"Somewhere" is Nowhere Good

So perhaps the following movie write up is not timely. But in the spirit of using this platform to truly help America (and by "America", I mean the 7 people reading this), I felt it was my duty to spread the word about the cinematic sleep aid, "Somewhere".

"Somewhere" is a little gem brought to you by Sofia Coppola, of "Godfather 3" and pink cans of champagne-fame. I want to like this little entitled hipster, but her latest "film" is so obnoxiously indulgent and story-less, I truly cannot find a single reason to sit through it.

Wait - I lied - the soundtrack (by Phoenix) is slightly above average.

The film, starring Stephen Dorff (still kinda cute, still short) and Elle Fanning (the less annoying sister) plays out like a cautionary tale for all celeb-wannabes who dream of living and/or hanging out at the Chateau Marmont. He's famous. He's rich. He likes hookers.

SURPRISE!

Elle plays his daughter (cue I-have-a-heart-and-I'm-flawed-therefore-I-am-interesting, sledgehammer). After spending a few random days flitting around the infamous LA hotel (remember Eloise? It's like that, but with coke & hookers), he realizes that he needs to get his shit together. I mean, I guess that's what we're supposed to gather.

Hollywood hipster elitist probably think it's brilliant. In the same way they think hemp shirts rock, everyone has a nanny, and seitan is a major food group.

1 out of 5 stars (No movie gets a "0". I got a post out of it, didn't I?)

My Second Official Endorsement: WrinkeFreeZone

I've never been a huge product person.

Maybe that's not entirely true.

I will purchase any lip gloss that is vaguely beige and if a make up artist is able to make me look perfectly flushed, sun-kissed, or porcelain I will justify the expenditure (telling myself that maybe this time I'll be able to recapture the same look, though I know deep down it's not gonna happen).

**Side note: Do make up artists & hair stylists have special powers? Why is it we can NEVER repeat what they do?

Until I hit 30, I pretty much let the packaging and the price (you're expensive? you must be LIFE CHANGING) determine what I put on my face.

When all of the predictions from Self, Shape, Marie Claire, Glamour, etc started to come true (i.e. sun is bad, hats are good), I decided to pay attention to what I put on my face.

So here's the endorsement part:

I recently stumbled upon a new line of products that the French ladies have been using for some time now. My new BFF from Sephora informed me that they're pricing the line competitively over here to get a fan base going (so I may not be able to afford this stuff in a year), but for now, I'm obsessed. My skin is no longer dry, the weird lines around my smile are fading, AND you know how sometimes people say their skin feels "dewey"? I didn't know what this meant until now.

Rexaline: I look forward to receiving a free lifetime supply.

Rhetta Hearts Matt

This fall, my baby brother and the love of his life will make it legal. We started the festivities this weekend with Rhetta's first bridal shower.

It was a lovely afternoon filled with food too pretty to eat, drinks too dangerous to drink, and gifts that only girls can squeal over (towels! plates! cups! oh my!). Best part? NO GAMES.

Here are some of my favorite moments:

The beautiful bride.

 

Champagne Cocktails go down best with festive straws. 

No shower is complete without fruit on a stick.

Presentation is everything.

 

Pink Sugary Goodness.

The bride & her sister-in-laws.

 

Ladies who lunch. 

Can't wait for October 22, 2011!

Things That Happened on July 26

1788: New York becomes the 11th state to ratify the constitution.

 

1891:  Henry James' "The American" premieres in London.

1933: Joe Dimaggio ends 61 game hitting streak in Pacific Coast League.

1978: This guy was born.

As much as I love visiting NYC, reading the classics, and appreciating the greats, I'm especially glad he showed up.

Happy birthday JEREMY.

Weekend Round Up: 4 Things

Any weekend filled with ... cupcakes

...a puppy named Tucker...

...and reunited family...

...can't be described as anything but perfect.

p.s. I wrapped the weekend with Bon Iver. Heaven.

Pet Peeve #1 - PAPs

From time to time, I will write about the things that irk me.

Much like "blind items" on blogs that people actually read/care about, I will never talk about the actual source of said "irking", as more often than not, it's just general commentary (and also, I'd like to keep my job and my friends).

For the first edition of Pet Peeve Central, I will discuss my disdain for PAPs. Not the ones that require me to put my feet in stir-ups, but instead a less invasive kind that are equally as unpleasant.

Passive Aggressive People.

Here's the deal. No one loves confrontation. No one can like everyone they encounter each day. It's impossible. People who pretend to like everyone are lying. I know this to be FACT.**

To illustrate just a few of my imperfections (and there are many), let me point out a few of the behaviors I prefer to passive aggression:

1) The occasional melt down. (Tantrums can be healthy)
2) Saying something you don't mean. (Been there)
3) Non-violent-violence (I threw a picture frame once (at a wall, not a person))

I'm not condoning the above behavior. I'm also not saying that I'm better than the PAPs. I realize that the annoyance of my melt downs > Passive Aggressive behavior to some.

For me, however, I would take a melt down, regrettable comment, and/or an occasional flying coffee mug over any of the following behaviors:

1) Opposite-Dayers. Saying one thing, but meaning another. I'm not a mind reader. I have 0.0 interest in picking up that skill set.
2) Blamers. No one likes to be wrong. Or at fault. But even less attractive than being wrong is finger-pointing. Guess what that solves? That's right, 0.0.
3) I'm fine (justkidding)-ers. I have to admit, I'm guilty of this one (add it to the list). But man, there's nothing worse than someone telling you they're "fine" when you know they're mad at you. I try to remember that when I pull out an "I'm fine".

Like I said, I've got some work to do.

Knowing is half the battle, right?

**"fact" = Fun Anecdote Could be True"

Why I'm Not A Doctor

There are so very many reasons this girl is not equipped to save anyone's life.

1) I took Mircobiology 110 pass/fail. The only reason I didn't fail is the TA thought I was cute. FACT.
2) I cry when I see old men that look lonely (they might not be lonely, they might just be alone at that particular moment, but I can't take it). I'm guessing old men don't like it when doctors cry during a check up.
3) I hate uniforms.
4) I'm not smart enough.

So instead, I'm in advertising. It's hella stressful and has somehow managed to give me panic attacks, but at least when my timelines are late or the strategy is off, no one loses a limb or overdoses on the wrong meds.

This concludes today's dose of the glass is halfish full, starring Lauren Elizabeth.

Bad Movies I Want To See

Do I know how both of these cinematic gems will end? Of course I do.

Do I think the titles are incredibly uninspired? Of course I do.

Do I want to see both in a double feature next weekend? Of course I do.

A Confession

I might have accidentally watched "Justin Bieber: Never Say Never" last night.

As a former subscriber to Teen Beat AND Teen Bop magazines, I feel as if I've earned the right to the following commentary:

An Observation: People told me I would be surprised by how much I would enjoy it. They lied.

A Question: If your manager's name is Scooter, your best friend is your bodyguard, and everyone around you drives purple cars with rims, can you be normal?

A Prediction (or 4): Selena will move on. His head will permanently tilt to the left from the hair flipping. His mom will end up having an affair with Billy Ray Cyrus. He will be the Dancing with the Stars Champion in 2016, narrowly edging out Ashley Tisdale and Willow Smith.

That is all.

Happiness in South Carolina

I was lucky enough to grow up in a family that values yearly vacations. Our favorite destination, hands down, was always Hilton Head, South Carolina (we're from Ohio, after all).

Post-college, we took less family vacations in favor of weekends at home in Cincy and/or European adventures with our friends. Trips to South Carolina were becoming a thing we "used to do" like roller blading and Super Mario. 

Much like our lives were moving on, so were my parents (weird how time doesn't stand still for them). As they neared retirement, they decided to take the plunge and move permanently to our old summer stopping grounds.

This weekend we made our first trip to our new home. As soon as we arrived, muscle memory kicked in. Everything slowed down. No anxiety. No stress. Just happiness. Everything I remembered it to be. We've moved on. This place hasn't changed. I hope it never does.

                                                   Missing Matt. Somehow surviving.

                                        He told me we have to leave. My face says it all.

                                                          Mom.

                                                My dad doesn't want a dog.

Me and the guys.

Solid Gold Dreams Dashed

When I was little I wanted to be a dancer.

To be more specific, I wanted to be a Solid Gold Dancer.

Until 1st grade, I was convinced that I was well on my way to becoming Marilyn McCoo's side kick. I made my parents & neighbors watch me dance along to the promo credits every Sunday night. Though not as flashy, I think my subdued costume showed promise.

I rocked those leg warmers.

Unfortunately, my dreams of dance were dashed by an unfortunate run in with an overstuffed mat in gymnastics. I'd like to tell you that I broke my ankle doing a super complicated mat routine or Keri Strug-ing my landing off the uneven bars.

But that would be a lie.

My dance career ended because I got a piece of foam from the foam pit in my eye and I tripped over the corner of a mat in route to the bathroom.

Yep.

Loving Maine. Appreciating Home.

On a recent trip to Maine with AudMarie at alovelyescape.blogspot, every little thing was exactly as we thought it would be. She's just like a sister. I'm Louise, She's Thelma. Throw in a convertible, and you've got yourself a remake. Unlike that cursed fictional pair, no one was attacked, robbed, or driven off a cliff (all three of which were legitimate concerns given our penchant for not paying attention, leaving our purses wide open at all times, and our inability to comprehend cardinal directions).

It was a great trip. Here are a few shots & highlights.

1) I was in charge of timeliness, checking the beds for bugs, and having anxiety about when we'd have our next meal. She made sure we actually had fun, used the map on the ipad properly, and documented the trip with a slew of pictures I didn't want to pose for but am happy that we have. In other words, I'm super fun.

2) The weather kinda sucked, but it somehow felt right for Maine. Our Hunter wellies were practically walking on their own we wore them so much. Random aside: For a region with lots of rain and a penchant for fishing, people simply could not wrap their heads around our rubber footwear. Dear Maine: GET ON BOARD. These boots will change your life.

3) Folks are LOVELY in small towns (I mean look at these streets?!). I'm not one of those jaded city-folks who patronizes the "cute" locals (okay, maybe the wellies comment was borderline), but it's so refreshing to be surrounded by mom & pop shops owned by people who genuinely seem happy to see you.

4) By the end of the trip, me & Miss Aud agreed that we're city girls. We like the noise. The rude people. Unnecessary boutiques, nail salons (there are 0.0 in Maine, in case you were wondering), and restaurants on every corner. It's so quiet there. No trains, sirens, unidentifiable animal noises, etc. And you know what else? There were no enormous reflective beans for us to take our picture in. Chicago rulz.

Why I Hate Baltimore: A Love Letter to The Walshs.

People leave. Change is good. Life goes on. Blah, blah, blah.

All of those successories lines are fine when they're on an ill-framed poster in someone's office. But on the day one of your best friends is moving across the country, those are all just words.

Chicago is losing one of its best families today as the Walsh clan is heading South & East (I think that's right) to put down some roots in Baltimore, MA. 

Kimmy & I have been friends since we rocked it out in 7th grade Treble Tones.  We bonded over our shared love of jams, 8th grade boys, and cassingles.

She became a mom 2 years ago when Sophia ("Bug") Walsh was born. I was instantly obsessed.

ss

LOOK AT HER!

Makes my heart hurt.

Kim & I have one of those bonds that doesn't require daily contact to remain in tact. I'll visit, she'll visit.

But will my bug remember me?

I'll miss you Betty.
xxoo

The Day My Life Changed Forever.

 July 12, 1983.

The conversation went a little something like this:

Aunt Ann: Lauren, your Dad wants to talk to you.

 (5-year-old  me running to the phone)

Lauren: Hi dad.

Dad: I wanted you to be the first to know that your baby brother is here! His name is Matt. Do you want to come and meet him?

Lauren: Okay.

The end.

So it wasn’t the huge emotional payoff my dad was probably hoping for. I was skeptical. Things were going pretty great in onlychildville.

But then I met him. And damn, he turned out cute.

After awhile, I began to realize the little brat was the best thing Joyce & Jeff ever did for me.

Happy birthday, fatty.

Weekend Round up: 80s Hair, Brunch Fail, and a Guru

After a quiet Saturday, Sunday was filled with all kinds of unexpected fun. Below you'll find the pics that sum it all up.

1)   Ever wake up and feel just a little bit drunk? Not from actual alcohol, but from the euphoria that is a Sunday with no where to be? Well, I'm thinking that is what's to blame for this: 

      I've been hanging out with the Wicker Park hipster set for too long.

2)   Removed side pony (Chicago just isn’t ready) to have brunch with Pete. After waiting 45 minutes for average food, we unfortunately have to give “Brunch on Erie” a FAIL.

                                          Cute man. Sad brunch.

3)   Here's a fact: I don't do modern art. I don't get it. I don't want to get it. I do, however, like experiences. So I was up for some performance art this weekend as I was promised it would be like nothing I had ever seen before. Below you'll find some pics of the experience. It included wearing masks and talking to a guru. I’m definitely not smart enough to fully understand it, but what I can say is that it was way different than spending Sunday on the couch with Lifetime.

                                                 Pick a mask. Pick an archetype.

  

                                                                Act 2. Part 1.

                                                        Act 2. Part 2.

                                    Waiting for the guru. Real bad at meditating.

      4)  Just as we were settling in for some post-guru Sunday TV, the power went out.

            Instead of reading a book or talking about life, we decided our time was better  

            at Bangers & Lace.

                                      I don't know what's in it and I do not care.

                                                                       YEP.

                                                       Hearts for power outages.