New Bond Trailer ...

I still don't know if I buy Layer Cake as Bond, and it's in French, but it does look sweet.



UPDATE This is a much higher res and english version of the above trailer. Also, I believe the correct nomenclature for the character's name is now "James Blond."

My fire is outta control...

Finally, the night of all nights has arrived: I am going to see Franz Ferdinand and Death Cab For Cutie. I remember buying my ticket, an eager little beaver who was late for her 10am class just to ensure her attendance for this shabang. Now, tonight, I will finally get to bathe myself in the indie waters of "This Fire" and "Take Me Out." I feel reborn already. Hallelujah!

Review of the performance to come.

Addendum:

OMG. You should see what I look like. On second thought, maybe that's not such a good idea, mostly because I look like a wet dog. Anyway, I'm too tired to relate everything that has happened tonight, so I will say as much as my sore body will allow. Actually, I will write a list and come back to it later.

1) Met Chloe, got myself a Stills pin (I'm still sad to be missing them)
2) Buy t-shirts after waiting in line for 30min
3) Listen to Death Cab.
4) Crazy fucking dancing girls behind us keep bum butting me. I push her. She says to her friend, "That girl in front of me thinks I'm a lesbian. I'm not, really. I can get guys because I have streaks." I keep getting pissed off and continue pushing her back, almost starting a fight. Chloe can't take it anymore, turns around and shouts, "FUCK OFF! I'M GOING TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FUCKING FACE IF YOU DON'T STOP." She almost starts a fight as well. End of crazy pseudo-lesbian dancing girls' extravaganza.
4) Death Cab ends, we push our way to the front for Franz.
5) Massive pushing fest ensues. I can't breathe. We all topple and begin to get trampled on. I make my way onto my feet, help Chloe up. We're still alive
6) Security starts throwing water because we're all boiling. I still can't breathe and I'm wet.
7) We make it up to the front, second from the front to be specific. Gold. Chloe's hair is starting to curl. So is mine.
8) Franz starts. I'm being trampled. We suck it up for a good six songs.
9) I've lost Chloe. I think I'm going to die. My size got me to the front, but it didn't keep me there. I guess I can't have my cake and eat it too.
10) Try to exit massive body-slamming, sweat-smelling and ecstatic jumping crowd.
11) I emerge alive, but extremely disheveled. Run into my editor from SEE. He asks what the hell happened to me. I tell him I'm a fucking rock 'n' roll machine (not really, but lets pretend I did).
12) Go back in, dance my furious little heart out to "This Fire," and this time we're near the stands. I scream like a pubescent teen at a Backstreet Boys concert. I figure I'm allowed to do that because I'm Amanda and I LOVE YOU FRANZ!!! (I mostly loved the guitarist wearing the blue shirt and the drummer. They were delicious to look at). Run into Ben. Also run into crazy dancing girls again. We give up trying to fight them.

END

I will go into more detail when I get some sleep.

Private Lives a comedic tête-à-tête

Last night, I ventured out from underneath my textbooks to take in NLT's production of Private Lives. I arrived not knowing what the play was about or having any expectations, but all in all, I later discovered that my ignorance was a good thing. When I hear positive comments about a play, I'm usually disappointed at the end, and when I hear bad accounts, well, my preconceived notions typically take over. Anyway, the play, from my perspective, was a success, mostly because I saw it for what it was. There's not a whole lot of depth to it, but the lack of intellectual stimulation definitely was counterbalanced by some subtle and ingenious stage shenanigans. The story basically revolves around Elliot and Amanda, a divorced couple that remarries but inevitably runs into each other--during their respective honeymoons--and falls back in love (sorta). Throughout the play, they fight (physically and verbally), but at the same time, cannot keep their hands off of each other. Oh, the joys of relationships! Private Lives doesn't overdo it with the bickering or the breaking of the fourth wall (which, in my opinion, parallels the sort of facade love can take on), and therefore results in a production definitely worth checking out.

Cutting the red ribbon

Welcome! This is, indeed, the first post for the blog, and I will commence the writing process by laying out a few rules. First, you can only talk about stuff that is related to arts and entertainment, whether it's bitching about a crappy play or reviewing an awesome new CD. Second...uh, I don't think there's a second. So, yeah, go nuts, you hipsters you.