Halloween is always something I look forward to. Despite my inkling this year to dress as Lydia from Beetlejuice, I went with my art idol and all time head bitch in charge, Frida Kahlo.
Of course, with great power comes great responsibility and Frida Kahlo came with a unibrow, which wasn’t any stretch of the imagination for me as someone who is Armenian.
Lately, I haven’t written much here and I’m not sure why. Probably a combination of being extremely self conscious of my writing, along with trying to concentrate my writing efforts else where. Sometimes when I look at this space, the only sentiment I seem to come up with is “What’s the point?” I don’t have any direction here - this is not a blog strictly about journalism, or food or any other niche topic. It’s more or less about me and my likes, dislikes and observations. I still haven’t come to term yet with the fact that that’s ok, because not only do I see other blogs/websites who are so successful because they are niche, but because the directionless feeling I experience on this blog reflects how I feel in my daily life.
I want to be a writer, a reporter, a change maker, and although I have made some strides in that department, the mountain I have to climb just keeps growing. Maybe that’s why I have been so drawn to Frida Kahlo, although the trials and tribulations of her life cannot even be compared to mine. She’s fierce. She’s strong. She left her mark on the world in some way. Being her for a day reminded me how much I want to be that person. That intrepid reporter who finds stories within the crevices of the world, that writer who manages to seamlessly blend words together, that person who is not just living, but progressing and aiding progress in the process.
There is always something to do. There are hungry people to feed, naked people to clothe, sick people to comfort and make well. And while I don’t expect you to save the world I do think it’s not asking too much for you to love those with whom you sleep, share the happiness of those whom you call friend, engage those among you who are visionary and remove from your live those who offer you depression, despair and disrespect - Nikki Giovanni
Once upon a time there was a girl I knew that lived across the street. Brown hair, brown eyes. When she smiled, I smiled. When she cried, I cried. Every single thing that happened to me that mattered, in some way, had to do with her. That day Winnie and I promised each other that no matter what, we’d always be together. It was a promise full of passion and truth and wisdom. It was the kind of promise that could only come from the hearts of the very young. - The Wonder Years
You know sometimes when something is so wonderfully great that you can justify calling it a masterpiece? This is exactly how I feel about the magnificence that is “Blame it on Rio.”
Before I actually tell you about “Blame it on Rio,” let’s discuss how I discovered it. It was June 2008, and both Nathalie and I rushed home from work to help my sister get ready for Prom. After all the makeup and hair and jewelry was over and done with, we were to head over to UCLA to watch Djivan Gasparyan and Michael Brook perform. I was excited to be going, not only because I was reviewing the event, but because Djivan Gasparyan is one of my favorite musicians and I was especially proud he was appearing here because he’s Armenian. To make a long story short, the traffic coupled with the twisty turvy campus of the Bruins pretty much guaranteed that we were going to miss the performance. And we did. Oh, we so did. We drove down Sunset and almost an hour later, we finally reached the super market by my house where we decided to pick up some dinner before going home. Lo and behold, in the $5 bin, in between a Hello Kitty movie and Jerry Maguire lay “Blame it on Rio,” the greatest movie ever made. Nat ranted and raved about how we need to buy this immediately and watch it tonight because the contents of that plastic box were sheer genius.
At that point, I was up for anything, so I relented. We bought the DVD, our food and made our way home. Little did I know what was in store for me. Little did I know, that Blame it on Rio would be the end all be all of my existence.
“She’s the hottest thing on the beach. She’s also his best friend’s daughter!” so goes the tagline for this 1984 film that stars Michael Caine, Joseph Bologna, Valerie Harper, Michelle Johnson and a young Demi Moore. Directed by Stanley Donen perhaps known for directing such classics as the original 1967 “Bedazzled,” “Charade,” “Singin’ in the Rain” and the timeless “Lionel Richie Collection.”
“Blame it on Rio” tells the story of two best friends, Matthew Hollins (Caine) and Victor Lyons (Bologna), who decide to take a vacation to Rio, Brazil with their two teenage daughters. With Victor involved in a divorce and Matthew experiencing certain marital troubles of his own, the two decide to go it alone with their daughters, Jennifer (Johnson) and Nicole (Moore), otherwise affectionately known as Nikki.
Matthew is at times, a socially awkward man. With his fogged up glasses and curly adolescent hair Matthew feels uneasy most of the time, especially around the scantily clad women of Brazil. Victor on the other hand, is a take life by the horns type of guy. His dark, healthy and abundant head of hair proves it. Still, they’re a great pair together, even Eduardo, their next door neighbor thinks so.
Eduardo Marques: You are, how you say, the queer couple?
Matthew Hollis: Odd couple, odd.
Oh Matthew, this back handed insult is the least of your worries. Let’s talk about Jennifer, shall we? A typical teenager, Jennifer’s overly processed poofy hair, braces and goofy phrases do not at all match her curvaceous figure, which is used to its full potential in Rio, as it seems that Brazilians are immune to any kind of clothing that remotely covers their bits and parts.
When Matthew, his daughter Nikki, Jennifer and Victor attend an impromptu Brazilian wedding, the sparks that begin to fly are not only reserved for the bride and groom. Over come by desire and the all around air of Rio, Jennifer and Matthew consumate their relationship, or lack thereof on the beach, even with the 28-year age difference. Ah, as they say, love knows no age. Except this isn’t love. This is teenage lust, which, although its origins are unknown in this case, can only be blamed on one thing: Rio!
Jennifer Lyons: Kiss me!
Matthew Hollis: Kiss you? I ought to spank you!
Jennifer Lyons: Oh, please, and bite me too!
What ensues here after is nothing particularly special in terms of plot, however the execution is what makes this film ensure a place in my heart for eternity. Jennifer, desperate to get Matthew to love her, visits a mystic, surprises him when she can and constantly tries to grope him under the table, all within close distance of her oblivious father. Matthew, torn between the raw desire he has for Jennifer and his moral code (she is, after all, the same age as his daughter), becomes more a nervous wreck, and therefore hilarious, than ever before. When Jennifer decides to tell her father about the boy (errr..man) she slept with (”But Daddy, I loooooove him!!”), Matthew, over hearing the conversation in the next room, tries to pack his suitcase and escape out the window.
Victor: You can’t go!
Matthew: I’ll be back but I have to go first.
Unsuspecting Victor enlists the help of Matthew to track down whoever it is that has de-virginized his daughter, and between the Brazilian backdrop, cheesy 80’s sound affects and scenarios and Michael Caine, “Blame it on Rio!” is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. If you’re ever feeling down in the dumps, this is the movie for you. The sheer ridiculousness of it, coupled with the insanely infectious, completely off-key and ludicrous title song will have you in hysterics.
Matthew: You only live once, but it does help if you get to be young twice.
What if we broke a few rules, acted like fools, what do weeee careeeeee, BLAME IT ON RIOOOOO!
Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.
I used to read a blog on NPR called “My Cancer.” In that blog, Leroy Sievers, a journalist, producer, cancer-survivor and now blogger, chronicled his life with colon cancer. The posts he made were succint and to the point, but nevertheless, they were so real. And so tragic. And so real. Unfortunately, Sievers passed away last week, but according to the comment count on the entry where news came of his passing (1258) he will be truly missed. I wrote a post about it on LA Cityzine last week, but here I have included one of his quotes.
“Being a cancer patient is hard work. And you’re on the job 24/7. There are no breaks. You don’t get weekends or holidays off. If you don’t feel it physically, you live with it mentally. It can be unrelenting. I think that’s what I’ve been feeling.
Boxers get that break between rounds. Football players can catch their breath in the huddle. Sometimes those few seconds can make all the difference in the world, can mean the difference between victory and defeat. I just need a time-out.
Except there are no time-outs in this game. Somewhere deep down in yourself, you have to try to find the strength to just keep going. Sometimes I find it, sometimes I don’t. And if you don’t find it one day, maybe it will be there the next. But it’s hard. Probably the hardest thing I have ever had to do.”
If you have fear of some pain or suffering, you should examine whether there is anything you can do about it. If you can, there is no need to worry about it; if you cannot do anything, then there is also no need to worry. Do not think only of your own joy, but vow to save all beings from suffering. This is sharing in its highest form and purity beyond all poisons of this world.
The walls between old allies on either side of the Atlantic cannot stand. The walls between the countries with the most and those with the least cannot stand. The walls between races and tribes; natives and immigrants; Christian and Muslim and Jew cannot stand. These now are the walls we must tear down.
So history reminds us that walls can be torn down. But the task is never easy. True partnership and true progress requires constant work and sustained sacrifice. They require sharing the burdens of development and diplomacy; of progress and peace. They require allies who will listen to each other, learn from each other and, most of all, trust each other.
Will we stand for the human rights of the dissident in Burma, the blogger in Iran, or the voter in Zimbabwe? Will we give meaning to the words “never again” in Darfur?
Will we acknowledge that there is no more powerful example than the one each of our nations projects to the world? Will we reject torture and stand for the rule of law? Will we welcome immigrants from different lands, and shun discrimination against those who don’t look like us or worship like we do, and keep the promise of equality and opportunity for all of our people?
People of Berlin - people of the world - this is our moment. This is our time.
People of Berlin - and people of the world - the scale of our challenge is great. The road ahead will be long. But I come before you to say that we are heirs to a struggle for freedom. We are a people of improbable hope. With an eye toward the future, with resolve in our hearts, let us remember this history, and answer our destiny, and remake the world once again. - Obama’s speech in Berlin on Thursday. Read the full transcript of this amazing speech here.
In an old house in Paris, that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines. In two straight lines they broke their bread, and brushed their teeth, and went to bed. They smiled at the good, and frowned at the bad, and sometimes they were very sad. They left the house at half past nine, in two straight lines, in rain or shine … the smallest one was Madeline!
@SuzieSunshine LOL!! Too funny. I had a Daniel from England but I switched to Karen. She was mean to me at first, but we're cool now http://www.twitter.com/writepudding15 hours ago
Was on assignment tonight for a story on seniors. I can't even begin to describe the amount of fun I had. Two words: moose lodge http://www.twitter.com/writepudding2010/09/01
