The Man Who Loved Women (and the women who loved him right back):

Man, I love this movie, a real beaut by Robert Towne, Hal Ashby and company:

George: Let’s face it. I f***ed them all. That’s what I do. That’s why I went to beauty school. They’re always there, and l…I don’t know why I’m apologizing. So sometimes I f*** them. I go into that shop and they’re so great-looking. I do their hair. They feel and smell great. I’d be on the street…at a stoplight, or go into an elevator. There’s…a beautiful girl. I don’t know. That’s it. It makes my day. It makes me feel like I’m gonna live forever. As far as I’m concerned with what I’d liked to have done in my life…I know I should’ve accomplished more but I have no regrets. I mean…Maybe that means I don’t love them. Maybe it means I don’t love you. Nobody’s gonna tell me I don’t like them very much.

While we’re in the Eighties, here goes one of my favorites from those fun-lovin’ sombitches, Van Halen:

I was never a huge Van Halen head like some of my friends but their David Lee Roth records bring me back to middle school, and dag, a lot of those records really kicked ass. Still do, though Eddie’s guitar playing style sounds dated to me now. Can’t believe anyone would prefer Van Hagar to the original. Once they parted ways with Diamond Dave, they didn’t have the same magic.

Aw, hell, here’s another one that always makes me smile:

Not a big fan of this group, though I enjoyed their records before Synchronicity:

I started shopping for records at Fat Beats when they were in a tiny East Village hole, below street level. Mr. Sinister and Roc Raider were there, working or hanging out, I could never figure out which. A few years later, in the mid-90s, Fat Beats moved to a prime spot on Sixth Avenue just off Eighth Street. DJ Ei, Ill Bill and Eclipse were there, to name just a few. Percee P was always downstairs hawking mixtapes and showing off his skills.
 
I stopped buying records years ago now, though I still fall through places like Big City and A-1 to visit friends. Still, I’m sad, though hardly surprised, to see that Fat Beats is closing up shop in New York and L.A. When I worked in Hollywood for four months in 1996-97, I was a regular at Fat Beats in East L.A. Babu was there at the time, the whole Dialated Crew, guys like J-Rocc, too.

Certainly marks the end of an era.

Sniff.

The Little Street, By Johannes Vermeer (1657-58)

Sometimes, life is good.

Witness:

I visited my mom recently and was annoyed that her peeler was almost as old as me. (Let’s not even talk about the can opener.) A peeler is just one of those ordinary things that can last generations, even if they are dull and don’t work well anymore.

For about ten bucks you can change someone’s life. Pick up an Oxo Good Grip peeler.

It’s the small things, man…

Direct from Jane’s Sweets and Baking Journal, peep the lemon yogurt mini bundt cakes…with limoncello glaze (well, duh):

Yanks are livin’ it right now, man:

Here’s another ideal spot for you sandwich heads.

Amazing, really.

Two of my favs…

After last night, let’s hope the Yanks have a big, ol’ feast tonight.

Pile it deep and high.

Let’s Go Yan-Kees!

And here, dig this barbeque tour from Anthony Bourdain:

Part Two:

Man, is it ever pleasant in the Rotten Apple today. The humidity is gone. Cool breeze, sun peaking out. Oh, yeah…

[Picture by Bags]

Low Budget Laffs:

The Man…

In Walked Bud

 The Finer Things in Life

[Picture by Bags]

Serious Eats is a great food site.

Love their feature, A Sandwich a Day.

Dig:

[Photo Credit: Blondie and Brownie]

Stay Blue…

I went to the movies for the first time this summer a few days ago. Saw Dinner for Schmucks. I didn’t expect much and wasn’t disappointed. I smiled  a lot and thought this limp, bland movie was a fine diversion. I wouldn’t see it again, though on second thought I’ll probably sit through pieces of it many times once it reaches heavy-rotation on cable.

I didn’t get a good belly laugh out of it and when the end credits rolled I didn’t remember a thing that had just happened. 

I think that most of the recent comedies by the Will Ferrell-Judd Apatow Mafia are lacking but there also usually have that one crack-up scene that makes it worth it.

Like this foul-mouthed gem from The 40-Year-Old-Virgin (warning–if you offend easily, skip this):