Laundry list

I never imagined I could be so at home in a completely new place as I was this past weekend with my beloved friend, Charlene. She made me feel welcome, in her home and in her town, and it was the most I've relaxed in a good many years. Thank you, my separated-at-birth other sister, for the vacation I so desperately needed.

Charlene, me, and Powder

From the moment Charlene approached me at the airport, and I burst into tears, I knew the trip was more than worth the effort. It wasn't the last time I wept on her, either, poor woman. Such relief at finally meeting my friend was not something I had expected, but I'm an emotional basket case anyway. Together we laughed, we cried, we squeeed. It was everything I wanted it to be.

Naturally, while I've been escaping from my escapism, events have continued to unfold in Jakedom. He's very inconsiderate sometimes.

Okay, I admit: the foremost development on this front isn't of Jake's doing. Jake Watch have officially announced their impending departure from the blogosphere. And this I had to read while in a hotel lobby, because contrary to what the hotel's online profile stated, there was not, in fact, wireless internet in every room. So there I sat, leaking from the eyes and sucking back snot as I read the kind well-wishings of JW loyalists whose names hadn't been seen around in many months. Jake Watch has been more than a destination; it is an institution, one that Jake and his "people" would have done well to appreciate while they had the chance. But hey, britpopbaby and Prophecy Girl weren't doing it for Jake, they were doing it for themselves and us. Nothing good lasts forever. I salute them.

Someone at San Francisco online alternative zine BeyondChron managed to echo all the frustration that has followed me since the first mainstream Rendition reviews appeared. Marc Norton, a hotel bellman by profession, writes

[T]hat is the point of this movie -- to make you think. That is exactly what all the luke-warm and negative reviewers don't want to do, and don't want you to do.

Yes, I said I felt somewhat unsatisfied by the film myself, but I can now confirm, having seen it a third time, that it does indeed get better with every viewing. It probably should embarrass me to confess this, but I still get a chill every time Isabella El-Ibrahimi shrieks at Corrine Whitman to just tell her that her husband is okay. True, some people get a similar chill when they hear fingernails scraped down a chalkboard, but the moment works for me, and I didn't think it would. Anyway, even if you skip Norton's review, please check out his link to an article from the New York Times about a real-life "war on terror" whistleblower whose efforts prove that perhaps Douglas Freeman's actions were not so far-fetched after all.

Let's see, then we had Jake and Reese attending a Halloween party in the most pathetic non-costumes imaginable. These are people with money. The lack of any effort on their part strongly suggests that either the invitation or the choice to attend came at the last second. That's always the way I want my party guests to be represented to the public at large. Hooray for Hollywood.

What else? Jake's getting down to work on Brothers, and now there's a whisper from Variety linking him to something called Nailed that would also star Jessica Biel. That title connotes such potential, I'm afraid to scoff. It's almost a wet dream unto itself.

Oh, then my internet provider irritated the hell out of me by failing to pick up the new DNS record for IHeartJakeMedia following their domain expiration a few days ago. I'm way behind on downloading Jake images, and that didn't help matters. Things are finally in place as they should be, but it will take me a whole weekend to catch up.

Jake hung out with Robert Downey, Jr. one night. Then he and Reese got video papped on a beach somewhere. Reese appears at one point to be picking something from Jake's teeth. Very romantic. In the past, such intrusive video would have set off my fiercest protective instinct, but the fact that they've probably been together for several months and managed to avoid such paparazzi run-ins for as long as suited their needs leaves me feeling somewhat less sympathetic. And I hate that I feel that way.

I want to continue to love Jake in the way I always have. More than want, I need it; it's something to occupy a dangerously obsessive mind, one that will turn to far less benign thoughts in the absence of this diversion. Most of all, I don't want to come here sounding like a bitter rejected fifteen-year-old, and I'm afraid that's exactly how I sound.


I can't swear off Jake right now. I fear it would literally kill me. Especially when photos like this one make my heart ache.

Photos: Peggy Mitchell, IHJ.