Wow.

Just wow.

I'll start off by saying that I had no idea men could move like this. The dancing is really the biggest thing I'll take out of this movie. Whether the guy is clothed or not, Channing Tatum does not have joints, he has hinges in his body. He moves them exceptionally well. So well, in fact, you'll have a hard time containing your giggles and squeals.  Just try not to throw money at the screen.

We've all seen the previews, so you know "Magic Mike" is a movie about male strippers in Tampa, Florida. Per Tatum, the movie is based on part of his life, when he, prior to acting, actually stripped at a night club. This isn't the male version of "Showgirls" however - it has this nudge-nudge-wink-wink component to it that makes you, the audience, feel like you're in on the joke. Despite the semi-serious plot of Mike making the big decision of what to do when you are an aging 30-year old male stripper and time is knocking on your door, the movie really never takes itself too seriously. I mean, how can it? With Matthew McConaughey wearing ass-less chaps, it's really tough to not bow your head in silent (or in my case, not-so-silent) laughter.

Which is really the best part about this movie - it's just fun. It's "grab-your-girlfriends-and-run-to-the-theater" fun. And in our case, on a Sunday night, we were treated to even more than just the movie. Having had a couple cocktails beforehand, we watched the theater fill up with mostly women (and a few guys). Two men who worked for the theater stood up and announced they would be collecting money for a charity prior to the start of the movie. Just as people started to reach for their pocketbooks, the two guys suddenly ripped off their shirts.

And then danced up the aisles to collect the money.

The crowd went nuts.

I love charity work.

That, friends, is exactly what this movie is meant to be. More of an event, where you can scream and giggle and blush with your friends. I could barely contain my laughter during the opening dance of "It's Raining Men" because it's almost too much to take in all at once. All of the guys, minus the old Tarzan dude, are just too much. It's like Thanksgiving for your eyes. Channing Tatum, whom I had never really looked at prior to this film, comes out as the most adorable, sweet, playful, cheeky (pun intended) stripper-with-a-heart-of-gold you ever wanted to meet. Matthew M is awesome as the oily strip club owner who likes to promise people what they want to hear. Joe Mangiello (Alcide from True Blood) clearly has no dance background, but he's so stinkin' good looking that I'm willing to forgive him. The only two hiccups in terms of casting were Alex Pettyfer, who, while very nice to look at, just kind of sulks through the movie, and his sister Brook, played by Cody Horn. While Steven Soderbergh is a big fan of those tight close-ups of people's faces, I'm sorry, but Cody Horn looks like a 12-year old boy (is waif-thin coming back in again??) and has some funking teeth-thing going on. Not Megan Draper-weird, but like snaggle-tooth weird. She was mostly annoying for the duration of the movie and I never really bought the flirtation between her and Channing.

My biggest concern going into the movie is that they would try to drag it down with silly things like plot and character development. They didn't. They did a great job showing both sides of the stripper coin (front of the house AND backstage) without making it into a Lifetime movie or one giant cheese-fest. Overall, I would heartily recommend it.

So when it's too hot to do anything else, grab some friends, open a bottle of Pinot Grigio, and make your way to the multi-plex. You won't be disappointed.

And yes, I'm totally buying the DVD.

Grade: A

What are the five words every home owner doing major renovations wants to hear from their general contractor?

::jeopardy music::

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Answer: 

WE ARE AHEAD OF SCHEDULE.

Weeeeeeeeeeeee!

Paint should be finished up tomorrow, and flooring is scheduled on Monday. They should be able to punch it out in about five days, which means Appliance Day (i.e. May 10) is still ready to go! So exciting.

And the paint colors are gorgeous. The Bear and I stopped by today to say "hola" to the crew and check out their work. Most people would probably call it brown, but I'm thoroughly enjoying knapweed, star thistle, tranquil, and my personal favorite, swiss coffee. (shout out to Sarah O for that great recommendation!!). Our guest room downstairs is a lovely steely blue, and the bathroom adjacent to it is one shade darker. Interestingly, the good people at Frazee paint call that color "Gotham," leading Brian and I to giggle uncontrollably at all of the Batman jokes we made. ("This is the bathroom we deserve, but not the one we need," he quipped. Also, "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself poop in your pants.") Ah, childish humor.

All of our plumbing needs have been taken care of, and now I just need to finalize a few last details.  I think we might be done shopping. Thank goodness. I may freeze the credit card in a block of ice to prevent any more spending sprees.

I can't wait to see the finished product...I have pictures in my camera and will try to post them tomorrow.

Hooray for hard workers!

I think there might be only about 12 people left in the world that haven't seen James Cameron's 'Avatar.' Brian and I sought to reduce that number by two, and consequently, we shelled out $28 to see this movie (in 3D) on Friday night. Twenty-eight dollars! And that doesn't even include our trash-bin-sized tub of popcorn and 44oz sodas which cost us a whopping $17 more. When did things get so expensive?

If you happen to be one of the remaining twelve, let me sum up Avatar as briefly as I can. The year is 2154 and Army grunt Jake Sully is drafted to take over his deceased twin's project on the distant planet (moon?) Pandora. Man has set up camp here since Pandora is rich in a certain mineral, but standing in the way of mining said mineral are the local inhabitants, large blue-cat-people called the Na'vi. Jake is supposed to infiltrate the Na'vi using his avatar - his own blue-cat-person - and report back to the corporation in charge of mining. However, Jake gets lost on his first mission into the jungle, is adopted by the locals, falls in love with the chief's daughter, and chaos ensues.

We as an audience learn all kinds of things about ourselves through the course of the film, such as...corporations are bad. The military is evil. Destruction of one's planet is dangerous. Annihilation of an indigenous population is tragic.

It was a very entertaining film, minus one obvious concern. I think I saw this movie before, but it was called 'Dances with Wolves.'

And, Pochantas.

And Braveheart.

And, if you really wanted to get technical, there was a heavy dose of 'Jurassic Park' combined with the 'Star Wars' movies (pains me to even type that) with a little sprinkling of 'Harry Potter' thrown on for good measure. Clearly, James Cameron comes from the John Williams' School of Original Thought.

I'm not trying to knock the movie - the special effects were worth the ticket price alone - but it was just really disappointing that the most buzzed about movie of 2009 is nothing more than a poorly-drawn collage of other popular movies. I understand there are only so many themes to draw from (Man v. Man, Man v. Nature, Man v. Self, Man v. Destiny, etc) but Mr. Cameron saw fit to combine every single one of these into his three hour epic. The characters were one-dimensional, the plot lagged numerous times, and there was probably about 40 minutes of movie that could have easily been left on the cutting room floor.

My main entertainment came from watching Brian (cute in his black-rimmed 3D glasses) make faces (read: grimaces) during the film. He hates schmoopy girl-guy love stories. He dislikes long films.  He can't stand heavy-handed, deliberate messages, especially involving (::cough, cough::) native populations. There was plenty of eye-rolling, heavy sighing and aggressive popcorn eating. I think he might have even slurped his soda in an angry manner. He summed it up quite well as we were walking out of the theater: "That's three hours of my life I'm never going to get back." It's not that I enjoy watching Brian upset, but he's such a mild pepper of a guy that when he does get fired up, it's highly entertaining.

So we had quite the animated conversation afterwards, and both of us agreed we are shocked at the number of awards this movie has received and is currently nominated for. Again, aside from the special effects (which were truly amazing - love those mountains!), the plot was so cliched and the dialogue so vapid that I am a little concerned about thought process of Academy voters. (and, as you can see from the 'About Me' on the right side of this page, one thing I cannot stand is the cliched plot. Argh.) 

Ultimately, on Oscar Sunday, this is my argument against Avatar winning best picture. If you want to see a great war movie, rent 'The Hurt Locker.' If you want to see a 'fish out of water' film involving discrimination, racism and aliens, watch 'District 9.' If you are anti-corporate America, check out 'Up in the Air.' If you want to watch the protagonist overcome his own demons, see 'Up,' 'A Serious Man,' or 'Precious.'  And if you want to root for the underdog overcoming all obstacles, be sure to watch 'The Blind Side.' (sorry, I haven't seen 'Inglorious Basterds' since I am not a Tarantino fan. At all.) The point of this: pretty much every other nominated film captures its theme better than Avatar. And while James Cameron can never be faulted for thinking small, he may need to learn, 'less is more.'

Grade: B-

(A for special effect, though)

One thing I haven't talk about a lot on here is weight. Weight gain, weight loss...yawn. Part of me just doesn't care, and the other part is that I've been at my pre-pregnancy weight for almost two months. And I didn't do a damn thing to get there.

Trust me, I'm not one of those people who loses weight easily. And being at my pre-pregnancy weight doesn't mean I'm necessarily skinny, either. It just means that most of clothes fit again. So I'm not really stressing over it. I mean, I have a beautiful baby, a loving husband, and a healthy appetite for all things made with butter. No big deal, right? Life is good.

Well, my lovely friend Tiffany recently asked me to be in her wedding (::squeal!!!::) In Southern California. In July. And since I don't know many of the other bridesmaids, I can only surmise that they also look like the bride: tall, lean, blond, gorgeous. Kind of your epitome of what a gal from SoCal should look like. It's like 'Sweet Valley High' come to life.

In other words, it my worst nightmare, self-esteem/body image-wise.  Because let's just say those wouldn't be the adjectives that I would pick to describe myself. I'm more along the lines of 'fleshy, pale, jiggly, and moppish.' On my best days. I'm more than happy with the size and shape (or lack of) of my body from the comfort and security of my own home. After all, have you seen Scotty's little belly? I look like I have abs of steel compared to him!

But I will be forced to leave the comfort of my home and venture to California, land of the peckish eater.  And I'm not going to lie, I break out into a cold sweat whenever I think of the wedding party lined up at the altar. I fear it's going to be kind of like that game, "Which one of these is not like the other?" for wedding guests, with all of them accurately pointing at the chubby redhead pouring out of her bridesmaid dress among a sea of toned, tanned, non-lactating blonds.

(not to mention, I also fear the mostly-Republican wedding party will also sniff out my liberal tendencies, but that's a whole 'nother post.)

Anyways, I thought I could kill two birds with one stone by ordering my bridesmaid dress several sizes too big. After all, this allowed me several options: 1.) continue with my love of cupcakes and just suck it up and be the fat bridesmaid, yet also still be comfortable in the dress 2.) lose some weight and have the dress taken in, or 3.) do a mixture of 1 and 2, but not have the stress of "I MUST FIT IN THIS DRESS!" looming in the back of my mind in the days leading up the wedding.

My dress arrived last Monday and at first glance, it looked like it fit really well. It's a very flattering navy chiffon number with a sweetheart neckline (strapless) and tons and tons of beautiful, flowing fabric. Two other bridesmaids are pregnant and will be about one month post-partum by the time the wedding rolls around, so Tiffany wanted to get something universally flattering for everyone. ("That's really thoughtful of you," I told her, in between bites of cake. Nom, nom, nom.) I wasn't able to zip up the dress (thank you, carpal tunnel from pumping for 6+ months) but it seemed to fit generously. Score!

So last night, I received an email from the Bride herself asking how the dress fit. I sent a reply but then realized, I should probably zip this sucker up just to be extra sure. So, I shimmied out of my pjs, donned the strapless bra again (seems looser! I must be getting skinnier!), and once again reached for my lovely navy dress. I walked downstairs and asked Brian to please zip me up.

And...this is when my life became a scene out of 'The Hurt Locker.' 

For those of you who haven't seen the movie, it's about an Army ranger who defuses roadside bombs in Iraq. It was phenomenal - tense, gritty, emotional - but also probably the most intense two hour and 14 minutes of my life since labor. This movie is not for the faint of heart. In fact, I would strongly recommend against this movie if you have heart disease or any kind of stress-related condition. It's one of those, "Okay, who is going to die now?" and "Are they going to defuse the bomb or get blown up?" kind of movies. And of course, since it's well done, you really start to love the characters right before each of them meets their demise. War is hell, folks. War is hell.

So when I walked downstairs, resplendent in my chiffon number, I did not expect Brian to start grunting as he zipped me up. Hmph, this dress isn't nearly as big as I thought...then the yelling started. "I can't do it! It's not budging!" he hollered. "Try harder! Let me put my arms up!" I yelled back. Grunt, huff, puff, grunt. "It's not working!" "Do it!" "I need more light!" "Stop moving!" "Don't breathe!"  "I said, stop breathing!"

Uh, whoops. Looks like this dress isn't nearly as um, generous, as previously believed. Yikes.

Brian finally got the little clasp hooked and I stood, unmoving and afraid, as we both stared at each other. "I need to see it in the upstairs mirror," I whispered to him, fearful that my talking would break the dress. "I need to see the length." I'm fairly certain my voice wavered, just like Guy Pearce right before he donned the big green bomb suit.  "Go quickly," Brian advised solemnly. "I don't know how much time you have left."

I swear, I think we might have embraced if it were not for the fear we both felt in that moment.  Any additional movement and we were just asking for this dress to blow.

Gathering my courage, I went racing upstairs and made it up three stairs right before the hem felled me.

I went down. Hard.

And with...the dress exploded. Right off of my back.

Brian heard the noise and came running. "I guess I'm going to have to get this fixed, huh?" I asked him, my mangled body laying in a heap at the foot of the stairs.  I showing him the clasp that was now in my hand and not on the dress anymore where it should be. "And...I think it's about time I put the cupcakes down." Brian nodded quietly.

The little silver clasp is still sitting on my dresser. I don't think I'll put it under my bed, the way Jeremy Renner does with all of the denotators he collects, but I'm going to keep it.  After all, It is a good reminder that salad is good, high fructose corn syrup is bad. Very, very bad.

::boom!::