Blythe Spirit

Lord of the Dance

This video is billed as the history of dance, though it’s really the history of dance in music videos. Either way, it’s genius, including clever shout-outs to the Brady Bunch and that silly N Sync video with the marionettes. Note how the audience continues to sing along with Ice Ice Baby even after the dancer has moved on. Still catchy, after all these years. (via Kottke)

And! A late-breaking link to CNN’s Entertainment page – see the top video link to an interview with the Facts of Life girls. They’re looking pretty good, especially comparied to, oh, the Diff’rent Strokes cast.

The Tom Tom Club

We saw Mission Impossible III. The Salon review reflects many of my thoughts, but here are a few observations from moi (don’t worry, no spoilers):
-Apparently, if you’re Ethan Hunt’s fiance, your hospital scrubs are stylish and form-fitting.
-Someone figured out that much of the viewing public no longer finds Tom Cruise sexy. Fortunately, that void is filled with Jonathan Rhys Meyers hotness.
-Action plots have become so familiar that we no longer actually need to know why the bad guy is bad, or what exactly is The Very Important and Dangerous Thing our hero is trying to retrieve.
-Welcome back Felicity! And now you’re wielding a gun!
-I appreciated JJ Abram’s shout-outs to past Tom Cruise movies. There’s a Maverick moment (motorcycle, sunset, leather jacket) and a Born on the Fourth of July moment (scruffy makeup, bad headwear). There’s even a Hannibal Lecter moment which, at one time in Tom’s career would have been so ridiculous as to seem humorous. Now, it doesn’t seem quite so silly.

Hitting the trail

There are times when I reject my role as trailing spouse. Waking up in the morning and realizing that my main objective for the day is to acclimate to a culture where I don’t have any formal niche is strange. Taking language lessons, deciphering the recycling system, unlocking the mysteries of our washer and dryer, all because my husband was offered a job in a foreign country. It’s an odd existence.

Last week, though, I trailed quite happily to France. Jeff had business there, and since I didn’t have a job or a meeting or even a television show I really wanted to watch, I tagged along. We stayed in Strasbourg, a charming town just across the border. It incorporates aspects I like about Germany (comprehensive grocery stores and organized public transportation) with the lovely French language, tasty and meticulously considered food, and snotty waiters. We lingered over dinner (seafood three meals in a row, mmmm…), strolled around the cobblestone island at the city center, and slept late on Saturday. I read two books, bought a sun hat, and soaked up the eighty-degree weather.

As long as Jeff continues to feed me well, I think I’ll happily trail along for a while more.

Idolatry

There are several advantages to watching American Idol via British satellite television. One, the performance show and the results show are aired back-to-back, so I am immediately able to see the consequences of the Idols’ “pitchiness.” Two, the shows are aired on Fridays, long after I’ve learned who was sent packing, removing any impulse I might have to actually vote. So, less humiliating re-dialing and feeling like a fourteen-year-old girl. Three, the British network cuts the shows to fit into 90 minutes or, now that there are only four contestants left, 60 minutes, so I am forced to endure fewer commercials and no freaky infomercial (I was really sorry to miss Kevin’s head sticking out of the sand but I’ll live). At first, I was concerned that reading recaps of the shows and knowing in advance who was voted out and how bad their silver capri pants looked (oops, I’ve found an alternate route to being a fourteen-year-old), would diminish my viewing pleasure. Not so, apparently.

I’ll agree with Randy, Simon, and Paula, that this season’s singers are better than ever. The competition between the top three (Chris, Katherine, and Taylor – sorry Elliott but I’m pretty sure you’re headed for the door on Wednesday) is too close to call. Chris and Taylor will both have recording careers whether they win or lose – people love them and their identities are clear. Katherine (like last year’s Carrie) needs to win in order to carve out a niche for her pretty voice. Bear with me while I make a parallel between Taylor and Bo Bice. They both seemed a little strange when we first saw them flailing around the stage, but they’ve both proved that they are already pros, Idol or no Idol. And if they put Chris’s Styx cover on the American Idol album, I don’t care if I seem like a fourteen-year-old, I’m buying it.

Costume Drama

If I could conjure an invitation to any glittery social event, easy money is on the Oscars.

Hold your bets, though, because I cultivate a secret obsession for another, pull-out-all-the-fashion-stops party. The Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute benefit gala comes around each spring, and every year I run straight to the fashion pages of the interet and obsessively hit refresh until I develop surfer’s finger. I love the clothes, I hate the clothes, I mock John Galliano because that’s what he’s there for, and click my heels together three times and wish that, next year, someone will send me an invitation, along with a direct line to my fairy godmother’s seamstress. My fairy godmother, by the way, is Narciso Rodriguez.

I’ll leave you with links to the gals at Go Fug Yourself and the Saving Face snarkiness. I’ll keep my commentary brief: I’m pretending Sarah Jessica Parker actually wore Victoria Beckham’s dress, just so I can sleep at night. I think Alexander McQueen showed up with the Highland Fling gown an hour before the event and she had no other options. That’s the only explanation that works for me.

Next May, look for me in the photos, because I’m wishing really hard for an invitation. I wished really hard for frosted strawberry Pop Tarts and, yesterday, that wish came true, so I’m optimistic.

New editorial policy

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-frame { float: right; text-align: center; margin-left: 15px; margin-bottom: 15px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }

Friends and family who visit us will be featured prominently in this blog, consequently rising to fame and fortune. See photo to the right.

Jeff’s sister and her boyfriend spent the weekend with us. We acted like tourists, visiting the medieval town of Rothenburg and climbing up to the castle in Nurnberg.

I know summer is almost here because I bought a banana cream Frappuccino at Starbucks yesterday.