Monday, January 22, 2007


News, notes, celebrations and the like . . .

Howdy, folks. Our Man in LA here with a few items that struck my fancy over the weekend (and one thing worth celebrating).

First, the news.

* You might have heard that the NFL playoffs were going this weekend, and in fact, that the teams who won on Sunday would be playing each other in a little thing called the Super Bowl in just two short weeks. If you're wondering how you missed this little tidbit, well, uh . . . the answer is "I don't know."

Anyway, on the NFC side of the ball, the New Orleans Saints faced off at Soldier Field against the Chicago Bears, a team from our former hometown. The Bears, much to my surprise, won.

Now again, you might not have heard this (though I'm not sure why), but Chicago sports fans don't hold all their local teams in equal regard. And popularity is not commensurate with winning. The White Sox might have won the World Series a couple years back, but the Cubs are now and always will be a gazillion times more popular. Wrigley Field is sold out in September even if the team was mathematically eliminated in May. Comiskey (aka US Cellular Field) has ample parking, day or night, and good seats still available exactly . . . always.

Likewise, the Chicago Bulls won six championships in the 90s, but the die-hard Chicago fan would still rather talk about the '85 Bears, the last Chicago football team to win a Super Bowl. Also the first Chicago football team to win a Super Bowl. If you ever meet one of these 85 Bears fans, do yourself a favor. Forget that you like football. If possible, effect a foreign accent and grin like you don't understand when they use the following words: "Ditka"; "McMahon"; "Super Bowl Shuffle"; or "Monsters of the Midway."

It's this kind of rabid fandom that makes this story, ahem, not surprising at all:

Please note in the story the dateline. That's right - Palos Heights, Illinois. Setting of my film THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, and honestly, about as Suburban Chicago as any one place can get.

* While we're on the subject of football, congrats to the Indianapolis Colts. Glad they won. First, it saves us all from having to read even one more column about Peyton Manning not being able to win the big game. Second, it means that there will be some offense in the Super Bowl.

Third, it really must tick off those Baltimore Raven fans.

Heh, thanks, Peyton. This is the gift that keeps on giving.

* The Razzies - the Oscars of bad movies - were released today.

You can read about them here:

I'm happy to say that I missed out on just about everything nominated this year (though I did see Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane in SUPERMAN RETURNS). But as always, there are a few awards that make me snicker:

Worst Excuse for Family Entertainment (New Category!):
Deck the Halls
Garfield 2: A Tail of Two Kitties
The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause
The Shaggy Dog

And this one . . .

Worst Screen Couple:
Tim Allen & Martin Short, The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause
Nicolas Cage & His Bear Suit, Wicker Man
Hilary & Haylie Duff, Material Girls
Sharon Stone's Lopsided Breasts, Basic Instinct 2
Shawn Wayans and either Kerry Washington or Marlon Wayans, Little Man



It feels more than a little strange to have this following the Razzie Post, but it bears mentioning here. It's a personal note, so avert the eyes if you get weepy.

Today - January 22, 2007 - is the 7th anniversary of my first date with Our Woman in LA, my lovely bride Stephanie. A scant week after first meeting at The Last Act, a long-gone bar that used to be across from Second City, we went out for dinner (at LaDonna on the corner of Clark and Foster) and for drinks (Hop Leaf, same corner), and started something great.

I didn't know that my life was going to change after that first date, but it did. When you consider the fact that when I returned home that night, I found a comatose Rob Schumann passed out on the sofa after a particularly hearty Wrigleyville Pub Crawl, perhaps I should have been pining for my life to change.

At any rate, these have been without question, the best 7 years of my life, and they're just the beginning.

Happy anniversary, Steph.

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