In which I look back at the week and try to encapsulate its essence into one delicious flavor.

Love in the air: Marian Bantjes has posted her annual Valentine’s Day mailing, which this year consisted of spelling out 300 names in custom heart-shaped letters. Besides Marian’s sweet greetings, I also received some pretty cheesy love-lettering.

I said no, no…yes: Somehow I thought that Amy Winehouse singing “Rehab” on the Grammys would be too drenched with irony to be watchable, but in just a few soulful, shimmying minutes she reinvented the song as some kind of anthem for recovering addicts. Her emotionally overwhelmed, mum-clutching speech after accepting Record of the Year, however, was the performance of the evening.

After 100 days, there are no good writers’ strike puns left: A Daily Show gets its The back. Jerry O’Connell ends his Tom Cruise imitation. Writers who don’t create hopelessly contrived characters for bloated entertainment conglomerates still get paid miserably for online content. Thanks, WGA!

Mia Farrow always wins: Pressured by activists who oppose China’s relationship with Sudan, Steven Spielberg says no to his gig as artistic director of the Beijing Olympics. Unfortunately, he says yes to Munich II: The One That Got Away.

The kid is not my son: Thriller turns 25. I make decent money and live by myself in a nice apartment in Hollywood. Michael Jackson lives in a hotel in Vegas with his three kids while his house is in foreclosure. If I had only known while dancing to “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” at age 5 that someday I would have a better life than Michael Jackson.

Thanks to NPR, Laura Kate Jones, Extended Play, Keith Scharwath and Marian Bantjes.

This entry was posted on Friday, February 15, 2008 at 8:40 pm and is filed under crafting, creating, watching, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.