Honest to Blr

Review: Birthday Cake Oreos

Tue, 07 May 2013 14:14:10 -0400

Yesterday I went to Ralph’s in Studio City by myself. I usually have one or both sons in tow; strolling through the aisles unencumbered felt both nostalgic and novel. It was a real Calgon moment for old Brookie.

I saw that they had Birthday Cake Oreos. I don’t buy that trans-fatty Mississippi shit for my kids, but I definitely eat it myself. I threw them in the cart next to all the lame organic fruit, salmon etc. that I impose on my family. Suckers!

“Birthday cake” is my favorite flavor of anything. As a descriptor, it makes me laugh because we all know a birthday cake can be anything from Fudgie the Whale to a Princess situation. And yet, if you see a snack food or frozen novelty that claims to “birthday cake”-flavored, you know what it means. Yellow cake with white frosting and perhaps a suggestion of Blue No. 1. You know. BIRTHDAY CAKE. I love that flavor. Adore it.

I told the cashier (Sandra, who had been partying the night before, and was just about to clock off) to keep my Oreos seperate from the rest of the haul because I intended to eat them in the car privately. She gave me a weird look, but complied.

I placed the Oreos on the front seat of my car and peeled away the convenient self-adhesive Diabetes Flap that Oreos come with now. I began driving and eating the Oreos. For a brief, emotional moment, the sun came out. I mean that figuratively. The moment I start “Private Car Eating,” my serotonin levels surge past baseline and go supernova. The roof of my mom SUV becomes the shade of the bodhi tree; my knees and other attachment points seem to sublimate, I am limbless, I become happiness.

The moment passed as I realized that the Oreos were not exceptional. They taste like regular Oreos with a faint, buttery, cake-like foretaste. Honestly, I thought it would be big. I thought it was going to be like being butt-fucked by Duncan Hines. I expected something like the Ann-Margret pudding scene from Tommy, except with birthday cake. Imagine someone inserted a series of tan, medical-grade rubber hoses into all your orifices, then used a flywheel-type launch system to quickly, brutally deliver cake/frosting sludge into the network of hoses, killing you but also flooding your entire carcass with the memory of your fourth birthday party. That’s what I wanted, Nabisco.

I’ll eat the rest of them, but I’m disappointed! 2.5 stars.

molls: I’m going to give my daughter my crystal at her...

Mon, 19 Nov 2012 22:18:40 -0500

molls:

I’m going to give my daughter my crystal at her engagement party.

Traci Lords on boys and sex in HuffPo

Mon, 19 Nov 2012 13:39:20 -0500

“I’m a mom myself, I have a five-year-old son, and he’s fierce and people constantly ask me “What are you going to do with your son and [how will you] tell him about your career?” And I respond, “You teach children as it’s appropriate.” Ultimately I want to teach him use his penis for good and not evil! This is a gift. This is your body. Yes, it matters who you share it with because it will matter to you. It’s not from any place of “Don’t have sex till you’re married… Don’t do this… Don’t do that.” I’m not coming from that place. Just when you do it, do it with someone you really love the first time. These are the things I want him to know.”

When my sons are older and have questions, I’ll probably just paraphrase this. Thanks, Traci!

Best Red Band Trailer gif ever.

Tue, 11 Sep 2012 14:12:38 -0400

myfriendsaremarried:

17 Years!

Mon, 10 Sep 2012 17:48:01 -0400

Today I was driving to the doctor’s office and listening to the ’90s station on Sirius. The song “Hand in My Pocket” by Alanis Treadwell (née Morissette) came on, and I instantly became unstuck in time. I used to drive around to that song in the actual ’90s.

Back in those days, I had a silver Ford Escort I called “Rocket Girl”— this was a perfectly mid-’90s name for a car; everything then was all about rockets and girls and silver polyester and Marvin the Martian and D’arcy Wretzky and whatever. If you were there, you know what I’m talking about. Anyway, I used to drive around in Rocket Girl and listen to Q101, Chicago’s rock alternative. At the time, I pretended to be too cool for Alanis because I was in a funny-punk band. (There is no Wikipedia entry for funny-punk, but I assure you it was a thing.) But whenever one of Alanis’s songs came on the radio, I’d crank it. And sing. And play air-harmonica at stoplights.

Today I drove to Beverly Hills, not as a teenager, but as a boring mother of two wearing J. Crew. And yet it seemed like no time had passed at all. I did some math. 17 years. “Hand in My Pocket” is over 17 years old, which means I’ve been a licensed driver for a long-ass time. TL;DR: I’m old.

eject: Last week’s LATimes article ran in Chicago Tribune...

Fri, 29 Jun 2012 20:43:40 -0400

eject: Last week’s LATimes article ran in Chicago Tribune...:

Yes.

kellyoxford:

Last week’s LATimes article ran in Chicago Tribune today.

SHORTCUTS!
The message I am getting from this is that living my whole life as a writer, writing for years and years meant nothing. Growing up as the annoying kid on the street who wrote plays and tried to force peers to perform…

The Benefits of Being Shameless

Sat, 07 Apr 2012 16:56:34 -0400

Tracie nails it so I don’t have to.

tracieeganmorrissey:

Ever since I got pregnant I sort of had this idea in my head that I’d want to write an essay about how I’ve gone about reconciling my past as a self-identified slut and transitioned into being a mother. But the words wouldn’t come to me when I was pregnant, so I figured I’d get to it once I actually had the baby and experienced motherhood. So I waited and waited, and now, six months later, I’m still unable to write about it. It’s not because the subject matter is too difficult or too sensitive. It’s just that I’ve come to realize something: What is there to reconcile?

Read More

"Uh, uh, South Beach bringin' the heat..."

Wed, 29 Feb 2012 10:01:15 -0500

Mystery: The song “Miami” by Will Smith seems to be extremely popular on New Orleans radio. Like, I hear it daily. DAILY. I don’t think I need to explain why this is mystifying. As far as I know, this fourteen(!)-year-old jam doesn’t even get regular airplay in the city it praises. My brother lives in Miami. I should ask him.

New Orleans

Wed, 22 Feb 2012 11:08:57 -0500

I’ve been in New Orleans for about 7 weeks now, prepping the movie formerly known as Lamb of God. We had to change the title for a couple of reasons, one being that explicit references to G_d don’t fly in certain foreign markets. I actually like the new proposed title better, but can’t announce it until it’s cleared. “Clearance” is an unsexy concept that’s really affecting my day-to-day life as a director. I swear if a character sneezes, we have to clear that shit with the AMA. It never ends.

I’m having a nice time here with my son, and especially enjoying the Southern hospitality and human interaction. This morning, I walked out to my car and discovered that someone had knocked off my driver’s side mirror during last night’s Mardi Gras revelry. This nice man rushed to help me attempt to repair it. You’d think I was being mugged based on his rapid and sincere response. I thanked him and decided to stroll down to the corner and get a coffee.

Inside the coffee house, I’m paying for my iced decaf Southern Pecan when an elderly gentleman comes up to me and breathlessly says “ARE YOU THE GAL WHOSE MIRRAH GOT BROKE?” I mean, my broken mirror was already news on the block. That’s how polite and concerned these folks are. In L.A., nobody would give two fucks.

We start shooting very soon and I *suspect* we’ll have a newly minted Oscar winner in the house. Cross your fingers and toes for Octavia! The character she plays in this movie is extremely un-“Minnie”-like, but in a fun way; you’ll get to see her sing and make out with guys and stuff. I really can’t wait to roll camera. P.S. I’m gaining so much weight. Po’boys and king cake; food of the g_ds.

I'm 33 and I agree

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 10:30:52 -0500

“I refuse to conform to any narrative conventions that say, ‘Well, if you begin a film with voice-over you at least have to bookend it, have it at the end. You can’t just have it at the beginning and let it taper off.’ I’m thinking, I’m 50 and I’m going to use whatever cinematic device I want to.” -Alexander Payne

Not a Mooch.

Tue, 27 Dec 2011 13:17:34 -0500

Lately, I’ve noticed that I possess just about every negative quality there is. Frankly, this observation was starting to bum me out. I can’t even talk shit properly because I’m always thinking Well, I’m like that too.

But then last night I was watching Tiny Furniture (awesome movie). There’s this dude in it who’s a classic leech. An asker. Just one of those people who baldly solicits food, things, time— and then has the gall to bitch about the quality or quantity thereof. One of those people who just asks: naked, prideless, with that dumb unblinking gaze of the rarely denied. You know what I mean by that look?

I realized joyfully: I’m not a mooch! This is one shitty quality I don’t have! I never ask for anything. I have to be approaching full renal failure before I’ll request a glass of water. I’ll soil myself before I’ll use your bathroom. I will never, ever ask you to drive me somewhere. If you do offer me something, I’ll react as though you gave me your bone marrow. And I NEVER ask for the dreaded “industry favor.” I frequently buy things I could get for free if I was willing to make a casual phone call. Never. Shame. Schaden.

I don’t know if this is a wholly positive quality, but I feel good about it today.

It is less realistic this way, but somehow more disturbing.

Tue, 22 Nov 2011 17:56:00 -0500

kellyoxford:

Richard just saw "Martha Marcy May Marlene"

Thu, 03 Nov 2011 12:43:33 -0400

INT. CAR (DAY)

“I liked it. No, I did. I just need some time to think about it. It’s like I’m waiting for the payoff, though, and…yeah. It’s one you gotta sleep on, you know?”

“That girl was phenomenal, though. I’ve been saying that lately, phenomenal. I think I picked it up from my kids. (chuckle) It’s like the new thing. All right, turn left up here at LaGrange.”

Emails between me and my brother

Mon, 17 Oct 2011 16:21:00 -0400

(To be clear, the entire intent of this exchange was to fuck with me.)

***

On Mon, Oct 17, 2011 at 11:52 AM, Marc Busey wrote:

»» »»> Do you and Dan have a convenction oven? »»

On Mon, Oct 17, 2011 at 4:10 PM, Brook Maurio wrote: »> »» We have a regular double oven and a microwave, that’s it.

» On Mon, Oct 17, 2011 at 1:11 PM, Marc Busey wrote: » »> When you say “regular” you mean “convenctional”, correct?

> On Mon, Oct 17, 2011 at 4:13 PM, Brook Maurio wrote: > » Conventional and convection are different. I think a convection oven is a » toaster oven. No such thing as “convenction.”

On 10/17/11, Marc Busey wrote:

> lol

“Sexy Director” Halloween costume, courtesy of...

Thu, 13 Oct 2011 17:23:11 -0400

“Sexy Director” Halloween costume, courtesy of eagle-eyed Jezebel. I don’t know many filmmakers who actually wear the slate, but the tiny DIRECTOR megaphone is spot on! I bet this chick could crash any production and start DeMille-ing around uncaught.

Can’t decide if it would horrific or kind of amazing to show up on set wearing this.

Rom Toomer, one of the greatest roller coaster designers of all...

Tue, 27 Sep 2011 02:25:20 -0400

Rom Toomer, one of the greatest roller coaster designers of all time, has passed away. As some of you know, studying and “collecting” coasters is my #1 supreme hobby/timesuck outside of the entertainment world. I’ve ridden many of Toomer’s creations, and there’s no coaster more iconic to me than the vintage Arrow “steelie” in all its forceful, balletic, ear-boxing glory. Thanks, Ron!

this concludes nerd time.

Omnibus Tumblr Post

Mon, 19 Sep 2011 14:20:00 -0400

I’m headed to New York tomorrow for the first of what will hopefully be a handful of Young Adult-related events. Movie’s not out until December, but the screenings and advance press (AKA the Ringling Brothers Publicity Circus Feat. “Jumbo the Writer”) start now. ‘Tis the season to be self-conscious! (About myself, not Jason’s film. I’m extremely proud of the latter.)

I bought a really long dress with long sleeves. I’m planning to go full Hasid for this go-round; I find it cuts down on stripper questions & journo bodysnark by about 80%.

For experimental purposes, from here on out, I think I’ll pronounce the “adult” in Young Adult with the stress on the first syllable, ’50s-educational-film-style. I will use this technique to mess with sticklers.

This would be the ideal outcome:

MOVIE BUFF: “Wanna go to the Arclight and see Young Adult? Hm? Oh no, that’s really how it’s pronounced. It’s how the writer says it. You didn’t know that?”

(You know how there are some people who insist on calling Bjork “Byerk,” because that’s the proper Icelandic pronunciation? Sticklers. Watch out! I got your number!)

In the meantime, I’ve been sad because I heard Bobcat Goldthwait (who is actually a really talented writer/director) brought a movie to Toronto that rips on everything stupid about American pop culture; namely, reality TV, Idol, Kardashians and…me? I don’t even consider myself a part of “pop culture” these days. I’m a screenwriter with a hit-or-miss career. I don’t really go out to events. I don’t have a million Twitter followers or a massive fandom (In fact, I seem to have a much larger and more vocal “un-fandom,” if you know what I’m saying.) I would think that to pollute pop culture to such a degree that it warrants being eviscerated in a movie, one would need to be, you know, powerful. Visible. Ubiquitous. I’m none of those things and I haven’t been in a while. Maybe this movie has been on the shelf? Hope so, but I doubt it.

I ordinarily shake these things off, but it sucks extra hard when the criticism comes from someone you admire. Shakes the Clown is an excellent movie. Plus, I always assumed Goldthwait and I were kindred spirits— we both have silly aggro fake names, and we’ve both spent our careers (his long, mine short) trying to transcend the gimmicks we’re known for. Dear Bobcat: Juno is my “growly voice.” Let me evolve, as you have evolved.

What else? The weather is cooling down and I’m going to try out the “Couch to 5K” app again. I did it last fall and blew my knee out, but hope springs eternal. Maybe I should get those weird shoes that look like skeleton feet?

One more thing! The new season of RED BAND TRAILER is coming out really soon. We’re all edited and ready to go. We have a new home at L Studios (the folks who brought you WEB THERAPY) and they will be debuting the new episodes on their website soon. I’ll keep you posted.

See you soon, New York, in my very long dress…

Deja Ew

Fri, 16 Sep 2011 12:03:04 -0400

I am so hungover. Last night I thought I would be “the cool mom” (TM Mean Girls) and go out dancing after the boy was tucked in. We actually got eighty-sixed because we were too hammered. Worse yet, I did something I never, ever do and pulled the “I’m vaguely famous” card as we tried to drunkenly wheedle our way back into the bar. (Of course they laughed. They were probably like Yeah, bitch, for five minutes in 2008.) When I came home, I told Dan and he was like “You never do anything that gross,” and I was like, “I know.” Then I ate an entire box of Kraft dinner, prepared with half-and-half.

I’m too old for this shit.

P.S. Those coconut water “recovery shots” taste like bile, but they work.

R.M., addressing his wife Cynthia, who is in another room.

Wed, 10 Aug 2011 01:32:13 -0400

“I’m running out, Cyn. Do you want a sandwich or something? Right, I know, I know, a salad. I can’t keep up with these diets. Hey, I tried.”

(car door slams)

(gentle acceleration of departing Cadillac CTX)

kellyoxford: @dannychun, thanks for the heads up on this...

Mon, 08 Aug 2011 12:54:29 -0400

kellyoxford:

@dannychun, thanks for the heads up on this beautiful video that captures the beauty of chaos that is Los Angeles. My favorite nights have been sitting up in the quiet hills, looking down at the city and up at the hundreds of airplane lights.