My new hero.

Finally got around to watching Food, Inc. Wow. One of the most disturbing and powerful documentaries I've ever seen. I might have sobbed like a baby. It was really embarrassing. But it actually made me get out of my seat and do research. Like, I WANTED TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. It was insane. I haven't felt this passion since the 2004 election, sadly. And who did this? Joel Salatin. The Virginia farmer who is living the life I want. Not only is he brilliant and witty and strong and passionate...he's a freakin' amazing farmer who lets his pigs play in the mood. Delight in their "pigness." In fact, the passion carried over into the next day. I learned about this farm and other's apprenticeships. And I made a phone call. A PHONE CALL. Do you know how hard it is for me to make a phone call these days? I only email because I'm so afraid of confrontation and looking stupid and asking questions. Especially when I really care about it. But I did. And that's all I'm going to say for now.

Nicolas Cage is (was) a real dreamboat.

When I was in seventh grade, Nicolas Cage was the ultimate hottie. I watched him in Face/Off and that was it. I was hooked. No pimply, scrawny, junior varsity football player could do it for me after that. I was ruined for the rest of my angst-ridden adolescent years, as who in Georgetown, Texas, could ever live up to...THE CAGE?

Unfortunately, Nic has fallen by the wayside these days. His career continues to embarrass me, and I don't really want to see or pay for any of his films. It's just too sad. The receding hairline, the plugs, the desperation, the young, formerly-a-waitress wife...what happened, Nic?

That being said...I rewatched Valley Girl last night and fell in love all over again. His style, Flock of Seagulls hair, voice, awkwardness...it's all just dead sexy. GAWD.

I kind of want an Amish boyfriend?

Is that so wrong? I've always had fantasies about forsaking my entire existence, throwing my iPhone into a pond, shaving my head (okay that's a bit much, think I'm allowed to keep my hair) burning all my fancy clothes (bit of a stretch, they mostly come from thrift stores, guess I have one or two nice things) melting down my jewelry to make weapons (okay, now that's just weird. At least keep the antique jewelry or sell it for money and donate to orphans. No need to ruin a piece of the past to make weapons. You're a pacifist, remember?) sowing a field of wheat (don't really know how, but totally doable) and milking cows at 4:30am (in theory, a great idea. I love cows and dairy products. I hate getting up early but perhaps allowances can be made.)

ANYWAYS. I know it's easy to romanticize the Amish or the Mennonites or the Quakers or the Shakers or the Mamas and the Papas. Life isn't that easy or simple. Or is it? Maybe all I really want on a Sunday is to go to a barn raising and make two dozen Shoo Fly pies. Maybe I really don't NEED buttons on my clothing. And who needs cars when you've got a lovely horse and buggy? I'm pretty sure they frown on makeup, but I'll just explain to them that red lipstick is necessary--it's like a marking on a flower to let bees know there's nectar. Okay, that sounds kind of gross. I'm gonna wrap this up and say, if all Amish men look like Viggo Mortensen in Witness, count me in.

Dirty old man pick-up line of the week

"You're not beautiful, but you look very mischievous. Yes, like Puck in A Midsummer's Night Dream..."

Puck is a man. He's also a douchebag in an old The Real World.

Thanks.

Why is Isabelle Huppert crazy?

Because she is French and super thin and super chic and can get away with doing anything on film. ANYTHING. I admire that.

You might have relationship problems if...

Sorry, but I'm riffing on Jeff Foxworthy's award-winning comedy bit, "You might be a redneck if..."
I was watching the movie Nine 1/2 weeks. Yeah, it took me a long to finally get around to it. But, oh boy! It was fantastic! I recently watched The Wrestler, and I cannot believe that is the same person. Mickey Rourke, that is. Seriously, WTF HAPPENED TO HIS FACE?! He was smokin' hot in the 1980s. Poor Mickey and his messed-up face. He's still a badass though.

Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah. I found their relationship in the movie to be ideal. Like, Mickey Rourke's character is my dream man. That's messed up, right?

I'd like to be here right now...

Faulkner's house, that is.