Super 8

So I saw the new Spielberg/Abrams movie last night, and loved it loved it loved it. I mean, it was hardly the best movie I've ever seen, but the 5 or 6 main kids were so freaking cute and such lovable characters, and it harkened back to ET, and I was totally feeling the phone home message at the end and totally teary eyed, cause nothing gets me like a poignant and literally spoken moral. In this one's case: "bad things happen, but you can still live."

Amen adorable little Elliott of 2011.

Right? Other people have seen the way these main character couplings mirror each other I'm sure, but I felt pretty smart making the connection all on my own.

Anyway - recently brought to my attention was the concept of Saturn's Return. CHECK IT OUT. I mean, Drew Barrymore saw her prime approaching at 27 as well? Why am I not surprised. And today my UUWS Roomie's having a totally 25 year old day, so I sent her the link for My New Haircut in the attempt to brighten her June Gloom, since I know it always perked me up when I was in my mid-twenties funks a few years ago, but I mostly can do little but offer

assurance that oddly enough things do sort of have a way of working themselves out.

And I thank my well-read oldest friend for the timeliness of her sending this here New Yorker article and look forward to my little coffee date tomorrow and the arrival of my next big love in my life ... I foresee his arrival over the course of the wedding festivities I'll be in Boston for next week.

So much to squeeze in to this last of my June posts. Can't wait for July!

Signing off with a moment of zen brought to you below by one of the 8 Super sellers of frozen goodies on the streets of my Manhattan Valley neighborhood right now. From piragua to pinkberry, we've got refreshment on every corner it would seem.

(This guy is obviously a giant Rita's Italian Ice.)

June Gloom

Interesting (to me): I just did a little more backblogging and discovered I fell into a funk last year in late June as well.

People are so darn predictable.

And that's the best and the worst I suppose.

But in today's case, I'll go with the glass half full take and thank my lucky stars we're just over 3 days from July and all the contentness that traditionally comes with it to this Sister Friend Actress Writer Agent Nomad Princess.

This afternoon I was having an "I want to get out of the rat race and into a marriage moment" (a painstaking 4 or 5 hour long moment actually).

The onset was threefold: 1st I saw pics of my cousin's new unbelievably beautiful baby girl, felt a pang of maternal instinct for the first time in about 4 years, and had it occur to me I'm so far from that life yet that all it would take is going back to Boston to inevitably fall into it but I just can't, cause I don't wanna any time soon when I think of how much I still want to do out in the selfish world first; 2nd I checked in with my "people from home" about the bachelorette bbq we're throwing for the first Nook Girl to get married next week and realized that one of my most traveled and worldly friends will be a one-man woman for life in a matter of 10 days sort of freaked me out; 3rd I finally knew what the date was (some random man asked me outside of Symphony Space and I promptly replied "the 27th!") because it's my godfather and goofy brother (see pic below)'s birthday (but I have honestly thought it was June 17th for the past ten days straight as my jet lag from round 2 of shooting in LA left me literally time-warped Desmon on LOST style).

Am brain fried, and still adjusting to not being under the lock and key of the 4.5 month transformation, will have new goals for myself by the second week of July, and will figure out Summer projects once I've made my triumphant return to Cambridge for the month... in the mean time... I'm not in San Diego, but okay, why not? I'll go ahead and stay classy.

Oh hey guys

Here I am in Malibu, living if only for a moment, the life of a glamorous Hollywood star.

I'm wearing a fuzzy white robe over my cobalt blue bikini, glam eyes, big hair, and my nice flat stomach and shapely legs courtesy of the mystery product I was hired to endorse back when I was rather hefty at the beginning of the year.

The crew buzzing around the ex-bachelorette's mansion where we're on location filming today and tomorrow is ginormous. There's tons of PAs, and lighting folks, there's a director, an art director, 20 extras aka beautiful people who haven't needed the help of little blue pills to get them Hollywood Hill ready, hair & makeup artists and stylists who I only wish I could have subbed out for an all-ENNIS crew, but still, delights to work with...

The mountain we're atop is amazingly picturesque - this whole thing's surreal beyond means. I've been bitten for sure, eh?

(Our product is made in Canada so a big part of the creative and fitness coaching team is a contigency with the real deal accents).

Anyway - this post is on my recurring nomadic thought that were I ever to wind up homeless, mark my words, I'd make my way along Rte 66 all the way out to California. Because LA, even doomed with June Gloom, is one heck of a place to land.

On loving douchebags

this post has been removed.

wishing you all a merry fall

you name it naugs