Oops.

I clearly rock at maintaining this blog thing.

Not.

I'm almost positive that since the end of the semester is ohsoclose, I'll be much better about updating. I've just had so much on my plate the last few weeks. Do you want to hear how I spent my Saturday? A 21 year old girl living in New York City--oh man, I could have done any NUMBER of things. Instead, I spent quite literally the entire day writing a 17 page paper about the cinematic depictions of Jewish feminists, complete with analyses of Fiddler on the Roof, Yentl, and A Price Above Rubies.


Oh yeah. Be jealous. And now that that is done, I get to spend some quality time with my 15 page short story, my 80 page screenplay, and a short paper about what I learned about screenwriting. And did I mention that I have to pitch my screenplay idea to an actual, legit film producer?

Lord, give me strength.

I see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's almost here. Just hang on.

Busy Bee

That was me this weekend. We had so many events going on at work - press junkets for two films (happening simultaneously - insanity!), screenings up the wazoo, and a premiere. I was very nervous about working all the events, partly because I knew it was going to be crazy (it wasn't nearly as chaotic as I had anticipated) and because lately, I had been feeling less than thrilled with publicity. It was a field I had loved for over three years, but it had begun to lose its pizzazz for me. I thought that this weekend was a make or break one - I was either going to have a renewed passion for it, or it was time to move on.

Luckily, I had a renewed passion. PR, especially entertainment PR, is crazy and stressful, but that's part of what makes it great - it gets your adrenaline pumping, and it's very go, go, go. Expect the unexpected, is what I learned from working in PR. No request is too extreme or surprising. Also, the sense of accomplishment when you land something is like no other. The knack that I realized I had for publicity has bloomed, and I'm excited for it again.

PR, I love you.

Hugh Grant In...

"What's my Appeal?"

That was a Family Guy joke. I actually like Hugh Grant, in spite of (or maybe because of?) his Divine Brown scandal. That was just delicious. I'm actually watching Four Weddings and a Funeral right now for my Romantic Comedy class, and it's Andie McDowell who I find repellent. Kristin Scott Thomas is SO much more of a catch.

I'm Felicia, and this has been a cultural PSA.

Dancing With the "Stars"

I'm obsessed.

It's funny - DWTS is one of those shows where I'm really into one season, and not so into it the next. I am SO into this season. I don't think I ever missed a full episode - and if I did, you bet your bottom dollar I looked up the dances I missed on YouTube. That's commitment.

Why am I so into this particular season? I really have no idea. I mean, like any good hag, I love me some Carson Kressley, but I wasn't an uber fangirl of any particular contestant. In fact, I downright dislike Nancy Grace. Does anyone remember that 2005 Robert Smeigel cartoon on "Saturday Night Live" where Nancy Grace condemned every C-list celebrity for asinine crimes? "Jenna Elfman should fry. Period." "Sinbad should fry. Period." "Mike Tyson should fry. Period." I've tried in vain to find the video online. So to fill the void, I just quote it non-stop (I'm driving my mother nuts.)

I tell you who I love though - JR Martinez. I knew him from "All My Children," since I watched it with my mom when it was on the air. Now, if you don't know, JR Martinez is an Iraq vet who was severely disfigured when his humvee drove over a landmine. He was burned over 40% of his body and has endured 30+ surgeries and skin grafts. For all of the horrors he's been through, he is remarkably well-adjusted - he just seems like the sweetest, nicest person on the planet.  And despite the burns, he's still an incredibly good-looking guy.

And what a dancer.

My mom and I are rooting for him to go all the way. The DWTS Results Show is on as I type this, and while JR didn't perform his best last night (he was dancing with a bum ankle), I hope that America remembers his amazing story and perseverance and votes him through.

It would be a shame if Maks and Hope were to win.

Miscast

Ever watch a movie and think, "I just can't see [insert actor or actress] in that role?"

The last two movies I watched were plagued with this problem. I had to watch Pretty Woman for my romantic comedy screenwriting class, and while I enjoyed it (a little too much, I'm embarrassed to say), I kept thinking, "Julia Roberts is the most unconvincing hooker EVER." Seriously. Prostitutes don't have that many teeth. And Jason Alexander as the sleazy lawyer? All I kept thinking was, "Why is George Costanza doing this?!" Of course, that's not a miscast, that's just my cultural perceptions getting in the way.

Today I watched a little known movie called A Price Above Rubies, which stars Renee Zellweger as a discontented Hasidic Jewish woman. Really, Renee Zellweger? I mean, she played the part as best as she could, but I still snickered every time she said Yiddish words like "schtupped." Her fellow Jews were played by Julianna Margulies and Edie Falco. *headdesk*

What are these casting directors smoking? Is it me?

American Horror Story (Here Be Spoilers)

If you know me, you know I absolutely hate horror movies. I have zero tolerance for anything remotely scary. I can't even watch the trailers in the theaters or on TV. The briefest image is enough to keep me up nights.

Why, then oh why, am I obsessed with FX's "American Horror Story"? I can't even bear to watch the creepy opening credit sequence with the scary looking babies.

It could be because of Dylan McDermott (drool. Can you believe the guy is 50? Jeez). Or maybe I just have a thing for Ryan Murphy shows (I unabashedly love "Glee," and while I couldn't particularly get into "Nip/Tuck," I find the entire concept of the show fascinating). Or maybe it's the 'what-the-hell-is-going-on' aspect of the show that keeps drawing me in. I mean, we have the mystery Rubber Man who may have impregnated Vivian with the Devil. Ben sees Moira as a young nympho, while everyone else in the house sees her as old and decrepit. We never know which character is dead. And the guest stars. Everyone from Zachary Quinto to Eric Stonestreet to the fat chick who banged Thomas Haden Church in Sideways.

And Jessica Lange. Oh, God. Jessica Lange. I'm not her biggest fan (it pains me to think that she won an Oscar for her role in Tootsie, and then another undeserved statue for Blue Sky), but God damn if she isn't the best thing on the show. As the Southern belle neighbor Constance, she brings wit and humor and overall pizazz. Her and her daughter, Adelaide, who is afflicted with Down's Syndrome, are my favorite characters.

But this week's episode set the bar high, and did something quite strange. For weeks, we've been following Tate, one of Ben's patients. He's an extremely troubled and disturbed young man, and there have been clues that he has committed a heinous crime. Well, last night, we find out what that was: a horrific, Columbine-like school shooting, which was depicted in such terrifying detail that I cannot close my eyes without seeing the scene. Tate was then murdered (rather violently) by police after they raided his house and he threatened them with a gun. You want to hate Tate. He did an unspeakable thing, and doesn't seem to exhibit much remorse for his actions. But then he goes and profoundly professes his love for Violet, Ben's own troubled teenage daughter, and you can't feel anything but sympathy for him.

It's a moral dilemma I've been dealing with. Damn you, "American Horror Story," for being so good.

It's Time to Play the Music...

It's time to light the lights!

In anticipation of the new Muppet movie that comes out at the end of the month, the Muppets themselves have been in the midst of a PR tour. Seriously, they are making stops EVERYWHERE: WWE, "Dancing with the Stars," and I'm sure they are going to make an appearance or two on "Saturday Night Live" when Jason Segel hosts. It's a Muppet invasion.

Now, I must confess that I've never been a huge Muppet fan. Don't get me wrong - I like Miss Piggy and Gonzo as much as the next person, and I'll always sing along to "Rainbow Connection." But I hardly ever watched the show, and I'm not learned in Muppet-lore. And I think I know why.

I killed Jim Henson.

Well, not really. But I've always felt bad about his death. Why, you ask? Well, Mr. Henson died on May 16, 1990 - the very exact day that I was born. My mother told me that when she called her good friend to tell her that she'd had the baby (read: me), her friend responded, "Oh, we need some good news today. Jim Henson died."

Now no one can really know what happens to us when we die, and how God (or Allah or Vishnu or Oprah, whoever you believe in) determines who goes when. But I can't help but wonder, if it's a population thing - does someone have to die when someone else is born? I mean, just to keep some semblance of order? And if that's the case, was Jim Henson sacrificed so that I could live?

I was advised by my father to never share this theory, lest people think I'm mentally ill. But I just needed to get this off my chest. I'm sorry I killed Jim Henson.

And now I leave you with Stephen Lynch's "Jim Henson's Dead and Gone."