great melanies in popular culture.

It's funny-- I've been thinking about this post for a couple of days, and then a very successful filmmaker friend of mine emails me today to tell me he's naming a character after me in a script he's writing-- not because the character and I are all that much alike, but because the name sounds right.  Let us review some of the great Melanies of popular culture, real and fictional, who often bear little resemblance to the name's meaning-- "dark."


Melanie Hamilton, Gone With the Wind, 1939
Good... pure...... helpless...self-abnegating... one of literature's biggest doormats, really.  Miss Mellie serves as a foil to the evil Scarlet.  I can't think of any good quotes for her because she is totally spineless.










Melanie, Rabbit is Rich, 1981
I've been working my way through Updike's Rabbit tetraology this summer.  Updike is far and away my favorite author, so you can imagine my pleasure at finding a character called Melanie in the series' third book.  Melanie comes home with Rabbit's son Nelson from college at Kent State.  A Californian unfamiliar with small-town Pennsylvania, she throws the family for a loop with her happy embrace of 70s trends-- she gets the whole Angstrom family eating wheat germ and studies various yogis in between rides on her 12 speed Fuji bicycle, her curly red hair flying in the wind.  


My favorite quote about Melanie occurs as the family discusses her impending arrival--

"We don't know the girl is a slut," Harry apologizes.  "All we know is her name is Melanie instead of Susan." 

"Melanie" by Wierd Al Yankovic, 1988

Well, he's stalking her... so that's not creepy at all. But you can't help but like the song.

(true confession: I once went to a Weird Al concert with my filmmaker friend. Everything comes full circle!)

UPDATE: Photo evidence of Weird Al singing to me:

Melanie Griffeth, film actress

I haven't really seen anything she was in other than Now and Then but  Antonio Banderas wasn't such a bad catch in the 1990s.

Melanie Chisholm and Melanie Brown, members of Spice Girls, mid-90s
Not one but two Spice Girls were named Melanie.  Sporty Spice and Scary Spice never really appealed to my middle-school sensibilities (I was Team Baby Spice all the way, as my blonde loyalty knows no bounds).  Nonetheless, a good excuse to post a Spice Girls video on my blog.

Melanie Ralston, Jackie Brown, 1997

Nobody talks about this Tarantino flick very much, but Bridget Fonda's beachy surfer-stoner Melanie is endearing.  As is Samuel L. Jackson's line:

"You can always trust Melanie to be Melanie." 

Melanie Smooter, Sweet Home Alabama, 2002

I like this Melanie.  I mean, what's not to like?  A sassy fashion designer with tons of gumption played by turn-of-the-century star Reese Witherspoon.  Sure, she's kind of a liar, but she comes around, right?  And she can't help but keep snagging good looking guys.  Unfortunately, this movie coined the term "Melanie taco," a practice I've been in the middle of on more than one occasion (by guys; guys would never admit to watching this movie).










Ok, that was all of the Melanies I could muster. Did I forget any?

the internet plays into my hand yet again, providing me an excuse to post photos of dolph lundgren.

No, really, I have a legitimate excuse for doing this.

Really, I do.


I'll get to it in just a second.


I promise.


Just one more.


Ha, got ya!


Ok, for reals this time.

(that last one was just to see if you were paying attention)

Dolph Lundgren made the news today.

proof that netflix is stalking me.

Ok, yah, I see how I could get this:

Or this:

But really? This?:
I think Netflix is reading my blog.

the perfect man.

OMG, this is my 400th post. I'm guessing you're feeling 400 times the fun.

Because My Mom is Cooler Than Your Mom, she sent me Iron Man, one of the greatest movies of our time, in the mail today. In the case that My Mom is Your Mom, well you got to visit last fall and I didn't. Love ya Big Bro.

Anyways, Iron Man is, in my humble opinion (but as this is my self-indulgent blog, the only opinion that truly matters) the best of the superhero movies to date. Granted I haven't seen either of the Hulk movies and really, the new Superman was not even worth of remembering, but surely everyone recognizes Batman and Spiderman, by virtue of their prodigious sequels, as franchises embodying the best of the superhero genre. However, when it comes to the complete vision of masculinity, the twenty-first century man, Iron Man is it. Succinctly, one could say that Batman is kind of a douche, Peter Parker struggles with basic morality and both are fueled by revenge. This is not the kind of man that the modern woman wants.

Yah, wants. It's like you think that doesn't matter, but really, doesn't the superhero answer to his woman? Isn't Peter Parker all about Mary Jane? Wasn't Rachel getting blown up the saddest part of The Dark Knight? The superhero lives for his woman, he is the sum of his parts, blah blah blah, bob loblaw. Call it heteronormative, but how women see the superhero is extremely important. This my friends, is where I can offer you some perspective.

What I'm suggesting is that the Iron Man represents the ideal. In no particular order, here's why:

1. He's rich. Yah, in real life nobody cares, but Pepper gets paid enough to wear Louboutins. I'm all for bohemian poverty but you can't say that those sweet views of the ocean aren't nice.

2. Speaking of which, design savvy. Iron Man has the most beautiful living room ever-- my favorite that I've seen on film since Jackie Treehorn's in The Big Lebowski.

3. He's hot. Again, one of those things that you like to pretend doesn't matter, but let's all enjoy a moment in silence, just thinking about what a fox Robert Downey Jr. is now that he's given up tranny prostitutes in favor of fitness. I mean really. RDJ will be hotter as Sherlock Holmes than anyone ever imagined. Even if he does have crazy eyes.

4. He's cocky. The character of Tony is setup at the beginning of the movie as a total player. Say what you will, but that kind of confidence matters. None of that reluctant Peter Parker business.

5. Makes sacrifices for business for the common good. Everyone likes a team player. And he reforms. Women love a changed man who has learned a lesson or two.

6. He's smart. Honestly, the best bit of the whole movie? "I know the math," he says to Jarvis as he defies his own limitations to propel himself into the air during that final battle at the end. This requires no further explanation because it is the hottest line ever spoken in all of the movies. "I know the math." Sweet jesus.

7. Respects Pepper because she is smart, trustworthy and reliable. This is one of those things that's like, "Really? This is an ideal?" because it should be status quo. Until somebody tells you-- you the woman-- that you are too smart.

8. He's handy. He builds an energy source in a cave! Come on, who doesn't want to be with McGyver when the pipes burst.

9. He brings it-- a lover AND a fighter.

10. He owns it. Given the opportunity to use a statement to gloss over his achievements, Tony owns it. With total honesty, he proclaims, "I am Iron Man." None of this lame pretending not to be the hero, Iron Man IS Iron Man. Notice how Pepper is in a much better place than MJ or Rachel? Notice how the relationship between Pepper and Tony is much better? It's because Iron Man owns it.

So there you have it. Iron Man is amazing.

p.s. In other news, I just realized that the director of Iron Man-- whom I recognized while he plays the bodyguard / driver-- was in Swingers AND Elf (which he also directed). Perhaps Jon Favreau is the perfect filmmaker?

what's wrong with america when getting stapled in the back doesn't earn you best actor.

Let's have a talk about how I haven't even seen "Milk" and I didn't even watch "The Oscars" but I am all kinds of pissed that "The Wrestler" got completely snubbed.

I would like to see Sean Penn do that.

pray to god you don't drop that shit.

Random Bike Movie: The Ice Storm. Beautifully crafted film of my favorite genre, the disenchanted suburbs. In the seventies, no less! The bike scenes are really, really lovely and should make anyone want to go out and get an upright.

Fascinating bit about academic freedom, or, how the tenure system doesn't exactly control for crazies and how that's not so good for business. Hahaha, tell me something I don't know!

I was in the mood for this tonight. I will never tire of Black Bush.
(warning: mildly offensive to some)

Chapelle. So classic.

discovering what makes westerns worthwhile.

Had to watch a bunch of westerns for class this week and I have to say, I was unprepared for what I've found. Namely,


that Robert Redford was one of the sexiest men to ever grace the silver screen. Seriously, out of the blue I was like, "Good lord, please bring mustaches BACK!" (really?!) It's like you think you know who you are and what you want and then Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid waltz in and turn it all upside down.

almost famous.

One of the great coup d'etats for the long weekend-- beyond the satisfaction of reading a couple o' books and making progress on my thesis draft-- was scoring Almost Famous for 5 bucks on Thanksgiving. I *might* have watched it twice in the same night. The soundtrack is perhaps the best ever. It has been in my head all weekend.







I like that scene because it features lots of Mark Kozelek. Watching that movie totally reignited my Sun Kill Moon / Red House Painters love. This song is not connected to the movie at all:



Ah. That was nice.

i can't wait to see this movie.

house parties and being filled with love and whatevs.

Ok, so I am filled with love right now as I have just seen some of my friend's wedding pictures-- said wedding which of course I missed because I am a prisoner of the Wasatch Front*** and my thesis and goals and shit. Glad I saved the wine for Sunday because Sunday is always the day that I wish I had some, because I am prone to loneliness and reading outside and watching movies and being alone and stuff. Wine helps in making it suck less, which gives me some insight into Jesus, who also drank wine. I mean, after being chased around and shit by the Romans and the Pharisees et. al I think you would need something for the nerves. Which I can relate to, of course, because I am filled WITH NERVES because my successful interview lady HAS NOT EMAILED ME WITH HER CONTACTS. Which is a PROBLEM because I HAVE DEADLINES, PEOPLE.

Ok, but for your sake, I am going to keep it positive, because I am now, yet again, filled with white wine, and MORE unusually, filled with love. So first, my gramma is awesome because she called me back, and I haven't talked to her in a while, and she reminded me of the eight thousand reasons why I loved living with her-- the woman is amazing, she takes care of everybody and is SO UPBEAT ABOUT IT. And we just talked, like we used to when I would come home from school or reffing and she would tell me everything she ate that day and the dish on all the family. If you find me plodding about really, really fast in a pair of Sketchers with my sweatshirt sleeves rolled up, trust that I am trying to emulate this awesome woman who is clearly assuming the role of matriarch since the actual matriarch has taking to Houdini-ism******* (Gram-E's words, not mine). :D

Anywho, I watched Better Off Dead. For its genre ('80s teen movie) I thought it was pretty good-- in some ways it completely kills (SKI CHOREOGRAPHY?!?! ON ONE FOOT?!?!) and in other ways it sucks ass (weird talking hamburgers). I suppose one could just obtain some Warren Miller to compensate for the skiing but you have to see this film because, and only because, JOHN CUSACK IS SUCH A CUTIE. So cute, in fact, that all of his subsequent films INSTANTANEOUSLY BECOME ANNOYING!*

Now that I am having some Hogue it reminds me of a recent wedding that I DID attend in which I consumed about as much Hogue as I've had now. And I am filled WITH EVEN MORE LOVE. Which reminds me of a post I was intending to do about HOW MUCH I LOVE HOUSE PARTIES*****. Seriously, I told my friend that House Parties**** are better than church. Sure, I mean there isn't the God factor (which I dig, but find ways to encounter in everyday life) but in terms of social contacting, it's like all the mingling without feeling forced too BECAUSE IT'S MY CALLING, AND OMG, LITERALLY, GOD WANTS ME TO KNOW AND LOVE EVERYONE! So it's way more comfortable, and at this particular HOUSE PARTY OF AWESOME-NESS, not only did I find awesome Mexican beer but many awesome APPROACHABLE PEOPLE which made me feel better about humanity in general. I mean, so many people just living and keeping it real in the SLC and that's what it's all about, right?! Right, Jim Hortis, regular reader and impending birthday extraordinaire??!?!? I mean hell, there was even a bit o' dancing and talk of LINDA KERBER.

It is my opinion that Librarian House Parties are WAY cooler than Skiier House Parties... though Skiier House Parties are of course cool in their own way, like that one time they threw Joe in the hottub with his clothes on. Obviously the Skiiers are a younger crowd, which is again a way in which the Librarians rock, because they are more my age and shit, or at least more my type because they drink like fish but are not so young and overt about DRINKiNG ALL THAT NATTY LITE****** (Librarians are smart and do the Hard A). Cheers to Librarian House Parties, and also cheers to Jim, because I never had any Jack Daniels before (and cheers to Big Brother for the recommendation) and now a bottle of my own is totes on my list** and also to Jim, because he was in a drunken state of elasticity that made me really, really look forward to my own birthday. In AUGUST. DON'T FORGET. THERE WILL BE A HUGE PARTY.

Anywho, the moral of the story is that the day of loneliness is much tempered by a call back from GRAM-E and an 80's teen flick and a bottle o' Hogue.

Frick.

Now I have to go back and link all of my meaningful references.



*sorry ABOUT THE CAPS LOCK but every time I do it IT MAKES MY EYES BUG OUT and I feel SO FULL OF EMPHASIS. Like I'm not yelling at you, BUT MY EYES ARE BUGGY, kind of JUST LIKE MY WHOLE FAMILY DOES. Ok. Inside joke, I APOLOGIZE. :P

**Because white wines is kind of expensive to go through a bottle each time, you know? Hard A is more of an investment or at least economical IN THESE TIMES of ECONOMIC HARDSHIP. Because I keep spending ALL MY MONEY on GAS to drive to the RIVAL SCHOOL AND HAVE AMAZING MILKSHAKES. But I digress, because my tongue is numb.

***I only feel that way on Sundays, when I am too not-busy to feel otherwise.

****Capitalized because House Parties are my third favorite thing, behind Nieces/Immediate-family-tasticness (including Sister in Law!!! she is so rad!!! and such a contributor to feisty nieces!!!! yeah!!!!!!!) and Chocolate Cake with Chocolate Frosting.

*****U know it's on my Netflix queue!

******which too my credit I only drink after skiing when it's been chillin in the snow all day and usually I go to bed after the Hard A and good beer is gone and as a personal policy, do not ever, ever drink canned aluminium tasting beers, except after skiing.

and p.s. if i am ever applying for a job, this blog will become way, way more anonymous in about eight thousand different ways. just so you aren't worried about me being screwed and even more poor after all this hard work (in relation to my career, not work posting-- believe you me i save all the emotional work for my journal, suckaz-- and perceived as a three times a week lush or something, which seems like a lot more than it is, really.

p.p.s it was not the whole bottle, there is still a glass left, suuuccckkkazzz.

*******Her career as an escape artist, since her removal to the Fijian old person's home of compassion, though she does not remember it, inspires me, if anything because she is in some way sticking it to THE MAN in a way that I know she'll be proud of when she gets to a place after this life in which she's in a place to appreciate it because she has ROCKED being old . I like to think she would've wanted it that way, back in the day when she was just bragging about subscribing to Mother Jones and being naturopathic and taking laughing classes and being 90 and living alone. Great-g truly set the example for aging in our family in a way that I look for me and my bro and all of my cuz-power to rock. Watch out, suburbs of Tacoma.

it was so good that i even cried a little.

So I was having this sort of lonely day. I spent most of it at Liberty Park reading The Golden Compass (which I am so enjoying) and bike-watching, and as I was leaving I realized that I was practically the only person there alone, and yah, that made me sad, which is sometimes the cost of living far away from one's family and pursuing one's dreams. So I got back to the apartment and ate some soup and was like, WHAT DO I DO FOR THE REST OF THE DAY? because I had designated today to be sabbath-like and free of work (at my job and on my thesis) because I know that keeps me in a good state of mental health so I can come out swinging on Monday. Pretty soon I had tossed on a sundress and filled my Nalgene and went running off to the Trax.

Admittedly, I had never been to the movies by myself alone before, but sometimes you have to do things to connect to people you miss. Like sometimes I plod around the apartment with really heavy steps because it reminds me of my Gram-E, and sometimes I watch The Royal Tenenbaums because it takes me back to the many times I've watched that movie with my bro & sis and it like, you know, some how, momentarily, fills in the gap between the miles. So I was missing my friends today so the only real natural thing for me to do was to go see the Sex and the City movie. Say what you will about that show and how it conflicts with my feminism-- fuck you, women's lives are too messy for ideology to really work _all_ the time-- I loved it. It was less about sex than any episode of the show ever was, I thought, and more about the journeys women take through adulthood and how everything works out in the end and somehow through everything, there are always the people who made you who you are to come back to. So suck it. I liked it! Kim Cattrall was quoted as saying that the four women are really just the different parts that make up one woman, and I totally concur.

Speaking of Kim Cattrall, I especially liked Samantha in this movie. I have never connected particularly much to that character (I don't want an STD) but I thought she had the best lines and ultimately emerged as the character who was most true to herself and she did it in the most elegant, least whiny manner of all the characters. I thought the Carrie parts of the movie were kind of annoying but Sarah Jessica Parker's acting was generally much better than it ever was on the show.

The part about the movie I loved the most (other than the fashion... OMG it was like another character) was that as I came out of the film, I called one of my BFFs who lives in another time zone (as they all do, duh) AND SHE HAD BEEN AT THE MOVIE AT THE EXACT SAME TIME. We had talked about doing that but never really got around to solidifying it, so I consider it truly serendipitous that that happened-- karma, on the same wave length, whatevs-- I totally take it AS A SIGN. I am clearly more connected than I realized. And then I ate Ranch Pringles at the Trax stop. It was awesome.

p.s. As I was riding home the u-bombers totally got on the same train as me. I didn't join them because I lack a tiny bike and was a little too much on the gintastic side of things (what else do you think I put in that Nalgene???).

journey beyond the zion curtain.

As a matter of personal policy, I try to avoid Provo. It's nothing personal, it just weirds me out and the gas expenditure leaves me racked with guilt. But alas from time to time I simply have to go down there, usually for a much needed library book or just to be social. In last night's case, I hadn't really seen anybody this week beyond my coworker or my roommates, so getting out trumped basically any reservations I have about going down there. I had originally intended to blog about how awesome and entertaining the new Chronicles of Narnia movie is (Prince Caspian is H-O-T! Go see it!) but then my buddy took me to an awesome little place called Sammy's that deserves some serious blog love.

Sammy's is a cool little hamburger place filled with bar stool seating and all the standard acoutrements required for their genre. However, the way they do it is unreal. I recall this little edited-down chat I had with the owner, Sammy:

S: How's everything?
M: This is the best milkshake I've ever had. It's so creamy.
S: We put fresh whipped cream in them.
M: (Starts to weep little foodie tears of joy inside)

Their sweet potato fries are also amazing, and are of course served with plenty of fry sauce. I didn't do it, but you can also get your milkshake with a slice of pie mixed in. Basically they take anything you could have wanted in a little hamburger place and make it better-- at a beautifully low price. And they are open until 2am! If there was anything that was ever wasted on the teetotalers of P-town, Sammy's is it. Best incentive to go down to the Rival School for research *ever*.

better a virtual vagina, i suppose, than none at all.*

Good thing I would rather spend what little money I have on booze and ice cream than support patriarchy by going to the movies.



*title comes from the article. genius.

fish heads. and nineties nostalgia.

This post is brought to you by the collaborative magic of cranberry juice, limes, vodka, and triple sec. Lots and lots of triple sec.

So two days ago I encountered a fish. It was in my kitchen sink. Whole. Mouth open, eyes wide. So real looking that at any moment one would expect it to spontaneously commence violently flapping around. But alas, it was dead. I smiled to myself and moved along because that's standard fare where I live-- it's part of the magic of living with Chinese nationals. They served me a similar fish once, so I know the outcome is good, so I take it in stride. In the past, some of the cuisine thawing out in our kitchen has driven me to photography:

(dead fish twinsies)

(frog legs-- they smelled really good once cooked but it kind of made me want to wretch. And revert to "The Muppet Movie" state of consciousness.) (funny that that's the second time that movie comes up today) ("motorcycle cop")

but now I am more or less chill about the whole "whole fish dead in my sink" thing.

Thusly (is that a word?) you can imagine but shock and dismay to encounter the same fresh looking fish in a rather cooked state of being when I opened the microwave today. The difference today was the three quarters of his (or her's) body was gone, and really all that remained was his (or her's) skeleton and his head, which was presumably meant to be eaten. I couldn't really handle that, you know? Especially because it stank like re-cooked dead fish and he (or she) looked startlingly familiar. I left a passive-aggressive note on the microwave ("the microwave is not for food store--please use the refrigerator thanks :)") and I believe I exclaimed in an exasperated tone "WHAT THE HELL?!?!" and busted out the Saran Wrap. I swear, some days, it's like I just keep finding fish heads in the microwave. It's like the fucking theme for the day. Like when I went for my Netflix dvd to watch for class. Whatdoyaknow, it was CRACKED!!! And ya, there were seriously other fish heads throughout the day but I'm not going to get into it.

So after getting myself some serious groceries-- a supermegahappy fruit and veggie run, my friends) I came home and determined that there was simply no other option but to watch Empire Records for free on my Netflix internet player, because well fuck, The Longest Day and Seabuscuit (my last two movies to watch for class on Thursday) just weren't on there.

I admit, I own the Empire Records soundtrack, or at least at some point I think I burned my brother's copy onto my computer (it took me like eight times to spell "computer" right-- thank you, Mozilla spellcheck). And so of course the first thing that hits me about the movie is "this song's not on the soundtrack!!!" again and again. The second thing to get me was "Man, Renee Zellwellger used to be healthy looking!!!" and by like, five minutes in I'm completely immersed in like, complete nineties nostalgia. Like I swear, even though ER was made in 1995, me and my best friend J probably tried on outfits akin to Liv Tyler's when her mom used to drop us off at the Tacoma Mall in the old red Saturn (back when the Bon was not Macy's and The Cube occupied the Bon basement, not Menswear-- fuck, back when there was a fountain with stairs down into the Bon basement and NOT a fucking Thomas Kinkaid store-- yah, fellow-Tacomans, you remember dat).

Nineties nostaligia is the new eighties nostalgia, just you wait. But for serious! The music? not on the soundtrack? The Presidents doing "Video Killed The Radio Star". I was fucking moved, it was fucking epic. Like remember "Peaches"?! And "Kitty?!" And "Volcano", that dank tribute to our own magical Mt. Rainer?!?! They just don't make music like that any more? Or what about guys wearing Value Village-esque cardigans? The counter-culture kids today are just to hipster-esque for that shit, and it really causes me grief, because as the standard of living goes up, somehow-- and I don't really understand this-- the recession gains strength. Do not understand. Must stay in school through recession.

Another thing that kills me about this movie is that THEY WORK IN A RECORD STORE. Back when we got our music AT STORES. Pre-iTunes, hell, pre-DSL. This was circa-AOL-dialup! Back when I saved up my allowance to buy a polyester shirt at Rave and the new Bush album (the second one) (and for as shitty as it was, "Swallowed" was and is still a great song, no?). The world has changed so much! There was no 9-11 yet! There was no George W. Bush! There wasn't even an Iraq War! Obama? He was like, twelve years old! Oy. Such simple times were those. Dramatic eyeliner under the eyes, The Cranberries (so fitting!), brown lipstick, being in love with your best friend before there was no stupid Facebook "in a relationship" or whatever. Seriously. I'm pretty sure they just don't make teenage angst like this any more. Mark and his pot brownies (no, not that Mark.), dudes wearing necklaces? Can we please be transplanted back to the magical Clinton nineties? Pleeeease? Mock suicide funerals?! The nineties were so geniune!!! Arggggghhhh!

the namesake.

After a long day of alternately sleeping and working and reading yesterday (it's a vicious cycle) I settled down with my Netflix guilty pleasure The Namesake. I got Netflix primarily because I have to watch five movies for a particular class (and it is of course, so amazingly convenient). Unfortunately, my last selection-- JFK-- took me three weeks to get through, so I felt like I had earned watching something that I could actually watch in one sitting and didn't make me think that every situation I encountered in print or real life was some type of conspiracy. I mean, crap, I'm like that enough, as anyone who I've ever accused of being "patriarchal" well understands.

I have to say, I really enjoy movies about India. Water was one of the most painfully beautiful films ever-- so stunningly heartbreaking-- and I of course adored The Darjeeling Limited. The Namesake isn't as much about India as it is about love and accepting the identities that make us who we are. The movie is about a set of Indian immigrants and their American-born son's challenges in defining himself as Indian and as American, as played out in his changing relationship to his family, women and his name. I cried for about half of the film-- and not just because I am a big time wuss, as indicated by the way I cried over Waitress for like, three days-- family dramas just tug at my heart, and I think this film does an especially good job at capturing the complexities of those relationships.

Anyways, what I'm saying without any real analysis is that you should watch this movie so you too can appreciate how beautiful it is and can spend one of two hours crying because you too have felt the intense grief that comes with love and figuring out who you are.

p.s. I love daylight savings! It's six o'clock and still light out! Yaaaay!

there will be blood... and bourbon

File this one under "things I wouldn't do unless somebody else was paying."

A school colleague was for some reason, really, really eager to see the film There Will Be Blood. Admittedly, I am not much for blood, and as a result of seeing this movie I was pretty suspicious of where the title might be taking me. But alas, I was unexpectedly treated to a well crafted movie with an amazing score. I'm not saying it was particularly uplifting (scathing critiques of capitalism usually aren't), but it was very intense and there was indeed blood.

Unlike Hairspray, which made me want to burst into song and dance, I emerged from the theater badly in need of a drink. As still something of a relative newbie to the wide world of spirits, I found myself provided with a rather large shot of bourbon. It tastes like something that would probably taste good if it didn't taste like taking a hit off a jug of rubbing alcohol. Combined with the lovely mystery beer it definitely made for a fun evening.

The review: Like There Will Be Blood, bourbon was enjoyed but will probably not be revisited.