The Artist

Here I am, getting ready to review another movie. No, not THAT movie*. Though I did see it. Last night, in fact. But I am still gathering my thoughts for that particular review so for now you'll have to settle for a movie I saw about a month ago. Don't worry, I won't write a lengthy synopsis. I decided it would be best if I just gave you a list of the Top 10 reasons I think you should see it. Because my opinion is the only one that matters, apparently.

The Artist 

George Valentin and Peppy Miller

A silent film about a silent film star (you follow?) by the name of George Valentin whose popularity fades with the introduction of sound in films. Oh, the irony!

1. For those of you who may have trouble watching black and white movies, let alone one that is silent, do not despair. It's surprising how little dialogue is needed in this movie. The story is easy to follow and, true to silent films of yore, any dialogue necessary to the plot is added in between shots. If you can read, you'll be in good shape.  
2. The Artist won all sorts of Oscars at the Academy Awards. It was the biggest winner of the night. So if you're cinematic inclinations usually coincide with those of the Academy (what do they know?), chances are you won't hate it.
3. There is the CUTEST Jack Russell Terrier by the name of Uggie.
4. The film score compensates for the lack of sound. Without being obnoxious - you won't find any cheesy soap opera organ here. Hardly surprising that it earned the Oscar for Best Music. Seems like the obvious choice.
5. Speaking of music, they also use a theme from Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo in one of the more intense scenes of the film. 
6. You almost forget you're watching a movie that was made within the last couple years as opposed to 85 years ago. The costumes and sets are pretty convincing.
7. The leads are charming and likable. And just so cute! Jean Dujardin (he plays the male lead, not the dog) is especially adorable and reminds me of Errol Flynn or some other classic Hollywood movie star. 
8. The makers of this movie were really creative in how they approached the use of the silent film genre. For example - the opening scene takes place in a movie theater where an audience is attending a film premier. As the movie (within the movie) plays, the actors wait backstage, ready to greet their adoring public once the credits have rolled. A posted sign reads "PLEASE BE SILENT BEHIND THE SCREEN." The actors look on as the movie finally ends, expectant looks on their faces as they listen for the audience's reaction. You don't actually hear the applause or even see the audience. All you see are the actors waiting and listening backstage. Suddenly, they break into smiles, reacting to what we can only assume is a theater full of cheering and clapping. Like many other instances in the movie, sound is implied. Clever.
9. There actually is sound in the movie. But I won't tell you when, where, or why.
10. Honestly, with all the lame and often noisy movies out there, this was a nice change. Though I do like the noisy ones, too. And most of the lame.

*The Hunger Games

That one time I almost cried in middle of Zumba...

In the last 48 hours I have enjoyed only about 10 hours of sleep. I yawned twice while writing that last sentence. And I don't even have The Hunger Games midnight showing as an excuse. I have simply felt sleepy without being able to fall asleep - a victim of exhausted restlessness. So while I should get into bed and put these old bones to rest, I resist. Because, despite the yawning, I know sleep is still a ways off.

Something strange happened this morning. I don't have any real explanation for it, but maybe there's a correlation with my current sleepless state. I woke up at 8:00 AM and got ready for my 8:30 Zumba class. Normally I would sleep in and make an appearance at the 10:30 class, but this Saturday I simply had too much packed into one day to accommodate sleeping in. Though I needed it desperately. "Bailar! Bailar!" 

Once I was up and moving around, I felt better. And once I made it to class and started dancing, I felt invincible. Like I could tap dance on the ceiling with Fred Astaire. Or tear through a phonebook... with my teeth. Take that, early Saturday morning! I have no need of the sleep! Yes... I was hopped up on a strange combination of hyperactive endorphins and mind-numbing fatigue. That's when the strangeness began. I believe I was dancing to Ke$ha's "Blow" when my emotions came full circle and my eyes filled with tears... (I'm not often moved to tears by Ke$ha...) Was I crying? What the heck? It was like I became so deliriously exhilarated that my happiness pushed through all other emotions. Don't worry, I didn't start crying on the dance floor. I just shrugged it off, shaking and shimmying my way through the rest of the song. Can you imagine how awkward that would have been? But seriously, it was weird. Like I was experiencing transcendental euphoria. Something akin to nirvana. I liked it there. 

And now, after re-reading my post, I feel now would be a good time to tuck myself in and say goodnight. As we've seen, a sleepy Lauren is an emotionally unbalanced Lauren.

Becoming Lauren

And now for a segment I like to call Now Starring! in which I take a photo from a movie and crop myself (or others) into it. You may remember the creepy Lauren and Ioan profile pic of 2011, but now I give you... Lauren and James. Because it's fun to dink around with Photo Chop on my iPod (I blame Katie for introducing me to this app) and then do a little editing in Picasa. You love it. You know you love it. And if you don't, you still secretly do. 

Oh, James... I can't run away with you because I have to become one the world's most respected and beloved female novelists of all time.

Is it a little creepy? Yes. A little ridiculous? Undoubtedly. A little indulgent? Maybe... But it's bound to get more ridiculous from this point on, so just enjoy it. Ariel had a life-sized sculpture of Prince Eric in her grotto, I can have my fun with photoshop. 

Stay tuned for next week when Lauren volunteers to compete in the Hunger Games! Hey-oh!

Flirty Girl

Last night's Zumba class was replaced by something called Flirty Girl Fitness. Sounds cheesy, huh? All I know is one day later my legs and butt are killing me. I arrived for Zumba on Monday and there was this new girl in pink shouting dance moves into a headset over something with a really heavy bass. "Who does she think she is?" The music playing wasn't like our Zumba tunes. It was like Britney Spears and Avril Lavigne. And... it was a lot of fun. (She mumbled shamefully.) I guess the gym was trying out Flirty Girl for an evening to see if anyone was interested. We evaluated the instructor afterwards and I gave her pretty high marks. She  was very enthusiastic and the workout was definitely challenging. We were all asked to specify in our evaluations if we'd like to reserve Monday nights for Flirty Girl instead of Zumba. Why not? Variety is nice. And doing moves like the Janet, the Mean Girl, the Madonna, the Britney, and the Diva is always fun. But really, my butt is so incredibly sore. Crawling upstairs on all fours sore. 

I looked up Flirty Girl when I got home and discovered they also incorporate pole and chair dancing in their routines. Uhhhhh... Obviously if either of those had been part of our class on Monday I would have found myself a nice elliptical somewhere in the exercise room. No thank you very much. Dancing around is embarrassing enough without throwing poles and chairs in the mix. So as long as the dancing is reserved for the dance floor, I'm happy. Because the only way I'll go near a pole is if I decide to pursue a non-existent dream of being a fireman.

"Fiber makes me... sad."

Something else that made me sad the other day was a man I saw running to catch his bus. I was on State Street and about 21st South when I noticed a man with a cane ambling towards a bus stopped about a block away. Not an old man, but you could tell running wasn’t exactly easy for him. He limped with every stride and didn’t bother to use his cane. I watched him run all the way down the street and, fortunately, he caught the bus before it finished loading new passengers. I sighed with relief. In the event the bus left without him, I was seriously considering turning around and taking him wherever he needed to go. Would I have really turned around? Probably not. But I would have worried about him the rest of the day. Actually, I still kinda did...

Speaking of other sad things, I walked by a random abandoned shopping cart near work on Monday and saw a container that had formerly housed a Cafe Rio salad. That's very impressive, Lauren. How could you tell? Because whomever left the container in the cart didn't eat their tortilla! The entire salad - gone. And the tortilla was completely intact. Not a nibble. The whole reason I even eat a Cafe Rio salad is so I can devour the tortilla! I dig and I dig until I finally reach the bottom... Yummmmm... Tortilla... It looked so perfect, sitting in its little display case of aluminum and plastic. I won't tell you how long I stood there staring at it or what was going through my mind during that time. I was in a dark place. A place where the rationale of George Costanza starts making sense... 

Back away from the tortilla, Lauren. Don't worry. I did.

Disclaimer: Said shopping cart was still there today. The tortilla, too. Only this time I noticed the plastic lid had been removed. See? Someone else got even closer to ruin than I did.

That's it! I'm taking the bus!

ALRIGHT, I have just about had it with my fellow drivers. Seriously, where are all the Highway Patrolmen when these guys take to the road? Lying in wait for some non-menacing, law-abiding driver (like myself) to mosey by with something as harmless as expired tags or a busted taillight?

But Lauren, expired tags and busted taillights ARE against the law...

Quiet! That's irrelevant.

I have become a defensive driver out of necessity. I mentioned 2 instances of poor driving in my previous blog post and just the other night I met another gem of a driver.

I had stopped at the light on 7^th east, waiting to turn onto the eastbound I-80 onramp. I was in the outside left-hand turn lane and when my green arrow popped up, I turned the corner and slowly accelerated to match freeway speeds. Just like they teach you in those DMV videos. Yes, I did. Being in the outside lane, I knew I would have to merge left before my lane ended. I checked my mirrors and my blind spot… I had a huge window (of opportunity... not a car window) so I took advantage of it. I signaled (blink, blink, blink) and smoothly changed lanes like a pro. Well, whoever had been driving behind me in the outside lane must have felt awfully impatient. No sooner had I moved over when I see a car sporting a Dominoes pizza delivery sign speeding up behind me, just to my right. The outside lane had completely merged at this point, but this guy decided I wasn’t going quite fast enough for his liking and used the very narrow shoulder as his means of escape. He sped up alongside me and scared me to death. "GOON!" I honked as he pulled ahead and cut me off. He then tried to zoom up  and pass the car in front of me as well, but he ran out of room to do so, slamming on his breaks and swerving back into the lane. I hung back, gracefully entering traffic and watching as Dominoes followed the onramp all the way down to the 13^th east exit. Really? I glance over to take a good look at this guy and see that he already has a finger on display. Lovely. So I wave and beep my horn twice more to get the final word (HA!) and make my un-merry way home.

Why do these little stinkers get so offended when someone calls them out for being reckless and inconsiderate?  Horns are a way of saying “Beep, beep – I’m here" or “Beep, beep – The light has changed, you can move now” or  “HOOOONNNNNK!!! - Excuse me, but you are going way too fast, getting unnecessarily close, and putting myself and other drivers at risk.” Some even use their horns as a kind of car expletive. I can't yell at you directly so here, I'll let my car do the talking: "Get off the HONKING road, you HONKING HONKER!!" I rarely use car expletives... My honking is usually reserved for situations such as those described in this blog. But yeah, Mr. Dominoes, go ahead and flip me off because YOU are an unsafe driver. I hope your pizza emergency was worth it and that surpassing me by one car length made all the difference. Because I was THIS close to calling Dominoes and ratting you out. You will live to deliver pizzas another day.