American Hustler

I’ve been dying to see the movie American Hustle since it came out.  Didn’t get a chance to catch it in theatres.  But when it became available on demand, so I was excited to see it.  I had a free night the other day and decided to rent it.  I snuggled up, got cozy, popped some pop corn and settled in to watch the movie. 

Yay!

During opening credits, it stated that the movie was going to take place in 1978.  Great!  I thought.  I am a child of the seventies.  I graduated from High School in 1979.  I wore all the hottest clothes, listened to all the music, and danced the hustle.  I even snuck into a couple of discos with my sis!

I was enjoying getting into the movie.  Then, during a scene with Jennifer Lawrence, she was wearing a sheer white dress.  It was quick, but I thought I spotted a thong under her dress.  Hmmm.  But we didn’t wear thongs in the 70’s.  Umm, they weren’t invented yet.

Ok.  I kept watching.

Jennifer was trying her best at a Long Island housewife accent.  Unfortunately, she was falling in and out of it.  Half Long Island, half Chicago.  “Go to the stawh (LI for ‘store’) and buy a cahh (Chi Town for ‘car’). 

Hmmm. 

And she was nominated for an Oscar for this performance. 

By the time she got to her last scene, the Long Island/Chicago accent was completely gone and it sounded like just sloppy Hollywood.  Really surprising that they let that happen AND it got her an Oscar nom to boot.

But, I continued to watch.

All of a sudden, in a very poignant scene, Amy Adams whispers to Bradly Cooper, “You got this.” 

Huh?  Wait a minute.  Did she just say, ‘you got this’?

She couldn’t have just said ‘you got this’.  It wasn’t invented yet. 

Maybe it was just the popcorn crunching. 

Let me rewind.

Watched it again.

Increased the volume.

“You got this.”

UGH!!!!  Oh, no she didn’t!!!!!

But she did.

I’m sorry, but nobody said ‘you got this’ in the 70’s!!!!  This is ridiculous!!!

I continued to watch...

Later on in the movie, Christian Bale was taking about being ‘real’ a lot.  Something else we never said.

He also made a speech in which he says something about being in, “that place.”  Today, we say stuff about going to “that place” when referring to bringing up a topic of conversation or emotional state.  In the 70’s we would use “that place” when referencing a physical location.  

I hate to complain or nitpick , but this is a multi million dollar film.  Performances were Oscar nominated.  Didn’t anyone check for references like this?  Wasn’t anyone on the film older than 30? 

What the fuck??

In a film where they tried to replicate the fashion, the music, and the culture of the 70’s era, they dropped the ball on the dialogue.

Although, they also dropped it on the fashion.  I’m sorry, but no one walked around with an ultra low cut blouse down to there all day everyday.  To business meetings and lunches with their boobs popping out.  Maybe, just maybe they’d wear it to a disco.  But even then, if they were hustling (dancing) their boobs would never stay in.

Amy Adams’ hair was also super long.  But the Dorothy Hamil wedge cut was what everybody was wearing at the time.  This was a very short hair cut.  Very few women wore very long locks then.  And if it was long, it was not that long.  That was the 60’s.

So, needless to say, I hated this movie.  How could I get through it with all of these ridiculous anachronisms!  I’m sorry, I’m not a professional film critic, but if you’re going to make a movie that takes place in a particular era, get your shit together.  You must pay attention to detail.  Right?

I mean, the 20 and 30-somethings will never know the difference, but don’t you want to make an authentic quality film?

This film bites.  In other words,

“They don’t got this.”

Valentines Day

“Don’t talk to me about Valentine’s Day. At my age an affair of the heart is a bypass!” Joan Rivers

Another Valentines Day…

Without a valentine.

Again.

It’s like:

Christmas without a tree

Prom without a date

New Years Eve with no one to kiss at midnight

July 4^th without someone special to watch the fireworks with

A birthday without candles

It’s kinda sad. But I’m sorta getting used to it.

Well, I’m going to choose to look at the bright side of this dilemma. It’s better than getting dumped on Valentines Day!

I’m watching the Charlie Brown Valentines Day special. He can’t get a valentine either. At least I’m in good company.

I Still Hate Valentines Day

“Don’t talk to me about Valentine’s Day. At my age an affair of the heart is a bypass!” Joan Rivers

Ring, ring on the Blackberry. Hold on, I have a text.

“Happy Valentines Day. Are you in love yet? Lol”

It’s from “Yakov”, my ex-boyfriend.

Ewww. Pffffffffftttttttt! Hand gesture.

I look at my sister. She looks at me. “What the heck just happened?

“Ugh! I hate Valentines Day!”

There have been years when I liked Valentines Day. Those were my childhood years, when I’d receive loving cards and chocolates from my Pop. Classmates would hand out sweet little notes.

And then there were the Valentines Days when I was in a relationship with someone special. It was wonderful to get the right thing from the right person on the right day!

I say this because there’d be Valentines Days when I’d hoped my love interest would recognize it appropriately and they didn’t; V-days when I’d receive a card from someone I wasn’interested in; days when I was dating someone I really liked and he got me something stupid for Valentines. I once dated someone once who gave me jewelry, a card, flowers, and cooked me dinner one year and the next year, gave me a half eaten box of chocolates and a monkey card.

That was the year I was dumped on Valentines Day.

I suppose the reason I am now anti-V is because of that year. That really sucked. And I’m still not over it. It was several years ago, when I was seeing a man I was crazy about. We’ll refer to him as 'Moishe'. (The names have been changed to protect the innocent … and the guilty. Not that they deserve protection.)

I’d been seeing Moishe for a couple of years. We had broken up once before, but were back together for several months. I was crazy for him, but he had not really acted himself since the reconciliation. I tried to ignore it for a while, but it was becoming more and more apparent that he was losing interest. I knew I should talk to him about it, but just couldn’t find the words or the right time to bring it up, you know? I almost really didn’t wanna hear it, but at the same time knew I had to if I was going to keep my sanity.

So, it’s Valentines Day and we were spending it together. I think he’d cooked dinner. We’d eaten, talked, watched TV and it was getting late. He seemed very distant and acted as if we were just friends the whole night. He never uttered sweet, loving words, which he had done in the past. So, I mustered up the courage to say, “You know, on Valentines Day, people usually say, ‘I love you’.”

There. I said it.

Waiting for his response...

He says, “Well, they say it if they mean it.”

“OUCHHHHHHH!” It was like he stabbed me with a butcher knife! I immediately felt ill. No, he is NOT doing this to me on Valentines Day!

By the time we were through discussing the fact that Moishe didn’t like me on Valentines Day, it was really late at night.

I drove myself home. Crying all the way in the dark.

Happy Valentines Day… to me.

Is it a deal breaker if your date is packing…heat?

In my twenties, I worked at my brother-in-law’s business.  A customer saw me and asked me out for a date.  I remember being really excited about it.

The guy was a restaurant owner.  It seemed like he was pretty successful. 

And cute.

Except for the handlebar moustache.

That was pretty narley.  But, at the time, I figured I could get him to shave it if things got serious.

But could they ever get serious with him and that stache?

I guess we’ll never know.

Anyway, he picked me up for the date in a nice ride.  It was the first time I’d ever heard the beeping from setting the car alarm.  Shoot.  I guess it was longer ago than I thought!

So, he drove us to the restaurant.  When we arrived there, he turned off the car and took his jacket off before getting out of the car.

The date removed his jacket to reveal a holster with a gun in it.  It was like the kind that the cops wear in police shows.  The kind that goes over both shoulders.

I almost swallowed my breath mint!

My eyes googled out of my head.

I immediately asked him about it.  He told me that he needed the gun for working at the diner, just in case of a robbery.

“Are you going to wear that all night?” I asked him.

“Sure.  Why not,” he replied.  “At least you will be safe.”

Safe?  Why would I not be safe?

Maybe because my DATE WAS CARRYING A FUCKING MACHINE GUN!!!!!!

I nodded politely, and we went into the restaurant.

How did the dinner go, you might ask?

Let’s just say, I spent it in the bathroom.

Taxi Driver

Sometimes I treat myself to a cab ride to work. 

It’s nice to skip the hustle and bustle of the commuters, the traffic, and the time it takes to

get just a few blocks downtown during the morning rush.

So, on this particular day, I grabbed a cab and was off.

I asked the driver, politely, to take me to my destination.  He agreed happily, “Of course!  That is why I am here!” and we were on our way.

I always try to be nice to any cab driver.  One time, I think I was rude to one, and he nearly threw me out of the cab on cold winter night.

Anyway, the ride was going fine.  That is, until we were stuck for three red lights, trying to make a left turn to my destination.  The cab fare was getting higher and it was getting later and later as we waited.  So, I told the driver I would get out of the cab there.  We weren’t at the curb, so the driver told me I couldn’t get out there.  He said it was illegal.

I told him I only wanted to get out because we got stuck for the three lights, etc.

He started making excuses about the lights and that it was not his fault, etc.

I told him I understood, as he droned on and on.

We finally turned the corner and he stopped at my building.

It usually costs about $12.50 to get to work with a cab.  Then I add a couple of dollars tip.

Today, it was $15.50.  $15 and an extra 50 cents for something else.  I gave the taxi driver a twenty and asked him fort three dollars back.  I informed him, I would normally give a better tip, but I was now low on cash since I didn’t expect for it to cost that much.

The cab driver gave me 50 cents and then my three dollars change.

I told him that I did not want the 50 cents.

He insisted.

I took the three dollars, then reached down and put the 50 cents back on his seat, and exited the cab. 

Another person entered the cab.

As I walked away, I heard the sound of coins hitting the pavement.  Then I heard yelling coming from the cab.

The taxi driver had thrown the 50 cents out the window at me.

As I bent down to pick up a quarter, I asked, “Why did you do that?”

He screamed back, “YOU INSULT ME!”  In his Russian accent.

I only found one quarter.  Didn’t see the other one, so I started walking away.

A woman on the street pointed the other quarter out to me, as the taxi driver continued yelling out the window.

The woman said, “Take down his badge number and report him.”

I suppose I should have.  But I just picked up the second quarter and kept on walking.

So much for treating myself to a quiet cab ride to work.  

A crowded M15 bus ride with my face pressed up against the door window and my ass pressed against a smelly business man is beginning to sound much more attractive to me right about now.

I Found Love in a Hopeless Place

I had a date the other night.

I was going to be meeting him for dinner in the neighborhood. 

It was an 80 degree day in October.

I had labored over what to wear and decided on my little black long sleeved Versace dress and turquoise suede Manolo pumps.  I threw on a fitted denim jacket to funk it up a bit.

I did my make up and headed out.

The restaurant was several blocks away, but I thought I’d walk.  Half way there, I began to perspire.  After all, it was 80 degrees!  So I took off the jacket at a stop light.

While doing so, I spotted a handsome man also waiting at the corner for the light to change.  I thought I saw him glance my way.

I thought to myself, “I must be lookin’ good in my Versace and my blue shoes in Manhattan.”

The light changed.  And as I began to walk, the handsome guy came over to me.  He reached over to my neck as he said, “I think you have a tag.”

How embarassing!  There was a friggin’ Verace tag hanging out of the collar of my LBD.

He continued, “You look so beautiful tonight.  You don’t want to ruin it by having a tag.”

I thanked him in my humiliation. 

We ended up chatting for about a half a block and then he went on his way.  I thought he was going to ask me out any minute, but it didn’t happen.

Imagine, finding love on the street in New York City. 

Well, not quite.

Botox and the City

I’m dating a plastic surgeon.

Does that mean he’s looking at the bump on my nose during dinner?

I have no idea.  I don’t know him well enough to ask.  But that is what I’m thinking a lot of the time.

The bump on my nose and the eleven on my brow. 

Oh, and my chicken neck. 

Did I mention my parentheses?

Normally, these things really don’t phase me.  But I can’t help but be a little self conscious. 

It’s fine with me.  I know just where to go if I ever decide I need Botox in the City!

My First Fashion Show

Believe it or not, I’ve never been to Fashion Week. 

Well,

Not until this year.

I went to the Rachel Zoe show on Thursday.

And.

It was

Fabulous!

I mean, not just the show, but the whole experience.

I’ve been dying to go for years.  It’s just that, at first, I didn’t know how to score a ticket.  Then, I got shut out a few times.

Last year, I went to Fashion’s Night Out.  That was awesome.  I bought Chanel nail polish.  All I could afford last year.

Walked so much, that I got huge blisters on the bottoms of my feet!

Well, anyway, the show was very exciting. 

Although I was on the look out, there were no celeb sitings.  Well, aside from Rachel Zoe and her cute hubby.

Aside from the near fainting spell from not eating dinner, and near wipe out from my seven inch peacock suede Daffodile Christian Louboutins, I was in heaven.

And I can’t wait for February!

Is That Who I Think It Is?

Last week I was sitting in my car, waiting for six o’clock, when it would be legal for me to park my car in that parking space for the night. 

New York City parking rules.

I often do this because I am parked right outside my door.  I wait about half an hour.  While I wait, I keep busy listening to the radio, blogging, emailing, making phone calls, and people watching when I run out of things to do.

The people watching is fun, and sometimes I see folks I even know.  On this particular day, I saw three people walking together on the sidewalk that I was parked next to.  Two guys and a woman.  One of the guys was sucking on a straw.  He kind of looked like P Diddy or Puff Daddy, or Sean Combs, whatever his name is this week.  I think Diddy sucks on straws.  The woman with him looked like his baby mama.  The other guy with them looked like a bodyguard.

All of this was going through my mind as they were passing.  I was wishing I could have gotten out of the car to see them more clearly.  But I couldn’t leave the car there, for fear of getting a ticket.  Then, I thought, “Take a picture!  Take a picture!”

I whipped out my phone and fumbled with it.  By the time I got it going, they were ahead of me with their backs to me.  But I figured I’d take a pic anyway. 

Well, you know how when you are trying to take a great picture, and you think you are?  But just when you are about to, you click, and then there is a delay before the camera to actually takes the shot?  And then you end up with some wacky photo of someone picking their nose?  Anyway, I didn’t think I’d get a good pic of Puffy, maybe just his back.  But… I clicked the camera while they trio had their backs to me walking away.  And, for some strange reason… just as the camera engaged, they all three, turned around and looked in my direction.  My camera snapped at the exact time that they turned around.  And took the picture shown on this blog.

I analyzed it, and analyzed it.  Was it really him?  I wasn’t sure.  I was too emotionally invested, at this point, to decide.

So, I thought I’d get other opinions.  I texted the photo to family, who never responded.  Then, I just forgot about it.  Two weeks later, I remembered, and showed some folks the shot and asked who they thought the guy looked like.

Puff Daddy, they said.

“Yey!!! Woo hoo!!”  I screamed.  “It was him!  I was really him!!”  I was just so excited that I had actually saw Puffy in person, no matter how long after the fact it was.

Shoenniversary

I recently went on a Shoenniversary to the Bergdorf Goodman shoe sale with my BFF’s Sookie, Pam, and baby Tara.

A few years ago, my niece, Pam, suggested we go to the Bergdorf Goodman shoe sale to celebrate the start of summer.  She had never been, and we thought it would be fun.  And it was.  I think I even blogged about it.  You can take a look at past blogs if you like.

Anyway, we had so much fun, (we purchased about ten pair of Louboutin and Manolo Blahniks combined) that we decided to go every year.  So, this year rolled around and we found ourselves back at Bergdorf Goodman’s shoe sale.  This time, we also added a visit to the Christian Louboutin store on Madison Avenue.  They were having their bi-annual sale as well. 

I was in shoe heaven at our Shoenniversary.  And so was baby Tara.  She was happy as a clam.  Perhaps we’ve created another shoe-aholic.

Although, I really wanted to purchase that day, I didn’t.  For some reason, I just couldn’t find anything I loved in my size.  I was sad, but my wallet was happy.

I thought, "I made it through without buying!  Maybe I’m making progress with my shoe-aholic-ism.  Yay for me!"

Well, that was a month ago.  Yesterday, I returned, to the Bergdorf Goodman shoe sale.  It was still going on!  And the prices were further reduced. 

Oh, it was so much fun. 

I tried on a pair of crystal Jimmy Choo’s.  OMG!  They were beautiful and $2000.  But for half price, they were a steal!  They were exactly my size and looked fantastic on.  Only, they heels were wobbly.  So.  No big deal, right?  They were gorgeous!  I was considering them, but I didn’t purchase.

Something made me leave the building without doing it.

I emailed my BFFs, this morning, the following:      

I have a confession to make...  I re-visited Bergdorf's shoe sale yesterday.  

Without "yous guys"

Made it out alive.

Without buying anything.

Even though now EVERYTHING's 50% off.  

Even the LOUBOUTINS!

Really low stock.  

But still some good stuff, according to me!

 I've been thinking about it ever since.

Even though I made it out alive, I thought about them all night long, in my dreams, and again this morning. 

That’s not healthy.

And that’s why I shouldn’t have gone.

Oh Rats!

Today I had to run some errands during lunch hour.

I had to go to the bank, pick up sunscreen for my trip (yey!), and grab a salad.

It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was bright, the weather is getting warmer, I was able to zip up my favorite emerald green Prada pencil skirt this morning. (Thanks Weight Watchers!)

So far, it’s a good day.

So good, in fact, that I was practically skipping down the street to the bank, in my stunning turquoise blue spring coat, black suede platform wedges, and my Chanel rhinestone shades.

As I was saying, I was frolicking across 23^rd Street. Suddenly I spotted a small animal running towards me, trying to cross 23^rd Street as well!

Is it a cat?

Is it a dog?

Is it a squirrel?

Oh no! I think it’s a …

Dare I say it??

… RAT!?!?!

Yes. It is!!!

And it is coming right for me!

Then it swerved to the right. I swerved left.

Then it swerved to the left. I swerved right.

I wasn’t walking anymore. I was sort of jumping and screaming at the same time.

Then it came B-line for me.

Right in the middle of crossing 23^rd Street, I started skipping, hopping, and screaming simultaneously.

Can you get a visual?

That thing came so straight for me that I jumped over it to avoid it running right up my black suede platform wedges and emerald green Prada skirt.

There I am, hopping and screaming in the middle of the street as cars waiting at the red light!

I could see people looking at me and giggling, but I couldn’t help it. There was nothing I could do. It was goin’ down.

As I passed the rat and made it to the opposite street for safety, I was still screaming a little, giggling, and jump skipping. Then I made several grossed out, ewww body shakes.

More pedestrians on the corner saw it and were also amused.

Some bald, leather jacket, motorcycle guy turned to look at me as I approached the corner of 23^rd Street and 3^rd Avenue. He chuckled. “Wow, that’s something you don’t expect to see!”

I turned to him and agreed.

Have the rats now left the subways and taken over the streets? Do we have to step aside as THEY pass?

The streets are not big enough for the both of us Mr. Rodent!!

Another leisurely lunch hour stroll gone to shit.

Dude Where’s My Car?

I lost my car on Saturday.

Well, it’s ok.

I found it.

But from the time I lost it to the time I found it, I think I grew 20 grey hairs.

I parked my car on the street on Friday afternoon. I always park my car on the street. Sometimes I forget where I put it, but it hasn’t happened in a while.

It’s a common problem. And easy mistake to make when you park in a different place, on a different block every day. The days sort of end up running into each other and then you forget.

Anyway, in parked on Friday afternoon on my block, a few Avenues west of my place. I had to really maneuver my car into the parking spot, since a huge white truck was double parked next to the car in front of my spot. It was a really good spot.

On Saturday, I was headed out to Long Island to see the family. I was running really late and it was cold and raining out. I started walking to the car. Only, when I got to the street where I thought the car was, it wasn’t there.

Hmmm. Maybe it’s on the next street over.

I walked over to that street. No car.

Maybe it’s on the next Avenue.

I walked over to that Avenue. No car.

It’s raining and cold. And now I’m beginning to panic.

Where the heck did I park the flippin car?

I had to stop and think.

Think!!

Maybe I’ll have to hail a cab and make him drive me round and look for it. I was getting fatigued.

It was also getting later and later. It’s almost not worth going anymore. As it was, I was running so late.

Maybe I should just turn around and go back to the apartment. But, I’ll have to find the car eventually. I may as well just keep looking.

Then, as a last resort, I prayed. I’m not the most religious person, but in times of need like this, I figured I’d give it a shot.

I prayed to the saint who helps you find lost shit, Saint Fenurious.

Suddenly, I remembered the big white truck. That made me remember the street it was on. The car wasn’t on one of the streets I was looking on. It was on my street! The street I live on.

I headed back towards my street.

As I turned the corner, there it was. My sweet car was sitting there waiting for me. Winking at me, as it always does.

I sweetie! There you are! Thanks for waiting for me!!

My faithful car was patiently waiting.

I unlocked the door and jumped in for warmth and dryness.

Thank you Saint Fanurious!