the West... "what a world! what a world!".


QUICK MOVIE REVIEWS

"Hotel Rwanda" The story of one man's courage during the 1994 massacre in Rwanda. It's like "Schindler's List". Hard to watch, but necessary. And Don Cheadle is one of our generations finest actors.

"Rabbit Proof Fence" The story of three young girls who run away from a reservation for half white/half aborigine children. They find their way home by following the rabbit proof fence that crisscrosses Australia. I watched this one with my kids and they were as impressed with the girls' courage as I was.

"Wedding Crashers" After two films about horrid racism and the courage to fight it, I needed this silly movie. Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson always end up playing Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, but who does it better than they do? Toward the end, the story line drags a little too long, but it's still a freaking hilarious movie.

THE SUPREME WISDOM OF THE QUEENOSHEBA (and Roseanne Rosannadanna)

It's always something.

Out of it

I've had bronchitis for the last five days and am finally recovering. Of course, I start my period midway through the illness. There is nothing worse than a bad cough when you're menstrual.

And the worst part? All kinds of stuff going on in the news I want to comment on!

Abramoff's daughter cries after hearing Clooney's remark

I hate to see kids hurt or upset. But if Mr. Abramoff was so worried about his daughter, perhaps he would have went about his business in a more ethical manner. I think she's going to by crying a lot harder after he's sentenced to prison. So don't blame George. He wasn't the one who ripped off the Native Americans. And he's totally hot to boot. So leave him alone.

James Frey on "Oprah"

The only highlight of staying home sick on Thursday was seeing this live "Oprah". You know, we need Oprah as our president. She screwed up and she took full responsibility for it. That's not something you see every day. I love you, Oprah. When I grow up, I want to be just like you. But I digress.

First of all, I only read My Friend Leonard. And let me say, seeing James Frey lisping his way through a litany of lies has just ruined that reading experience for me. And it made me doubt the veracity of that story too. Frankly, I see a memoir as a subjective piece of work. I can't believe someone remembers every conversation verbatim. So, I may have felt sorry for him if I hadn't learned that he'd first tried to sell it as fiction. That tells you right there he made a lot of that shit up. Bad author bad!

Second, his editor can claim her innocence all she wants, but come on, sister. I work for a big corporation, too. And at the end of the day, we know it all comes down to the bottom line. They don't care about their employees, they don't care about their clients. They just care about their profits. And since there is no Sarbannes-Oxley law that covers the content of non-fiction books, there is no need to verify any of it. Sure, she was excited and moved by the book when she read it. And so were her colleagues. They didn't picture hordes of addicts rushing to rehab, inspired by Frey's work. All they saw were dollar signs.

K-FED RELEASES ALBUM

Why? Didn't you get enough face-time by marrying your little wife? Don't you think your fifteen minutes of fame are like, so fifteen minutes ago? It sickens me enough that you abandoned your pregnant girlfiend and other child to marry a rich young superstar and that you two actually procreated. But now you think you have talent? Please.

Coming out of the Closet

Yes, I have a secret passion. A love that dare not speak it's name.

I am a Barry Manilow fan.

There. It's out in the open.

It all started in my youth when my youngest sister fell in love with Barry. She had all of his albums. I knew all the words and sang along. I took my sister to a concert or two.

During my years in rock'n'roll radio, I kept my love tucked away deep in my heart. Then eleven years ago, I moved to soft rock radio and was able to adore Barry openly. I even went with my sisters to his farewell concert last year. We had eleventh row seats and it was an awesome show. Other than the screaming hordes of pre- and post-menopausal women, the only bad thing about the evening was Barry grinding his hips to "Somewhere in the Night." Eeewww.

Favorite Barry album: This One's for You

Top Five Barry songs: I Am Your Child, Riders to the Stars, Jump Shout Boogie, Even Now and
I Don't Want to Walk Without You.

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Other dorky things I enjoy:

The Partridge Family
Brady Bunch re-runs
Jeopardy
Getting the word of the day from www.merriamwebster.com
"Billy Don't be a Hero" by Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods
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THE SUPREME WISDOM OF THE QUEENOSHEBA

If you spend your life worrying about what others think of you, you're going to waste a lot of time doing things you don't enjoy. Be a dork and be proud!

Things that make you go hmm...

I heard that song at work today. And I realized that while I've been using that phrase for over 14 years now, I really can't stand the song.

Some other things I really cannot stand:

People who call for information and are unprepared. Example:

Caller: I heard a commercial a month ago about a study involving stupid people.

Me: Hold on, let me get you that number.... it's....

Caller: Wait... I have to get a pen/pencil

Gum-crackers. I have banned this annoying practice in my office and my home. I once abandoned a younger sibling on the roadside for doing it. I've threatened my husband and children with the same fate. Unfortunately, I can only suffer in stores and other public places. But a well-placed ankle bump with a grocery cart offers some satisfaction. And add to this list, people who chew gum and/or food with their mouth open or suck loudly on hard candy.

People at work who ask for instruction than either do whatever what they want to or come back five minutes later and say, "Now, I do this how?". Or people who do not read the notes I send back with their incorrect orders. Notes that usually explain what they need to correct. It's as stupid as throwing a treasure map overboard and waiting for the parrot to blurt out a clue.

But enough bitching.

BOOK REVIEW

A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian by Marina Lewycka.

Don't let the title fool you. This novel is the funny, bittersweet story of two feuding sisters who pull together to get rid of a 36 year old Ukranian floozy who is trying to remain in the country by marrying their recently widowed 80-something father. And when Valentina realizes her new husband is not the cash cow she'd been seeking, she becomes a very disgruntled wife. Her tirades, translated from Ukranian into broken English are hilarious; especally the whole squishy squashy flippy floppy rant. And amid all the chaos, the two sisters breach a lifetime of secrets to become a family once again.


DVD REVIEW

"The Ballad of Jack and Rose". If you like indie films, you'll love this one. A father and daughter who've lived in virtual soltude on the site of an old commune, are forced to let the rest of the world in as the father's health declines. The arrival of Jack's girlfriend and two strange sons, sends Rose into a hyperkinetic state of teenage rebellion. All of the staples of indie films ensue:
strange sex, inevitable tragedy, and ironic consequences. Still, Daniel Day Lewis, as always, is worth watching, even if you have to switch to the subtitle mode of your DVD player to understand what in the hell he's saying.

"Hitch". I would watch Will Smith clean his house for two hours. That's how much I like the guy. In this movie, he's a dating consultant who helps schlubs get courageous and make opportunities to get through three dates with the women of their dreams. Kevin James is one of the said schlubs and his storyline is endearing. The scene where Will teaches him how to dance is the best part of the entire movie. I would have liked this one better if it had stuck to Will and his clients. The love story between he and Eva Mendes seems strained and out of sync with Will's character. Oh, and she really can't act either.

THE SUPREME WISDOM OF THE QUEENOSHEBA

Never say never.

Sexual Healing

Aside from his Munchausen by Proxy syndrome, the other thing my husband does to annoy me when I'm sick, is to offer sex as the cure.

Me: Ooh, my throat is sore.

Him: I know what will cure that.

Any illness, and he knows "what will make you feel better." I told him if that were true, they would call the show FU, rather than ER. I'm waiting for the day I sever a limb and he suggests some sexual healing. He also believes sex will cure anything that ails him, too.

Him: The weather must be changing, my back is killing me.

Me: Oh, that's too bad. Well, I'm going to take a shower.

Him: Need any help in there?

I sincerely doubt he's offering to scrub my back. He's like the kid who stays home sick from school with a stomachache that miraculously disappears when school is over and it's time to play outside.

Me: You know, it would be great if you could soap me up, rinse me down and boink me until my head bangs against the faucet, but gee, I wouldn't want to make your back any worse than it is.

Him: Oh, it's feeling a lot better now.

Me: Great! Now go clean under the couch.

If he ever keeled over, I wouldn't have to check the ABC's (airway, breathing and circulation). All I'd need to do was whisper "blowjob" in his ear. If his eyes fly open, he's alive. If not, I'm about to cash in a big insurance policy.

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QUEENOSHEBA'S FRIDAY NIGHT MOVIE SELECTION

"Shaun of the Dead". Even if you're not a horror fan, you will love the sick and twisted story of an ordinary drone named Shaun, who is so numbed by his boring life, he fails to notice that everyone around him has turned into the walking dead. Imagine "Night of the Living Dead" with an English cast and a sense of humor. And don't forget to watch the outtakes, especially the feature entitled "Holes" that fills in the backstory of certain characters.

QUEENOSHEBA'S WINTER WEEKEND BOOK SELECTION

"Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West" by Gregory Maguire. Wizard of Oz fans will love the passing allusions to the movie. Readers who enjoy the sci-fi/fantasy genre will enjoy Elphaba's fabulous journey from monster-child to politically active witch. The humor and Maguire's wonderful writing will keep you pinned under your comfy quilt; unable to put the book down until she reaches her inevitable end.

Munchauesen by Proxy


My husband has a rare form of this disease. Instead of making himself ill to get attention, he mimics all of my illnesses to minimize their severity.

Here's how it works:

Him: What's up?

Her: My allergies are acting up and/or I think I'm getting a cold

Him: (hugely exaggerated sniff) Yeah, I know what you mean.

Now, the bad news is, the sniff makes me want to club him with his best cast-iron frying pan. The good news is, that when it's stomach flu, he doesn't vomit or have diarrhea to demonstrate how sick he is too.

I just once in our marriage want to be sick by myself. It's never just me who gets to lie down. If I go into the bedroom to go to sleep early, he'll fall asleep on the couch (burning up with fever, of course) while the children run willy-nilly through the house. Then I have to drag my sorry ass out of bed to restore order. Well, that's not really fair. If I am violently ill (as in been to the doctor and ingesting real prescription drugs), he does step up to the plate. But only then.

And that's not even the funniest part of his condition. Here's what happened last month.

Me: Man, I have some killer cramps.

Him: (moans, clutches lower back) Yeah, me too.

Me: Shut the hell up! You don't even have a flipping uterus, you freak!

You'd have thought that would have cured him. But one of these days I'm going to snap and when he starts having the same symptoms that I do, I'm going to kick him in the nuts and say:
"Oh look, now you do really feel worse than I do."

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A PRAYER REQUEST FROM THE QUEENOSHEBA

Please pray for 2 year old Daeshon Taylor. He was abused by his babysitter's 15 year old son and is fighting for his life. He needs all the help he can get. God bless you.

I hab a bad cod

Translated, that's I have a bad cold. I survived the scourge of stomach flu that ran through my household last week, only to succumb to this evil virus. So, if anything I write doesn't make sense, you'll know why.

COACHING KIDS

This evening at indoor soccer practice, another mom and I were trying to decide whether or not we should return for another season of coaching. And we decided that it's not the kids we minded, it was their parents.

Last season, we had three asthmatic kids on our team. I wanted to name our team the Wheezers, but was outvoted. My point? Oh, yeah, the wheezing kids. The parents would either drop their kids off without their puffers or simply drop them off and leave without giving us a number to reach them. Now, I have an asthmatic kid (my oldest son) and know how quickly an attack can turn bad. And these folks would get missy with me when I told them their kid wouldn't play unless there was a responsible parent with a puffer on hand. Like my name wouldn't be the first one on the lawsuit if their kid died while in my care. Idiots.

But for the most part, the parents on our team were great. It was the parents on the other teams that were the real problem. They'd scream at our kids during the game, then scream at us. For crying out loud, the seven and eight year olds showed better sportsmanship than adults did.

So, I'm still on the fence about the whole thing. Maybe when I feel better I'll be able to make up my mind.

THE SUPREME WISDOM OF THE QUEENOSHEBA:

My co-workers are amazed that I can coach children without harming them mentally or physically, because I am not the most patient person. But I explain to them that it's easier for me to deal with 7 years who act like 7 years olds, than with 40 year olds that act the same way.

A letter to Mariah Carey

Dear Mariah,

I saw you on the Golden Globes last night. Your gown looked like party streamers trying to support two water balloons. There was no easy way to soften the blow. Sorry.

You are a smart, talented, beautiful woman. But honey, you're now longer a single digit size.
You're a little chunky-dunky and you need to face up to that. You can longer wear the same sizes or fashions you did when you are eighteen. Where is your self-respect? Your mirror?

You don't have to bare flesh to be sexy. Look at Pamela Anderson. She actually covered up her gigantic ta-ta's. Sure, it looked like she used a baby sling to hold those suckers up, but it she received raves on her outfit.

Believe me, you are by no means fat. I wish my "chunky-dunky" looked as good as yours. You have lovely curves that would be served better with a slinky, well cut dress that keeps your less than firm areas covered while accentuating your positive points.

So, come on, Mariah. Hire a new stylist. One with class. And took a good honest look at yourself in the mirror. Nothing is more embarrassing than a thick girl who still thinks she's thin.


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THE SUPREME WISDOM OF THE QUEENOSHEBA

What goes around, comes around. Just hope you're still around to see it.

And so it begins....

Things I've been thinking about....

A recent article in Newsweek talked about the new popularity of scooters. Not the kind all of the kids are riding around on. The kind that the old people are taking up three lanes in the supermarket with. Young people are buying them. Missy Elliot used one during a performance.

So, are we becoming so ultimately lazy that we can't be bothered to walk anywhere or are companies beginning to market "old" as "cool" due to the wave of baby boomers that are cresting senior citizenship?

What's next? Catheters and colostomy bags so you don't have to interrupt your Play Station/XBox time? Feeding tubes so you don't have move from in front of the TV?

Walk, for God's sake while you still have the ability, you bunch of lazy morons!

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Skating with the Stars.

I suppose the "stars" who signed up for this gig are already one blade short of a skate already, so a head injury or two won't be detrimental.

My .."with the Stars" idea? "Plastic Surgery with the Stars". After five weeks of training, they assist plastic surgeons. Week one, they compete in liposuction and botox injections.

It's coming. Just you wait. Sadly enough, reality TV has yet to hit its nadir.




QUEENOSHEBA'S BOOK REVIEW:

This week, I read "Predator", the new Scarpetta novel by Patricia Cornwall. I'm not really happy that she's gone from first person narrative to third person in the last few books, but it was still a good read. As with all series books, they're basically the same, but you don't mind because like going back home to visit your old friends.

If you haven't read the Scarpetta novels and you like a smart mystery, I encourage you to start at the beginning. I believe the first one is "Postmortem". But don't bother with any of Cornwall's other books. They're all over the place. It's like she's trying too hard.

QUEENOSHEBA'S MOVIE REVIEW:

Okay, so I haven't been to the theater to see a new release since "The Incredibles". I work. I have two kids who play a lot of sports. So my reviews probably should be called "DVD Reviews."

In the past two weeks, I've seen:

Madagascar - the kids loved it and so did I. The penguins make the film.

Cinderella Man - Russell Crowe is divine (and pretty hot). The true story of James Braddock, a fighter who loses everything, including his ability to box, during the Depression is as inspiring as it is heartbreaking. And if you're a boxing fan, the fight scenes are great. And of course, Russell Crowe is so hot! Oh, I said that already. I love him. Shhh. Don't tell my husband.

The Upside of Anger - an indie film, with Joan Allen and Kevin Costner (who used to be my boyfriend back in the eighties, before Russell came along). It's a dark comedy about a woman with four daughters who is abandoned by her husband. Kevin Costner, plays her neighbor, an ex-baseball who drinks a lot. For those of you who had grown tired of seeing Costner playing morally superior underdogs, you'll love him as Denny. And Joan Allen as always, gives a strong performance. She's funny too.


THE SUPREME WISDOM OF THE QUEENOSHEBA

If David Lee Roth can get away with it, why can't I?

Here goes: Never fry bacon in the nude.