"Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself."

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Despite many appeals to God to pleasepleaseplease make the bad man stop, they just keep on coming.

First we have a Bond who's scared of socialites and, apparently, knows his Pucci when he sees it.

Second, fresh from his Oscar victory on Sunday night, we have Paul Haggis---the writer/director of Crash and a writer on Casino Royale---declaring that:

{...}But all the bells and whistles, all the things that Q used to give him, the gadgets, those are all gone. "So you deal with the character as an assassin and what it feels like to be an assassin. "And I ask the questions, 'Why does he treat women the way that he treats them?' "So I've either helped to re-energise this series, or I've just ruined James Bond for everybody forever."

And, last but not least, we have the Pussy Bond (TM) admitting he never really wanted to be Bond in the first place.

Yep.

And because of the producers refusal to pay Pierce---or Clive Owen, or Hugh Jackman or any number of other decent, hardworking actors who would have actually appreciated the job---fair market value for his services, we have this jagoff.

{Many thanks to Chrissy, who keeps emailing me all these stories}

Posted by: Kathy at 09:48 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I've stayed at one of Lileks' Iowa motels.

Yeah, I know you care.

Shush.

Anyway, it'sThe New Frontier in Ames, to be specific.

I don't know if it's still there, but it's where the parentals used to stay whenever Christi and I moved back to school. Ames is just far enough away from Omaha that even if you manage to get out of town and on the road first thing, by the time you reached the dorms and unloaded all of your kid's assorted crap, it would have been pushing the limits of your endurance to get back home. It was much easier to stay at the New Frontier because it was right on the way out of town---or at least it was on Mom's way out of town: everyone else took Highway 30 going the opposite direction to hook up with I-35 to Des Moines, which would lead you to I-80, which went to Omaha. Mom....well, she's never enjoyed driving on freeway through cities all that much, so whenever she could find a back way, she'd take it. And her back way into Ames was via Hwy. 169 to Boone, where she'd hook up with Hwy. 30.

This is also the part of Ames that was, at that time, still quite rural. The New Frontier was right next door to the drive-in, which was next door, to, well....not much that I remember. There was a good steak house, The Broiler, on the other side of the motel, which pretty much was one of three fine dining experiences in Ames. It was a quiet little place, only about twenty rooms, always clean and tidy. There was a chain-link fenced pool in the middle of the parking lot that no one ever swam in, and a neon sign that I only remember flashing "no vacancy" once all the times we stayed there. It wasn't fancy, but, as the Cake Eater Mother reminded us more than once, it had beds and it was clean. That's all that really mattered.

Reaching the motel was always a signifier that we weren't in Omaha anymore, too. Now that may sound more than obvious, but while Ames was a smallish city, it really wasn't anything like where we grew up, and this was as good a place to remember that fact as any other. There were cornfields behind the motel, and when the wind picked up, the stalks rustled loudly enough to disturb your sleep if you'd left the window open. The air was different, too. It was always August when we stayed there, hot and sunny, and unbearably humid at times, but the air was sweet with the fragrance of the country. And, no, I don't mean the fragrance of cow shit. It's something much, much different. Something sweeter, fresher than anything you could ever smell in the city where cars and pollution and people subtly thicken the air. It was the fragrance of productive, Iowa black dirt mingled with the hot, tarry, asphalt of the parking lot, with something green and sunny mixed in.

All these years later, I can see that it was a good transitional place. At the time, however, I will admit I could never see the place in the rearview mirror fast enough. I was always anxious to get back to school---and I drove my mother to distraction trying to get back there. Being home wasn't a happy place for me in the summers---all I ever did was work, read, and watch MTV---so whenever it was time to go back to Ames, where my friends and my social life lived, well, that was a good thing in my book. It seems the place was aptly titled, because that's where another new frontier started, even if I was as itchy as hell to get out of the place.

It looks like the place still exists. It undoubtedly still hosts families with itchy college students, just raring to get going on their lives and who wonder why they heck they're staying out in the middle of nowhere.

Posted by: Kathy at 04:06 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Ok, we're moving on to the ceremony itself.

As is usual, I'll keep updating if you keep refreshing. It's a quid pro quo excursion, kids---live up to your end of the bargain.

• ok, so we enjoyed Jon Stewart's little opening bit with the former hosts. We laughed. We cried. It was much better than "Cats."
• The gay cowboy thing was HYSTERICAL.
• Clooney will not win the rest of the night.
• Mr. H and I have decided that we're in agreement: Ben Stiller annoys the fuck out of us.
• what's up with those big bow ties? I get that now. Sorry to be an idiot there for a moment.
• Naomi Watts looks so washed out.
  
• Dolly, honey, at some point in time you have to cut the plastic surgeon loose or you will end up looking unnatural. This is that point in time. You're on the verge of freakish, darling, and while I realize you don't have a problem with that, your defenders might. Stop now, while you've got the chance.
  
  
• Ok, I'm glad they're actually letting non-actors up on the stage this year, but why do they keep playing music while they're talking? RUUUUUUDE!
• Is it bad of me to say that I enjoyed Steve Carrell with fake eyelashes?
• say "Tom Cruise is vulgar" Lauren! Say it. Please???
• The best actress attack ads were v.v. funny.
• Charlize Theron's dress is UUUUUUGGGGGLY! God, that is not flattering AT ALL!
  
  

  What is that? A pillow for convenient Oscar napping? Jeez!

• Please, God, when will the Oscar people realize that we actually don't need to hear the nominees for best song? I mean, really, they're just going to give it to Randy Newman, anyway. It's such a waste of commercial time.
• Mr H.: "I'm waiting for Michael Jackson to fly up on the top of the {burning} car.
• The TRAVESTY version of P&P: 0 for 3! WOOOHOOOO!
• Don't break an arm, Hollywood, by patting yourself on the back too hard.
• Salma, could you please have just one day where you look like shit so the rest of us could have a good day? Just a thought. Maybe we'd rent Frida for the quid pro quo.
  
• That TRAVESTY P&P is 0 for 4! WOOOOOHOOOOOO!
  

  But, to throw her a bone, Keira is wearing the best necklace of the night, by far.

• STOP plugging going to the movies, people! If you want people to go to the movies, well, make sure the experience doesn't suck. Clean theaters, make sure people turn their phones off, make sure that your feet don't get stuck in sticky spilled soda, make sure that someone's not giving their boyfriend head up in the upper rows. And this isn't even getting into the fact that MANY OF YOUR MOVIES SUCK!
• I have nothing against hip-hop, but "It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp?" Really? This might just be the performance that kills the song performances. Or at least one can hope.
• I guess not.
• Man, I wish Jennifer Garner would have bit it. That would have made up for the whole last season of Alias
• Ok, so I think Jon Stewart is being quite funny. Then again, I thought it was quite wonderful when Adrien Brody let loose on Halle Berry, not realizing a world of feminists would object, so what do I know?
• Ok, it's five minutes to ten and we've got what? best actress, the writing awards, best director and best picture to go? This thing is so not getting over with any time soon.
• YAY REESE!
• Is anybody reading this thing or are you all ignoring my hard work.
• Yeah, that's what I thought.
• Ok, sorry about that, but they sped through the last few awards and then it was over! Sheesh. If they got rid of the music numbers, perhaps they wouldn't have to do that. Just sayin'.

  Ok, here's the thoughts: not surprised that Larry McMurtry wore jeans to the Oscars. Good for him. I'm sure he was the most comfortable man in the room tonight. I'm glad Ang Lee finally got an Oscar and I was quite surprised that Crash won best picture. I think they all were, too. They actually seemed quite overjoyed that they won, which was nice, even if stupid Bill Conti cut off the producer during her acceptance speech. I swear they wouldn't have done that if Spielberg had won for Munich. Oy. Highly annoying. And that wasn't the first time they'd done that this evening.

  And, now, I have a table full of half-empty food dishes that needs clearing away so that I can go to bed. Good Night, my devoted Cake Eater readers. Thanks for stopping by.

  And bonne chance.

  Because I'm cheeky that way.

MONDAY MORNING UPDATE

• At what point does your stylist say to you, "Darling, eat a cookie or three because your head is beginning to look freakishly large in comparison to your body." ?
  

  Somebody, please, tell Hillary Swank to eat something! I'm having this horrible image of her head falling off, and rolling down the hill because her body couldn't support its weight anymore.

• I know Sandra's married to Jesse James now, but she and Keanu just look so cute together I had to throw in a picture of them.
  

  Good for her, too, for wearing a dress with pockets if she didn't want to carry an evening bag. It's just too tacky when women dump their crap in their man's pockets.

Posted by: Kathy at 07:00 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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And hello there, my devoted Cake Eater readers. We're back once again with the liveblogging of the self-important celebrities' big night. As is the usual, I'll keep updating if you keep refreshing.

I'm watching E's Live from the Red Carpet:

• Thank God, it appears Star Jones has hauled her fat ass---whoops---her skinny ass elsewhere for the evening.
• Although, I have no idea how you American Idol fans stand Ryan Seacrest. There's no getting around it: he's a big fat phoney. Although even at his heaviest he'll never be as heavy as Star Jones. Even when she's at her lightest.
• Yep. I'm starting with fat jokes. The snark level should increase in class as soon as a. I get warmed up and b. I get more wine in me.
• Dolly Parton is always cute
• Keira Knightley's necklace is incredible!

  

• Clooney is still hot. Even if he is a commie pinko.
• I'm going to go and check and see if Sheila is having issues with Eric Bana's hotness.
• I really like Keira Knightley's necklace, but---and let me make myself clear on this one---SHE IS NOT WINNING THE BEST ACTRESS OSCAR FOR THE TRAVESTY VERSION OF P&P. Are we all clear on this? Good. This message was brought to you by The Firth as Darcy Club (TM).
• Fast Faisal co-wrote Good Night and Good Luck???
• Is Ludacris really someone I should know? Because I have no idea who the #$@k this individual is, but it appears his head is as huge as a head can get.
• Mr. H. is here!
• we've switched over to the ABC preshow and Jennifer Aniston needs to eat a cookie.
• and oh my god are they asking the most asinine questions ever?
• the husband to Jamie Foxx: "I remember when you were in drag on living color."

Posted by: Kathy at 05:21 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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You Are Austin

A little bit country, a little bit rock and roll. You're totally weird and very proud of it. Artistic and freaky, you still seem to fit in... in your own strange way. Famous Austin residents: Lance Armstrong, Sandra Bullock, Andy Roddick

I've long wanted to live in Austin, but life has thwarted my ambitions every time---to the point where I'm pretty damn sure it's NEVER going to happen.

It's good to have confirmation about my instincts though.

{Hat tip: Cal Tech Girl}

Posted by: Kathy at 01:03 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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It's been said that the way to know a man is by the company he keeps.

TORONTO (AP) — It took an old Bond to come to the rescue of the new Bond. Roger Moore, who played Agent 007 in seven of the James Bond movies, said critics of the film franchise’s new star, Daniel Craig, should give him a chance.

“He’s a helluva good actor,” said Moore, 78, noting that critics haven’t even seen Craig in the role yet. “So why attack him?”

{...}He also dismissed suggestions that Bond is obsolete in a post-Cold War, post-9/11 world, where real terrorists like Osama bin Laden and al-Qaida have trivialized such Bondian super-villains and organizations as Goldfinger, Blofeld and SMERSH.

“It’s fantasy,” counters Moore. “Bond is fantasy, there’s no real substance to it. It’s a figment of imagination. ... (It’s) sort of crazy, you know, a spy who is recognized wherever he goes. Spies ain’t like that.”

When the Disco Bond(TM) rushes to your defense, well, you really are the Pussy Bond (TM), aren't you?

In related news: Ford stockholders shit truckloads of golden eggrolls when they learn how much Ford paid to get the Pussy Bond (TM) to drive their Mondeo model in Casino Royale.

One can only hope Ford sent an automatic version to the set.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:45 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Die you rotten comment spammer bastards, DIE!

Posted by: Kathy at 10:09 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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It was a good trip.

And I got some sun.

If you were looking for more than that, my devoted Cake Eater readers, well, check back later and I'll see what I can do about fulfilling your desire to know all.

UPDATE: I ate way too much, too.

UPDATE DEUX: Oh, and I went to Mexico for about, oh, a half an hour.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:09 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Oh so bloody tired.

And, yeah, we're home. It's been a loooooooooooong day and I will recap the trip for you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, tomorrow. I'm going to go and pour myself some more wine and then take a nice long soak in my own tub. From whence I will fall into my own bed and sleep the sleep of the righteous.

It's pleasant to be home. It's always weird to walk into your house when you come home. There's that little bit of anxiety that something won't be right, but once you get the mail, haul the suitcases in, unlock the doors, turn on the lights, etc., the world slowly begins to right itself. That's when you find out what you didn't get done before you had to leave the house at five am because your ride to the airport was getting antsy. As far as I can tell there were only two things that did not get done before we left the house last week.

The first was that the dishwasher didn't get started.

If you feel like being grossed out---AND I REALLY MEAN THAT. CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED!---take the jump for the second thing that didn't get done before we left the house on Thursday, February 23rd. more...

Posted by: Kathy at 10:00 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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