Joelle said at some point on August 8, 2007
I was skimming my Google homepage for my morning dose of news and found this little gem out of New Zealand. Apparently, a couple had decided to name their newborn baby “4Real” because they saw the ultrasound and knew the baby was “for real”. But, because it was rejected by some sort of New Zealand baby name registry for including numbers and not using consecutive characters, they’ve decided to formally name the baby “Superman” while still referring to is as “4Real”.
I’m sorry, but are you fucking kidding me? Stupidity this grand deserves profanity. These people are breeding? I think the movie Idiocracy is right, smart people are over-thinking their procreation, being too cautious, waiting until it’s too late or they’re too old or they only have one baby. (And believe me, I feel that way, too.) Meanwhile, we’re being out-bred by miscreants who want to name their kid UB40 or whatever. Jesus H. Smart people! Put down the Nietzsche and start shagging. I implore you.
Pat and Sheena Wheaton say they will get around the decision by the Registrar of Births, Deaths and Marriages by officially naming their son Superman but referring to him as 4Real, the New Zealand Herald newspaper has reported.
The Wheatons decided on the name after seeing the baby for the first time in an ultrasound scan and realizing their baby was “for real.”
“No matter what its going to stay 4Real,” Wheaton told the Herald, “I’m certainly not a quitter.”
[read full article]
Stay in school, kids.
Joelle said late at night on August 4, 2007
I’m selective about the musicals I see… some of them are a little over the top for me (even the ones I’ve been in). In the last decade, I think I’ve only been to a few shows — Cabaret, Rent and now Avenue Q.
For years I’ve been wanting to see Avenue Q. I’d heard all the great reviews and after hearing a few songs from the show, I was convinced that Avenue Q is definitely right up my alley. With songs like “If You Were Gay” and “The Internet Is For Porn”, how can you not be entertained?
While in Vegas in 2005, I saw the orange “furry” cabs around town as promotion for the show and was thrilled to hear it was going to be at the Wynn Hotel. I figured I’d have a better chance of seeing it there, but never got around to it. I guess it’s run it’s course there as it’s been replaced by Spamalot and the fine folks at San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre put in their bid as the first stop on the Avenue Q national tour (running at Spreckels Theater).
I knew it would be here, but with tickets running a bit tight for my budget this summer, I figured I wouldn’t get a chance to see it once again. But, fate was on my side! Yesterday, I logged into MySpace and saw that the Old Globe Theater had placed a bulletin offering 50% all tickets for tonight’s 9pm show only if you mentioned MySpace when you made the reservation. A few texts to GFI and we had fantastic orchestra seats, center stage within minutes. Hooray!
We started the evening at Cafe Sevilla, a great Spanish place downtown where we indulged in a few sangrias and a variety of delicious tapas. I’d only done the tapas thing once, when I was in England, and really enjoyed it so it was fun to do it again. If you ever go to Cafe Sevilla, I highly recommend the Chicken Croquetas and the White Sangria.
Anyway, after hailing a cab, we made it to the show right on time, picked up our tickets at will call and proceeded to enjoy one of the best shows I’ve seen in a long time. Maybe ever. The actors were great, especially the female lead (and various other characters), Kelli Sawyer, was fantastic. Her voice was great, even when singing in character voices. To say this musical is irreverent is putting it mildly. It’s rude, crude and socially unacceptable, but it’s just so… happy (and true) that you can’t help but laugh. I wish I could see it again before it leaves. I’ll have to go see it in New York, I suppose. Maybe in New York there won’t be a woman behind me gasping at every other potentially offensive thing.
Go see Avenue Q if it comes to your town and you’re not a complete tight ass. Go if you areamused by excessive stereotyping, swearing, hardcore puppet nudity and really, really cute bears. Go if you like Gary Coleman. Go see Avenue Q.
Joelle said in the early morning on August 3, 2007
As a kid growing up, I never wanted to be famous. You know how some people want to be rock stars or President or like… a supermodel or something? I never wanted that. First, I wanted to be a doctor — mostly because my Barbie was a doctor and damn if she didn’t look sharp in that coat. Then I wanted to be a singer, as demonstrated by the Gershwin tunes I would belt out in my living room accompanied by our player piano. Singing was followed by dancing, but only because I took eleven years of ballet lessons and nine years of jazz dance. My dad used to tease me and say I wanted to be a singing dancing doctor. Think of the specials I could offer! “Pap n’ Tap” — get a pap smear and a tap lesson for one low price! “Lambatomy: The Forbidden Surgery"…
But, I digress.
I still don’t want to be famous. Famous is a pain in the ass. But, I do want to be successful and I feel like if we aren’t now, we’re well on our way! Recently, Kathy and I not only acquired our very own publicist, the lovely Carly Milne (who is also an established author with a new book
coming out soon), but we also are going to be working with a very cool lit agent (who I won’t name just yet — the ink isn’t quite dry). I feel so good about all of this. Excited… a little nervous in that good way. We really dig our editor, our publicist is a long-time client and friend and we really enjoyed chatting with our new agent this morning. She was fabulous and it makes me feel like we have such amazing, capable people behind our little Moxie machine.
Oh my god, we have “people”. 
Joelle said around mid-afternoon on July 31, 2007
So, our building has a stray-ish cat that hangs out under these big weeping bush doodads in the front of the building. It’s black and white, very cute, and somewhat skittish. It also looks like Hitler. GFI and I occasionally comment about the Hitler cat and how we can’t figure out where it belongs.
While out there watering my plants and chatting with my apartment manager, the cat was spooked and darted out from under one of the bushes. The apartment manager (who is very nice and I like very much, but who we will call Furley for the sake of this blog) was distracted by it and said, “Oh, there’s that old cat...”
And out of my mouth flew, quite enthusiastically, “Yeah, that’s the Hitler cat! He totally looks like Hitler...” trailing off, as I remembered Furley is Jewish.
So… seriously. How bad is it? Was that merely unfortunate timing, really bad taste or was that like paper cuts on his soul? The last thing I’d want to do is offend someone unintentionally. (I like to plan to be offensive. Heh.) Was it as bad as I imagine (I swear, I just didn’t think!) or is my political correctness just turned up to eleven?
I’m wondering...should I feel like a total schmo about this or was it offensive enough that I should apologize?
Joelle said in the early morning on July 30, 2007 while listening to Verve Remixed Vol. 1-3
I watched a preview for the new Catherine Zeta-Jones film, No Reservations, this weekend. Of course, I’m all over that movie. A girl movie and foodie cooking stuff? What more do I need? I think GFI and I may have to make an afternoon of it some weekend — lunch and perhaps a pedicure. I’m such a chick like that.
Anyway, so I was watching this commercial and they’re slinging accolades for the film across the screen, declaring it “heartfelt” and “touching” and my personal favorite, “The year’s best date movie!”
Really? The year’s best? I take issue with this. Maybe they should change that to “The year’s best first date movie!” because really, that might be your only shot at getting most men to go see this movie with you. I can’t imagine any other time most guys would be willing to endure that sort of thing. If there’s potential for a shag or they’re trying to impress you, then sure… I could see a guy sitting through a touching story about a frigid woman, a quirky kid and the carefully disheveled guy who falls for them, but otherwise… I’m not so sure.
I wonder why they always say romantic comedies are the best date movies. In my dating career, I’ve been to exactly ONE chick flick with a man on a date. One — and honestly, it didn’t make me feel romantic. It made me nervous. “What if I cry in front of him? I wonder if he’s trying to figure out if he can get to 3rd base tonight. Is he asleep? What’s that smell?” How can you pay attention to Gwyneth with that kind of pressure? Come to think of it, it was a blind date and I didn’t care for him all that much, so that might have been the issue…
If it’s been a bad date, I’ve usually ended up at horror movies (which I could really take or leave), but on good dates, the movies have generally been comedies of the garden variety or something that got great reviews or an indie film or whatever. I don’t like watching the majority of chick flicks with men (unless I know already that they like such n’ such film). I know they probably don’t give a damn and that’s totally OK. I don’t care about Jet Li either. I’d rather stare in uncomfortable silence than sit through a Jet Li film, even if shagging is imminent, so I won’t put them through the paces, that’s just unfair.
Films like No Reservations are made to be watched with your girlfriends. “Best date movie” — who are they kidding?
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