The Ahskahz, Dahlink!

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Now, let me make one thing clear.  I LOVE the Academy Awards.  I love the dresses, the awkward commentators, the speeches, the movie clips.  I love them, I always have.

That being said, I may be a little biased when it comes to properly rehashing/reviewing last night’s show but I can’t believe everyone is harping on it so badly.  Yes, James Franco and Anne Hathaway weren’t your “showman” hosts of Oscars past like Billy Crystal and Steve Martin.  Hathaway is a star-struck brunette Betty from Archie Comics and Franco is a sloe-eyed, slow-talking stoner type.  Both are terrific actors but I don’t understand why everyone expected them to be any different than who they’ve been in Hollywood the past few years.  They were fine…the Academy tried something new and it wasn’t all-pleasing, big whoop.

I’ve also been hearing/reading a lot about the Kirk Douglas thing.  I thought it was great.  Oh, he had a stroke and he’s old and that’s uncomfortable to watch.  Get over it, people.  Stroke victims can gain back most of their brainpower even when they can’t get their speech perfected.  The guy could pick out Hugh Jackman and Colin Firth in a crowd with lights in his eyes.  Tell me the Academy trussed him up and sent him out there like a show dog.  Hell, no.  Kirk Douglas is NOBODY’S poodle.

And I swear, if I hear one more thing about The Social Network I’m gonna scream.  Yes, it’s a fascinating film based on a fascinating book based on a fascinating group of young men.  But it seems the older generations are so desperate to pack us into a box they can label and shelve they’re making a really big deal about a movie that isn’t as groundbreaking as they’re claiming.  The situation was groundbreaking, not the film that repeated it.

And to tell you the truth, the Winklevoss twins, billionaire genius Mark Zuckerberg and their Harvard pals DO NOT represent me or my peers.  I empathize a little more with the unemployed college-educated, the ratio of Americans who love an active duty soldier and the 74% of women whom author Eve Ensler writes are convinced they are under immense pressure to please everyone.  (Her book I am an Emotional Creature: the Secret Life of Girls around the World is totally worth the read.  I may review it here on the blog for fun.)

Moving on to more frivolous Oscar tidbits…Mila Kunis gets more gorgeous every minute.  Divorce does NOT become Scarlett Johansson (she looked like they chopped her hair after she got the fever and wrapped her in grandma’s curtains).  What was with all the wavy, down hair?  This is the Oscars!  You wanna look laid-back; go to the MTV Movie awards.  Get your hair did, ladies.



Courtesy of http://www.wireimage.com/



I want to be Helen Mirren when I grow up.  She’s stunning.  Penelope Cruz is the envy of new mothers everywhere.  Michelle Williams is one of the few naturally beautiful women in the world who can look amazing with all her hair cut off.  I thought all of Anne Hathaway’s looks were elegant, even though she did seem to change as much as the set.  Speaking of the set, even My Husband commented on how understated but dramatic it was.

There is only one other thing I feel the need to comment on.  I think it’s super-cute to bring your mom to the Academy Awards, but you need to make sure she gets the star wardrobe treatment.  That means the proper undergarments to go with her dress.  I’m talking to you, Justin Timberlake.  I guess that’s what happens when you go to the Oscars with your famous son and not your famous daughter. 

Pizza for Protests

Thought I'd share a little story I heard from my mom when she called to catch up this afternoon.  She's a big NPR fan and has it on in the car all the time. 

Here's the link:
http://www.NPR.org/2011/02/21/133932741/global-donations-feed-protesters-in-Wisconsin

Apparently the pizza place across from the green where all the Wisconsin protests are going on brings their leftover pizza at the end of the night to the people congregated there.  Some non-Wisconsians heard about it and started ordering food specifically to be sent to the protesters.  I guess calls are coming in now from all over the world.

Now, I don't know a lot about what's going on in the Cheese State, but I think it has something to do with unions and is an extremely touchy issue.  It seems the whole world is in a state of upheaval.

As a soldier's wife, international and domestic unrest makes me nervous.  I'd rather my husband not be deployed to Libya.  Or to Wisconsin because all the National Guards are in Afghanistan.  Hopefully everyone can just handle their own and leave My Husband out of it.

Relapsing

My Husband became his Troop XO (Executive Officer) at the beginning of February.  This is quite a different position than platoon leader, which was his job from his deployment until now.  It’s a lot more paperwork and a lot more involvement with his Commanding Officer (CO) and the rest of the leadership.

He’s been working 14-hour days for almost two weeks now.  He goes in at 5:30am for Physical Training (PT) and gets home after 7pm if we’re lucky.  Yesterday he was home about 6:30pm, but it was because he brought a bunch of work to do here at the apartment.

And watching all the enlisted guys wander home before the 5 o'clock local news is really starting to get on my nerves.

Speaking of yesterday, he had to go into work at 3:30am for some kind of march.  It was so foggy and dark, and he was so tired…I haven’t been this worried about him since he was deployed.  Deer wander around here at all hours, the roads wind unpredictably and it was just SO FOGGY.  You couldn’t see 10 feet in front of you.  And I’ll be damned if there are street lights more than every 3 miles out here.

Last night I had my first nightmare about him since he was overseas.  In the dream he was sick and having trouble breathing.  We were staying in some kind of barracks or something, and I was watching a movie with the guy in the next bed while I sat in a chair next to My Husband’s head.  A paramedic came to take a look at him and told me he had a terrible lung infection and his organs were shutting down.  I remember crying, saying that an infection should be curable.  My Husband stirred in his bed and told me it was OK, it was going to be really good to finally go to sleep.  I lay down in bed next to him and covered us with a blanket, and I whispered in his ear, “Alright, my love.  Just go to sleep.”  And so he died.

I woke up with tears on my cheeks.  It was 1:30am.

And there is his silhouette in the dark, in the bed next to me.  And I can't wake him up to tell him about the dream and have him hold me while I'm crying because he's not getting enough sleep as it is.  So I don't.  I stared at the ceiling for an hour until I fell into a fitful doze.  His alarm went off a little while later.

So obviously I have some anxiety about him…I take it the dream means I am afraid something seemingly preventable could take him from me forever.  Like falling asleep at the wheel at some God-awful hour of the morning.

I certainly hope the rest of the leadership is in that stupid office until 1930 hours.

Leave the Gun, Take the Cannolis...

My Husband took me to a local gun range yesterday.  He’s been around guns most of his life…he grew up in a rural/suburban area and one of his best childhood friends is a dairy farmer and has quite an arsenal.  As for me, I grew up in a very urban area which was exceptionally dangerous at times, and so my view of handguns is less curious and more, “No officer, I didn’t see a thing.”  It was pretty incredible to come here and listen to people talk openly about purchasing guns and to see the NO HANDGUNS ALLOWED stickers (right) on public buildings like the mall and restaurants.  Anyway, this was my first range visit and my first attempt at shooting a firearm.

The range is a one-floor building on the main road that leads to the main gate of My Husband’s army base.  The windows are decorated with different poster-size paper targets…some your classic silhouettes with numbers like a ski-ball machine, others on the more…creative side.  Like the Zombie Middle Eastern Terrorist, or the African-American Thug, or the Creepy Looking White Man Holding a Pregnant Woman Hostage with a Bowie Knife.  We chose the Silhouette.

After filling out some paperwork saying we would not sue the range should we shoot ourselves and putting on our protective goggles and earplugs, My Husband rented a weapon and a bearded double-denim buckaroo led us into one of those chutes like you see in the movies.  Except colder.  And smelling like singed metal.  I clicked our paper target to the rack and sent it swishing down the chute about 20 feet away.

We shot a 9 Millimeter Beretta, which is the sidearm My Husband uses in the army.  He showed me how to load the magazine, how to check the chamber, two ways of chambering a bullet and how to turn the safety on and off before I shot at the target.

It was...interesting.  And heavy.  It's strange having this extension to your body you can't seem to entirely control...like one of those horror movies where the donated limb of a serial killer makes some unlucky amputee into a murderer.  I can only equate it to when I was learning to drive and felt overly-cautious behind the wheel of a car.  Its one thing to walk around knowing you can use your hands if you must; it's another when you know you could really kill someone if you wanted to.

Still, I became completely comfortable driving (with a lot of practice) so I assume this will be a similar experience, should I choose to continue.  My Husband has a very reassuring respect for handguns (he told me the M4 machine guns they use as offensive weapons often jam, so a sidearm in clean and working order can save your life as long as you know how to use it properly).

I grew up in an area where guns are part of a lifestyle I wanted desperately to avoid.  I know people who’ve been shot and died.  I’ve seen riots where an officer’s gun flies out of its holster and hits the pavement while he wrestles with a delinquent.  I’ve experienced that moment of fear when I had no idea which person in a swelling, unruly crowd will pick up that weapon and what he will do with it.  To me, guns mean death and I've kept my distance.

But here, just like driving, learning to use a gun is an accepted and anticipated step into adulthood.  Maybe that’s a better way to look at it.  Maybe by teaching children to respect and operate a firearm prevents much of the fear and consequences of misuse.  I honestly don’t know.

We spent $10 on a package of 50 bullets.  My Husband shot a bunch and then I shot a bunch on the same target.  The "kick back" wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but the shells come flying out of the chamber and go every which way.  With our last 10 shots, I got my own target to see how my marksmanship was.  I took a picture of it and highlighted my hits.  I missed once.  Where do those bullets go, I wonder? 

I'm currently trying not to think of how many couples are at said range right now on their Valentine's Day Dates :)

Movie Casting Mishaps

I recently came across a list of the 10 Worst Casting Calls in movie history.  You can visit the link here: http://www.newser.com/story/111088/10-worst-casting-choices-ever.html

I agreed with a good portion of them, but I felt strongly about a few character gaffes they omitted.  Here’s my personal Top 5 (or should I call them Bottom 5?) Worst Casting Calls in movie history. 

*Side note: This list has absolutely no bearing on my opinion of these actors’ talent or body of other work.  In fact, I included parts I loved each in.  These listed roles are just unfortunate attempts by Hollywood to shove square pegs into heinously not-square holes. Also, the photos are for illustrative purposes only and I in no way claim ownership of them. 

5.) Diane Kruger as “Helen” in Troy

“The face that launched a thousand ships…”  Now don’t get me wrong, Diane Kruger is GORGEOUS with a capital BEAUTIFUL.  But Helen is supposed to be intoxicating; the epitome of divine splendor in human form.  She’s supposed to steal each scene the way she stole Paris’ heart, but I found Kruger’s performance to be timid and ashen.  I’ve always seen Helen and Paris as two reckless beings struggling passionately to separate themselves from the tentacles of impervious fate, but Kruger plays her like a marionette with her strings cut...unhappily being swept from scene to scene.

I LOVED Diane Kruger as opera diva Anna Sørensen in the foreign war and peace flick Joyeux Noël.

4.) Mickey Rooney as “Mr. Yunioshi” in Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Holy racism, Batman!  Truman Capote pretty much hated the film rendition of his novella (reportedly he imagined Holly Golightly as an earthier, more basic character portrayed by Marilyn Monroe.  Audrey Hepburn’s Holly, with her ethereal, sophisticated yet damaged persona has become a Hollywood icon in spite of his disappointment) and for good reason…Mr. Yunioshi and his buck teeth and squinty eyes became an offensive caricature more appropriate for a WWII propaganda poster than the silver screen.  Not a suitable part for a heavyweight like Mickey Rooney.

I LOVED Mickey Rooney as Mi Taylor, the underdog trainer of under-underdog jockey Velvet Brown in National Velvet.

3.) Ryan Reynolds as “Hal Jordan/The Green Lantern” in The Green Lantern

As a closet comic book devotee, I know Hal Jordan was the first and arguably the most well-known Green Lantern.  But in the early 1970s, D.C. Comics introduced Green Lantern John Stewart, one of the very first African-American superheroes to grace its graphic pages.  This was the Green Lantern I grew up with, and the one portrayed in most modern Justice League cartoons.  What a wasted opportunity to use major motion-picture mojo and put a black superhero on the big screen.

I LOVED Ryan Reynolds as Michael Bergen in the Boston-based sitcom Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place.  And in pretty much everything else he’s done, because he’s a superhot God of all things Canadian.

2.) Sofia Coppola as “Mary Corleone” in The Godfather: Part III

Mary Corleone is the female doppelganger of young Michael Corleone…a father’s joy and hope for the future of his family.  Her destruction at the hands of his “business,” (in this case, ACTUAL destruction and death as opposed to Michael’s symbolic destruction when Sonny’s death forces him to take on the Godfather mantle) is one of the most operatic moments in film history.  But Sofia is in no way prepared for this part…she’s awkward and ill-at-ease and stumbles through the seduction of an appropriately tormented Andy Garcia.

I LOVED Sofia Coppola’s writing and direction of The Virgin Suicides…in fact; she’s one of the most brilliant female directors to ever get behind the lens. 

1.) Steve Zahn as “Al Giordino” & Matthew McConaughey as “Dirk Pitt” in Sahara

Just your luck, a two-for-one!  Clive Cussler is one of my FAVORITE authors of all time and I have never seen a more disastrous interpretation of a book in my entire life.  Dirk Pitt is supposed to be a tall, dark Air Force hero with opaline green eyes and Al Giordino is supposed to be an Italian-American second-in-command to make Kevin Costner’s “Elliot Ness” proud.  Instead, they both come off as inept and obnoxious frat boys with millions in government funding.  The script was so mangled Cussler actually sued to get his name taken OFF the credits.

I LOVED these actors as George Pappas in You’ve Got Mail and Jake Brigance in A Time to Kill…so don’t tell me I’m biased against McConaughey in serious roles J

"Every Bird as it's Reared and for the Lark, the Bog." -- Irish Proverb

Dear Digital Universe,

My name is Lark Delaney.  I am almost 26 years old and I live with My Husband and our spaniel, Buoy, in one of the square states in Midwestern America.  My Husband is a soldier and the U.S. Army stationed us here just after our summer 2009 wedding.

I spent my first year here alone with Buoy…My Husband deployed overseas just after we moved in.  He returned safely in July 2010 and we’ve been adjusting to living together permanently since.

My parents have been married for 30 years and live in the Northeast, where I grew up.  I have an older sister, Chloë, who lives with her boyfriend about 20 minutes from my parents.  My younger sister, Sarah, works at a small college on one of the Great Lakes and is getting her Master’s degree while she’s at it.

Both of my sisters went to (or are attending) graduate school.  I spent four years at Major Metropolitan University (not Major Metropolitan College, which is only a few miles away) and graduated a year before My Husband finished up at his Military College.  I worked a number of small jobs the following 12 months to save up for our wedding.  It’s been almost four years since I completed university and I haven’t come close to a job that has anything to do with my journalism degree.

I can’t remember a time I wasn’t writing…my mom probably still has my original crayon-crusted picture books about unicorns and talking dogs floating around somewhere in their attic.  When My Husband deployed a handful of people suggested I start a blog about my “experiences,” but frankly, I didn’t handle the deployment as well as I could have and didn’t want to poison the internet community with my pessimistic ramblings.  My slightly cynical, possibly sarcastic and occasionally interesting quips about everyday life now that I’m recovering will be much more entertaining for you, I’m sure.

So thank you for stopping by my blog and I hope you’ll be a regular visitor here.

Yours,

Lark