It's all about me. And the little things.

If a blog is only as good as its last post…

… my blog is utter shit. I miserably failed in the last months and one might think that “updating blog” has clearly not been my resolution for 2013.
One is correct if one thinks that.

But fear not my friends. This is all part of a big (fucking) plan.

Mwahahaha. 

If I were famous, I would say I am on hiatus and you would probably wonder if I meant rehab.
But I am just taking a break because new plans and plots seem more exciting when they are preceded by a (mysterious) break.
I think there will be a lot of high-five-worthy things coming your way this summer - happy things like sunshine, cold beverages, ice cream, skinny dipping and Isabelle’s new endeavors.
(I know that there will also be allergies, bug bites, excessive sweating, hairy toes, and sunburns but we’ll worry about that later.)

So please, sit tight. Actually, sit comfortably because it will be a while, it’s only April.

In the meantime, I will send you to one of my favorite sites on the Interwebs. Let’s draw a stick man, shall we?

The Toned Legs of Giants

My blog related hibernation can largely be blamed on annoyingly demanding classes. Currently I am trying to wrap my head around photography and how to screw up perfectly fine pictures by changing settings like a crazy person.

Today I had to take pictures of cups. Apparently my cats thought it would be a perfect opportunity to show off their toned legs - over and over again. And again.

(Hitchcock.)

(Homer.)

Ps. Yes, those are espresso cups. No, I do not have giant cats.

Walgreens

Apart from some occasional flare-ups of road rage, I find driving quite relaxing. I can let my mind wander and sing along to crappy music. (It’s kind of like taking a shower, I guess.)
Depending on the traffic light situation, I have time to think about all kinds of more or less interesting things. It’s time to share one of them with all of you.

I drive by a Walgreens every day and I just can’t help but wonder…

… has anyone ever though that the counter where you pick up your photos is only open for one hour a day?

…and that it takes 24 hours to fill a prescription?

Brag Time! (Insert old Batman Theme Song here)

Remember that feeling when you managed to pee your whole name into the snow* or when you finally got that piece of food out of your teeth? Without floss, just with your fingers and some impressive motor skills?

Well, multiply that by 9273635452728191028736363738395. That’s how great it feels to see your name (=my name) in very close proximity to the word “Forbes”:

Yep, that’s me and an article I wrote for my favorite website - and that article then “magically” made it to the Forbes website.
It came completely out of the blue - I had to quickly add “Be published on the f#$%ing Forbes website” to my bucket list so I could cross it off - with a really big Sharpie that I also had to buy.

Holy shit, this is so. very. cool.

High Five!!!

Elizabeth and all the Levo Ladies: I love you! :)

*I am a girl with a long name so I can only imagine what it must feel like.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

I can’t wait to watch this movie again. Not just because of the brilliant acting, the fantastic visuals, the beautiful set design and costumes, and the wonderful music.
No, the main reason why I want to see Tinker Tailor Solder Spy again is because it was too confusing. I’m am not ashamed to admit it. Ok, maybe a little so let’s just say: There were a lot of questions once the credits started. If you have the answers, email me.

I tried to keep up but there are so many people and names, so many connections to make and so much paranoia to keep track of- but that’s exactly what makes this movie so great. It messes with your head just like spy movies are supposed to.




This is movie “review” number 22 - One word of wisdom for each minute of movie.
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is 127 words long and holy shit, it’s a fucking complicated movie! But go see it so we can solve the mystery together.

The Artist

I was afraid The Artist would not deliver what the hype promised - it seemed to be one of those movies you “have to” like.
Peer pressure sucks. 

However, I was pleasantly surprised: The Artist lets you rediscover the magic of movies in a truly charming way. The story works perfectly without dialogue and special effects and it allows you to actually think to keep up.
Trying to capture the audience’s attention purely with a story, acting, a few slides, and music is hard work but The Artist does it brilliantly - and with the help of an incredibly cute dog.



First movie “review” in 2012. Even though it took a while, we pick up right where we left off: One word of wisdom for each minute of movie.
The Artist is 100 words long and makes you want to adopt a Jack Russell. Or try to teach your own pet a few tricks. My cats do not share my enthusiasm yet but I will not give up.

Dear 2011 (aka how to use up a year’s supply of the word “shit” in one blog post)

Dear 2011,
You were the year that started out like shit and ended like the shit.
I am glad you’re over but I also know that life and the bigger picture wouldn’t be the same without you. Yes 2011, I needed a year like you.
I admit, I didn’t have very high hopes for you – on January 1, 2011 I felt like trying not to drown in a big pile of… well, shit, actually. It seemed as if I had lost control of pretty much everything and others were making decisions for me.
Yep, the universe went on vacation, without leaving an informative out of office message. Luckily, I had work and school to keep me from thinking, worrying and cursing too much. If you speak Swiss German, it was a time for “Gring ache u seckle.”

Now, there are a lot of metaphors, wisdom, inspiring quotes and sad violins I could put here and I am convinced some of them would make both of us cry. But that’s not why we’re here.

I am not sure what happened but I slowly got my shit together. The universe came back; still a little tipsy but well rested and with a great tan. And it fucking made up for everything, actually it still does.
I met (and re-met) some amazing people in 2011. You know who you are and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you’ve done for me, for all the chances and opportunities you’ve given me. 

Thank you for making me laugh, for your endless patience, for listening, reading, watching, and commenting; for always being there, for convincing me to start watching “Revenge”, for saying the right things at the right time, for making me trust my instincts again, for rocking my world and most of all, for believing in me - and for ignoring those damn time zones.

I don’t want to jinx anything and I’ll knock on all the wood I can find but it feels pretty good to be me at the moment.
So all I want for 2012 is a shitload of the last six months of 2011.


I don’t know what you want for The New Year but I hope you will get all of it and then some.

I wish you all the best for 2012. Stay happy and healthy, always say thank you, and wash your hands whenever you go to the bathroom.
I hope you will spend a lot of time surrounded by people who make you laugh, who make you think, and who make you horny.

May life play by your rules!


<3
Isabelle

The Descendants

Two (unintentionally?) memorable things about The Descendants are that George Clooney never looks more unattractive than when he’s running. Clooney, you run like a girl! Also, the trailer for The Descendants is slightly misleading and without giving anything away: It’s not primarily a funny movie. 


So let’s get serious: What is most impressive about The Descendants is Alexander Payne’s fantastic job at developing his characters: They are authentic and complex – but Payne makes them very approachable and if you want to or not, you’ll even feel for the ones who seem to be assholes.
I love when a movie makes it hard to pick sides and favorites. 
Oh and the locations are simply breathtaking.

Look, we end the year with an even 20: This is movie “review” number 20 - one word of wisdom for each minute of movie.
The Descendants is 115 words long and you might want to bring some tissues.