blog crack

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah and Joyous Kwankaa and just plain Happy Holidays everyone!!

I am off to New York (home) for the holidays. Will try to post but, well, you know how things get...

All the best!

Love,
Anhoni

Road trips have a magical quality. They can bring you closer to your carmate or want to rip their heads off. Either way, it's usually a memorable bonding experience full of bad motel rooms, yelling matches, and greasy rest stop food. There have been many movies about friends or families taking wild road trips. But the funny and stirring Transamerica is no ordinary cross-country adventure.

Conservative and quiet, Bree Osbourne (Felicity Huffman) is about to have one of her biggest dreams come true. She's finally going to be able to become a fully realized female; she is pre-op male-to- female transsexual. However a week before her sexual reassignment surgery, she gets a phone call telling her that her son is in jail in NY. Needless to say, her well-laid out plans go awry.

When she reluctantly informs her psychologist and friend Margaret (Elizabeth Peña) of her discovery -- that she may have fathered an illegitimate son back when she was living as a man by the name of Stanley -- Margaret puts a hold on her surgery until Bree deals with this unexpected issue. Distraught, she flies to New York and bails her long lost delinquent son, Toby (Kevin Zegers), out of the slammer.

Toby assumes that Bree is a missionary with a church that works with errant street youth; she lets him believe that, choosing to keep the fact that she once was, and technically still is, a man, who also happens to be his father, a secret. Soon, the two find themselves in a station wagon heading west on an epic road trip that includes hitting up Toby's stepfather, attending a tranny party in Texas, picking up a hitchhiker, getting taken in by a total stranger and having a nice little visit with Bree's parents.

But, while Transamerica has quite a few humorous moments, this is no slapstick road trip flick full of gags and over-the-top shenanigans. It has a serious emotional core, which explores a woman both trying to grapple with a son she never knew existed and deal with her own gender and body issues. Indeed, it would be easier if Toby could just disappear for every time Bree looks at him, she is reminded of her life as a man, a source of great discomfort and embarrassment. And although it's funny to see her pretend she's a Christian missionary, it is more difficult to see her lying to her son about her real role in his life and that she is, in fact, a transsexual.

Bree is inhibited. She sees herself as a woman but still has to deal with the one thing that makes her a man. And, yes, there are certain...prosthetics involved. The one thing she wants more than anything, her surgery, is just out of her reach. As a result, she is obviously still not comfortable in her skin, which Huffman demonstrates perfectly through body language.

Huffman, best known for her role in "Desperate Housewives", is absolutely amazing as Bree/Stan. She doesn't approach the role as a woman but rather as a man who wants to a woman. She is very feminine, but it's a manner that seems to be rehearsed. At first Bree's deep tenor can be a little distracting but you soon get used it. Huffman must have strained herself during the movie trying to get her voice that deep.

It should be noted that Fionnula Flanagan as Bree/Stan's overwrought mother is a total scene-stealer. She is perfect. She invokes humor, pity and rage in viewers all at the same time. The beautiful Kevin Zegers also gives a standout performance. Toby is a cynic and a dreamer all at the same time and Zegers really brings that across.

Writer/director Duncan Tucker does an outstanding job in bringing this unique and touching story to the screen. He focuses not simply on Bree's sexuality but also on her relationship with her son. In Transamerica family surpasses transsexuality. The film's appeal is universal whether you are interested in transsexual/queer issues or not.

Rating 4 out of 5 stars

Check it out here.

Take a look at the above image. What do you see? Who do you think these ancient Egyptian men are? What exactly do you think is going on here?
-----------------------------

I look at this image and see two men in a close embrace about to kiss one another. Pretty simple. They're lovers.

Now add in their identities: Niankhkhnum and Khnumhotep. Their jobs? Manicurists to the king.

Ahem. Did I mention that I think they are lovers?

------------------------------

Apparently, this isn't as obvious to scholars around the world who have been debating the identities of these two boys for decades -- since the discovery of their tomb in 1964 ("their", isn't that cute?).

Argument #1: They are identical twins who happen to be exceptionally close.

Argument #2: They are Siamese twins who happen to be coordinated enough to give mean mani/pedis.

Argument #3: They are lovers.

-----------------------------

Argument #2 was recently made by some guy at NYU who says, "My suggestion is that Niankhkhnum and Khnumhotep were indeed twins, but of a very special sort. They were conjoined twins, and it was this physical peculiarity that prompted the many depictions of them hand-holding or embracing in their tomb-chapel."

So scientists are more apt to think they are circus freaks (not that there's anything wrong with that...) than simply boyfriends. That's reassuring.

To read more, check out the article in the New York Times.

When not wanting to talk about yourself, talk about other people. This weekend involved lots Christmas gift making and the attending of holiday parties. Parties where I heard a host of bizarre stories which I will now share with you boys and girls.

Weird story #1: Sonya told me that when she was getting her hair cut at Glama-Rama, her stylist told her about this client he had at a former salon. Said woman (who had *very* course hair) had gotten her hair cut and upon getting home, her nipple felt sore. She wasn't getting her period or anything and thought it odd. More time passes. Said nipple becomes even more sore. And swollen. And purple. The woman is in pain. Finally she relents and goes to the doctor who is all "WTF?" At this point good ol' nipple is clearly infected and they have to operated in order to drain the infection. The nip goes under. And what do they find upon slicing poor nipple open? A hair. While she was getting her hair cut, a stray, vigilante hair with the stealth of a ninja and the sharpness of a sword had PIERCED the nipple and set up camp within its confines. Another reason to use conditioner.*

Weird story #2: Another (male) client at the same salon had a similar problem. Except the ninja hair had pierced one of his testicles. Good times.*

Weird story #3: A friend's lease was up so the guy she was dating at the time suggested that she call his sister who had a spare room. Friend lived there for a month. It was one night during this time that she was struck with a *bad* case of indigestion. Usually a sound sleeper, she woke in the middle of the night (3am) and had to run to the toilet. Which she went on to totally and completely clog with the thoroughly digested remnants of that night's dinner. And perhaps also lunch. But there was no plunger in sight. And the water was rising. So, she did what any sane person would do. Instead of embarrassing herself to bits by waking up her boyfriend's sister and telling her that she had clogged her toilet and was in desperate need of a plunger and perhaps even a late night plumber, she put on her clothes, got in her car and drove to her parents' house (10 minutes away). Her parents, however, had just moved in and so she didn't have a key. So she snuck in through the dog's door hoping upon hope that her parents didn't wake from the noise and come downstairs to discover their only daughter sneaking into their home at 3 in the morning through the doggy door. Anyways, she gets inside. She grabs the plunger, walks out the door meant for humans, drives back to the sister's place, where she unclogs the toilet and cleans up the mess, and then goes back to bed. The sister all the unwiser and the friend left with a shameful story with which to regale guests at future parties.



* I, of course, believed neither of these stories. But there was a hairdresser at the holiday party on Saturday night who corroborated them.

Well, Peter Jackson has done it again. When I first heard of him undertaking this project I thought he was crazy. Why was he re-making this film of all movies in the world that could be re-done? My theory is: don't fix what ain't broke. And the original 1933 King Kong, starring Fay Wray and directed by Merian C. Cooper, most definitely wasn't broken. Neither was the 1976 version with Jeff Bridges and Jessica Lange (even though it had its moments). However, Jackson has succeeded in turning King Kong into another movie altogether. Something, it seems, only he can do.

It's Depression-era New York and the difference between the haves and the have-nots is glaringly obvious. One of these have-nots is Ann Darrow (the absolutely lovely Naomi Watts), a down on her luck actress whose Vaudeville gig gets closed down leaving her jobless and literally starving. Which is exactly how movie producer Carl Denham (Jack Black) likes 'em. The more desperate they are, the easier they are to manipulate. And Denham would (and does) manipulate anyone to further his own causes. In this case, the cause is an epic movie set on a remote yet undiscovered island of whose map he mysteriously finds. Renowned playwright Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody) is writing the script and all Denham needs is a new leading lady -- Darrow fits the bill.

He convinces her to join him and his crew. "I'm someone you can trust Ann. I'm a movie producer," he tells her. After finding out that her idol, Driscoll, is writing the script, she reluctantly agrees. And the adventure begins. They board a ship (that looks like its barely holding itself up) headed by a captain with a nebulous European accent, Captain Englehorn (Thomas Kretschmann), and some obviously shady dealings.

In fact, the whole crew seems to have something going on and Jackson, along with the screenwriting team of Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens (who also worked with him on the LOTR series) skillfully weave their stories into the plot. Including that of Hayes (Evan Parke) and his young mentee Jimmy (Jamie Bell), whose interaction, although a bit mawkish at times, works in the overall context of the movie. They are also the vehicle for several well-placed references to Joseph Conrad's novel Heart of Darkness, essentially about the white man venturing into the unknown, which is the perfect compliment to King Kong as they are both metaphors for, among other things, imperialism, colonialism, economic and class disparity, sexual desire, and the state of the black man in the world today.

Jackson brings a soul to King Kong that it had previously lacked. There are a myriad of details that infuse the film with heart and lend it substance. Annie provides the innocence and light (she in always bathed in a soft glow) and Driscoll provides the courage. But the scene-stealer here is King Kong himself (played by the amazingly talented Andy Serkis in a dual role as the chain-smoking Lumpy the Cook). Kong's eyes are tremendously expressive and soulful. This is no little person in an ape suit trying to steal away a virgin for his own salacious fantasies. He is a complex, well-rounded character who develops a moving relationship with Annie. This Kong is like no Kong you've seen before. And it's not just because the movie's more technically advanced.

Jackson also brings adventure like never seen before. This version can best be described as Jurassic Park meets Indiana Jones sprinkled with a bit of Peter Jackson extra special secret sauce. Two scenes must be mentioned and warrant the fact that King Kong be seen in the theater rather than on video. One is that in which there is a stampede of brontosauruses that is breathtaking in its velocity, and another is a scene in which King Kong gets into a tumble with three very viscous Tyrannosaurus Rexes.

As Jackson is known for -- no detail is left unturned. Even the rocks on the island are scary. The opening of the film is different from any movie of its kind, and immediately sets the stage for the rest of the piece. Jackson establishes the tumult of the era and captures it through snippets of life in New York; union-busting, prohibition, poverty, progress, beauty, happiness, sadness etc., it's all there. There is also a 1930s art deco aesthetic that pervades the whole film, from the dialogue structure and delivery to the musical score and graphics. A nod, of course, to the original.

The only criticism concerns those scenes that Jackson films out of focus. They are meant to convey unease and build tension, but they just don’t work and seem gimmicky. Speaking of gimmicks, don't be surprised if there's a King Kong themed ride at Universal Studios by next summer. In fact, bet on it.

However, the big-budget Hollywood machine behind this movie shouldn't deter you from seeing the movie. It's one of those rare films in which you truly get your money's worth of entertainment, and all the cash you just threw down to see it will seem well-spent.


Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Last week the documentary Middle Sexes: Redefining He and She premiered on HBO. I didn't see it, but it reminded me of a recent novel I had read, Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides (who also wrote The Virgin Suicides) whose main character is a hermaphrodite.

Middlesex follows the trials and tribulations of the Stephanides family as narrated by Cal, an adult male formerly known as Callie back when he was a girl. And, no, Cal is no transsexual; he is a hermaphrodite. I had no idea what the book was about when I first picked it up. I thought it was some period piece set in England (yawn), imagine my surprise when I read the first line, "I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan in August of 1974."

I was titillated and intrigued. Something, no doubt, the author had intended or, at least, had hoped for. Present day Cal is fairly well adjusted for a person living something of a dual existence. But he's got issues. Serious issues. He starts from the very beginning and tells us his family's tale in an effort to make sense of it himself and learn more about the origins of his "condition".

The epic tale begins in Ottoman-controlled Greece. You are first introduced to Desdemona and Lefty, a brother and sister living in a village on a hillside during a time of political upheaval. Lefty is a passionate and restless young man and Desdemona is ever the responsible, practical older sister trying to keep it together as their parents are now dead. As is her duty, she is trying to marry Lefty off. But he has other ideas.

Ideas that include making the moves on his sister. I know -- totally gross. But Eugenides spins the love story in such a way that you actually sympathize with the siblings. You know it's wrong and yet you still find yourself secretly rooting for Lefty as he declares his feelings and pleading with Desdemona to give in to her urges. It's twisted.

Years of such inbreeding are the cause for Cal's physical state. Desdemona and Lefty escape Turkey and head for the United States where they start a new life as husband and wife rather than brother and sister. They head to Detroit where their cousin lives and begin their pursuit of the American Dream. Lefty goes to work for Ford, learns English, gets involved in bootlegging, starts a speakeasy in the basement, and eventually opens up a diner. Meanwhile, Desdemona bears and raises two children, keeps the house running through the Depression and goes to work for the black Muslims (think Louis Farrakhan).

The story then follows the lives of their children where more inbreeding ensues. Desdemona and Lefty's son, Milton, marries his cousin Tessie. Good times. Milton and Tessie, (at this point) Callie's parents, move out to the suburbs with their two young children in tow and thrive in an upper middle class existence. Callie is a beautiful young girl who blossoms into a hunkering, awkward adolescent and her brother is a geek who turns into a hippy in college much to his parents' dismay.

It is during this "ugly stage" in Callie's life (she's tall, her voice is changing and she doesn't have any of the womanly attributes girls her age have already been developing) that she "discovers" that she in fact also has a penis, which she naively and euphemistically refers to as a "crocus". It is also during this time that others discover her extra package. A discovery that eventually leads her/him on a cross-country road trip culminating in San Francisco.

Unfortunately, so much of the novel focuses on Cal's grandparents that you are left wanting for more of his/her own story. There are references made earlier on in the novel that are never followed through with and you are still curious about Cal.
What was college really like for him? What was the rest of high school like? Callie had attended an all-girls school. Where did Cal have to go?

Cal refers to his first relationship but never delves into it. I realize maybe Eugenides wanted to stray away from sexual accounts that came off as sensationalist, and didn't want to turn Cal from a regular ol' character into "the other". But not dealing with these issues at all was not the way to go.

It made my imagination wander. I started doing research on hermaphrodites. I wanted to know how it all worked. How it must have been for Cal. I needed to fill in the blank spaces. Did you know that some hermaphrodites can get pregnant? That's amazing. Technically, it's like a man being able to have a baby. But different.

But Cal can't get pregnant. I least I don't think so. Anyways, Middlesex has too many gaps to be a great book. I wasn't quite satisfied when I finished reading the last page. The novel ended up being more about Cal's family than about him/her but, then again, that may have been the point. And while the Stephanides are engaging and amazing, I wanted more about Cal. After all, the book is called "Middlesex" rather than "My Big Fat Incestuous Greek Family".

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
Paperback, 544 pages

To read more to go Scene and Unseen.

Steve aka Superman's Foot tagged me with this one. I was honored as it was my first tag. It was like getting asked to prom. Close. But not quite.

It's a little exercise in which I reveal 5 things people in my blogging community may not know about me. Now, if you read my "little" To-Do List posting, then you've already learned a lot, but here are some things that you may not have yet learned.

1. My name means "something which is impossible" in Hindi. Actually, it's a bit more difficult to describe than that, but that's what it means in a nutshell. Some say it also means "something which cannot be" or "that which cannot be made possible". I believe I'm the only person in the whole freakin' world with this name. Test it out. Google "Anhoni" and see what you get.

I get comments on it all the time by people who speak Hindi. They always ask if that's my real name and when I reply "yes", I am met with shock and awe. There's even a famous song called "Anhoni Ko Honi" from the movie Amar Akbar Anthony. I love the song and when I was younger, and to a lesser extent now, people sing it to me. For my 28th birthday, three of my friends did a dance and lip-synched to the whole song. It is one of the highlights from my life.

It's a strange name. I used to hate it when I was little because I would get made fun of a lot and teased about it, but now I love it.

2. When I was in college, the band Sonic Youth had a concert. I was a part of the group that organized the event. I happened to meet Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon (the guitarist and lead singer). My nickname all through high school and college was "Bones". Well, after I gave my name, I told Thurston he could call me Bones. Anyways, they went on stage and kicked ass. Their fourth song in, Thurston says "I would like to dedicate the following song to our new friend Bones. I think she'll enjoy it." blah blah blah. It was their song "Bone". I remember looking out into the crowd and hearing him say that and I could spot a few of my friends and they mouthed "Is he talking about *you*?" He was.

3. When I was in third grade some stupid b*tch gave me head lice and my mother had to cut off my hair and give me a bob. She had to run the world's smallest comb through my thick hair to get at all the little buggers and wash my hair with this nasty acidic concoction that smelled and looked like she found it off the highway somewhere in Jersey. It was torture. My brother teased me for a year because of it.

4. I was disowned by my family for wanting to marry my husband. He is Korean and I am Indian. We have a tradition of arranged marriages (before you ask -- yes, you know the person you marry. In this day and age, what happens is that your family gives you a bunch of guys'/girls' emails or numbers and you go on dates or they set dates up for you) and we can only marry people from one of five towns in the state of Gujarat (the best state of all). This tradition goes back hundreds and hundreds of years. No one in my family, which totals to over 200 people, has ever married someone that was not Indian (with one recent exception). There have been a few love marriages, but they've always been to an Indian person. Needless to say, my family was extremely upset at my decision. They tried all kinds of things to get me to change my mind. My father even disowned me. It was the hardest thing I have ever gone through in my life. I have never hurt anyone like I hurt my family. But love is a strange thing, and I stuck to my guns. If you knew my husband, you would know why he was worth being disgraced, disowned and disavowed by hundreds of the people closest to me. In the end, they finally accepted. They threw us a huge wedding and now my parents (particularly my father) tell the husband they love him all the time.

5. I have a New York accent. When I say words like "sauce" and they come out as "sawce". I say "coffee" like "cawfee". It's not that thick, but the more tired/angry/excited I am, the more it comes out. I have a few friends (obviously not New Yorkers) that think it's "cute", and always repeat the word in an affected NY accent. I hate this. And every time they do it, I wish I was back home. Where I will be in less than two weeks! yay!

I now tag:
Ziggy
Jay
Michael
Neurotic Missy
Leaf Girl

I have been seeing a TON of movies lately. This fall has been one of the best ever. It's the time of the year when the studios release most of their best films in an effort to garner praise and awards. Otherwise known as Oscar Season.

When you're trying to figure out what to watch in the next few weeks, hopefully these will help you in your decisions:


Brokeback Mountain

I will never see Brokeback Mountain again. Not because it was awful. On the contrary, it was so incredibly good and made such an indelible impression that it will stay with me for the rest of my life. Indeed, I have never seen a movie quite like it before and have seldom been so moved.

When I first saw the trailer I was not initially impressed. Cowboys? Mountains? Camping? Didn't Robert Redford already make a movie with the same elements? But then 15 seconds into the trailer as I stared, open-mouthed and shocked, I changed my mind. Robert Redford most definitely did not make a movie like this. And, honestly, while I was simultaneously titillated, I also I resented the trailer in that it gave a huge part of the story away.
Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
For More...go here OR here and please leave comments!



Memoirs of a Geisha

The long awaited cinematic adaptation of Arthur Golden's moving 1997 novel Memoirs of a Geisha has finally arrived. Unfortunately the movie has to follow in the footsteps of a much-read book that clocks in at 448 pages. Which is something almost impossible to compete with and come out on top. Memoirs of a Geisha the movie tries the best it can but still falls somewhat flat.

The story tells the tale of a young girl, with astonishingly blue eyes (played as a child by Suzuka Ohgo and as an adult by Ziyi Zhang), who is taken from her remote fishing village and sold by her aging parents into an okiya (geisha house). There she works as a maid for the strict Mother (Kaori Momoi in a scene-stealing role) and is continuously harassed by the head geisha, the vindictive, bitter and manipulative Hatsumomo (Gong Li looking more beautiful than ever here), until she is taken under the wing of Mameha (Michelle Yeoh) who becomes her mentor and brings her into the world of geisha where she is re-named Sayuri.
Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
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Syriana

Stephen Gaghan has a reputation for dealing with complicated issues. Five years ago he tackled the screenplay for Traffic about drug trafficking. This year he both writes and directs an epic film on the oil industry that spans the globe and involves a myriad of characters. Welcome to Syriana.

Syriana is written and directed by Stephen Gaghan, who was inspired to make the film by Robert Baer, an ex-C.I.A. operative (on whom Clooney's character is also loosely based) who memorializes his experiences in See No Evil: The True Story of a Ground Soldier in the CIA's War on Terrorism. As you can imagine, there are several different storylines running through film. The film's tagline reads: Everything is Connected. And it is.
Rating: 3.75 out of 5 stars
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Aeon Flux

If you've stayed up late watching Liquid Television on MTV, then you've already been acquainted with Aeon Flux. I guess it's taken ten years for someone to finally step up and get the animated series, full of dark undertones, surreal elements and experimental notions, out of the cult archives. Karyn Kusama (whose first film was the outstanding Girlfight) has tackled this potentially disastrous task with flare.

As the opening voiceover informs you, in the year 2011 a virus has wiped out a large portion of the planet's population. The few remaining survivors are rounded up and live in Bregna, an encased "utopia" shrouded from the encroaching outside world and ruled for the last 400 years by what is known as the Goodchild regime headed by Trevor Goodchild, the scientist who had developed an antidote to the virus. However, in 2415 unrest boils under the seemingly healthy and content civilization.
Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
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Walk the Line

It seems like every year, right around the holidays, another biopic about a musician is released. I can imagine watching Madonna's life story unfold in 2030 or perhaps that of Prince's. This year we have Mr. Cash. While "the man is black" may not have been as popular or as well known as "the king" with whom his used to tour, Johnny Cash holds his own.

I find the Hollywoodization of a life fascinating. The biography always gets more glamorous and the person in question invariably becomes better looking; so one becomes cooler and more beautiful, wouldn't it be great if everyone's life could go through the same process? In Walk the Line, Cash's lumbering, intimidating frame gets turned into that of dark and sulking Joaquin Phoenix.
Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
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Bee Season

Spelling bees seem to be enjoying a revival and a boost in the coolness factor. The national championships are televised on ESPN and gamblers bet on contestants on-line. There's a Tony-award winning musical about bees (The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee) and author Myla Goldberg's novel Bee Season has been made into a widely released movie.

But don't be fooled, Bee Season isn't about spelling bees, not really. It's about a family -- The Naumann's -- falling apart, and a bee is just the catalyst that makes it all happen. After their youngest member, Eliza (Flora Cross), qualifies for the regional bee, everything seems to change. Her father Saul (Richard Gere), a religious professor at Berkeley, begins to pay a lot more attention to her and the two set up study sessions during which he goes over word lists and teaches her about Jewish mysticism.
Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
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Pride & Prejudice

You would think the world would have had enough of Jane Austen remakes by now. But with yet another rendition of Pride & Prejudice you realize that, on the contrary, they have not. Director Joe Wright brings us this latest version, which is less insipid than you might think and…surprisingly funny.

Elizabeth (Keira Knightley) is the spunky and outspoken second eldest sibling of the Bennet family. A family burdened with five sisters, all of whom their garrulous, meddling mother (played wonderfully by Brenda Blethyn) is desperate to marry off, starting with the eldest, Jane (Rosamund Pike). Luckily for her, she has caught the eye of the dashing and wealthy Mr. Bingley (Simon Woods). Unfortunately, Bingley has a snooty younger sister (Kelly Reilly) and an over-protective best mate in the form of Mr. Darcy (Matthew MacFadyen). The sullen and socially inept Darcy immediately catches the ire of Elizabeth and the two proceed to trade bitter quips. But you know what they say about there being a thin line between love and hate.
Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars
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The Chronicles of Narnia

I read the book when I was younger but had forgetten most of it. Nonetheless, Narnia is more for kids than for adults. The whole "talking animals" thing is cool but gets old as the movie progresses, plus the CGI is not that impressive. Tilda Swinton kicks ass though.
Rating: 3 out of 5 stars



Rent

Two words: totally cheesy. Stay away. If you love it so much, go see the musical again.
Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

Oh! and before the Memoirs of a Geisha screening last week, they showed a trailer for Marie-Antoinette, which opens next summer. It looked freakin' amazing! It's written and directed by Sofia Coppola and the trailer is infused with her indelible style. There was no talking or voiceover. It was set, simply, to New Order's Age of Consent, one of the best songs ever. Sigh.

I also saw King Kong tonight. Peter Jackson has done it again. It was awesome. That's the best word to describe it. I'll post my review for that later this week...

This weekend was crazy. Remember when I said that I wanted to start adventuring in San Francisco? Well, this past weekend put me well on my way.

After a day of brunch, errands, x-mas shopping and dinner at a fancy new Korean restaurant in the Richmond, I met up with my friend Sonya at the Make Out Room for the fabulous Writers with Drinks hosted by transsexual extraordinaire Charlie Anders.



Sonya had been trying to get me to go this monthly event for at least a year, and I finally relented. All the writers were excellent; highlights include a member from the comedy troupe Killing my Lobster reading "Missed Connections" postings from Craigslist, Beth Lisick reading a hilarious excerpt from her latest novel, Everybody into the Pool and some guy reading a sinister, pornographic tale about a little boy and a unicorn.

Good times.

We then began our trek to Cole Valley to our friend Tahd's champagne & chocolate party. Sonya being drunk and me being sober. Look what we found!


a deck of cards laying on the sidewalk. long story short. sonya's twin sister, liz, has an impossible contest going on with someone to see who can collect a full deck of cards first. they cannot be bought. they must be found on the street. we've given them a head start. they're crazy.

On our way we ran into some guy whose name was Joel but whom Sonya kept calling "Josh". We, of course, invited Joel/Josh along to the party, hoping it wasn't an intimate gathering and that we didn't just commit a faux-pas by inviting a complete and random stranger into our friend's home. Okay, I worried about this. Sonya was too blitzed to care.


We're off!

Joel/Josh ended being the secret special sauce that made our night so special. Cole Valley is a mile to a mile and half from our beloved mission and it was a lovely night.


We found a discarded Taboo game. Score! We decided we would gift it to Tahd. Why bring alcohol or flowers over to a party when you can just give the host crap you found off the street for free!


We passed by the most beautifully decorated house I've yet seen in SF.It looked like it was straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Then the door opened. They were having a party and the host was giving his goodbyes as guests spilled out. They were all leather daddies. They were all wearing chaps and various leather-heavy uniforms, and would have been a lot nicer to us if we didn't have vaginas. I love SF.


A house that has window displays that have become famous locally. This is the latest creation.

We needed to take the Muni Metro (the mix between a trolley and subway) but Joel/Josh convinced us to just cut through the public transportation bullshit and walk through the Duboce tunnel ourselves. We enthusiastically partook in the illegal, not to mention dangerous, activity (okay I was also a little scared).

We had to walk slowly and keep a watch out for trains. When a train came and we spotted the first sign of headlights, we had to duck into one of the little cubby holes that were placed every 15 feet apart in the tunnel. Two trains came by and the rush of getting into a hole and holding your breath while the train came whizzing by was both thrilling and frightening.















Needless to say, we made it out okay and got to the party where there was much champagne and chocolate as promised.


Our hosts were very attentive to our needs.




Tahd indicating the number of times he's actually read my blog.


He introduced me to something called The Tickler. Which sounds like its a sex toy, and while it does induce orgasm-like sensations, is something altogether different.


He then regaled us with music. I love when people whip out instruments and/or sing.

He sang for us a number of original tunes, one of which was about how he likes his women barefoot and in the kitchen. This song, he told us, is one he debuted at a feminist open mic in Berkeley. They were not amused. We were.

It came time to leave the party. We ran into some lovely ladies coming from a "Ugly Holiday Sweater" party.

You can't really tell, but the woman in the middle is wearing a sweater that says "Happy Birthday Jesus".

Drunken Sonya wanted us to walk back through the tunnel. Sober Anhoni was all "Hell no!" But the muni wasn't coming for another 14 minutes. Sonya started whining that we could be half-way home by then if we just walked back through the tunnel. That's when I looked up into a random building and noticed there was a raging party still going on (2AM). "Why don't we crash that party until the muni comes?"

This was meant as a joke, but Sonya was all "okay!" And so we crashed an amazing holiday party full of beautiful people who were all dressed up. We were not dressed up. We did not blend in. People were all like "Who the fuck are they?" But no one had the balls to say anything to us. He he.

It was like "goodlooking people" heaven. Everyone was amazingly gorgeous and buxom. They also all looked like they were in their early twenties and many seemed to still be in school(!).

But, what the hell, we were only there for (at this point) 12 minutes. How much damage could we possibly do? We fixed ourselves a little drink. Sang a little karaoke. Ran into someone (thank god) that knew Joel/Josh. And had a drink from a fountain (yes, the party was so cool they had installed a freakin' fountain in one of the rooms that was all lit up and everything) that emitted something people were calling "Jungle Juice". Dodgy. But not dodgy enough for us not to force two guys we met to have a sip of our drink.

But then, like little Cinderellas, we had to be off! Sonya screamed out that it'd been 13 minutes already, so we took off on a run through the party, waving goodbye to our new friends and ran out the door. The muni was *just* pulling up and we had to run in front of it and jump on. Exhilarating.

It was an amazing end to an adventurous night.

By request of The Phoenix:

I called home (NY) this morning and it had just snowed. My mom works at a public school and she had the day off due to a Snow Day.

I remembered how awesome they are and how much fun I would have when I was little on those special spontaneous days off. I would get up and hope upon hope that there would be enough snow on the ground to call it a day. When the phone rang, I'd yelp with joy; it would be the school or a P.T.A. member calling to say school was cancelled.

Snow days are one of the best things about winter.

And now that I live in California I will never have them again. Sadness. If I have kids and they are raised here, I can't imagine them not knowing what a Snow Day is and how mich fun it can be. It'll be like a part of their childhood is missing.

What's a winter without a Snow Day?

ps. I am SO embarassed by my drunkin' post. I sound like a total idiot. I'm really not a lush people. Really. No seriously.

What the hell am I doing?

I'm so drunk right now, I can't even stand it. I'll probably won't even remember this tomorrow morning. It took me like five tries just to log-in. I really shouldn't be posting right now. I thought my mammoth To-Do list bullshit had been enough to tide the blog over for the past few days. But, no, it needs more. It needs the photos from the SF Station holiday party. All I's got to say is: OPEN BAR. You know you're in trouble when the bartender (in this case, "Ronnie") starts feeding you water because you've been mixing your liquor. Did I mention that I'm out of my head drunk. Oh god -- is the room spinning?