Tag Archives: Julia Stiles

Color me cautious

On this Presidents’ Day holiday, I find myself pondering a question of suitable gravity:

Why have I never played paintball?

It seems to be the activity of choice for couples in many romantic comedies.

I went to see This Means War, starring Reese Witherspoon, last night.  One of the two CIA agents vying for her affections took her to play paintball.  Of course she misfired a round and got him in his manly parts.

Oh, the sting of high comedy.

Matthew McConaughey also took Sarah Jessica Parker to play paintball in Failure to Launch.  Lucky for Matthew, she hit one of his friends in the foot. And Heath Ledger took Julia Stiles paintballin’ way back in the day in the teen flick Ten Things I Hate About You.

No misfires there…except my admitting I saw it.

I can kind of see the appeal; target practice is fun.  But those paintballs look like they really hurt on contact.  And most people seem to be incredibly bad shots.

Hey — I just figured out why I don’t play paintball.


Common thread

On Sunday, I went to see the final matinee of “Oleanna” on Broadway.

“Oleanna” is a David Mamet play about a student who accuses her university professor of sexual exploitation on the eve of his university tenure announcement. Julia Stiles and Bill Pullman played the lead roles, and since I typically like Mamet (and love Bill Pullman), I was there.

This is one of those plays you experience, but don’t necessarily enjoy. It’s hard to watch people push each other to their breaking point…and then actually break.

In the final bows, Julia was weeping. (Part of that may have been the physical altercation she has with Bill in the last scene.) Bill hugged her, apologetically it seemed. I just felt bad for everyone.

Then yesterday happened. I had to take my dog to the hospital. His surgery, originally scheduled for early that morning, got pushed back to very late in the day, which meant he had to sit there at the hospital in a kennel, not allowed to eat or drink, for hours.

Mama Dog was pissed.

Then, when I arrived home from dropping him off at the hospital, my building super announced that there was a water pipe break in my building, and they needed to go through my kitchen wall to make the repair.


In come the workmen, down come my kitchen cabinets, and — BAM! — two big holes appear in my wall.  There was noise a’plenty — do you have to slam the door every time you walk through it? — dust, debris, and it wasn’t like I was getting an incredible rehab or anything.

With the combination of doggie worry and kitchen drama, I was hanging on by a very fine thread.  I could see myself, dangling there, but I couldn’t pull myself up.  The crying jags, the quick temper, the inability to concentrate — thank goodness I have so many incredible friends who let me tell them the same story over and over!

Then…Rory’s surgery was over, and he was fine.  And the workers were gone…and they actually cleaned up their mess.  They didn’t even slam the door when they left.  I could feel my grip slowly returning.

I almost feel like taking a bow.