Bandstand

There was a time many years ago when the start of a new school year and the impending chill of autumn meant one main thing: marching band season had arrived.  I cannot tell you how many hours I spent on my high school's football field practicing for half-time shows. During home games, we all sat in the bleachers until the end of the second quarter when we filed out onto the sidelines in matching blue and red polyester uniforms and white plastic cowboy hats. We all swelled with school spirit.

Performing was always extremely stressful though. Our band director would tape the half-time show every week so that he could show it to us on the following Monday afternoons and critique and criticize us in front of the entire group. It was amazing how just one mistake from one person could mess up the entire formation. But my favorite performances were always the ones based on movie theme songs.  To this day, I have the urge to march in place whenever I hear the Star Wars theme.

Anyway, I really loved this Ohio State half-time show. The choreography is amazing and the band did a wonderful job. It made me miss that bond, albeit temporary, that all one hundred members of my high school band had when we were on that field together working on an intricate marching show for the entire stadium. That said, I can say with complete certainty that I will never miss wearing those scratchy, white highwater pants. xo

Via Hellogiggles 

It's All in the Details

I've started to organize our wedding photos, making prints and photobooks for our friends and family. It feels so weird to mail people a stack of photos since everything is digital now but I know I would be thrilled to receive prints from a friend so I keep sending them out. When you attend a wedding, you pose for an unbelievable amount of pictures and never see the results so it's been awesome to share these memories with our loved ones.

Our photographers captured every little part of our day in April. The random shots that I loved the most were the ones of our gift table and the tables. I spent a lot of time (too much, I will admit now) painting the table number frames and making our guest book, but from the photos, it looks like these personal touches really turned the venue room from generic into a fitting location for our event.

The unofficial theme for our wedding was chalkboards. I used them as table numbers and as signs on the gift table and sweetheart table. 

I actually made this envelope box for my bridal shower and decided to use it for the wedding as well. It's a modern take on a wedding cake using square cardboard hat boxes.

It's kind of 80's but we had matchbooks made up with our names and wedding date. They are adorable and I'm happy there were a bunch leftover so we can use them in the future.

I used our engagement photos to create the guest book. Bonus: because our guests tucked the little cards into envelopes, their messages were kept private until we read them the next day.

Our favors were small glass jars of candies in navy and pink. I made the labels and then used gold baker's twine to secure the tags.

There were a few other things that I wanted to do but at the end, I ran out of time. Our dinner was a buffet, and I planned to write the menu on a framed chalkboard so I could place it on an easel at the start of the line but the project never came together. Also, our reception venue didn't allow place cards but I used them at the rehearsal dinner instead. No one knew that I was planning on these things so they weren't missed at all.

The details are what made our wedding different from everyone else's wedding--our DJ sucked (he forgot our names several times throughout the night, among many other things), but I'll always cherish those few seconds after our first dance ended and the next song began. Anthony and I chose to morph right into "Tongue-Tied" by GroupLove and didn't tell anyone; it was mostly because we wanted that communal happy feeling right after the official 'first' stiff slow dance. Our guests didn't expect the upbeat transition but it definitely got everyone on the dance floor right away. And Anthony and I were able to dance carefree in the middle of all our favorite people.

Our guests might not remember any of these things, but they are surely the things that I remember. As of now, our envelope box, cake topper and guest book are displayed in our apartment and hopefully, we'll keep them out for a while. Anthony and I will never forget our wedding day but I love how all of these momentos remind us of it daily. xo

Daria, My Cartoon Hero

Do you remember the MTV show, Daria?  Nah nah nah nah naaaahhh...

I don't mind admitting that I watched way too much Daria while in high school and college. I still like to believe that if Daria was a real person, we'd be friends. I mean, I hate volleyball too, and I think Trent is ultra hot.  It's over a decade later and I'm still quoting the episode when they all go to the mega mall on a field trip (shrinkage and doodads, right?).

I just wish this trailer was real. A live-action movie of one of my favorite shows? Dream come true. In any event, Aubrey Plaza has mastered Daria's voice and it's super impressive. Now, excuse me. It's time for some Sick Sad World...

Via Bust 

Everyone Loves a Pizza Party

Pizza parties remind me of second graders and bowling alleys.
 

  Our Father's Day celebration was a bit more low-key than an elementary school birthday party but still had a bunch of the same elements: folding chairs, presents, paper plates and a fun cake.  The fathers in the group (along with the mothers) seemed to enjoy the throwback celebration.

Nothing makes me feel more like an old timey housewife than making an icebox cake.  I crushed the vanilla wafers using the bottom of an empty jelly jar and although I consider that being resourceful, I'm not sure others would agree. The cake needed to be chilled a bit longer; it was the consistency of watery custard, which really means it looked great but was not quite appetizing.

You win some, you lose some, right? After a few bites, I was majorly craving a piece of Carvel ice cream cake. I can't be the only one who dreams about the chocolate crunchies in the middle. Mmm, just one more thing typically found at a bowling alley pizza party. xo

Random #ThrowbackThursday

I don't normally write #tbt posts, but this is one of my favorite photos. Here's my dad and I in a mall photobooth in 1987:

This is the top photo of the strip; in the second and third pictures, we're smiling normally, and in the last one, I'm looking away from the camera. My father is trying to get me to look forward for the final picture before the flash goes off without success. With my dad's afro and my puffy-sleeved shirt, this can either be a photo from the 1980's or a photo from last week. Fashion trends are cyclical, for real. xo

Old School

It's a snowy Friday during Lent, which meant breakfast for dinner tonight.  I'm not sure why, but I really felt like a kid eating this meal.

Actually, maybe it was the tater tots...

The walnuts and butterscotch chips complimented the pancakes perfectly.  And it's been years since I've had tater tots but they tasted a whole lot better than I remember, sans the elementary school cafeteria residue.  Next time, we'll add a few juice boxes to complete it all. Old school 4-ever. xo

Another Four Years

My office was closed yesterday and that meant that I was able to sit in front of the television and watch the presidential inauguration for most of the day.  I clearly remember how hopeful I was when I watched Obama being sworn in four years ago; I teared up during those ceremonies, just like I did when he spoke in Chicago the night he won the election in November 2008.  I teared up a little bit yesterday too; I'm still optimistic about our country and President Obama's speech made me feel like he also is optimistic.  I can only hope that the rest of our elected officials feel the same way. 
 
My favorite part of the festivities is when the cameras pan the crowd. There were almost one million people standing in the freezing cold just to show their support, just to be part of this special event. Most could only hear the ceremony through the speakers set up along the National Mall, but they were there listening and they were proud to be there.  It's exciting to be part of history.

The mere fact that we live in a place with such a rich history, a nation where we can elect our representatives and have freedom of speech, reminds me every day that we're all so lucky.  xo

Empire Records Strikes Back

One of my favorite movies, Empire Records, has been on television every single day this month. This weekend, I even watched it twice. But that's nothing compared to the hundreds of times I watched it as a teen and then well into my college years, usually on VHS.  To me, it still holds up today even with the absence of technology throughout the film (I love that cassette tapes actually appear in the background more than once).

Has anyone else ever wondered where this move was supposed to take place? I always thought New Jersey since Lucas rides his motorcycle to Atlantic City late at night with ease, but after a quick Wikipedia search, I learned that Empire Records is supposed to take place in Delaware.  I also found out that that it was widely considered a flop despite the number of the actors that wound up becoming famous after they shot the film.  Apparently, Wikipedia can inform and crush hearts at the same time.

What I love most about Empire Records is the honesty and the camaraderie between the characters. I always wanted a group of friends like that, and a place where you were welcome at any time, whether it was to listen to music or just eat in the back room. And the film is so distinctly 90's, a time when things were simpler: less electronics and more time spent with actual people. There's warmth in the familiarity, and maybe that's why I keep watching it.  I don't think there will ever be a time when I don't covet Liv Tyler's plaid skirt and AJ's shabby man-cardigan. Word. xo

A Gentler High School

Spotted: At a high school in Fairfield county in the first floor girls' restroom, this very polite graffiti was scribbled on the back of the door of the second to last bathroom stall:

In case you can't make it out, the top comment says "Obama is the Bomb Diggity" with a fluorescent yellow "Romney is a sack of Poo" written next to it. And don't forget my favorite: "You are beautiful" in black marker. So positive and inspirational. I think everyone likes encouragement when rushing in the bathroom during third and fourth period.

I just love how PG-13 these writings are.  When I was in high school, the stairwells, lockers and restrooms were all covered in nasty sentiments and negative thoughts, the c-word and t-word thrown around liberally. Hardly anyone ever mentioned politics in regular conversation, nonetheless took the time to scrawl their beliefs in a public place.  I know this is a small sample size, but I think I like the new attitude of today's youth. xo

The Search for New Glasses

I've been wearing glasses since I was eleven years old.  My first pair had huge round frames in a speckled pink-and-white pattern and covered the entire top half of my face.  I thought they were so cool and instead of wearing them just to see the blackboard, I wore them all the time.  This might have contributed to how horrible my vision is today. At this point, if I don't have my contacts in, I probably could not distinguish between my mother or my male boss standing in front of me.

I've had the same pair of glasses for eight years, and even though I have yearly eye exams, I actually never update the lenses.  The last time I drove with my glasses on, I decided that it was finally time to replace the old prescription.  And why not get new frames at the same time?

I've been looking at Warby Parker glasses for a while and decided to go ahead and take advantage of their try-on program.  All I did was pick five pairs that I really liked and Warby Parker sent them to me to sample for a few days.  That way, I can wear them around the apartment and see what they really look like on.  It was so exciting to receive the box in the mail.  I would highly recommend doing this.  I was really hesitant about ordering glasses online but Warby Parker does everything to make sure that you love the glasses that you wind up purchasing. 

After much consideration, I decided on Fitz in Whiskey Tortoise.  They are similar to the frames I have now but a little larger and bolder.  And finally, I can see clearly. xo

To the Beach

I grew up in a beach town.  Our house was two blocks from the water and even though I didn't go to the beach often, we always had to drive along it to get home.  Maybe that's why the ocean makes me feel like I'm home.  I'm pretty sure I could never live far away from the shoreline or a major body of water for an extended period time.

Anthony and I currently live right at the entrance of the town beach.  In the morning, you can hear the seagulls and sometimes, when it's very quiet, the faraway sound of waves, but my favorite thing is how the air seems extra salty and crisp at the beginning of autumn.  On a Sunday walk down to the pier, my friend and I watched boats crawl between the sandbars.  The sun was warm but the ocean mist was cool.  Summer is really on the way out and I'm more than ready for corduroys and pumpkin bread. xo

Photo taken at Short Beach in Stratford, Connecticut

Once Every Four Years

The Summer Olympics only happen every four years so why not take advantage and spend every possible second watching the best athletes in the world compete? At least that's what I told myself this weekend as I sat on the couch cheering on the Americans in swimming, basketball, volleyball, soccer and of course, gymnastics.

I know that I'm not alone in my passion for gymnastics.  For a few years in my youth, I actually dreamt that one day I could possibly be a 'late-bloomer' gymnast without having taken any tumbling classes.  And I may or may not have VHS tapes of the entire team competition and all-around competition from the 1996 Atlanta games, when the US women won team gold and Kerri Strug became a household name.  Yeah, you can call me a fan.

As an adult, I now fully appreciate the hours and hours of practice all of these athletes put in to perfect their sport.  I even find myself identifying more with the cringing parents in the bleachers.  It's a deep-down secret of so many people to compete in the Olympics; that's why so many people watch religiously.  I'm just excited to follow along at home, living vicariously through these inspiring individuals, unable to tear myself away from the television for ten straight days and tearing up everytime I hear an athlete's backstory or the National Anthem.

Turning Thirty: Old Favorites (The More Obscure, the Better)

I'm turning thirty years old on July 6th so for the next five weeks, I'm embracing life and trying to do at least one new and/or enjoyable and/or spectacular thing per day. Click here for more Turning Thirty posts.

 
Have you ever seen the movie The Thing Called Love? Don't feel bad, not many people have.  I completely fell in love with this film when I was in high school.  It starred Samantha Mathis, River Phoenix, Dermot Mulroney, Sandra Bullock and a few others before they were famous.  It was pretty unremarkable, except for the fact that it was River Phoenix's last film before his death, and was routinely playing on the WB network around midnight.  As soon as I saw it, I felt like it was made to be a cult classic. And I couldn't  believe that I liked it; it was all about country music and making it big in Nashville, and as a rule, I didn't even like country music.  I completely charmed by this movie that no one had ever heard of.

Of course, I wasn't surprised that Anthony wasn't familiar with The Thing Called Love.  After we started dated, I made him watch it with me.  Years earlier, I had taped it from basic cable so we fast-forwarded through the commercials and ignored the poor video quality (HD it was not!).  He wasn't a huge fan but sat through the entire thing like a trooper.  I don't think he saw all of the charm that I did, especially as I sang along with the characters for most of the movie.

I had a similar feeling earlier this week when I saw Country Strong.  When it was in theaters in 2010, I read a review with a spoiler and decided not to see it since I knew what happened at the end, but when I saw it listed as a 'free' movie on demand, I gave it a shot.  Remember in The Forty-Year Old Virgin when Paul Rudd's character Dave describes Matt Damon as a real Streisand? I kind of felt the same way about Gwyneth Paltrow AND Leighton Meester.  Note the word felt.  Both Paltrow and Meester were superb (in my opinion, obviously).  The love story seems authentic and the tunes are catchy and even though it's kind of a downer movie, I want to watch it again and again.  And sing along.  If The Thing Called Love was the obscure country movie of my late teens/early twenties, perhaps Country Strong will be the one of my thirties.

Turning Thirty: Sundaes

I'm turning thirty years old on July 6th so for the next five weeks, I'm embracing life and trying to do at least one new and/or enjoyable and/or spectacular thing per day.  Click here for more Turning Thirty posts.


When I think of Friendly's, I'm instantly reminded of high school.  Let's start from the beginning: Throughout junior high and high school, I was in the school band.  I was one of the dorky kids carrying a flute case around all day, one of the kids who dressed up in a polyester blue and white uniform every Friday night from August to mid-November to perform a field show on the astroturf during halftime at football games.  It was kind of embarrassing but I generally enjoyed it.  I felt like I was part of something important, like if we weren't there to represent the school, the spirit police would find and punish us all.

After every football game, the band would disperse from the basement choir room after changing back into regular clothes and reconvene at the local Friendly's to gossip and gorge on sundaes until the disgruntled employees kicked everyone out.  It was a tradition that began way before any of us had even started kindergarten, and it was a treat that everyone looked forward to all week after making it through long days of boring classes and lots of marching practices.

Except not everyone was invited to Friendly's for ice cream.  Even though the band members were super geeks, there was a social hierarchy within the band and I never made it above the 'invisible' level.  I was the girl who showed up every day and knew every note of every song, but I never had any band friends to sit next to on the bleachers. I was painfully shy with unstylish clothes and frizzy hair, and I didn't fit in with the 'cool' kids in band.  Back at home on Friday nights after the football games, I used to watch television with my parents and wish I was at Friendly's with everyone else.  I would have given anything for just one invitation.

Now that I'm older and wiser (ha!), I know that I wasn't missing anything by not joining everyone for dessert.  I know now what it feels like to have close friends, friends who you would do anything for no matter what.  Real friends who don't care what you are wearing and who would invite you everywhere. People who are so great and special that you can do absolutely nothing together and have the best time ever.

Tonight, Anthony and I grabbed dinner at Friendly's for the first time in years.  We joined the young families with screaming children and sat at a sticky booth and ordered ice cream sundaes after our meal.  It made me realize how happy I am to finally be an adult, and how lucky I am to have someone as wonderful as Anthony to spend my Saturday night with at Friendly's.  (In case you were wondering, I always order a Reese's Pieces sundae with black raspberry ice cream.  The perfect combination of flavors!) xo

Super Sniffer

I don't consider myself to be someone with extraordinary talent but I do have one special skill: I have a killer sense of smell.  I can tell what my grandmother made for dinner while standing on her front porch in the winter (all windows and doors closed).  I can smell the funkiness in the hall of our condo building through two doors (sometimes it smells like fruit loops and vomit).  It's impressive.

More often than not, when I walk into a place, I'm reminded of something else because of the smell, good or bad.   The second floor in my office building reminds me of my great-grandmother's living room (new carpet and strong coffee made in a percolator).  My yogurt's sweet scent this morning made me think of the cereal bars my college cafeteria used to make (think Rice Krispie treat but with Captain Crunch cereal instead).  Sometimes when I'm in New York, the whiffs of street food are reminiscent of my elementary school cafeteria (breaded chicken cutlets and Salisbury steak in steam containers). 

It's like having a built-in sensory memory book. And lately, I find myself thinking about the past more and more, probably because I'm heading further away from my childhood and towards this life-changing thing called marriage.  I love how the simplest thing can bring me back to some of the smaller moments that most people would forget.  Usually, those are the times that are most worth remembering.


P.S. If I could choose to have a real super power, it would be a toss-up between teleporting or mind-reading. But I'd still want to keep my incredible nose. xo

Color Me Fair Orchid

When I was fifteen years old, it was mandatory to attend a full-day retreat before I made my confirmation so on a warm September Saturday, I joined 30 other teenagers in the basement of an old Catholic school to listen to a group of college kids discuss religion.  Although a lot of the talk that day was about God, I mainly remember the activities that they made us do so that we could "find" ourselves. If we didn't know who we truly were, how could we figure out what our special relationship with God was, according to the instructors?  (Stay with me here because I'm going somewhere with this).

One of the exercises we did was to pick one crayon from a box of hundreds that best represented ourselves.  I took this task very seriously, sorting through the colors much longer than everyone else, finally deciding on a pale tan crayon.  Kind of beige, kind of boring, completely inconspicuous.  Then, we had to say in front of everyone why we chose that color and why it represents us.  The only thing I could say when it was my turn was, "It doesn't stand out, light brown is ordinary.  It just blends in with the other colors."  Everyone stared at me.  How telling is that of my teenage self?

I like to think I've grown since then.  I'm not as shy, but I'm never going to be the outgoing one or the life of the party.  I finally think I'm okay with that.

So when I looked at this Colorstrology site (sponsored by Pantone), I was happy to see that based on my birthday, Fair Orchid is my color.  According to my birthday color:

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Yes, I think this describes me better than that light tan crayon that I picked out almost fifteen years ago.  Even though this is just the result of a silly colorstrology/astrology reading, I really identify with the description.  I'm proud to be Fair Orchid.

What about you? Find out what your birthday color is and let me know if you think it matches your actual personality.

For the Love of Bears (and the Berenstains)

 
A few days ago, Jan Berenstain passed away, half of the Berenstain writing/illustrating duo that meant so much to me as a child.  I owned dozens of Berenstain Bear books, and I still have them packed away for a time in the future when I have children in my life who might love to read as much as I did.  Jan, along with her husband Stan, wrote over 300 Berenstain Bear books in about 50 years, cementing their place in the repertoire of nightly bedtime stories around the world. 

My favorite part about the characters in their books is that they were modeled after the own Berenstain family.  While reading the books, Mama and Papa Bear seemed human, and dealt with real problems that children encounter daily.  And after meeting at age 18, Stan and Jan worked together for over 50 years creating this wonderful world for young readers.  How amazing to collaborate daily with the person you love the most.

There will still be Berenstain Bear books (their son is taking over) and I know I'm not the only one who will look back and remember how these stories made me feel like I wasn't alone.  I thank the Bears and the Berenstains for nurturing so many through their words and illustrations. 

P.S. I always loved The Berenstain Bears and the Bully and The Berenstains Bears and Too Much Junk Food.  Any favorites?



Photo courtesy of AP/EW

Easy Listening

 

When my brother and I were young, we would spend our school vacations, along with the entirety of the summer months, with my grandparents.  We'd mostly stay at their home, baking or woodworking or learning how to play instruments (our activities were as varied as if we were at a summer camp) and when my grandmother needed to go to the store or to the bank, we'd get into their silver Oldsmobile for the ride.  If it was a nice day, we'd wait in the car while she ran in to do errands, my grandfather always turning on the radio to an AM talk radio station just for some background sound (he never let us change the station; only once when I was in middle school did he let me move the dial to a Top 40 station, but made me change it back when we got home).

The last few years, I've been turning the dial to NPR on my way home every night.  Instead of listening to the same five pop songs that seem to be on repeat, I listen to Michele Norris and company tell stories about the world.  The voices are warm and encompassing in a way I can't exactly pinpoint.  It reminds me of those days when we'd sit together waiting for my grandmother and listen to the newscasters' voices hum throughout the car.

A few nights ago, I caught the Backseat Bookclub, an NPR book series for kids.  Christopher Paul Curtis was on air taking questions from young readers who had just finished his "The Watsons Go To Birmingham," a book he wrote years ago and which won the Newbury Medal.  It made me wish that this was around when I was young, a shy kid reading by myself in my bedroom.  And I've decided to take on next month's challenge to read "One Hundred Dresses" by Eleanor Estes, who was also from my hometown.  Sometimes, there's nothing like being transported back to childhood even if it's just for a few minutes. 



Image from My Diet Consists of Glitter via weheartit

On The Path to Extinction

 

This Friday, ABC will air All My Children for the last time, and One Life To Live will soon follow with its last episode scheduled for sometime in January 2012.  It's been several months since the network decided to cancel these two long-running soap operas (unless there's a miraculous internet return, which I'm doubting), but I'm still sad for reasons that I think will make sense to many loyal soap watchers and hopefully some non-daytime television lovers. 


I will preface this by saying that it has been a while since I've regularly watched daytime television myself but I grew up watching ABC soap operas every day.  My grandmother took care of me and my brother when we were young and every afternoon, she would make us lunch in the kitchen and we'd watch hours of Loving, All My Children, One Life to Live and General Hospital on a small black-and-white antenna television, right up to when it was time for her to start dinner. The stories were drawn-out family dramas or quick love affairs, and every character was linked to every other character in one way or another.  During school vacations or summer breaks, I resumed my soap-watching and loved that after several months of being away, I was still able to keep up with the storylines (although sometimes new actors would come in to replace already-established actors in the same role and how confusing was that?).


In high school, I loved General Hospital and would tape it every day since my after-school job made me miss it.  In college, even with at least five classes a semester, a job and internships, I always either recorded the episode or caught part of it as I was dashing off.  One of my roommates was obsessed with GH and every night, we would recap together in our shared kitchen.  (I know General Hospital isn't canceled yet, but there's reason to think that it's only a matter of time).  Being a soap fan is like It was like being part of a group that had millions of members of all ages, who tuned in just to see what was happening in fictional Port Charles.

But I guess things have changed.  I don't like change, and I'll be the first to admit I revel in routine.  I'm upset that these two shows have been canceled, but perhaps I'm more upset about what it means overall. Instead of watching television to escape into made-up worlds, we are watching reality television shows featuring 'real' people who volunteer to be filmed.  No matter how crazy the Buchanans and the Quartermaines were, it's nice knowing that they were created for entertainment purposes.  Individuals eager for fame actually create 'real lives' and then turn a camera on for all to see. 


Now, these entertainment mainstays are being replaced by more talk shows.  Starting next Monday, The Chew takes over All My Children's slot, bringing more quasi-celebrities and manufactured camaraderie to network television.  I'm not knocking the format or the hosts as much as I am the sheer volume of extremely similar shows.  How many self-help, instructional programs does America need? 

Susan Lucci doing her thing as Erica Kane

Soap operas are companions to viewers; Susan Lucci disappears into her character, Erica Kane, and becomes a constant in so many lives.  People who are comforted by routine or even just the familiarity of the shows themselves are bound to be distressed.  I keep imagining a nursing home filled with senior citizens all waiting for their program to start so they get their daily dose of Pine Valley gossip.  In any event, I doubt it will be comforting when a 90-year old woman turns on her TV next week to watch her stories and instead sees Mario Batali dancing behind a stove in orange crocs making pasta sauce.   


Where are the protesters (except for a few small groups that banded together like this one outside the ABC studios after the announcement)?  Remember when Chuck on NBC was on the cancellation bubble and fans started sending in Subway sandwiches to the network?  Other shows with less of a following have also had viewers protest.  And in this situation, there could not be a more perfect thing to send to the network execs: SOAP!

I think that most people are embarrassed by their love for soap operas but there's nothing wrong with loving these shows, or the routine that comes along with being a loyal viewer.  At this point, I don't think I'm alone when saying that I'd rather watch 60 minutes of General Hospital than back-to-back episodes of Jersey Shore.   In real life, I'm not at all like the privileged people on soaps, but I'm not like the crass exhibitionists on MTV either. At least the stories and characters on General Hospital are fictional.  

So tomorrow, plan to watch the last episode of All My Children ever and enjoy every minute of it.  Wear your pearls, get comfortable in that silk negligee you've been saving, and have your favorite alcohol beverage close by.  It truly is the end of an era. 


Image courtesy of Deadline

Movies: Our Idiot Brother

I've loved Paul Rudd for a really long time, ever since I was 13 years old and my friend and I begged her mother to rent Clueless at the video store, only to make her regret her decision when she walked in on the part when Cher is smoking up at a valley party (oh, Rolling with the Homies....).  Anyway, he made the movie for me with his weird but sweet crush on Cher, and then he made me love him even more with his bit parts in Romeo and Juliet and The Cider House Rules, and later co-starring with Jennifer Aniston in The Object of My Affection.

The point is that I knew I'd like Our Idiot Brother even before Anthony and I went to see it.  The cast rules with Rashida Jones, Elizabeth Banks and Zooey Deschanel, but Paul Rudd steals it with his awesome portrayal of Ned.  He's naive but not dumb; he's kind-hearted to a fault.  Ned tries to see the best in everyone and loves every part of life, and even though his sisters think he's an idiot, he doesn't necessarily come off that way to the audience.

Perhaps his optimism is refreshing because I also try to look on the bright side as much as possible, and I don't think people really understand that a lot of the time.  The movie is not for everyone but for me, it rang true and proved to be entertaining as well.  The end wraps up a little too nicely, but I thought the rest of the movie was so messy that I didn't really mind it.  I have a feeling that Our Idiot Brother will wind up in our permanent DVD collection in a few months, but until then, I'll continue to get my Paul Rudd fix by watching The 40-Year Old Virgin every time it's on television, which is like 90 times a week.