Jersey.Girl.Genius

Jersey Ginny reviews The Butler

Ginny's on a role.  Her second movie review in two weeks, and its a real gem.

 

ginny liked COOOBA gooding

 

Ginny's Oscar Picks 2010

Just four hours to go before I start live tweeting E's Red Carpet extravaganza here, beginning at 6 EST, and I can hardly contain myself.  I've seen all but one of the nominated films for Best Picture, The Hurt Locker, and expect to receive it any day now via Netflix.  I already like the movie and I've never seen it.  I find the title of the film to be extremely fitting.  I wondered at first if it was a documentary about what it must have felt like to be married to James Cameron.  Everyone knows he's a Kawng Utral.  That's Na'vi for douchebag.  Given the PTSD I'm sure she endures on a daily basis, I hope Kathryn Bigelow wins for best picture and best director.  

Hope you'll join me on Twitter for some snarky fashion do's and dont's.  My mom just left me a message, outlining her picks for this year's Oscar faves.  You can listen to Miss Ginny Rivers by pressing on the gray thingy below.

Mom's Oscar Picks

I have to say, I agree with most of her predictions, save one.  Find it hard to believe that Sandra Bullock will actually win a golden statue.  What do you think?  Can someone win a Razzie and an Oscar in the same year?

 

Who Thought This Was A Good Idea?

It must be far easier to be a screenwriter than I had originally thought.  With movies like "Hot Tub Time Machine" getting the green light, a whole world of possibilities has just opened up to me.  Is it the medical marijuana talking, or do Hollywood producers really think they've bagged the next Avatar?

If I just follow the hot tub time machine formula, I can't lose.  Let's see ... Grab a hasbeen 80's star, throw in some leg warmers, a heated bromance and voila! We're at the Golden Globes.  Here's my list of movie concepts that are bound to be the next big Blockbuster WTF:

Title: Big Mama's Got Squirrels In The Attic

Synopsis: Martin Lawrence is back as Big Momma (and/or) Vince Vaughan plays Martin Lawrence.  After leaving a bucket of chicken wings on the front porch overnight, an unruly upstairs neighbor moves in, of the rodent variety.

Why It's A Winner:  Man dressed as woman, man dressed as old woman, man dressed as old black woman with large rear end, everyone likes squirrels.

Title: Babies On A Plane

Synopsis:  Everyone's favorite creepy baby talkers (from the E-Trade commercial) take flight, this time as Air Marshals and save the world from a pending terrorist attack

Why It's A Winner:  People like babies, people like babies who talk, people like babies who talk like frat boys, everyone hates terrorists

Title: Folding Sheets And Other Benefits Of Being Coupled

Synopsis:  Aniston is a lonely, down-on-her-luck Anna Wintour type, trying to work her way up the corporate ladder at a well-known design house.  Butler is a blind, rare bird collecting genius, who runs the laundromat across the street from Aniston's office.  An unlikely pair with nothing in common, they decide to shack up purely for the tax benefits.

Why It's A Winner:  She has nice hair.

The Vagina Monologues

Twilight twink Robert Pattinson felt compelled to over-share in his Details magazine cover-article this week, stating that he's "allergic to vaginas" and that he "really hates vaginas."  He also said that his deepest emotional relationship is with his dog.  Wow.  And I thought my peanut allergy was debilitating ...

New Moon grossed $294 million at the box office this year.  $293 million of which came from vaginas of all ages who camped out overnight to see the film's Vitamin D-deprived star.  Now kids, I'm not an allergy expert, but I do think Pattinson should try acupuncture.  STAT.  It might help him build up resistance and avoid breaking out in hives, especially on those long press tours, when he's surrounded by multi-national vaginas at every turn.  Better yet, he should ask Kristen Stewart how she manages to keep her penis allergy so hush hush.  Look, I saw Panic Room.  And I know a future gay when I see one ... Had to snicker when I saw Joan Jett talking about how much she and Stewart have in common while at Sundance last month.  Let's see .... they both like: wearing high-top Chucks, black hoodies, black jackets, black eye makeup, smoking cigarettes, skinny jeans.  Oh yes, and both are huge fans of vagina.  I'd venture to say they even heart vaginas.

On the other end of the spectrum this past week, we have the Dalai Lama of vagina worship.  John "D Bag" Mayer and his now infamous Rolling Stone and Playboy magazine confessions.  What did Mayer do, I wonder, to recover so quickly from his exposure to "Agent V" or, as he puts it, Jessica Simpson's sexual napalm? Mayer, you're a tool.  After what many consider to be a baffling "over-exposure" to A-List vagina, I'm guessing he must now carry an Epi Pen to avoid adverse reactions. His penis is a wonderland for gonorrhea.  Just wish he'd shut his damn pie-hole.  Give me those promise ring posers the Jonas Brothers any day, over the vaginaphobic vamp and the douchey manwhore.  I'm allergic to the tasteless over-share.  Best pop a Benadryl.

The Mini Bio

Still in SF, stuffing L'Occitane soaps and lotions into my bag faster than they can turn down my sheets. Y needs to get her L'Occitane on, you see. I was given strict instructions to pocket whatever crack was available in my hotel room. I'll come home smelling like lavender and figs but I refuse to pilfer the Bonnet de Douche.

When was the last time you wore a shower cap?

My mom used to have a lime green one that hung on the wall outside of the shower. Can't say that I ever used it, nor do I recall her using it. Very peculiar. She must have bought it at a second hand store and thought it might come in handy at some point. If you haven't already listened to the kind of voice mail that my mom is capable of, I highly suggest The QVC Intervention, where you can hear a real live excerpt. It will help to get an audible on what's to come.

Whenever my mom has a story to tell about someone I don't know, she slips into what I refer to as the mini bio, so that she can get me caught up. Like so:

Honey, did I tell you what happened to Lois at work? She's around my age. She sits next to me, so sweet, she wouldn't hurt a fly. Dresses a little frumpy, one of her kids is blind in his right eye, her husband has been on disability for a million years, I'm not sure what the story is there. Anyway, she got into a fight with one of the partners and wound up throwing a paper weight across the room. You know, one of those heavy muthahs, with the fake snow inside?

She must think that the story would lose some edge, had I not known her husband was on disability. Either way, Lois threw a paper weight across the room. Now you don't hear that everyday.

My siblings and I talk about how hilarious this is, when she launches into the mini bio. She knows she does it, because I've imitated her to her face, which had her rolling. As much as I poke fun at the Ginbomb, I think she's onto something here...

Inspired by her snippets, I think I'm going to start reviewing movies without seeing them, based on the trailer alone. I could use the mini bio method - to warn potential moviegoers of sure to be flops before they spend their hard earned cash on a total piece of sh**.

Nights in Rodanthe:
She's an older woman, attractive, reddish hair, whose husband has been a complete pig womanizer. Apparently, hubby now wants to take her back. Red helps out a friend by running a fancy ocean-side inn for a weekend, meets Richard Gere, bonds with Gere for his affection for J. Crew hoodies, Banana Republic good-looks and his quiet intensity that involves pseudo flirting on a beach. Must love dogs and equally unrealistic and sappy films based on traveling to Tuscany to find oneself.

Death Race:
Like Mad Max, Beyond Thunderdome, but without the Thunderdome. Joan Allen plays a prison warden in the distant future. She already looks about a hundred years old and is seriously malnourished. Sunken in cheeks, bulging eyes. She gets her jollies off on putting together a "race to the death" and allows some of her inmates to participate. Lots of sweating, car flipping, shooting, cursing, explosions and oh yes, lots of driving.

Beverly Hills Chihuahua:
Some Paris Hilton type must lose her pocket pal that winds up mingling with the Huas from the other side of the tracks. All of the Cesar Milan sounding miniatures probably take Tinkerbell under their wing and start behaving badly together. I see potential for shoplifting along Rodeo, dog romance between Taco and Tinkerbell and two hours of pure, unimaginative crap that can only be appreciated by some (less gifted) children 3 and under.