DECISIONS

Last night, I was at the gym. This was because of my terrible weight problem, you see. Anyway. I was on the elliptical machine, and while I'm hopping up and down on that damn thing, I love to watch CNN. Doing so makes me feel informed, and it helps alleviate the "Wait, do I really sell theatre tickets for a living?!" feeling of uselessness. Well, last night was an especially rich and moving night on CNN, given yesterday's tragic assassination of political pioneer Benazir Bhutto. Hilldog was on. Obama was on. Everybody was on. So tuning into good ol' Larry King would have been a great thing to do.

But, OK, I found, on TBS, the most amazing episode of Special Victims Unit ever. It centered around three generations of drug-addled, self-deluded women, one of whom had killed a baby fifteen years earlier. They were played by Oscar-winner Estelle Parsons, Oscar-winner Mary Steenburgen, and the most underrated American actress of the last twenty years, Martha Plimpton. (Sidebar: Amy Ryan is winning a crapload of critics prizes for her fun, sky-high performance in Gone Baby Gone, but no one can honestly tell me that la Plimpton wouldn't have been 900 times better in that same role. I'm just saying...)

So I was torn between watching something informative and relevent to current world situations, or watching three of my favorite actresses duke it out with Hargitay and my future husband. And what did I choose? Like you don't know- I can't help myself. I'm an Actressexual.

So what do we think? Am I a pathetic, trivial TV addict? Is it people like me who lead to the world going down the shitter? Leave your eviscerations in the comments.

Plimpton '08,
KEVIN.
(Note- Click my name to see who ended up having killed the baby!)

"And on the tree all the ornaments go/Tinsel will cover where the branches don't grow"- Aimee Mann

Did everyone have a nice Christmas? I did. I hope you all did, too. It was a great chance to sit at home, hang out with my family, and eat champagne sorbet. No, really. I'm serious. My aunt made champagne sorbet. It was COLOSSAL. I ate so much of it that I got kind of trashed. In my defense, though, it's scarily delicious. By the time I'd consumed my bodyweight in it, there was, like, an inch of melted 'pagne on my plate. I felt so fucking classy.

Let's see. What else happened? Last night, I saw There Will Be Blood, which is the best movie of the year. (Leigh and I are toying with doing our own Top Ten lists this year- Thoughts? I know I did one last year, but it's funner if we both do it, right?) It's absolutely insane and gorgeous and maddening and powerful and ambitious and... Yeah. Go see it. It's baffling. It can drink my milkshake anytime.

Next order of business: Does anyone know how late the Associated on Greene and Clinton is open? I need lettuce and cheese.

Many of you may know my dear friend Kate Jacobs, who recently moved to Philadelphia with her gentleman companion to live the sweet life. Well, she has a blog, and you should read it, as it's insightful and awesome.

I famously love The Gossip, and I famously loathe George Michael. So the idea of The Gossip covering a George Michael songs sounds like it should be just kind of neutral, right? Well, no. One awesome and one hideous made a fucking great. Behold:


I miss Project Runway. When's it back with new episodes? If you know, leave comments.

Joan Kors,
KEVIN xoxo

Kevin on SWEENEY TODD.

I ended up liking Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd. Really, I did. It surprised me by sidestepping some mistakes that I really thought were inevitable (though it does make some really strange, unnecessary errors- "A Little Priest" most glaringly). Sasha Baron Cohen is an indispensable genius. What really surprised me, though, is that Johnny Depp and Helluva Bottom Carter have ZERO chemistry. I mean, aren't they friends in real life? They seem so uncomfty with the idea of looking at each other.

Bottom Line: No one is ever allowed to say a bad word about Dreamgirls ever again. It's superior in every way (both the original shows and the movies), and its principal cast can, ya know, sing.

Three stars. Now take that stupid skunk stripe away from me.

TEAM LACHEY!

In a stunning upset, Nick Lachey's choir beat out odds-on favorite team LaBelle to win Clash of The Choirs. (as an added bonus, this also means that I beat Kevin) Excellent! I'll have you all know that Nick was crying on national television. Awww. What's really important though is that you watch the following clip, in which Tracey Morgan is trotted out to announce the winner. (You can skip the first two minutes if you like) It's alllll about the delivery, in which he announced "The winner is....this team right here! Team Latch-hee!" Good Times.

CLASH OF THE CHOIRS!

Few reality television ventures have intrigued me as much as this one. The premise: five music "superstars" form choirs from their hometowns. America votes. The winning choir takes home $250,000 for a local charity. What's that you say? you missed it? No problemo:
Up first was Team Lachey /Cincinnati. Home of WKRP.
The song: Natascha Bedingfield's Unwritten. Lame choice, my Miller Lite loving friend. I mean really? Disappointing.
The verdict: Color me underwhelmed. They do get bonus points for the use of Jazz hands and some half-decent choreography. Prop member: None. Way to cast on talent, Nick.
Kicking it up a notch was Team Roland/Houston. Texas. Gross. But....
The song: George Michael's Freedom Yes Yes Yes. Correct. Way to step out of Beyonce's shadow with the BEST song selection of the evening.
The verdict: Looking good, I have to say. Prop Members: Katrina Survivors AND a father and daughter who are watching their mother/wife go through chemo. "they sing for her"
Looking very gargoyle-like was the leader of Team Bolton/New Haven.
The song: Bon Jovi's Livin' on a prayer. This song would have been a close second...except
The verdict:Mr. soft-rock king: This is clash of the choirs not clash of the soloists. And yours wasn't even that good. I think the country dude said it best when he said "My mom would kill me if I didn't say something nice about Micheal Bolton". Moving on to... Team Shelton/Oklahoma City. Oy.
The song: Tom Cochrane's Life is a Highway. I truly hate when rock gets country-fied.
The verdict: Well, I think it was a tell-tale sign when Mr. Shelton admitted in rehearsals that he "doesn't read music." He then chose to play guitar rather than direct the choir. Curious. Prop members: 2, count em' two, members of the military, performing in uniform.
Last, but most certainly not least of the evening was Team LaBelle/Philadelphia
The song: He's got the world in his hands OK, clearly Team LaBelle is going the more traditional route...
The verdict: Well, we know where the talent in this room is. Fine. I give up. You win. For now...
-L

Blurry, quite blurry.

Those are the only words I have to describe the past week. Here are some things on my mind:

• There is a new Celine Dion song. This is bad; but what's worse is that it is playing on Z100. Is Celine cool with the kids these days? Is that possible? I smell Pay-o-la, someone get Spitzer on the horn.
  
• My car got Keyed yesterday. Bah Humbug.
• I hope you all saw Juno because it truly lived up to all the hype. Not even the bolognese sauce at Maria Pia could keep my mother from singing its praises
• While we're on the subject of good things, you should all dvr Tin Man the next time it airs- all six hours of it (No, really- go set it up.)
• We all survived what was, I think, the most insane/merriest Ho-Ho-Ho down that has ever been or ever will be. Whew.
  
• Sometime ago, friends gathered to decorate my first Christmas tree in Brooklyn.
• Please enjoy it's yuletide cheer:

I am 26 years old, and this woman nearly twice my age puts me to shame.

In my haste, I totally forgot to post yesterday (December 3rd), regarding the 47th birthday of America's greatest-ever film actress, Julianne Moore. She's yet to win that elusive Oscar, but she's won the heart of this movie-loving sissy.




I didn't even buy her a cake or nothin'.

Love,
KEVIN.

Long Island is not just shopping centers...

A Photo Essay via Camera Phone
taken in Northville, NY on the Long Island Sound

The most amazing and insane thing ever to be on television.

There will never be another frothing-at-the-mouth lunatic like Marie Osmond.



I mean... Jesus Christ.

Bergeron,
KEVIN.