the less you know, the better off you are.
The quote of the day:
Sweet Home Orange County,
And I don't know any of the words...
Running news:
5.3 miles.
I woke up at 6:15 this morning, which annoyed the heck out of me--I'd been planning on getting up early, but not that early. I laid in bed for a while before finally saying, Enough, and I got up to go running.
I did my largest circuit, which is 5.3 miles. I didn't go especially fast--51 minutes--but I did it continuously, without walking breaks. I didn't take walking breaks the last time I ran either, and I ate a banana before each of the runs. I have decided, on the basis of this statistically insignificant data, to eat a banana before every run.
And now I'm in front of the computer, listening to the radio and trying to convince myself not to open Hearts Deluxe and start playing again.
Of course, I am tickled pink hearing Bare Naked Ladies doing a country version of "Fight The Power."
Their live version of "Million Dollars"--containing mix-ins of "Lady in Red" and "Kiss" (complete with a Prince imitation)--is pretty classic too.
So Darin and I sat down tonight to watch The Rat Pack, the HBO movie about (what else?) the Rat Pack: Sinatra, Davis, Martin, Lawford, and Bishop. Like all HBO movies, it was ultimately unsatisfying, because there was no dramatic urgency--the movie mostly centers around Frank Sinatra's bid to be a respected member of society, despite hanging around with guys like "Momo" Giancana. Well, we all know what happened to Frank, don't we?
The biggest problem with the casting was, I feel, Ray Liotta as Frank Sinatra. Ray Liotta is good-looking in an off-beat way and he's a good actor, but he ain't Frank Sinatra. And I never felt he was channelling Sinatra in any way.
Don Cheadle was amazing as Sammy Davis Jr. For a guy who reportedly didn't dance before the movie, he faked it awfully well. And he managed to make this guy who had a very insincere manner and was the butt of all the jokes for the Rat Pack incredibly sympathetic.
The outstanding performance of the movie, despite being a small part, was Joe Mantegna as Dean Martin. Not only did he manage to evoke Martin's look and act so incredibly well, but in the 3 or 4 scenes he was in, Martin became a fascinating character: the slacker who worked incredibly hard, the good ol' boy who acted drunk and wanted to get away from the Mafia, the slick Rat Packer who slept alone and drank milk.
Mantegna made Martin so interesting I immediately ran to Amazon and added Dino: Living High in the Dirty Business of Dreams by Nick Tosches to my shopping cart.
Short, shameful confession: when I was but a tiny Di--I know it was before age 5, because I clearly remember which house we were in when this happened--I had my mom send away for an autographed photo of Dean Martin for me. I have no idea why I wanted it, or how I'd managed to run across Dean Martin at that age. (Probably from watching Martin and Lewis movies.)
I couldn't find a decent picture of Martin on the net, to have a side-by-side comparison with a picture of Darin and see if there isn't more to this story than I'm consciously aware.
The Dean Martin link of the day: Dean Martin's Sunny Summertime Horoscopes
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Copyright 1998 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com