Pinker pastures

Photo uploads have become a screeching pain on this server. Join me at my "new" home on Blogger. Nothing new yet, but keep your ear to the ground.

(Pussyranch.net will redirect as well)

Aloha!

Interview with Jason Reitman from Telluride

With a babbling cameo from me.

And here's some sweetness from the Circuit, Variety's film festival blog. There's a photo of Jason and Blinky McBlinkerstein for you to ogle and enjoy.

Telluride

Is where I be.

Cinematical review

Variety (caution: more spoilers than a Hong Kong street race.)

Needless to say, this has been unreal. Our first "sneak peek" screening took place in Mountain Village, a 12-minute gondola ride away from Telluride's main drag. We were 10,000 feet above sea level but it felt more like 100,000. I'm still digging clouds out of my ears.

Your "precociously precious" friend,
Diablo


Toronto, ho!

Juno to premiere at Toronto International Film Festival.

I sort of knew about this for a while, but I think it's best if we have some secrets, you know? Here, I'll make it up to you: I once got my period all over a chair at the Paramount commissary. That's some Frank Warren shit right there. CONFESSIONAL!

I Just Wanted to Fuck Someone Famous

In which Prince and I attempt to interface with two hot, straight-acting MySpace dudes.

I don't even know why I bother to blog anymore. It's so much easier to just link to Prince, especially since he's Mr. Finger-on-the-Pulse-of-the-Zeitgeist these days. By the way, I am going back to Blockbuster to claim my prize. Soon.

Incidentally, we brought Donovan with us that night. Jesus H. Cute! I NEED CLEANUP IN BOOTH C!

Gum Review: Orbit Mint Mojito

Finally, a gum that addresses my very specific demographic: trendy, drunk, Mexico-adjacent garnish enthusiasts who consider fresh breath a priority!

I don't normally chew gum, because I'm so high-strung I have a tendency to chomp the wad aggressively. (Not only is this gauche, but I wake up with an aching jaw the next day. And everyone knows the only good reason for an aching jaw; gum it ain't.) However, I had to try this stuff. I like mojitos, like every woman between the age of 22 and 45. It's a cocktail that smacks of privilege; you can't buy a bottled, prefab mojito at the Kum n' Go. One must have freshly muddled mint on hand. All the elements sound so precious: Light rum. Sugar. Sparkling water. It sounds like a drink that should only be consumed by people whose whites stay white.

Therefore, I had to try Orbit's attempt to distill the essence of a mojito into a dry square of resin and glycerin. As I first caressed the gum with my teeth, the flavor was minty, mild. A second chew triggered the lime action. My mouth flooded with grateful saliva. The third chew intensified the lime and added notes of...rum? Seriously? Maybe I imagined it.

All around, a satisfying and delicious chew. P.S. Keep sugarless gum away from your dogs. I found Barnabas trying to eat a piece of this gum after I left it unattended. I pried it from his jaws and checked online; sure enough, Xylitol kills 'em dead.

(I was at a meeting last week with a rosebud-lipped ingenue and she ordered a virgin mojito. I had no idea that could be done. I would never do such a thing, but if you're inclined to keep your edge, give it a try.)

Soon, soon, you're a balloon

Juno to be released December 14. (Big ups to Cinematical for the ongoing support.)

Other fun announcements to come. You know what? December 14 is not a messin'-around release date. It's kind of a scary release date. It's a we-believe-in-you release date. I believe in me, but I also believe in Crystal Light, so it seems my trust is easily won.

The title of this post is a reference to a Mr. Show sketch. I couldn't find it on YouTube (after an admittedly half-assed search), so you can watch this genius instead: Monks vs. Fat Kids.

Here are some questions I keep getting asked. My answers are in bold. Imagine a deep, authoritative voice.

1.) Have you seen the movie? Yes.

2.) What did you think? My eyes were rolled back in my head most of the time. PLEAZHURE. Seriously, it's hard to be objective about something you squeezed out of your own pores, but I will say that Jason Reitman should have SYLVANIA tattooed on his ass because he's so fucking brilliant.

3.) Michael Cera is going to be famous now. I knowz. He and Jonah Hill are on about a zillion billboards here in L.A. with their cutie-cute faces that I wish to seize and kiss. It's fortuitous that the rest of us slobs get to hitch a ride on this swelling wave of Cera-mania. I remember Mr. Cera talking about Superbad on our first day of shooting. But I didn't really think about it at the time, because my head had recently exploded and I was blindly plucking skull fragments off the ground.

4.) Where's Jonny? Right now? Somewhere in New Mexico, watching James Bond and eating PBJ on a Comfort Inn quilt.

Rare and precious linkage


Prince Gomolvilas is a big-shot playwright who kindly deigns to speak to me on a regular basis. (Most fine-arts types reel in disgust at the mere sound of my cloddish footfalls.) Here is his awesome blog. You will be entertained, I assure you.

I am meeting so many cute people in Los Angeles it's sick!

Barnabas just mangled a NARS lipgloss tube with his teeth. Second makeup casualty this week. I can relate to his lack of impulse control, seeing as my belly is currently distended from five(!) slices of Pizza Hut Remorse Lover's Pizza.


Photo by Louis Malle

Now that I own a scanner (yes, it's 1996 up in here), I can finally share a childhood photo or two with the clamoring masses. You begged, you pleaded*, and now ye shall receive.

wonderwoman.jpg


Here I am in my flame-attractant polyester Underoos and Mom's red cowboy boots. I'm pretty sure I dishabilled myself in this fashion at least once a day, so it probably stopped being cute after the umpty-umpth "Look, I'm Won-dew Woman!" Sorry, family.

I'm squinting because I desperately need glasses, but no one has figured that out yet. My hair is best described as Time-Sensitive Blonde; that particular wheaten shade that eventually dims to brunette. You gotta love that Happenin' House of the '70s: the brickwork lineoleum tile the color of bloody stool, the quasi-ethnic tapestry hanging on the wall, the wooden switchplates, the ornamental wrought iron "cage" that my parents had installed after my brother did an Evel Knievel from the landing. And though you can't tell in this photo, the walls were a very weird texture, like egg white whipped into stiff peaks.

My ears really stuck out back then.

*In my mind.


Comfort food.

Okay guys, given the circumstances, I think we could all use a cathartic chuckle.

That being said, here's one of the best things I ever seen on the Internet. (This one goes out to Quinn):

This dude somehow acquired his own Rock-afire Explosion setup and painstakingly programs Fats, Mitzi and the gang to perform custom jams. (For all you gearheads, here's how he does it.

Seriously, I can't even deal with this it's so amazing.

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