File under: Unsolicited Opinions

A few months ago, Jessica Simpson made headlines when her straight-to-video release, Major Movie Star, opened at Number 1 in the Russian box office. It had been widely panned and laughed at (not in a good way) here; but across the pond, something apparently got found in translation.

On Friday, my mom and I saw Slumdog Millionaire. And I can't help but wonder if this is some Bollywood version of that scenario - because it is so revered over here for reasons that truly escape me. I know I am (deep) in the minority, but I didn't get it. I got the storyline (farfetched as I thought it was) and I appreciated the scenery, the storytelling, the triumph - but it all fell a little flat to me and, in the end, I just don't get the hype.

In all fairness, I had no idea it was going to be so violent. I generally avoid violent movies, even Oscar-winning ones, because I know, no matter how good the story is, I won't appreciate it if I'm sitting there with my fists clenched, my eyes closed. And that's basically what I did here. But unlike some other movies that may have blood and gore or suspense, where I've basically peeked through my fingers because, much as I don't want to see it, I can't bear to miss the action, here, I really didn't care - I spent the whole movie kind of waiting for it to be over.

For all the violence, I felt there was very little character development. I sympathized with Jamal but never understood the connection between him and Latika, nor the deviation, and ultimate redemption, of his brother. If you're going to threaten the lead characters, fine - but make me care about them first. None, in my opinion, were particularly relatable. Do I think the evolution from Bombay to Mumbai is important and interesting? Absolutely. So please give me some history along with the horror.

I realize I am in the minority here - the movie has been highly acclaimed and nominated for numerous awards. More than that, everyone else I know luuurrved it. And that's why I saw it. I trust my friend's opinions, and generally like highly acclaimed, nominated films, myself. I sat there trying to convince myself I liked it - save for the gratuitous violence - but the more I thought about it after the fact, the more I realized... I didn't. Eh.

It wasn't until 24 hours later, as I sat in another theater watching Milk, that I realized how much of an "eh" Slumdog really was. From the very first scene I got caught up in the energy and Sean Penn's affect and James Franco's smile and thought to myself, I don't want this to end.

Oh my God. It was so good. I don't have the words to describe how good it was, or how I inhaled every single scene like it was a gulp of fresh air or a cup of strong coffee; how every character was nuanced and imperfect and sympathetic and important; how, before it was even over, it left me missing the movie, craving the energy and scenery and dialogue, wanting to see it all over again.

As we left the theater, hearts heavy but full, my mom said aloud what I had been thinking: Milk was a million times better than Slumdog Millionaire. I may be in the minority, but I'm also not alone.

Fight, flight, write

Tonight I met and surpassed my goal of running 35 miles in December - with seven days left to go! I'm not quite sure how to set my mileage goal for January; I think I could easily do 40 miles, if I don't injure myself or get completely bored of running by then.

Although, I did sign up for a writing class that starts in January, so that's going to take up my Thursday nights for 10 weeks straight. Maybe a mileage goal is too ambitious and I should just concentrate on getting to the gym, what with this one night per week suddenly off my schedule. I know the one night might not sound like a lot to you, but to me... it's basically fucking with my freedom.

This may or may not come as a shock, but I have a big problem with commitment. It's not that I can't commit to things - because I can, and I do - it's that I'm afraid I'm going to come to resent the time suck and the loss of that night in my schedule. This isn't a vague notion, some fear I've concocted in my head as a guise for some larger issue; but from gymnastics to soccer to cheerleading as a kid, to a copywriting class my first year out of college, I've quit and resented practically every extracurricular I've ever tried. That last one? After I had my boss recommend me for a prestigious (and expensive!) Ad House program, I went to the first five classes, realized I hated advertising, and promptly got a job in PR.

It's like I loathed the commitment so much I had to switch careers.

My fear of commitment is why I have so few hobbies. Or, alternatively, why the gym IS my hobby. It's the only activity I truly look forward to (well, other than socializing) and I need at least four nights a week to do it. Yes, I'll still have more than enough nights free, but I'll have to schedule more carefully, cut back on the socializing, and lose a little bit of freedom. And it's that small sense of loss that sparks a huge visceral reaction in which my heart races, I tense up, and want to immediately call it quits.

You could say I have similar issues with men.

After years of feeling strung along in three-to-five month mini-relationships, it finally occurred to me that maybe I was the one with the commitment problem. That, since like attracts like, I might be attracting guys who, just like me, were afraid of losing their freedom. It's been a less-than-charming signature of mine that every time I get somewhat close to making someone a part of my life, I've tensed up, gotten all anxious, and mentally run out of the relationship.

Unfortunately that kind of running hasn't furthered any of my goals. Though you could say I am just following my own agenda.

The best Hanukkah song since Adam Sandler

I'm off to a party to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah, so I will leave you to enjoy this on a festive Sunday night.

You're welcome.

Really hoping that the third time's the charm

I'm almost afraid to write about it, in case doing so will jinx my experience, but I think - I think! - I may finally have found a good dentist.

To recap, my first dentist in LA had a hygienist that hit on me, and the second dentist was more like a sleazy car salesman. Frustrated and fearful of yet another dental dilemma, I've avoided getting my teeth cleaned for - wait for it - more than a year and a half. (That small earthquake you felt just now was me shuddering at myself. Ugh.) Every recommendation I'd gotten from friends didn't take my insurance, and I didn't want to just pick a name out of the phone book. That's what I'd done the last two times, and clearly, that plan proved to be flawed.

Finally, about a month ago, I made it a goal to make an appointment by the end of the year. I pulled up the Blue Shield website, started searching through the dentists on my plan, and then suddenly realized I had, at my immediate disposal, one of the most powerful tools known to man - the Internet.

(What I didn't have: the common sense that would have thought of this a year ago.)

First I used the insurance website to pull up every dentist within a five-mile radius. Then I Googled every single one. Most of the search results just pulled up Citysearch maps and other page fillers with the company's address and phone number. A few pulled up full-blown, fancy Flash-enhanced company websites. But what I was searching for was consumer reviews. And you would never believe what I found.

Pages of rants against dentists who tried to upsell patients on unnecessary work, who acted like shysters or just provided poor service. I couldn't find anything on my last dentist, but the reviews of so many others were so identical to my experience, I had to wonder - did every dentist in LA take a weekend course in Sleazebag? Are rents here that high, or competition so strong, that the only way dentists can make money is by duping their patients? My stomach sunk in disgust, and I started to consider going back to my first dentist. I'd rather deal with the hygienist who hit on me than wonder if I'm getting ripped off.

I persevered, though, and ended up in some forum on Yelp. There, among the "Best Dentists" I found one with ten positive reviews. NO negative reviews. And to my surprise, the office was next door to my apartment. Next freaking door!

Naturally, when I cross-referenced her with my insurance plan, she didn't come up. But I was desperate. I had been searching for three hours at this point - at work - and it was the first listing that gave me any hope. I called the office, gave them my info, and was granted with good news in return.

I walked to the office this morning, which meant I could sleep in and also skip paying for parking. (I had a doctor's appointment last week and the parking was more than my co-pay!) The office was pristine, the receptionist friendly and competent, and the dentist lovely - intelligent and warm and professional. I asked her the same questions about my teeth that I asked the last guy, and she gave me completely different feedback That actually made me happy because it confirmed my impression that he was a hack just out to make a buck. Trust your gut, people! I watched an episode of Friends on the flat screen overhead, but missed the ending because the cleaning was just that efficient. Best of all? No cavities.

Like I said, I'm sure I'm jinxing myself by writing this. Maybe I'll find out that my insurance isn't accepted after all, or maybe the dentist will be so impressed with my perfect teeth, she'll hit on me next time. But for now, I am just happy to have made it out of the office without incident - and that is something to smile about.

Random Tuesday Goodness

So, remember this dress? I wore it today for the first time this season, and, for the first time ever, didn't need the Spanx. Apparently, FINALLY, thankfully, my hard work is working.

Random Tuesday Goodness is usually comprised of bullet points, but tonight, this news is more than enough.

Not in Kansas anymore

I don't know what it says about my social life or my dating prospects that I hit three major parties this weekend and the best looking guy I met was Kato Kaelin.

Seriously, the man is 50 years old and he looked younger than half the people there. Which was a feat since many people there were actually younger than me. The other half were all comedians - many of whom I recognized from random TV and film, but none whose names I could actually recall.

That's one of the funny things about LA. Yes, I've gotten giddy over my share of A-listers - Britney, Marc and J. Lo, Bruce, etc. But it's the D-list, reality star, VH1 regulars that simply show up at a mutual friends party and think nothing of introducing themselves to you - "Hi, I'm Kato" - that make me love living in this town.

What was I thinking?

I really need to return that scale before Bed, Bath, and Beyond lowers the price, and I lose out on a refund.

I hate that store, though. Parking is a nightmare, and don't get me started on Holiday shoppers. Plus, that store is like a vortex - it sucks me in, spits me out, and empties my wallet somewhere in between.

I actually do need a new shower curtain liner, though. And my four-year-old bath mat could use replacing. I'll just go and make one big productive trip.

This is weird - why don't they have any bath mats in the color I want? Do I have to choose a new color? I can't choose a new color. What if it doesn't go? What else would go? How am I suddenly completely incapable of remembering what my bathroom looks like?

I guess I could buy a new shower curtain to match a new bath mat. That would be better than taking home the wrong bath mat and having to come back here. Again.

I'll do that. I'll pay for the shower curtain with the money I'll get back from the scale. Even though the curtain I like costs twice that.

The shower curtain looks great! It goes perfectly with the new bath mat! Except that, now, these towels look dingy and actually completely clash with the new stuff.

I suppose I'll have to go back and purchase new ones.

Body issues may come and go but creativity is forever

The following was from an email written ten freaking years ago, dated 12/2/98:

REASONS WHY I LIKE BEING FAT

1. Lack of self-confidence provides a challenge to meet boys
2. Flab rolls are a convenient place to keep house keys, small pets, any inconvenient item
3. Insulation in the winter
4. An excuse to buy all new clothes!
5. Pears are good for you, why not look like one?
6. Breasts become much less noticeable
7. People must really like me for my personality
8. Dress Barn has really good sales
9. Give the makers of cellulite creams a chance at the market
10. Crushing beer cans with arm flab

Of course, this type of email could only have been written by someone who knew, deep down, that she wasn't really fat. But it was my first year out of college, in my first few months at a desk job where I was given no responsibility and nothing to do, and my confidence was in the toilet. I may have gone up to a size four (OMG! The horror!) but I definitely wasn't crushing anything with arm flab, and, if I really had gained weight, I would have known that I am much more of an apple.

I have a ton of emails printed out from that fall. I must have known, even back then, how miserable and desperate and unsure of myself I sounded. I was missing college - we all were - and sitting in an office all day with nothing to do. When I was hired, it was the fall of 98 - the height of the economy. My position hadn't existed before and no one knew what to do with me. So I spent that first year emailing my friends, comprising ridiculous poems and late-night worthy top ten lists. Here are a few more, for your enjoyment:

10/1/98 - Top Ten Reasons to be Glad We're Not in Syracuse:

1. Get to see the sun rise every morning
2. The Big Apple much more impressive than Otto the Orange
3. Same fish, bigger fishbowl
4. Syracuse, 1 Rat [popular bartender]; NYC, rats everywhere
5. Work up a better sweat in the subway than at Archbold [the school gym]
6. Much too expensive to buy shots at the bar, therefore reducing embarrassing throw-up stories
7. No one is ever Jackass of the Week
8. We only get tested on our ability to suck it all up
9. Hazing refers only to the weather
10. Getting laid is much more of a challenge

And, my favorite, also from 10/1/98:

Once upon a time, I went to this school
Lived in a house, and followed no rule
I lived with these girls, who knew how to play
They drank and they smoked, in and out, every day.
Two-for-Tuesdays, abound
Wednesdays, All You Can Drink
Ladies Night Thursdays, turned into Happy Hour
I think.
It was a time of true happiness, and utter despair
When the boys that we loved, seemed never to care
Remember My Toe Dust [nickname]
And my need for closure?
My heart was just crushed from that heavy bulldozer.
It was somewhat similar to your plight with Sig Ep
Boy-with-girl-name caused you often to fret.
Short Ted was a trip
Brendan and Evan, a joy
Why was it so hard, to find just one nice boy?
Though life could be bleak, we'd often have a killer time
Party like rock stars, at your favorite, and mine.
44's was our haven, through thick and through thin
When all else was low, it provided a grin
No Paddy Murphy coaches?
A test the next day?
There's only one choice - Fours showed us the way.
The next morning, hungover, we'd lazily rest
Sitting in the Sun Room, with a plate of Gary's best [house cook - we were so spoiled]
Classes were optional - we'd rather watch Rosie
Sipping our coffee, and being quite nosy.
Listening in as everyone sat, and voiced their complaints
About this, about that.
We'd mope and we'd talk, nosh on graham crackers
Ignoring our homework, cause we were such slackers.
I long for the days of fun and denial
Hanging out, drinking, doing nothing worthwhile.
The days now pass quickly, and we're busy with such things
But I know we'll stay close, whatever life brings.
The real world may suck, but after a long, hard day
The furthest I'll be is a phone call away.

Working hard for the money

In the ten years since I've been out of college, I've attended my share of crazy corporate holidays parties. There was the over-the-top, open bar and buffet at China Club, late-night karaoke at Lucky Cheng's, and the celebrity-peppered lunch at Pastis. But never have I experienced hilarity like yesterday's, in which my company brought in a flying money machine.

The money in the machine was fake, but the amount we grabbed would determine our end-of-year bonus. My company has always been generous with holiday gifts/bonuses, but I wasn't sure what, if anything, we would get this year. Frankly, given the state of the economy, I was surprised we had a holiday party at all. As it turned out, the machine didn't really work in my favor - I grabbed about half of what we've been given in recent years - but I can't really complain. It was more than I was expecting, and the laughs alone provided enough holiday cheer to last another decade.

Well, almost.

A boy after thine own heart

OMG, you guys. I have a total crush.



When I was 9, the boys could barely read, let alone write. They certainly couldn't articulate as well as this precocious little wonder - most could hardly get out more than a few grunts at the girls during kickball.

Which, come to think of the things they would say later on, was probably preferable.

UPDATE: Now my boyfriend has a movie deal! Perhaps this will bring him closer in proximity, if not in age.

Three cheers for the bus driver

I'm pleased to announce that it's kind of a big day over here at Lori MacBlogger, as my humble little blog today turned four years old!

Holy crap, can you believe it?

I can, I guess. After all, I've been writing all my life - four years of the last 32 is nothing. What I find hard to believe is how many things have changed since I started this blog, and yet, how much remains the same. Four years later, I still don't have a dishwasher, still drink wine from plastic cups, and still eat my microwavable mini-meals off paper plates. Four years later, I still don't really care. But I live clear across the country; have an entirely different lifestyle, job, and disposition; and have matured in more ways than I care to count - even if I still cook like a college student.

Every December, I kind of reflect back on what the blog has brought me, and also state what I hope to get out of it the following year. If blogging, year one, was all about connecting with family and friends back east, year two was more about connecting with new people, fellow bloggers. Year three catapulted those connections off the computer screen and into my real life, as my social circle grew to include my favorite LA bloggers. Last year, I said I wanted to parlay this into more legitimate writing opportunities - and I did! - though not as much or as often as I would have liked.

So my goal for 2009 is to have more published, perhaps contribute elsewhere, and improve my writing and creativity overall. To that end, I am looking into taking a professional writing class at UCLA, or elsewhere if anyone has any recommendations. Classes start in January and the entry deadline is next week, so if you have any advice, please make it quickly. Even if I don't do more professional writing, I would like to stretch my brain a bit and come up with more creative posts for this thing. Four years is a long time to talk without stopping to listen to your own voice.

While we're on the subject of goals, I will mention that I met my goal of running 30 miles in November. It turned out to be the perfect amount for me - a bit more than I had been running, but not more than I could handle. With that in mind, I'm aiming for 35 miles in December. That's basically 9 miles per week with a few days off for Christmas. I'm sure you all aren't that interested in my running - or my weight loss - goals, and I don't intend to make them my focus here; but writing them down and announcing them out loud makes me just accountable enough to achieve them.

The funny thing about this blog is that I feel like my life started right along with it. I'm not the same person I was four years ago, and I probably won't be the same person in another four years from now. But something very distinct shifted the year I moved here, and I feel like the blog has done a lot more than just come along for the ride. You could say it's driven the bus.

Thanks for reading, y'all. Here's to year five.