You've Gotta Play to Win *

A few years back I was working in DC as somewhat of an indentured servant. I worked insane hours for a pittance of a salary and was forced to stick around by the promise of a year end bonus which would enable me to pay the debt I'd accrued during the year just to maintain my lifestyle. This lifestyle consisted of an apartment I could NOT afford and way too many ghetto fabulous nights out (nights of revelry following payday...pretty sure that line is going to bar me from ever holding public office).

I searched for a way out. Yes, I tried the conventional routes of searching for a new job and contemplating a move to the islands. But I knew there was something else, a promise of something more. Powerball.

I passed my time thinking of how I would spend my riches, what car I would have, who I would give a million to, where I would go on vacation. I realize these are not uncommon fantasies but I checked hotel rates and availability. I was committed. I signed up for the Powerball emails. Just the promise of a multi-million dollar windfall and the happiness it would bring seemed almost enough...and the chance that maybe next time they would be MY numbers.

In the last two days, 2 separate winning tickets for millions and millions of the rich stuff have been sold outside of Philadelphia. Makes me think it's time to get back in the game....

* The original post failed to acknowledge my Powerball teammate Chrissie Walsh. Ms. Walsh has been referenced in other posts but was regretfully ommitted from this one. Please let the record reflect that she not only purchased tickets and agreed to share her winnings, she also helped me research plastic surgeons and was going to be my roommate at the Four Seasons during recovery from our lotto-financed Extreme Makeover. My apologies.

Carly Couch Philadelphia

This weekend was full of friends, food, wine, history, fun, and gem-colored coats. By Sunday, though, I was pretty much useless. Confronted with a day on the couch and a stubborn state of conciousness, I had to do some serious entertainment planning. After scanning the 100 channels I receive and coming up empty handed, I turned to trusty On Demand. Oddly, this service was populated with films I had never heard of or with unappealing titles (and I just watched Baby Mama last week...wonderful). I was tempted by Meryl Streep and pretty shots of Greece but didn't think my head was quite ready for 2 hours of Abba hits, so Mama Mia! was ruled out.

I hesitantly pulled the trigger on Vicky Christina Barcelona.

Now, I don't really like these artsy films in general. And I know from experience I don't care for Woody Allen movies (Matchpoint? kill me.). But for some reason I was intrigued. Although it was off to a slow start I really got into it! It was full of pretty people and pretty places and essentially was like a thinking-person's rom-com! Smart and satisfying!! Penelope Cruz was great and in my opinion deserving of that Oscar (though I only saw one of her competitors: Marissa Tomei in The Wrestler whose performance I could not fairly judge b/c I hated every moment I was in that theater watching that offensive movie).

Four Stars!

Dispatches from Costa

Dora the Explorer

It's been so long, I hardly know where to begin! Well, since most of my recent absence was due to a week-long trip to Costa Rica, I suppose I'll start there. It was a week of adventure, relaxation, and LOADS of family time. Some highlights are below:

ADVENTURE ON THE HIGH SEAS

A few days into my Costa Rican holiday, my father suggests that we go on a little fishing trip. Sea, Sun, catching things that I could later eat....it all sounded GREAT to me. The morning was perfect, sunny and warm. However, the calm of the morning belied the dangers I would soon face!

They day went roughly like this. Captain Bob and I (with the help of skipper Bing) scooted off shore approximately 12 miles searching for mahi mahi or marlin. I had visions of a delicious grilled dinner and possibly catching something big enough to stuff and mount above my bed (the fellas love a sporty chick). Unfortunately for us the fish were a little too sneaky that day and were able to avoid all 12 of the lines we had in the water. After about and hour of pleasant circling we headed in.

It was almost at this exact moment that the winds decided to make their presence known. At first it was great fun bouncing over waves. I sat in the front of the boat and yelled "wheeee" everytime we hit one big enough to momentarily eject me from my seat. What started as a few cheap thrills quickly turned to straight nautical distress. There were 10 foot swells, 50 MPH winds (captain bob's estimation), and white-caps as far as I could see. I began singing the Gilligan's Island theme song in my head.

As I was clutching on to the side of the boat for dear life, my father leaned around to ask if his eldest (and dare I say favorite) daugter was doing ok. I gave him the thumbs up (I didn't actually think I was going to die and indicating any fear would have brought on mockery I was not prepared to deal with). He acknowleged the thumbs up and said "Good, wanna see if you can get some photos of this!!". Uhhhhh sure dad, let me just release the grip that is keeping me inside the boat as opposed to the watery grave below and capture a few candids.



CORTEZ 1, CARLY 0

When I lived in Germantown there was a dog next door named Conrad. Poor Conrad was kept outside on my neighbor's porch in all manner of inclement weather. Each evening when I would come home Conrad would poke his little (ok, rather large) snout through the fence to say hello. I always gave Conrad a large biscuit and a warm greeting. Sometimes, I would give Conrad a special treat and slide him over some leftovers from dinner. One evening I gave Conrad a delicious lamb chop. I placed it down for him on his side of the fence and went to give him a "Good Boy Conrad" pat on the head. At this point, Conrad forgot all of his neighborly graces and tried to devour my hand.

Lesson learned: do not pet unknown pooches on the head when delicious treats are placed before them.

Fast forward: Costa 2009.

I was taking a friendly photo shoot of my favorite Latin pooch Cortez. To compliment him on some really excellent shots (see above) I went to pat him on the head to say "Bueno Pero Cortez". He then went in to finish what Conrad had started and had my whole hand in his mouth in a split second. CHOMP!!

Primitive first-aid was immediately administered: Bactine. Bandage. WINE. allllll better

Peace out.

I am taking a much anticipated hiatus from cubes, winter, and Philly. Tomorrow morning I am setting out for a week of sun, sand, waves, family, and one very large Mastiff in Costa Rica. There will be no hairdryers, makeup or email. There will be lots of reading, beaching, and cervesas.

My daily commute down filthy streets will be replaced with a bumping 4-wheeler ride to the beach. Days filled with powerpoint, desk chairs, and inane internet searches will be forgone in favor of leisurely breakfasts, surfing, and mucho time laying horizontal on a beach doing nothing much at all.

Pura Vida kids!!!!

Que Guapo!

Look how handsome he is in sleeves!! Stupid Australia and their stupid time zone are making it difficult for me to watch my Rafa, luckily there are pictures aplenty on the internets!

That is all.

At Last

I have really tried to stay away from political discussions here. It's not that I don't like engaging in them (I do) it's just that they can tend to be kind of a downer and they are rarely funny (especially since Sarah Palin has been evicted from the limelight). But I can't resist. I have a gigantic crush on the First Family. The political policies of the Obama administration tend to align pretty solidly with my own beliefs, but that is really secondary here.

I am IN LOVE with a woman who dresses her two girls in CrewCuts for the inauguration. Sealing J.Crew's place in American history (I'd like to think I've played a not insignificant role in that as well). The first lady herself even sported some leather gloves made by J.Crew to cradle Lincoln's bible beneath her husband's hand.



Just when I thought my admiration for this couple and their family had reached it's zenith... I come to learn that they had my idol and role model Beyonce (makes me wonder if that little Sasha Obama's middle name might be Fierce) sing At Last for their first dance. Although I enjoyed Obama's inaugural address, the site of those two dancing together to my girl B brought me to tears. Yes We Can.
When this family finally gets that puppy, I may just need to move in.

The Wrestler

I know a lot of people turn to this site for insightful film reviews and reliable recommendations. Knowing the tremendous responsibility I bear, I want to talk to you about "The Wrestler". Despite Marissa Tomei's appearance as a stripper with a heart of gold, this movie isn't the heart-warming picture I was hoping for. (I have had to make compromises in my film selections lately...what with the Oscars coming up it is very difficult for the good movies to get screen time. I look forward to this drought ending 2/6/09 ).

Last week, by chance, I was awake to catch the Late Show with Jay Leno. Jay's guest that night was a dried-up, hopeless, and frankly a little bit creepy Mickey Rourke. Ostensibly, Mr. Rourke was there to plug his film but his years in therapy would not allow the conversation to proceed so smoothly. I mean this guy has had it ROUGH. He has been out of work as an actor and unable to find work in any field including construction (see, the recession really is affecting everyone). He tells Jay that a good therapist and a priest have helped him through these times. Given this lead in it really is no one's fault but my own that I sat through 2 hours of depression, heartbreak, and hopelessness.

Now this review is not a critique on Rourke's performance, because I don't think there is anyone who knows down and out better than that guy. But it was too sad and there was too much wrestling.


2 stars out of 5.
This film contains nudity, language, gratuitous gore involving a staple gun, and nothing even resembling a happy ending.