I. NEED. JOB.

I don't read Gawker daily, but I just caught up on the back-posts and, wow, they are on top of their shit! I wasn't really going to talk about this, but since GAWKER is, I suppose I will too.

Last Thursday, June 26th after organizing a huge breakfast for some PR company beauty product launch in the place of my previously happy employment, I was called to a meeting with the general manager of the place. In that meeting, the grand announcement was that the restaurant had been sold, and everyone there was immediately out of a job. That place was Bette-- owned by Miss Bungalow 8 "Nightlife Queen" Amy Sacco, which Gawker knew about the next day. CRAZY.

Here's the article:

Is this the end of Amy Sacco? We're going to say it is. The onetime NYC nightlife queen's restaurant Bette in Chelsea—formerly considered a complement to her club Bungalow 8, a food-and-fun empire that would never be destroyed—is closed. No big to-do; just a lock on the door, and the end of an era. What happened?

A tipster to Eater says:

At Bette last night for the closing party. I live and work in the area and dined there fairly regularly. The bartender told me that Amy Sacco sold the restaurant and gave the staff about 8 hours notice.

Cold. Why, we remember a few years back when we were talking about Sacco's "quest for total domination," and HBO was planning a story about her rise to fame. She had so much success in the city, she said she'd rather die than return to her native Jersey.

Then things started to slowly go downhill. Rumors flew that Sacco was stiffing her PR agency; the usual suspects started placing bets on when Bungalow 8 would close. Her doorman struck out on his own. She tried to export her magic to London, but failed to find the same popularity.

Sacco recently called New York nightlife—and herself—"overrated." Now she's been proven right.

YES, GAWKER. The notice given was completely cold. I cannot say much more, as I loved working at Bette. I loved all those I worked with, although I stood in the same room with Amy only once the entire time I worked there (She did give me hand-me-downs from goody bags she didn't want though, which was nice.) I actually had gotten up at 5am to throw a private event beginning at 7am that ended up being a total stressful nightmare, to only have my hard work followed by the news that I was out of a job before noon. I might as well tell you friends, lurkers, and stalkers, I was and still am in shock.  The meeting promptly commenced with a round of drinks on Bette. Cheers! 

(I did not attend the closing party, however. I chose to stay home and ordered Chinese food, watched movies with my boyfriend, and sulked like a good sport.)

NOTE: Even though it's easy and fun to pick on Ms. Sacco, we should all be looking at this from a much broader angle. I've watched the cover counts in several popular restaurants in NYC decline over the past year or so, and it wasn't because they had lost their edge. People simply can't afford to blow all their dough on decadent dining right now! Sacco's decision to chuck Bette was probably just good business sense. She's simply cutting off the (non-profitable) fat to save room for the meat (i.e. whatever other endeavors she is sitting on these days.) As I mentioned in my previous post, Jann Wenner may be looking to do the same thing! Everyone knows the economy is in the toilet, but if the rich kids are watching their backs, is anyone looking out for the rest of us?

Suicide Jumping: Not Just For NYU Students Anymore

What oh what could make this beautiful 20 year old supermodel off herself?

I'm dumbfounded and it seems that her friends are too, but Russian model, Ruslana Korshunova, is believed to have leapt to her death from the balcony of her Downtown NYC apartment building yesterday afternoon. She would have been 21 on July 2. Source

In other celebrity gossip:

Jann Wenner may be selling US Weekly.

During Wenner's recent appearance on "The Charlie Rose Show," Rose questioned him regarding sales of Rolling Stone to Conde Nast getting rumors swirling. An industry rep from Conde Nast stated that it wasn't the Wenner founded Rolling Stone they wanted, but much more valuable US Weekly as it would "make perfect sense for Conde Nast to buy." Seems like Wenner is looking to make bucks ($750 million according to the NY Post) to keep his baby afloat in times of crisis, perhaps? If Jann Wenner is downsizing and conserving, how bad off are the rest of us? Yikes! If you're ever in midtown or the financial district, look out for flying dudes in business suits-- and models too, I guess.

C'est la vie

I don't know what it is about summertime that makes me want to do nothing but lounge around at cafes, sipping wine, eating cheese, and pretending I am proper Bourgeoisie, but that seems to be the case these days. A case, I might add that is driving me to the poor house! Ah! C'est la vie!

LAST FRIDAY:
I met Katherine at Cafe Gitane a teeny-tiny extremely popular, sometimes deemed trendy, French-Moroccan joint in Nolita. We arrived early, as the place always fills up fast, and actually got a table right away. I've had experiences where the staff has been slightly snobbish, but this time around our server was sweet as the honey atop our gorgonzola walnut crumble. The menu consists of several reasonably priced (Talking one to two dollar signs!) small plates, and a well-chosen, but relatively short wine list. I think Cafe Gitane is best for sipping wine, enjoying the night air (which drifts in frequently through the open door on nice nights), and snack until your tummy is full. Katherine and I started with a salad (a special that evening) then split a sandwich (Organic Roasted Chicken chipotle mayonnaise fresh parmesan roasted tomatoes on toasted baguette), and followed with some cheese for dessert.

Les Fleurs (and Mints)


Gorgonzola, Walnuts, and Honey

WEDNESDAY:
My friend Holly is setting off in a couple weeks for Zambia where she will be working with the Lubuto Library Project for quite some time. She didn't make it to my birthday party, so we had a joint nice-to-see-you-again/farewell dinner at Tartine, another tiny French establishment. This one is located on a quaint side street of the West Village, not too far from Carrie Bradshaw's house and the Marc Jacobs store (Don't be surprised if you get asked for directions to either while in the area.) Tartine is BYOB, so I brought my fave aforementioned rose, and arrived early, because this place fills up just as quickly as Cafe Gitane--And no, they do NOT take names for a wait list-- First come, first served! Luckily, Holly and I scored a perfect table outside, and shared a delicious Beet and Goat Cheese Salad and a heaping pot of Mussels. We ordered another item, but were too stuffed to eat it. (The server was extremely rude when we wanted to cancel the order, but eventually she relented, and cancelled it.) Little did I know, but Holly had brought another bottle of sparkling wine in celebration of my birthday, because she had missed my party last month. She also ordered us two desserts-- a blackberry cobbler, which was delicious served a la mode, and an intensely rich mousse served with raspberries. I can't say I'll be kissing the staff at Tartine on both cheeks any time soon, but I'll definitely return, and make them kiss mine.

Remnants of the salad: Red Beets, Corn, Goat Cheese, Pine Nuts, Endive

Mussels in White Wine Sauce (One qualm: They needed more juice for dipping!)

Trying to hear a tiny ocean...

Mussel Beach

Surprise! Blackberry Cobbler and Chocolate Mousse

Oh, then we found this amazing hippie van right across the street from Carrie Bradshaw's house, and Holly just happened to look like she owned it.  (I never even watched Sex and the City, btw.)

J'Adore

I was somewhat embarrassingly googling a previous (nightlife) employer of mine, and was pleasantly surprised to run across this fun and witty blog (not by the employer though):

http://jadorejoey.blogspot.com/

Last week's posts included:

1.) An amazing video called "Censor Bar Art" set to the tune of one David Byrne:

2.) A UK commercial, which ended up being pulled from the air after 200 Wendy Whiners complained that it was "inappropriate for children, and forces parents to explain same sex partnerships." As if! I think it's adorable, and clever. See vid below.

Parking

Go to this tomorrow! Friday, June 27th!

Sam Champion is playing at the Prospect Park Bandshell with Cold War Kids and Elvis Perkins (No relation to the King, but is related to the "Psycho.")

Buy this!

Love as Laughter just released their new album. Buy it at their site. Also see them at Glasslands on Saturday.

The Sick And The Dead

Amy Winehouse (only sort of) Has Emphysema at Age 24
Earlier this week, the boozy bluesy floozy's dad told the press she has an "early stage of emphysema" from her crack and tobacco shmokin'. Now her publicist is refuting this with the statement that she has "traces of emphysema." I don't really see the difference, but either way she is now "covered in nicotine patches" and recovering. Do they make crack rock patches? Maybe that would help.

Kermit Love Croaks

The "Sesame Street" costumer, who also designed costumes for renowned ballet choreographers Twyla Tharp and George Ballanchine saw his last "sunny day" today, when he died at age 91 from congestive heart failure. He was co-creator, along with Jim Henson, of Big Bird and designer of costumes for Mr. Snuffleupagus, Oscar the Grouch, and Cookie Monster, among others who resided on "Sesame Street." He insisted that he was not the namesake for the green guy with an affection for one obnoxious pink pig, but judging from his choice in partners, I beg to differ.


Failure: George Carlin's Heart
I was never a huge George Carlin fan, but his success is worth noting, so I made up some appropriate words to go on his tombstone:

Here Lies Beneath one gorgeous George
Many of his words were quite poor
Though his tongue sharp, he did amuse
Your mom, your sister, and banged them too
Now he's gone from a failed heart
But no one will forget his profane art

"Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker, Tits.”
May 12, 1937 – June 22, 2008

Impetuous Imus Eats Shoe (Again).
Don Imus has another snack on his cowboy boot after a conversation regarding football player Adam 'Pacman' Jones' recent request to no longer be referred to by his nickname leads to another questionable remark. Jones, whose nickname is associated with six prior run-ins with the law, would like to relinquish himself from the bad boy reputation. Upon hearing this news, Imus responded, "Well, what color is he?" Given that Jones is black, Imus blurted, "Well, there ya go..." After losing his job last year when he referred to Rutgers' team, the Scarlet Knights as "nappy headed ho's", Imus really has no room for slip-ups. Now he's back-peddling, and it's not exactly cute to watch. I keep expecting him to say, "What?! I love black people! I even allow them in my home!"

Cool Points

While googling images of my newest favorite cheap Rose to send a friend today, I somehow ended up at nymag.com, who is running a story entitled Punk Like Them as part of their "Summer Issue." In this story, journalist Alex Morris follows a gaggle of rag tag kids who hang out/live on St. Marks on a night of merrymaking and self-destruction to see what the new old-school punks are up to. What did Morris find among these Colt 45 guzzlers and corporate cafe haters? Looks to me like a bunch of typical teenagers.

Choice quotes:

“I heard about St. Marks in a Casualties song,” he says, “so I’m like, ‘Wait a second, I want to hang out there.’ ”

“Hey, what’s up?” he calls out to a girl walking past in plaid pants and a Casualties shirt. She pauses long enough for him to know he might have a chance. “You’re really hot. Come over here.”

“Yuppies are assholes,” Miquel agrees. “This is St. Marks. They should go away.”

"I don’t discriminate,” Suvy reasons, grinning at Mariya. “I hate everybody besides punks.”

“No one has a right to tell anyone else what to do,” Greg says. “Like, it’s your life, you should be in control of it. I don’t pay for anything—just drugs. They don’t tax drug dealers.”

“I want to die young. Once I hit like 30, I want to start being really self-destructive and just see what happens. Like ride around in cars really fast and do crazy stuff—even though I already do that now, so I can’t really say I’m going to do it.”

“Eric, you lose cool points for taking me here,” says Greg.

Of course, Morris could be twisting this to make these kids look immature, but then I find myself pondering the question: How long does that kid have to panhandle to buy enough Aqua-Net to get that mohawk to stand-up high enough? At least he can use his hair product to get high, as well as increase the crown of his coif, I guess. Kill two birds with one stone, right? Hopefully, he doesn't kill himself in the process. Secondly, since when was supporting Colt 45 (whose brand is owned by Pabst, Budweiser's key competitor) NOT supporting "the man" any more than Chipotle or Dunkin' Donuts. Everybody has their vices--and consume too much of either and you're likely to get FAT and/or DEAD! No "cool points" there, dude.

I understand the appeal of the lifestyle. Disagreement and unrest with the government is common; Wanting to live without rules is legitimate; Self-destruction and the desire to get fucked up is a pretty good way to disappear from the world for awhile. Unfortunately, it's a pretty negative, naive, and cowardly lifestyle. Using the music to vent can prove to be positive, but mixed in the pot with live fast, die young and foolish is pretty silly. My stepbrother spent his late teens and early twenties in sweet rebellion, hating his parents, my mom, school, the world, in general. At some point, he abandoned all and hopped trains from North Carolina to New Orleans. He disappeared for a long time, but to my knowledge, was squatting while down there, battling heroin addiction, and gaining some gnarly tattoos (one in which looks like someone just took the needle and scribbled on his arm for an hour or so--He gained some beautiful ones too, though.) Somehow he made it back to North Carolina, ditched the drugs, refuses to watch any movie that references them (i.e. Trainspotting), and married a woman, who later became a stripper and the mother of his child. Phew! Now they are divorced, and I haven't see him in 8 or 9 years. He contacts my stepdad occasionally when he needs dough. Fuck corporations, fuck the man, fuck comfort, fuck eating, fuck living, yuppies suck. Good ideas. I'm sure his daughter feels that way.

**I do love the collection of photos by Mike Brodie, documenting trainhopping kids and squatters. I always think of my stepbro and Woody Guthrie when I see them, and part of me longs for the adventure.

Last (Night's) Supper

When cooking, I've never been one to adhere to the recipe too closely, nor am I huge on using measuring tools (unless baking.) I taste throughout, sometimes leaving me full before the meal is prepared. Oops. Most of the time, I just make shit up. It turns out better this way. When I'm an old grandma, I hope to have the motivation to have my own handwritten cookbook to hand down to my kids' kids' kids with the measurements "a handful of this," "a little of that," et cetera. My grandmother's favorite cooking direction was, "Like so." For example a recipe for gravy would be, "You cook the meat like so, then you pour in some water, and cook up the fat like so." Cryptic, yet crystal clear, right?

I am learning that it is really hard to light food for photos, and I now understand why all the pics in chinese food restaurants look so gross. While the flash brings out the color, it makes everything else look kind of slimy. Oh well. You get the point.

Calypso Porkchop and Coconut Rice
-Marinate porkchop in olive oil, lime juice, minced garlic, jerk seasoning (thyme, allspice, black pepper, cinnamon, cayenne), and BF put some sort of hot pepper in there too, but it's not necessary.
-Boil rice (We used long grain) with equal parts coconut milk and water, and diced onions, salt, and pepper. (Once again BF put some kind of hot pepper in there too, but not necessary. The boy loves hot peppers. He pickled a huge jar of them that we've been using for months now.)
-Pan fry porkchop using marinade. Top with mango salsa. (Chopped mango, cilantro, red pepper.)

Vegetables
-Cut yellow squash, red peppers, and onions into strips.
-Heat 1/4 inch of water in a frying pan, and toss in veggies. Cover. Add snow peas after a few minutes.
-Mix olive oil, soy sauce, dijon mustard, dry ginger, dry garlic, salt, pepper, and sugar. Toss veggies in mixture, and saute for 4-5 min, and remove from heat.


And the night before:

Pesto Chicken Pasta
-Rub raw chicken breasts in pesto. (For pesto recipe, go here.)
-Boil pasta. (I like whole grain rotini.)
-Cut chicken into inch long strips, and saute in olive oil and minced garlic (I also like to throw some fresh basil in from our window herb garden.)
-Once chicken and pasta is cooked, drain pasta, and toss the two together, adding a little olive oil and about 2 tablespoons of pesto (give or take, depending on how much you're making).
-Throw in a handful of shredded parmesan or romano cheese, and toss while warm.

Asparagus Cherry Tomato Salad
-Cut ugly ends off asparagus. (Those things are expensive these days, btw!)
-Chop remaining asparagus into inch to 2 inch long pieces and blanche.*
-Do the same for tomatoes, and drain both of all water.
-For dressing: Mix approx 2 Tbsp lemon juice, 1 Tbsp olive oil, a tsp balsamic vinegar, a clove of minced garlic, a squirt of dijon mustard, salt, and pepper.
-Toss asparagus in mixture first. When fully coated, add tomatoes.

*Blanche: Boil for about 3 minutes, then remove from heat and run under cold water to halt cooking process. This retains crispness and color.

You're Everything That a Big Bad Wolf Could Want

Breathe In, Breathe Out

Just received Gavin Rossdale's "comeback" disc, Wanderlust, with the cover bearing what else but his beautiful face. The inside was much less desirable than its outer shell. Quite honestly, I only listened to the whole album once, and the most notable song on it was, "This is Happiness" in which the chorus repeats -- duh-- "This is happiness, this is happiness." Gavin may be happy these days, (Which he very well should be with a beautiful, successful wife, adorable kid, jet-setting life, plus let's face it, he will always be a total babe) but nobody wants to fucking hear about it! Then again Gavin was always something of a soft-hearted hippie (See here for ref.) With all its embarrassing fuzzy, melodramatic mumbles and one highly vomit-inducing ballad released as the single (Love Remains the Same), Wanderlust is definitely a WONDERBUST!

Sorry Gav. I still loved you way back when. I even had a t-shirt purchased at Spencer Gifts that read, "I <3 Gavin!" in the 7th grade, and saw you play a double bill with my other 90's faves, Veruca Salt!

I'll still hold the good ol' days close...

Jules et Jim Crack Corn and I Don't Care

I love the way that food tends to remain the center of life for all no matter age, race, gender, or locale. The reason is obvious and simple: To live we must eat. However, the sentimentality of food is much more important to me than its necessity. It is the glue that binds societies and cultures, and provides a feeling of stability and comfort-- unless it's the glue you're eating anyway. Don't do that. Eating glue is for weirdos.

I've worked in restaurants on and off throughout my time in New York City, and spent a considerable amount of my free time in them, as well. I consider dining a hobby, as well as cooking, and I'd much rather spend my extra cash on a great meal than a great dress. My main reason for this being that I can share the experience with someone else. If you find yourself roped into a meal with me, expect to have my fork in your plate, as much as my own food forced upon you.

These habits can surely be attributed to my upbringing, as no matter the disfunction that infiltrated my family or the hustle of the day, my mother always made sure that we were sitting together for dinnertime. I have fond memories of her rising early every Saturday morning to bake biscuits and fry sausage gravy and eggs, our large family Thanksgivings where I helped my Mawmaw plop pats of dough into bubbling chicken broth for her famous "Dumplins", and my mom's tradition of serving quiche on Christmas morning. Even days that weren't marked on the calendar as "special" were made special by our meals. I find myself doing the same in my own life as I always get a little excited when my boyfriend follows work each day with the call, "What're we gonna make for dinner tonight?"

Saturday night we went to one of my favorite spots in the city, Jules on St. Marks. It's a dimly lit little french bistro, where each night around 9pm a live band plays old blues and jazz tunes, along with some originals. I love going to this place, because it's great for two to order a bottle of wine (huge winelist), a few appetizers, and split an entree, and be completely satisfied. My absolute favorite item on the menu is the escargot which is sauteed in garlic and parsley butter that is best sopped up by the ample bread provided. Since we went with a couple friends the other night, the menu selections were doubled. See below for some visuals (I told you the place was dimly lit!)

Chicken in Lemon Sauce with Mashed Potatoes and Vegetables

Sea Scallops and Asparagus Risotto

Desserts (We had the Chocolate Fondant. My fave part was the vanilla ice cream made with real cream!)

Quail egg from the Steak Tartare

To dine and to ditch?

We're so happy, we're frowning.

Holy Mole-y!

R.KELLY WAS ACQUITTED YESTERDAY OF ALL 14 COUNTS OF CHILD PORNOGRAPHY! Yes, that's more charges than the age of the girl who he videotaped himself doing the nasty with-- I mean, who he didn't do it with! Right, right.


The case surrounds a 27-minute tape made 9 years ago of someone who resembles Kelly having sex with a young woman identified as a 14 year old girl. Though the victim, a daughter of a protege of Kelly, has denied her involvement in the video, 14 other witnesses have said otherwise. The prosecutors also spotted a dime-size mole on the back of the man in the video, which matches one that Kelly also has. This allegation was also denied, stating that the mark was the work of computer glitches or special effects. Interesting.

I don't want to hate on R. Kelly. I think he is hilarious, but I'd just like to have a moment of silence for his ex-wife, Aaliyah (*RIP*). The two were married when Kelly was 27 and Aaliyah was 15. It's possible that they didn't consummate the marriage (especially since she lied on the birth certificate stating she was 18), but I'm just curious as to who gave her the nickname, "Baby Girl".

Also, anyone remember that pesky child porn charge in Florida awhile back? The charges were dropped back then due to insuffucient search warrants!

Guess lightning does strike twice, and I bet R. really does believe he can fly after this one.

P.S. This is an amazing (and real) video (and shit).

I'm Melting!!!!!!

I came home yesterday to find that this heatwave had done this to the poor chocolate bunny my mom gave me for Easter. I know Easter was months ago, but I thought he was too cute to eat.


Not anymore...AWWW.


Even though he is deformed, he is much happier chillaxin' with his buddies Ben and Jerry. If you ever wondered whether those dudes were alcoholics, here's the hard truth: They like the cheap stuff.

ALL BUM.

Like Sugar To My Heart

The Days Can't Be Like The Nights

As everyone melted into their own personal puddles of sweat, and over-heated exhaustion this past weekend, I stayed cool by the salty air of the sea. Granted, my air was often contaminated with tobacco smoke, fried food steam, rotting garbage, and human body odors, as we were at Coney Island on the boisterous holiday of Puerto Rican Day, but nevertheless the thick atmosphere of Coney was several degrees cooler than that swarming around my own Brooklyn neighborhood. On top of that, I rode the Wonder Wheel for the first time after living in Brooklyn for 5 years and numerous visits to the park, and got to kick it to some sweet house music.

Okay, so the Wonder Wheel scared the ever-loving bejeezus out of me, the music wasn't exactly my jam, and on top of that the restrooms were atrocious. In fact, I'm getting a tetanus shot tomorrow, and praying that the mosquito bite on my thigh doesn't spread into a rash. I also never want to see a fat person in a bikini again (Is there such thing as reverse anorexia where you look in the mirror and see your fat self as wayyy skinny?). The plus size--OMG that was totally a Freudian Slip-- plus SIDE to witnessing these traumatizing bikini faux pas yesterday is that it reminded me to get off my own cellulite and work it out. I even got up this morning at 8am for a run even with the sun beating down on me like it was midday! I felt like I was going to drop after about 10 minutes into my jog, but let's hope I dropped some lbs too! Phew!

In all seriousness, I love Coney for its easy accessibility as much as for its dirt and seediness. There have been rumors of tearing down Astroland for the past couple years in order to "clean up" the neighborhood, and make room for upper class patrons and residents. It hasn't happened yet and according to the New York Times, it doesn't seem to be happening any time soon. Once we ventured from the boardwalk and abandoned the oceanfront sand we even found--what I first thought was a mirage caused by the heat-- Beer Island, a relaxing little gathering of chairs and tables with a bar serving up several imported and domestic beers, healthy food options (small salads, sandwiches, hummus), hot dogs, and your fave classic rock and island tunes from a jukebox. You can find me there every Sunday from now on.

Is Tamara Home?

I did it. I went and saw The Strangers last night. As a lover of gore films, I can't say I wasn't disappointed from the lack thereof, but a slasher film can be good without it. I'd actually say this is more of a suspense flick, rather than horror, as it wasn't as utterly terrifying as I was hearing. The spookiest element of the film is the afterthought that no matter how safe you think your home is, if someone wants to come in (to harm, to steal, whatever), they probably can and will. I learned that first hand a long time ago though, when a guy let himself into my apartment while everyone was sleeping and yanked my computer and D-SLR camera. Jerk.



I will add that I had an unsettling dream last night about a girl who was having fluid pumped into her brain by her parents and doctors, so that her brain was turning to mush, while she lay there screaming, "WAIT! I'M STILL ALIVE!!!" I dunno if that was a result of the movie or if I'm just demented. Little o' this, a little o' that most likely.

Anyway, so I decided to create a list of horror movies about people being chased that were wayyyy scarier than this:

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre- The origination of the Leatherface character, and one of the first slasher films. This film and character has been highly influential in the film genre (i.e. Scarecrow in The Strangers, Rob Zombie's flicks, Silence of the Lambs, Michael Myers in Halloween, Jason in Friday the 13th, etc.) Trivia: Leatherface was inspired by serial killer, Ed Gein who also wore the skin of his victims.



Shutter(Original)- I could not get to sleep for two nights after watching this-- mostly because I had a major shoulder/neck ache, which is very much a part of the ending of this movie. WATCH IT! (I can't believe they made an American version of this. Most American remakes of Asian films are total suck in comparison to the originals.)

It- I never read the book, but I was terrified of this when the mini-series came on when I was a kid. I had a fear of clowns like the character in the movie, so a movie about a supernatural evil clown was sure to give me nightmares!



The Hills Have Eyes- Great because it's gory.

House of 1000 Corpses- Another good, dirty gorefest! I love Rob Zombie's movies. The commercials in Grindhouse were awesome too. Pseudo-celeb dish: I met his wife once (Baby Butterfly in the movie.) She's kind of a total ditz, and was staying at Nicholas Cage's apartment. I imagine Mr. Cage to be a weirdo too.



The Decent- One of the best American horror films in the past couple years. Chicks being chased by monsters in the dark in claustrophobia-inducing spaces equals sado-masochistic paradise!

Suspiria- Ballet and witches. I'm in! This was Dario Argento's first installment to what he calls his "Three Mothers Trilogy", and I am insanely excited about the third and final movie coming out THIS FRIDAY, Mother of Tears!

I know there are a ton more, because The Strangers just wasn't that scary. I still liked it though, and it startled me a time or five.