All things British...

It's a new year. It's time for a new show for people who hate tv shows. That show is Masterpiece Classic's Downton Abbey.

Maybe it's the post-traumatic stress stemming from Harry Potter in all its finalty, or maybe it's just my abnormal preference for brilliant British acting, but I am in L-O-V-E with this series.

I've been a fiercely loyal member to team Bates from Season 1: Episode 1. This just made my Sunday nights so much more appealing. I always dreaded the long and gloomy evenings that began the downward descent into human loathing for the "Monday morning". Now, my Sunday evenings are spent basking in the sparkling English countryside alongside flesh and blue-blooded aristocrats and their loyal underdog team of Edwardian servants.

I'm also adding my very first "back-to-blogging" top-shelf hottie for 2012, Mr. Brendan Coyle!

Speaking of hot Brits, happy birthday to the Duchess today! (Kudos to his hotness, Prince William, who shares my love for Downton Abbey )

Cocktails with Strider

Happy birthday to a special little twenty-something -- a toast from your very own hot toddy!

Viggo - NYC 1980

Strike up the gland

This being my 29th year, I'm reflecting on the remainder of tween. At 20, I began my senior year in college, at 21 I married and graduated from college, at 22 I began a career for three years, at 25 I sold my first home and retired to travel with my old man for four years. Finally, at 29 we hope to see the road coming to an end. I hope my thirties have as much adventure as my long lost twenties.
In honor of this "last" birthday, I'm paying homage to another well aged toddy. Meet Mr. Jean Louis Coul'loch, a brawny French actor whose extreme ability to melt away undergarments at warp speed will put the coldest of codgers in a steamy sweat. I stumbled across the French flick Lady Chatterley through Netflix. I'm so happy I queued this film. Most readers usually disagree with my choice of masculine treasures, but I'm standing behind this one. One of the most erotic, fresh, and visually demanding films I've seen in a long time. It's definitely a keeper. I recommend the European extended version.

I'll take a Bale with that bath!

In honor of the Lent season fast today, I thought I'd pour on one last hot toddy until next month.
I'm showcasing the uber hot bod of Mr. Christian Bale...better known as Bruce Wayne, Melvin Purvis, or Patrick Bateman, whichever you prefer. Scruffy and tough, or squeaky clean...Bale gets a 10 in AND out of the shower!

Where's mine?

We dug out my colossal collection of DVDs last night and sifted through some old Oscar flicks. My first choice was The English Patient, which in turn got the ball rolling for a total Ralph Fiennes film fest.
Everybody knows I keep a locked liquor cabinet full of man candy. I am abhorred at myself for leaving Ralph off my top shelf hottie list. His red hot dragon buns are now front and center, right beside the Belvidere vodka. Fiennes deserves major kudos for making the despicable SS captain Amon Göth look irresistible, and for bringing a smidgen of sizzle to the dark lord Voldemort.

To queue...

Let's talk about Mickey Rourke. No, not his facial scarring or his heinous plastic surgeries. Let's talk bod. Hot bod. Top shelf bod. That's right, Rourke pulled out all the stops in his latest Oscar worthy film, The Wrestler.
This review is primarily for my younger brother. When I queued this movie, I wasn't sold. I usually wait until mainstream flicks hit the backburner before I try them myself. Still, I thought it couldn't hurt to give it a try.
I'm hoping that after he reads this (if he hasn't already seen it) he'll check it out.
Gone are the days of sitting in the den watching WWF and WCW...drooling over Shawn "Boy Toy" Michaels or crying over the death of Owen Hart. He had the figurines, the Nintendo games, everything a wrestling fan would need. His favorite wrestler was the Undertaker...mine too. We loved the moment when the entire coliseum would pause as he flung back his sweat drenched hair to face his opponent. We were too young for the Hulk, but we still showed him love.
All those cheesy faux fight memories came back as soon as the movie began.

The Wrestler follows Randy, "the Ram" as he struggles to live day to day in his post wrestling fame. The film gives a documentary feel at times, others it is simply raw and in your face--so much like the wrestler himself. Trying to control myself after realizing Rourke's age coupled with his amazing body, I did find myself enjoying this film and relating to the characters. He fiercely battles with his feelings of nostalgia and longing for his time in the spotlight. I found that Randy and I share the same lost love for hair bands, as he seems to be the only dork in the bar singing along with Ratt's Round and Round...something only I would do.
Of course it's packaged with the usual cliches, but overall it was a pretty real flick. Most anyone who has had their "hey day" in some form or other (even old, broken down bareback riders) will instantly connect with Randy.

Closet Geek

I've had a love affair with Tim Burton beginning shortly after my first Pee Wee adventure. From that point on I was hopelessly hooked on all of his projects. Faerie Tale Theatre, Beetlejuice, Batman, Edward Scissorhands, Sleepy Hollow, Big Fish...do I need to go on? And now,as if all of my dreams have suddenly come true--Mr. Burton has taken on the incredible task of recreating the enchanting world of Alice in Wonderland. My favorite director and my favorite childhood fairy tale, together at last. As if this isn't enough to throw me through the roof with enthusiasm, the cast includes a hot mess of my favorite Brits...Alan Rickman, Helena Bonham Carter, Michael Sheen, Christopher Lee (as the Jabberwock! Somebody stop me!!) and best of all--Crispin Glover!! I'm seething with excitement for the release, which coincides with my birthday next year!I won't rehash my love for Johnny, as I'm sure most of the audience has come to terms with my Depp insanity. He's ripening well as he ages. Life is a Utopian existence in a world where Burton, Depp, and fairy tales weave themselves together with dark, magical thread.

Vintage State

Deppth of Debauchery

Okay, so I'm feeling the late night effects of my latest Netflix shipment. My first choice was The Long, Hot Summer so imagine the shock factor when I switched movie modes from delightful to decay. I made the mistake of queueing the bawdy and vulgar, The Libertine. I admit, being one of Depp's biggest fans ( we go way back ), I fearlessly rented with the assurance it would be a quality film. Okay, so it was...I mean the film was raunchy and titillating to a pornographic extreme--even for King Charles. I guess where I'm going here is my complete surprise and admiration for the make-up department on this film. Can we do that raise the roof thing?As a long time fan of vampires and morbid, rotting characters--I always gave Tom Cruise top pot for his festering flesh in Interview With A Vampire. Boy was I wrong. Tertiary syphilis is NOT a pretty sight, especially in its final stages. Don't mess with Johnny girls, he is one decomposing dude in this flick. So in my opinion, Depp takes top honors here for the most gruesome facials...he's literally falling apart. Maybe what makes him so frightening is the white make-up, black wig and silver proboscis piece. I think I really lost it during the death scene. He looks so much like the crawler creatures from The Descent...he'd lost all human resemblance. Forget Freddy, forget Jason when he first crawled out of the lake, forget them all.
Skol to Johnny for scaring the hell out of me last night.

Where there's a witch there's a way

According the the "Harry Potter Alter Ego" quiz, I'm a tie between Ron Weasley and Snapes.

P.S. I'd love to point out that Snapes costume design is absolutely goth-fabulous. I think what really gets me going are the pant legs (with buttons) draping over the square toe boots.

Empty Airwaves

den svensk maskin

Who do you hire when you want a good hit man? What makes a good hit man? According to Joel and Ethan Coen, Peter Stormare is the hit man.I don't see refusing this guy...for anything. I put him with my top shelf trophy winners on my hot list (remember James Gandolfini). My top shelf picks are diversified culturally...Italians, Brazilians, Brits, Canadians, Americans, Germans, Russians...and the lean Swedish machine, Mr. Stormare. I'd stop for pancakes with him anytime.

joyeux anniversaire

happy birthday lover.

The Psychedelic Western

Gimme Some

Happy Cinco de Mayo neighbors! The island is cooking and we're almost well done. Donk has successfully picked up her first beach boyfriend this week. I wasn't surprised, she catches looks everywhere we go. Speaking of lookers--our favorite femme fatale is performing this weekend at Club One in Savannah. The Lady Chablis put Savannah on the map! She's most fondly remembered for her deliciously scandalous performance in the film Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. We're hoping to score ringside seats to the late show for a taste of dark chocolate (with nuts)...

"It's like my Mama always said--two tears in a bucket, mother**** it." --The Lady Chablis

Moose

I lost my favorite golden girl on Saturday. Bea fought cancer quietly for some time, and died peacefully at home. She was a beautiful, talented lady who taught us all how to laugh at ourselves.

"After being in the business for such a long time, I've done everything but rodeo and porno."
--Beatrice Arthur

The Import Advantage

Perfect timing for my current crisis.

There's a million things to be...

A lot of times when the old man is out of town, I find myself watching movies that I really don't need to watch. I think I already posted about Gary Oldman, and that's self explanatory, of course.
I start to think back on some of my very first old men...the ones I met through film and music.
Like most other teens, I did have realistic crushes (let's not forget the septic assistant); however, most of my infectious hormonal ravings belonged to boys of the big screen. I realize that I share this obsession with almost every other fourteen year old, but I would like to point out that I firmly believed that I would eventually meet and marry these men. Now there's your red flag for borderline personality disorder.

When I try to remember my first old man, the one and only Val Kilmer comes to mind. I was absolutely convinced that I could telepathically create a divorce between he and Joann. Eventually they did split up, but by then I had moved on to my next old man. If you ask Rachel, she'll be quick to tell about the many times I raped posters of Val as Batman and sniffed the underarms of Jim Morrison on my Doors t-shirt. We found the corner the most accessible point for placing posters in order to get the highest effect of make-out sessions. After we slobbered and drooled over most any and all paper products with Val's likeness (and Brad Pitt's in Rachel's case) we would talk into the night, comparing our fantasies with each other's idol. If we could rewrite the Top Gun script today, I can only hope that we (as Americans) would choose Goose over Maverick to survive the ejector seat accident.

I think after most of my Kilmer chemistry fizzled out, my attention turned to the pale faced introvert in Edward Scissorhands and my life long love affair began with Johnny Depp. It was easier with Johnny...no wife. Plus his hip girlfriend was my first and foremost favorite actress (of my short little life) so I had no problems with his love interest, hell I love her too!
Then my attention turned toward the head banger's ball, and an adolescent infatuation with Sebastian Bach began. And on my fifteenth birthday, my heart fell and broke into a million tiny pieces for my one and only old man...Mr. James Hetfield. My heart still belongs to this man and I do realize that I must share the wealth with Francesca. She seems a nice girl, there's no room for hate--she and I have a lot in common. We both love James.
So until I found the prince of darkness I now know as my current old man, I rambled through many a men. Most had the chiseled jaw lines...save James and his severe acne scars which helped him score even higher on my internal hotness report. Most had dark eyes, most were aggressive...save Johnny, the sensitive, artistic type--but could quite possibly hold his own if need be. Most were masculine, manly men--is this a word?
Who cares. I love all of my old mans!

time cast its spell on you but you won't forget me...

Slice it open...

I'm quite sure that the devil is in the details...according to some excellent advice from a best friend.
Random information for a weeknight, when sleep is just a wink away. I read earlier that another favorite actor (how many do I have now?) of mine is the son of a welder and homemaker. This is brilliant and hopeful, as it looks like the old man and myself could possibly produce (or snag from some Puerto Rican orphanage) a future Sirius Black...or Dracula, whichever you prefer. This is absolutely inspiring for a theater junkie such as myself.

I guess it's time again to name that flick or this quarter's top shelf toddy for a night of fun film indulgence. If Netflix is more up your alley, queue this!
Speaking of Oldman, check out more of his villainous tendencies in Leon The Professional.

screensaver

ELIZABETH: It needs a cold wife to prompt lechery.
PROCTOR: Oh enough, enough.
ELIZABETH: It's better that you should know me. You take my sins upon you.
PROCTOR: No. I take my own. I take my own.
ELIZABETH: John, I found myself so plain...so poorly made that no honest love could come to me. Suspicion kissed you when I did. I never knew how I should say my love. It were a cold house I kept. Forgive me. I never knew such goodness in the world. Oh John, forgive me.

---The Crucible, Arthur Miller