Double-Oh Yeah.

Non-spoiler alert: Skyfall is just damn near perfect. 91% positive Rotten Tomatoes reviews don’t lie. Roger Ebert calls it “a full-blooded, joyous, intelligent celebration of a beloved cultural icon” for the 50th film-iversary of James Bond. Skyfall has dark moments, to be sure, but I have to agree with the Ebes: it’s joyous.

Pretty much everything you’d want in a Bond movie: international intrigue, stylized fight scenes that let Bond kick ass in ways we haven’t quite seen before, an absolutely delicious villain, plus gadgets! girls! cocktails! cars! tuxedos! twists! Just the right amount of action, with no look-away gory-ness or video game campy-ness. Flashy and spectacular, but also subtle and smart. If you can overlook the glaring misogyny (ha. there’s a statement), it’s kind of the perfect entertainment package.

Let’s do the math: James Bond = Don Draper + guns & gadgets.

Right?! James Bond in general just drips with 60s cool, and Skyfall seems to have a particular affection for the past. We get glimpses of Bond’s backstory — childhood and early agent-hood. We ponder the tensions between access & anonymity in modern life, technology & human intelligence in modern warfare. We go on a throwback ride in Bond’s old-school Aston Martin. Even the score has a few moments of surf-rock guitar so classic, we almost think Sean Connery must be lurking just out of frame.

So basically I’m developing a healthy-sized James Bond obsession. I ordered my first Ian Fleming novel today. Things are getting pretty serious. I’m shaken AND stirred…

On that note, let’s talk about Q. After all, no review of Skyfall would be complete without a little gushing about Ben Whishaw

I only have eyes for Q…

For your consideration: Tall. Skinny. Glasses. British. Hair. Style. Wit.
And I am now human pudding. Dictionary reference for “SJ’s Perfect Man,” to the point of absurdity. Seriously, though. I’d let him hack my firewall and decode my encryptions…if you catch my drift…(perhaps the nerdiest innuendo ever)…which is how Q would want it, obviously.

(Q image found here. Homegirl loves her some geeks.)
(holy shit. Human Pudding = accidental Full House reference.)

Best New Obsession: SHERLOCK

[ Reminder: our new Blog Challenge, now that it’s red carpet season, is to blog about “best-of” experiences. At least 2 / week. Let’s do this. ]

And The Envelope Please…
Best New Obsession

I love letting myself get obsessed. I’m talking about new TV in this case, but let’s face it: I just love loving things. I love loving things harddd. (I love loving absurd things, like new gum flavors or Maroon 5 songs. I love loving important things, like the idea of justice or Tina Fey. I love loving love. Geeky love. I used to doodle boys’ names on my folders in code… I’m that girl.)

But in particular I love, but love, some new TV—especially when it’s shared with friends. (The Office, The Wire, America’s Next Top Model…some of my best TV memories have been shared with TV-friendly friends.)

And now, the winner is:


Sherlock is my Holmes-boy...

I’d heard rave reviews from a couple of pro-TV pals, but hadn’t decided to don my thinking-cap and finally watch it until Matt convinced me to give it a go over the long weekend. (Such a good influence!) By Monday, we’d finished Season 1.

<Stefon moment> If you love detective dramadies, England, classic literature, cute boys, or really just anything good, then SHERLOCK is for you! This BBC update has got it all: Clever tete-a-tete. Dudes in suits. Modern London. Mystery. Puzzles. Tim Canterbury from The Office (UK). </ Stefon>

Plus Sherlock. Just, Sherlock, you guys. Played by Benedict Cumberbatch—which, come on, is an “improv British name” if I’ve ever heard one. Give that guy a pair of Ray-Bans & essentially you’ve got my perfect man: tall, trim, brown-haired, well-tailored, lovably snide, bookish, brilliant, British. (…so, basically, what I’m saying is, my boyfriend + an accent? Yay for me!) I do have a type, and it is very close to Sherlock Holmes…the asexual crime-solver…who doesn’t exist… (Somebody please call my therapist.)

This show. (THIS SHOW!) Season 1 is on Netflix. Drop everything, guys. (And plan to drop it for a while…the three episodes are 90 minutes each, so really it’s more like a series of movies in production value and time invested. But so, so worth it.)

After we finished Season 2 Ep 1 last night, I was so pumped. For one thing, I’d figured it out. Yes, that’s a big deal to me. For another thing, it was suuuper sexy, you guys! Sherlockin’ it downnnn. (I mean, geeky sexy. “Brainy is the new sexy,” like Sherlock said. Mmmm.)

I told Matt: Well, let’s call it quits on TV. Mankind needs to find a new medium now. We’re done. Nothing will ever, ever be that good again. Ever.

(It’s that good.)

Throughout Season 1 (aka last weekend) I kept thinking how there should be a Sherlock + Great Mouse Detective meme of some sort, so similar are the character dynamics and quirks, and I love OH HOW I LOVE that some people have gotten there first… If you haven’t watched, just know this is perfect:

^ Moriarty | Ratigan ∨

♫ The world's greatest criminal mind(s) ♫

These villains are startlingly similar. (I mean, can’t you just hear Moriarty saying “I love it when I’m nasty!!” just like Vincent Price as Ratigan?) Confession: I loved me some Ratigan when I was a kid. And I love Moriarty now…the persnickety, ambiguously gay, evil genius… (Please call my therapist, again.)

[ Thanks, Sherlockology, for creating a safe place for geeks like me. And bless wikipedia, too, frankly. Where would my blog be without your fastly found facts?! That SOPA blackout was killer. For me and college students w/papers due everywhere… Really, though, why are you still reading this? Go to Netflix. Don’t keep Sherlock waiting. Waiting is so frightfully dull…and the poor sod’s so easily bored… ]

Mad Me(a)n(dering)

Longsuffering and faithful readers may recall that last summer I went mad over Mad Men, and just this weekend I rekindled the obsession — alongside a friend who’d never watched it before. The newbie has now seen 7 episodes…

Mad About You

[This Vanity Fair story from 2009 has more sweet modernized photos of Jon Hamm & January Jones. I wish they weren’t so disgusting to look at, you guys.]

I’ve waxed poetic about this show before…but why not do it again. It’s a holiday.

I love the 60s. The housewares & what the cast wears. The drama.
The moral ambiguity, by which I mean the good guys aren’t always good, and the bad guys aren’t always so unfamiliar.
The Jon Hamm. The Don Draper.
The references to writing & advertising & creative work, one of which I tried to track down this afternoon for this blog post…

 …and, would you believe, Google couldn’t help me find it! I scoured the internet looking for this particular quote, using a variety of keyword combinations, all leading me toward search engine dead-ends.

See, I couldn’t recall the quote verbatim, but I knew it happened somewhere in those first 7 episodes…7 hours…with lots of potential lines of dialogue containing the words “handsome” or “writer”…and even more completely unrelated bits of information that make logical sense to Google, but not to me.

Yes, most of the time the internet is a great tool for finding what you need…except when you aren’t quite sure what you’re looking for.
The problem, I think, is there isn’t much space to meander.

It’s buying a book on Amazon vs. browsing a bookstore.

I want THIS book vs. I want this experience: I want to see some displays. feel some covers. smell some pages. (don’t recall much tasting in bookstores, unless there was free cheese for some reason…still, many senses sensing.)

While the process was frustrating in the moment, (Come ON! Has NOBODY else blogged about this quote? EVER?!), I do rather like that there are questions that Google can’t answer for me. Life and memory and je ne sais quoi can’t be easily categorized, defined, clicked and find(ed).

And I still found the quote. The old-fashioned way.
By fast forwarding episodes on my laptop to parts that seemed vaguely like where I remembered it happening… (Okay not quite that old-fashioned.)


“Don’t think that just ’cause he’s good-looking
he’s not a writer.”

[Worth it. Kind of want a tattoo.]

Want to be a (good-looking, inexplicably) writer. Who meanders. And discovers.
(And sniffs the occasional new book. You do not know what you’re missing.)