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emmanation

You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

Archive for December, 2009

I will face the world alone and never be lonely

Wednesday, December 23rd, 2009

This is (sort of) a good year for women in Hollywood. I mean, it’s still a crappy year, but comparatively speaking it’s better than most. I was going to write about how even though many fabulous women were nominated for various Golden Globe awards this year, it’s still sort of bullshit that Paramount and Warner Bros didn’t release a single movie directed by a woman this year. Neither did Miramax or Focus Features. A slight improvement is not actually a solution, people, and giving women more awards does not make up for giving them fewer chances.

But I’m kind of distracted. I’m the only person from my team working this week, which means I’m doing all those little catch-all things that are usually split between four or five people. Sales needs something checked because their VPN isn’t working? Sure, I’m happy to be the customer service line every once in awhile. A system needs updating and no one else with a password is in? Hit me – I’m happy to do the work of interns as long as I keep getting my non-interny type paycheck.

So… I don’t feel capable of building a coherent argument about directors and women in film and the strong old-boys-club that still operates in many many industries, mine included, although I may revisit this topic in the future.

What I do feel like saying is I just recently realized something about myself. I love horror movies. I buy them, rent them, stream them, drag the boy to them with me, and just generally metaphorically roll around in them like Donald Duck rolls around in his piles of mula. I couldn’t have told you why – when asked, I usually said something about adrenaline and not liking movies to be too serious blahblah. While that’s true and I do love my horror-movie-related increased heart rate, I also just love love love them women. There is no other genre where I can almost be guaranteed that the plot will be built around a strong woman fighting her way through obstacles. Fine, those obstacles are sometimes chainsaw wielding maniacs, but the only other type of movie that even comes close is romantic comedy.

And I personally don’t consider trying to find a boyfriend to be an obstacle on par with a escaping from a chainsaw wielding maniac.   Yes, there is a dearth of good men out there and man alive I remember how much it sucked looking for one… but still. Chainsaw, people.

sadness

Sunday, December 20th, 2009

I loved Brittany Murphy. I love her still. I don’t know what happened to give her a heart attack at 32, but I wish that whatever it was… hadn’t. I’m probably not the first person who is going to voice a concern about an eating disorder because of her dramatic change in weight between the beginning of her career and now and the effect disordered eating has on your heart, but I sincerely hope that isn’t what happened.

I realize this is about her, but I’m sort of disproportionately sad about this. I didn’t know her in any personal way, and yet… I don’t know. I’ll think about it.

more firepower

Saturday, December 19th, 2009

I’m going to write a zombie movie. I’ve seen most of the ones made in English, and lots of other movies too, and after two glasses of Christmas-gift-from-the-bosses-boss-who-already-bought-me-like-ten-Diet-Cokes-at-the-company-party wine I’m pretty sure that’s all I need to be a screenwriter.
It will star Zooey Deschanel and Isla Fisher as the owners of The Starlight Kitty, a Nevada brothel. They (like the real Shady Lady Ranch) will decide to add male prostitues to help weather the recession. The enterprise will prove to be quite lucrative and there will be montages of my girls literally rolling in their money.
Then a new client will come along (played by Amy Adams). She will go through several men each evening and continue to return, requesting new men, every night for a week. Then she’ll disappear.
The men Amy slept with will start to get ill, in the order she slept with them. Right when the first one turns into a zombie, Christina Ricci will bust in and shoot him in the head.
It will eventually turn out that Amy was diagnosed with an incurable disease that made her not only the typhoid Mary of zombie-ism, but also permanently aroused. Christina, as the doctor who diagnosed her, has gone rogue and has tracked her all over the world, killing her conquests before the seven day incubation period ended and they were able to pass the disease on.
There will be gunfights, zombies, sex, and lots of female bonding. It will be the best zombie movie ever written.
Excellent.

I would ride the darkest horse, that's the horse I'd ride

Friday, December 18th, 2009

An except from the business lunch I just left.

My boss: Emma is such a geek.

My coworker: What? Emma got engaged? When??

Me:.. what?

Coworker: Boss just said you got engaged.

Me: No, he said I’m a geek. Your ears are broken. If I was engaged I certainly would have said something.

Boss: Not with that ring you wouldn’t. (looking pointedly at my empty ring finger)

Me: I don’t believe in engagement rings.

All: (Blank stares)

Coworker: Why, because of the diamonds?

Me: Well, that and the fact that when women started wearing them early last century it was because they were expected to keep their virtue until marriage, and when they got engaged it was assumed that virtue had been lost (this was me trying to avoid saying ‘virginity’ to my coworkers). The ring was so that if the guy bailed she’d have something to get her through spinsterhood. If men wore them as well it would be different.

Boss: I bought my wife’s engagement ring at Tiffanys.

Me: I’m not sure you understood the point I just made.

Boss: I told her giving it to her was like buying options in a farm.

Me: …. so, how’s your sushi?

At least I didn’t say anything about asking for fatherly permission.

am I dimmer every day

Thursday, December 17th, 2009

I’m just going to put something out there.

I am not a good skater.

No, it’s true. I’m not. I’m new, and I will get better, so this is not the end of the line, but MAN am I not a good skater.

Our first practice was tonight. We did some free skating, then had actual skating lessons. I sort of thought I’d be good at this – I mean, I’m an athlete. I can run a marathon. I realize that every roller girl in the world already knew this, but turns out skating is not running. Shocking, I know. I fell. A lot.

Then we did blocking. One of my most endearing/irritating (depending on who you are and your relationship to me) habits is compulsive laughter at inconvenient moments. The first time I fell off the wall when rock climbing – hysterical laughter. When I went indoor skydiving my laughter actually unbalanced me enough that my diving guide had to give me a stern talking to about it. Turns out blocking gives me a similar reaction. We paired up, planted our feet like sumo wrestlers on skates, and banged into each other over and over again. The soundtrack was a Killers album on the sound system, the soft grunts of tough chicks hitting each other, and the very poorly suppressed giggles of yours truly.

Our last bit of newbie initiation involved NOT being on wheels. We played derby… on foot. And it was awesome. And hard. And I got knocked down by a girl who was bigger than me.

This game is fan-fucking-tastic. These women are fan-fucking-tastic. Soon enough, I will no longer be skating like I’m made of whatever that stuff Gumby is made from. At least I hope so. Alternatively, I’d like to actually be made of what Gumby is made of, because I’m pretty sure that dude doesn’t bruise.

Me in my new RMGM sweatshirt.

Gumby. Not a Rocky Mountain Rollergirl.