Finally saw the tediously heavy-handed Black Swan

Contrary to what I've seen discussed elsewhere, I don't think it was actually about the pursuit of perfection. Nina was nowhere near perfect, and that was clear from the beginning. Her dancing was forced and unnatural (and honestly, if Aronofsky had wanted a good ballet performance, he would have cast an actual dancer). Her personality is meek and child-like. She has a history of scratching and cutting, and she's bulimic. Neurotic does not equal perfectionist. In fact, the only evidence that she seeks perfection is that she says it -- squeaks it -- when she visits Thomas. The way she lives and behaves does not indicate any understanding of perfection, nor of what it takes to achieve it. Please, she doesn't even have the bruised, callused toes of someone who's spent any time in toe shoes. I can't believe Aronofsky neglected that detail by accident.

This movie is about manipulation, and it casts women in a harsh light to prove that point. Thomas manipulates his dancers to get a certain quality in their performances. This is legitimate, from what I've both seen and heard of directors, but his methods are unseemly. Also, I would think they'd be ineffective, as the aggressive, confrontational sexuality he tries to use on Nina seems only suited to get her defenses up even higher.

Regarding how this movie is unkind to women, it's the female characters who are, with only one exception, toxically manipulative and damaged. The mother has an unhealthy, smothering obsession; Nina is dysfunctionally neurotic; Beth is petty, jealous and self-destructive; that other dancer is just a catty bitch. Only Lily is presented as happy and functional, but she's also cast as the bad influence and the dangerous presence. Hers is the only character that I didn't find utterly annoying, cliche, terrible and overwrought; yet Mila Kunis's is the performance that everyone seems to be trashing.

We've had more than enough movies that show competitive, ambitious women in a negative light; aren't we bored with them yet? This movie is just a more artfully shot Showgirls, as far as I can tell. And not to beat a dead horse, but if you do a comparison of how ambitious women are portrayed in film versus ambitious men, you'll see there is a hugely unfair disparity.

As for the sexuality aspect, I thought that was utter bullshit, practically a red herring. Thomas equates a liberated and passionate dance performance with being sexually wild, as if there were no other ways to be free and open. As for ...Nina's masturbation scenes, I may be naive, or in some bizarre secret way frigid myself, but I can't imagine anyone so uptight and sexually repressed getting all gaspy and moany after like two seconds of touching herself. Seems to me that it would take her a bit longer to loosen up and get into it. Again, manipulative.

One question -- how the hell was Portman even *able* to get pregnant? At least she had some muscle, but still she definitely looked too thin to ovulate. Nasty.

Some things you just can't Twitter about

...even if what you want to say is perfectly expressed in under 140 characters:

"At bedtime, the still-rumpled sheets were a sweet reminder of the afternoon's indiscretion."

Oh, Captain, my Captain!

So first off, I've begun to think descriptively, to capture moments, in Twitter bites. This is sad, and really bad for my writing muscles. For example, the post above is a pale shadow of what I thought of last night, but refrained from Tweeting (thank God I still have a little bit of decorum left, and have not gone full-on We Live In Public quite yet). I can't remember the good structure that floated through my head last night, and my writing is just too rusty to come up with something equivalent or better.

Next oddness, when I decided to blog this instead of Tweet it, I autopilot logged on to Twitter anyway. Twitter has infiltrated my brain way more insidiously than I'd realized.

Thirdly, in the time I've been away, Blogger has gotten really hard to log onto! Annoying (though they do have a new "Monetize" tab that I might want to check out...)

You know what else is annoying? A clearly dominant personality who claims he wants to be dominated, but could never let go. And there's something else I'm rusty at, as well; I've totally lost the skills and was unable to keep him in line. Sigh, I've got a lot of work to do to get back on track.

PS: that link above talks about way more than just the "We Live In Public" project, so I don't want to give it short shrift. The end of empathy is something I've felt, ironically but most noticeably, since 9/11. Almost as if true feeling and connection has been replaced by the Cliff Notes version. Maybe this is another aspect of my Twitter-ready mind right now, and something else I'd like to work on more. But I think that will deserve a post all on its own. For now, let me just say that I agree with pretty much everything Jason said up there...

Money well spent

When a rock-climbing 27-year-old hottie hardbody (yes, yes, it’s the Captain) called my breasts “gorgeous” this weekend, in a playing-doctor scene that really should have given my almost 38-year-old self some serious body anxiety . . . well, I have to admit, it made the $10K I spent on that reduction a few years ago totally worth it. I promise, I will never again complain and get all insecure that they’re a teeny bit lopsided.

But what about B, you might ask? Well of course I’m thrilled when he admires me as well. But he’s not objective. And just because I felt validated by the Captain does not mean I don't also appreciate it when it comes from B; it’s just that I was prepared for the young hardbody to be a harsher judge, so it was a very pleasant surprise.

Oh, calm down. It's okay, B knows all about it. He let me play out some lingering distractions as I conquer my long-standing commitment-phobia. This unexpected hook-up with the Captain came after two years of flirtatious IMs and racy text messages that I never thought would ever transcend the typed word.

Sample exchange #1:
Captain: Why are you wearing panties? Why aren’t they around your ankles?
Maggie: Because I’m getting cash from the ATM

Sample exchange #2:
Captain: It’s hot and I’m in bed. Are you naked yet?
Maggie: Nope, playing Scattergories with my roommate.
(Later I fed the cat, too.)

What color is your aura?

The magnificent Nina has posted a color quiz for us all. As my life is very introspective lately, any and all analysis tools are helpful.

Especially when they're pretty spot-on. Check this out!

maggiebex took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Strives for a life rich in activity and experience..." Click here to read the rest of the results.

My Existing Situation
Sensitive; needs esthetic surroundings, or an equally sensitive and understanding partner with whom to share a warm intimacy.

My Stress Sources
Wants to overcome a feeling of emptiness and of separation from others. Believes that life still has far more to offer and that she may miss her share of experiences if she fails to make the best use of every opportunity. She therefore pursues her objectives with a fierce intensity and commits herself deeply and readily. Feels herself to be completely competent in any field in which she engages, and can sometimes be considered by others to be interfering or meddlesome.

My Restrained Characteristics
Feels that she cannot do much about her existing problems and difficulties and that she must make the best of things as they are. Able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity.

Insists that her goals are realistic and sticks obstinately to them, even though circumstances are forcing her to compromise. Very exacting in the standards she applies to her choice of a partner, and seeking a rather unrealistic perfection in her sex life.

My Desired Objective
Strives for a life rich in activity and experience, and for a close bond offering sexual and emotional fulfillment.

My Actual Problem
The fear that she might be prevented from achieving the things she wants leads her to play her part with an urgent and hectic intensity.

Fights against restriction or limitation, and insists on developing freely as a result of her own efforts.

Sure, YMMV, but I enjoyed it. If you take the quiz, please let me know how well you feel it got you.

Speaking of my life and what I want to achieve with it -- please continue to send whatever positive vibes or wishes or karmic juju or whatever your magic of choice in my direction for a desirable outcome. After all, you know how I "pursue my objectives with a fierce intensity and commit myself deeply and readily"!

PS: And then I could not stop myself from taking it again. Diff results, some overlap, still pretty good:

maggiebex took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Longs for a tender and sympathetic bond and for a ..." Click here to read the rest of the results.

Daily horocscope confusion

Scorpio (10/23-11/21)

You might not realize it, but you make a very good role model! The younger people in your life could learn a lot from your ideas and attitudes, so why not be more open with them today? Despite what you might think about the younger generation, they are genuinely interested in what you have to say -- they just might be a little too shy to ask you. Open up the lines of communication and start a conversation that you know they want to have. You will find the experience quite fulfilling.

See, this is why I almost never read horoscopes anymore (though I still have the blog tag, apparently).

1. I am a horrible role model. Seriously, I have no ambition, terrible time management skills, worse knifing skills, and an aversion to commitment.
   
2. All the kids I know have perfectly fine ideas and attitudes, thankyouverymuch. If anything I could learn from them.
   
3. Open communication? .... okay.... well, actually, there is this conversation I've been avoiding (like I do). Maybe I just needed this kick in the pants.

Or maybe I should just visit my nieces and teach them to crochet....

You can't afford me

Powered By Limousines For Rent


Thanks, Nina!

(I don't know, though. Considering I just went through another insemination, somehow I think I should be worth more.)

News I didn't need to know about my husband and his, um, measurements

The latest on Clooney from BANG Showbiz Media, our celebrity news feed. And I post it here in full instead of linking, because we are a family paper and probably won't be running it online:

George Clooney is using a 'Liberator Sex Ramp' to aid lovemaking after being injured in a motorbike crash.
The Hollywood heartthrob and girlfriend Sarah Larson appear to need a little extra help in the bedroom after Clooney was photographed leaving his New York townhouse carrying the purple sloped sex cushion on Wednesday (03.10.07).
A source said: "George is suffering a little from his fractured rib and Sarah has her leg in plaster because of her broken toe so they've bought something to make having sex a little more comfortable."
The Sex Ramp Sex Cushion is available on the internet for $149.00 and comes in blue, purple, red, tan and leopard print. It claims it can "elevate your lovemaking 10 to 14 inches for more options off the side of the bed and superior doggie-style position. The Sex Ramp is engineered to support two bodies in motion, it's the stabiliser that elevates Sex Ramp Sex Cushion beyond vanilla pillow status."
The 46-year-old actor and the 28-year-old cocktail waitress were injured after George's bike collided with a car in Weehawken, New Jersey, on September 21.
When the couple stepped out three days after the crash to attend the New York premiere of his new movie 'Michael Clayton' the star revealed: "We are just resting for now. You don't really want to rub or massage parts that are broken or anything!"
But if the couple do want to get out the massage oil, the Sex Ramp manufacturers boast: "Underneath, a silky liner that cools and caresses. This smooth nylon layer was created to accommodate all of your lotions, potions and gourmet notions."
When George and Sarah's injuries heal, the Sex Ramp makers advise using the cushion to make upright positions comfortable. The instructions state: "Standing is a man's 'power position' sexually, allowing for stronger thrusting, more varied strokes and greater longevity."
The purple cushion is 24 inches long, 18 inches wide and 12 inches tall and fitted neatly under George's arm as he carried it down the steps of his house.

Believe it or not, that's with some copy editing. Also, the photo was taken while he was filming a scene from his new Coen Brothers movie. So no, it was not for his personal use. Who knew British journos were so sloppy?

monkey museum - we make monkeys out of people

If you know me, or even if you've just been reading this blog fairly regularly, you know I have a thing about monkeys. Mind you, not the actual animals so much -- I don't go to the monkey house at the zoo (I don't really go to the zoo much, ever since I saw two rhinos going at it).

No, I like the idea of monkeys. Even the word is fun. Monkey, say it. Monkey. And apparently I am a comedic genius in good company: "Samberg cameos in the video dressed as a Viking. Why? Because he thinks Vikings are funny. Also monkeys. He’s a big fan of monkeys."

So let's be clear: iconic monkeys are cute, real monkeys throw poop. Actually, it's all funny.

I have become such a monkey maven that now everyone sends me their monkey mischief. It's good to have a catch-phrase, a brand, a theme. I love it -- so much better than getting cat-themed gifts, as if I'm a crazy cat-lady just because I adopted Siena. (No, clearly I am a crazy monkey-lady!)

Lately there's been a monkey zeitgeist, possibly kicked into high gear when I acquired a simian-themed phone number this week. Muffy let me know that Get Fuzzy has been exploring monkey branding for two weeks now.

Obviously, Monkeys Make People Smile^TM. And the folks at the Monkey Museum know it!
monkey museum - we make monkeys out of people

Thanks, Auntie Amanda, for making my day a little more monkey-licious. If I didn't still have all those Boston-themed cards that I never sent out last Christmas, I might have a set printed up for this year. Instead, I might just have to commission some art!

My last days of disco

Y recently asked me if I'd ever gone to Twilo during my crazy New York club days, before I became an old boring suburban lady. It got me thinking back on those days a bit, which perhaps I never talked about much here.

There was one night that the Cokehead Alcoholic took me to either Twilo or Tunnel, which were near each other on West 27th Street in Chelsea, so I honestly can't remember which one it was. It was fun, but it was also kind of strange for me, because I was more used to the fetish/goth scene of the meatpacking district, which was a much different kind of club scene. The clubs I most often went to, Mother and True were smaller, with a tight community of regular attendees. They definitely did not have a metal detector or pat-down at the door, like Twilo/Tunnel did.

Anyway, the night we went to the T club in Chelsea (whichever one it was) we were dressed in Edwardian fetish/goth attire, having stopped at Hellfire first (an underground sex club in the meatpacking district that was closed down when they built the hotels and gentrified the place). All our velvet and corsetry didn't exactly fit in with the ecstasy-fueled club-kid vibe of the place, so we did get searched upon entry, which was strange. Lots of raver kids, lots of drugs, we didn't stay very long. But I did think that, had I gone with someone else, and were I dressed appropriately and in a different mindset, it would have probably been fun. Sadly, I never made it back to check it out again before it closed.

I'd clubbed in Boston, LA, DC, Spain and Italy before I moved to New York, so I had a pretty good sample for comparison, and I think I caught the New York scene at a perfect moment. Before I got there things were nuts, with Michael Alig killing his drug dealer and club kids appearing on Oprah. By the time I got there, things had mellowed a bit so that it was a nice creative community without too much evil craziness.

To be fair, I didn't just sit on a balcony and watch, I threw myself into it pretty deep, so maybe I had a better experience because of that. I was friends with organizers, I danced in a cage (god I wish I'd saved that picture; they used it for promotion), I worked the door and decided who could and could not come in. I was going out four nights a week, doormen recognized me and I rarely paid to get in. I was fully invested, until I retired from the scene. (And it took a few tries, like Michael Jordan, before I really did retire.)

A few years later, clubs started to fall prey to the triple-whammy of Giuliani's quality-of-life/cabaret law crackdown; the inflated rents of the real estate boom; and the sobering climate of post-9/11 New York. Most of the clubs and parties I went to closed down around 2000-2001, and were replaced by gentrification and high-priced bottle service.

Which is now itself dying, so maybe we're on the edge of another golden age of clubbing. These things do tend to come in cycles. Of course, I'm also pretty old now, so maybe my opinion is for shit.

Fine fine, you were right

I'm not pregnant.

Shut up.

In other news -- Lollapalooza this weekend! Party on! Unfettered! Free! Crazy!

Whiskey Dick

Auntie Amanda saw this and thought of me. Isn't she the sweetest?

(yes, yes she is, in case you were stumped...)

The semicolon

Grammar is sexy.

Vintage morning wood

This here is a classic old story, which I recently discovered was never posted up here, even though it won me a "Best Celebrity Chef Encounter" contest. Since as many people as possible should be informed of this incident, I post it here as a warning, a public service, and of course, for your amusement.

Breakfast

While at the bar in the front room of the Tribeca Tavern, I saw Mario Batali standing talking with a small group. As I rejoined my friends in the back room, I mentioned this spotting to my foodie compatriot.

"Did you talk to him?" he asked.
"No, I've heard he's kind of a jerk. Also, rumor has it that he doesn't bathe often enough, and he smells," I replied.
My friend pulled out his wallet. "I'll give you a dollar if you go sniff him."
Since Batali was standing near the top of the stairs to the bathrooms, and in direct sight of my friend's table, this would be an easy task to pull off and have witnessed, so I took the dare.

As I tried to squeeze past Mario, I put my hands on his shoulders, leaned in for a sniff, and said "excuse me." Mission accomplished. But...

He took my hand and called me beautiful, and asked my name.

"Hi, I'm Ma.. actually, since you can probably pronounce it right, I'll tell you my real name: Maddalena."
"Mario," he said, still holding my hand. "So, you speak Italian?" he said, in Italian.
In better Italian than his, I explained that my parents were born there and we go back almost every year. He cut me off, in English.
"You were headed to the bathroom. Go do what you have to do and then come back and talk to me." He finally let go of my hand.

When I came back upstairs, he was talking to another young brunette. She slipped off (relieved?) as he turned his attention back to me.
Now, Batali the man may be a smelly philanderer, but Batali the chef has some fine restaurants that I love. At the time, Otto was still serving breakfast, and I used to go every Friday. A really great guy named Dennis worked that shift, so I decided to take the opportunity to praise Dennis to his boss.

"Oh, yes, Dennis is a very important member of my team. But let's talk about us." He leaned in a bit more.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, now that I know you like my breakfast, we just have to decide when you and I are going to . . . make love."

I suppressed a laugh at this incredibly cheesy and out of the blue pick up line, and considered reminding him that he was wearing a wedding band, and had named pizzas after his kids. Instead, I decided to laugh it off.

"After breakfast sometime, apparently." I shrugged.

"That's good, since morning wood is the hardest, after all. Especially mine, as you'll see."

!!!
I couldn't take any more. "I'm sorry, I really should be getting back to my friends," I said, tears of laughter forming. I pulled away and rushed to the back room.

"So, did he smell?" my friend asked, a dollar in his hand.

"How much will you pay me for getting him to offer to show me his 'morning wood'?" I asked.

Speechless, he just pulled out his wallet and started counting off bills.

Want, want, want

Oh, how I wish I had picked these up when I was down in NYC this past weekend. If anyone was looking for a gift idea for me, you could grab me a handful of these.

(I also wish I had someone to share them with, so to speak. Been thinking about the Captain again lately, not sure why though...)

Update! They give them out at my old stomping ground, Buttermilk. Dave, next time you're down there, will you please grab me a, um, fistful?

Why living in Seattle wouldn't be that bad either...

Trooper stops naked couple in SUV

Please note that Washington State does not feel that embracing while driving is, in and of itself, gross -- because they're not 4th graders up in that state house. However, drunken driving is TOTALLY gross.

Also? I'm going to Seattle in two weeks, so I'lll report back on any drunken nudity I find there.

(have you all missed me? My absence is totally legitimate, I assure you. But rather than explain myself, for now I'm just going to keep reading the paper for your benefit.)

Get outdoors!

Hooray, hooray, the First of May! You know what to do with this bench...

Hair tips for girls

I'm at a party where I know no one. A college party, no less, in a neighborhood where I used to teach junior high (probably while these kids were still in elementary school, if I'm lucky). A punk rock basement band college party, and I'm wearing a velvet skirt and no leather or visible piercings. I'm just there to keep a friend company, and we're only supposed to stay for a minute.

Not really equipped for the mosh pit, I go out on the deck for some air. Damn I want a cigarette, but no way am I going to bum from these kids. I lean against the doorframe and observe.

"Excuse me, I know this is really strange to ask, but... How do you get your hair to do that? It's so gorgeous!"

Okay, I do have fabulous hair, but you wouldn't think the punk rockers would appreciate it... So I tell the pretty blond in the orange hoodie my secret for five-minute hair fabulousness:

1. Flip head over and dry as quickly as possible
2. Comb out snarls.
3. Put in a dozen velcro rollers, the kind with metal on the inside so they heat up (cheap at CVS)
4. Blast for a minute or two with the hair dryer on high heat.
5. Get in car, drive to party, remove before exiting car.

She laughs. "wow, if I'd known it was so easy... I never do anything with my hair; I still have semen in it from last nigh-- oh, did I just say too much?"

"Hey, whatever works!"

Now we've bonded. She introduces me to all her friends, and within minutes I've rubbed a few shaved heads and learned how to open a beer with a lighter. A cute guy named Bubba has his arm around my waist while I smoke a cig he bummed for me. The kids in the yard below us are wailing a hard-core a cappella version of some Journey song, and all is right with the world.

Hook me up

No, of course it's not healthy. Unless you're a New Yorker, maybe.

But if you do somehow manage to have a relationship, here's a handy guide to breaking up in a Web 2.0 world. My only quibble? They tell you lots of ways to protect you from the other person, but only a few ways to protect you from yourself...

And if it gets really bad? You can always go over to the other side; it's better for the kids anyway.

Back in the Saddle

Get your high-res Potter porn here.

Grab your dick and double-click

Or, why Maggie can't get a date...

thisguy: i havent played D&D since middle school
thisguy: but i got hooked on WoW a little over a year ago
maggieb: I played D&D once
maggieb: in junior high
thisguy: you know what WoW is?
maggieb: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWEjvCRPrCo
thisguy: ...
thisguy: whats your deal exactly?
thisguy: do you have to know everything?

Please ignore, for the moment, that familiarity with a silly little YouTube video does not equate with knowing everything. This guy has been trying to get a date with me for over a week now. I am totally not interested, but was trying to be nice, maybe give him a chance. Want to know a great way to piss off a smart chick? Be annoyed that she's smart. I was only trying to entertain him with that link, and he got all defensive. But I took the high ground, and kept talking:

maggieb: no, I do not know everything
maggieb: but yes, I like to be as aware and informed as possible
maggieb: as I am an entertainment journalist
thisguy: mm hmm
maggieb: what, do you find it obnoxious that I need to know everything?
thisguy: no, not at all
thisguy: impressive and somewhat intimidating perhaps
maggieb: intimidating, great
maggieb: well, then I won't tell you about my most brilliant idea I had at work today, that will transform Boston as we know it.

And I didn't. And now he'll never get to fulfill his 20-year-old dream to date the prom queen. The last thing any accomplished, independent professional woman wants hanging around is a Berger.

(By the way, my new idea for work is absolutely brilliant, but also totally top secret. And it might take like a year or more to implement, so don't hold your breath. But I promise I'll tell you about it as soon as I can.)

(Oh, wait, no I can't, because then you'd know where I work...)