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Uncategorized

Ode to Moneypenny

the outside lane

Of all the Bond Girls, Moneypenny was always my favorite.  Long-suffering, administratively excellent, frumpy, pragmatic, saucy and salty Moneypenny.  You could depend on her to be in her seat, doing her job, making the world safer for 00 agents everywhere (and everyone else by proxy), and you could depend on her to flirt shamelessly with James Bond.  And in full knowledge of the flirtation’s futility.

Dr. No (1962)

Miss Moneypenny: James! Where have you been? I’ve been searching all over London for you.
[Picks up phone]
Miss Moneypenny: 007 is here sir.
[Slaps Bond’s hand away from the papers on her desk]
James Bond: Moneypenny! What gives?
Miss Moneypenny: Me, given an ounce of encouragement. You’ve never taken me to dinner looking like this. You’ve never taken me to dinner…
James Bond: I would, you know. Only “M” would have me court-martialed for… illegal use of government property.
Miss Moneypenny: Flattery will get you nowhere – but don’t stop trying.

Lois Maxwell, who originated the character, was not an unattractive woman.  Take a look at her and Honor Blackman, the notoriously well-bedded-by-Bond Pussy Galore, side-by-side from Goldfinger:

Lois Maxwell as Moneypenny, and Honor Blackman as Pussy Galore in Goldfinger. My two favorite Bond girls, side by side.
Lois Maxwell as Moneypenny, and Honor Blackman as Pussy Galore in Goldfinger. My two favorite Bond girls, side by side.

Not a lot of difference there, but miles of difference in how Bond related to them.

I could always relate to Moneypenny.  I wasn’t ever going to be the girl James Bond went out of his way to wrangle.  I would be the one fetching his coffee and bantering back at him.  It would be okay and friendly because we would both know, though he would be kind about it, that he had absolutely no interest in me (or even recollection of me) once he’d hung his hat and passed by my desk into M’s office, leaving me to daydream over what it might be like to be fancied by the world’s most dangerous spy.  Would I have tapped that given the chance?  Absolutely not.  I’m smarter than that.  And that’s why Bond never would have really given Moneypenny a go.  She was too smart for that.

What I didn’t get as a child was that it was no negative reflection on me that James Bond would have passed me by.  It was all on Bond himself.  Aside from his likely fear of rejection from someone he obviously respected, Bond was too damaged to manage a relationship.  There was always the whisper that Moneypenny was too smart, too professional, and too important for Bond to bring into the vortex of his romantic life.  He didn’t worry about destroying cars, watches, or anything else Q gave him, but you know that Bond would never have intentionally hurt Miss Moneypenny.  Misuse of government property is right.

If Moneypenny had been some little dink secretary, do you really think he’d have given a go a second thought? He bagged less attractive babes.  But Moneypenny was a smart woman with a tongue as sharp as his, and a wit to challenge his best one-liners.  She was one of the only other characters who ever got to give Bond as good as he gave her.

This is why I am so disappointed with the new Moneypenny, who took a desk job because she wasn’t good enough to be in the field.  Real Moneypenny had her job because she earned it–you don’t get to that level chewing gum and missing shots.  Real Moneypenny could match Bond’s wit.  As gorgeous as Naomie Harris is, and she is STUNNING, I will always prefer Lois Maxwell’s guns.

Lois Maxwell's guns vs. Naomie Harris'. My money is on Real Moneypenny.
Lois Maxwell’s guns vs. Naomie Harris’. My money is on Real Moneypenny.

 

Also, Bond respected Real Moneypenny enough to know her name.

Goldfinger (1964)

James Bond: What do you know about gold, Moneypenny?
Miss Moneypenny: Oh, the only gold I know about is the kind you wear… you know, on the third finger of your left hand?
James Bond: Well, one of these days we really must look into that.
Miss Moneypenny: How about tonight? You’ll come over for dinner…
[playfully tosses Bond’s hat onto the hat rack]
Miss Moneypenny: and I’ll cook you a wonderful angel cake.
James Bond: Well, nothing would give me greater pleasure, but I’m afraid I have a… business appointment.
Miss Moneypenny: [laughing] That’s the flimsiest excuse you’ve ever given me. Oh, well, some girls have all the luck. Who is she, James?
M: [over intercom] “She” is me, Miss Moneypenny. And kindly omit the customary byplay with 007. He’s dining with me and I don’t want him to be late.
Miss Moneypenny: [to Bond] Then there’s hope for me yet.
James Bond: [gives Moneypenny a playful peck on the cheek] Moneypenny, won’t you ever believe me?

Howling Sea Lane, Uncategorized

If You Aren’t Pretty, We Don’t Care

the outside lane

I can’t believe I am about to write this, but I’ve got my ranting pants on, so here it goes:

Why hasn’t there been more coverage of the shooting at the New Orleans Mother’s Day parade?  I work in a place where CNN is on all day long, so I’ve been inundated with sexy murderesses, foreign looking bombers, and evil dungeon masters for the past several weeks.  Right now, the story being played ad nauseum is the psychotic abortionist.  But nothing about the shooting in New Orleans.

Well, not nothing.  Halfway down the page, the day after the shooting, there was a small link accompanied by a photo that was–see for yourself, and think about what the photos from Boston looked like in comparison.

cnn

The journalistic point behind having photos go along with stories is to add depth and draw empathy, the marketing point is to drive clicks.  Photos are carefully chosen because, to paraphrase the old addage, they tell the story cheaper, faster, and more effectively than screeds.  That picture?  That picture says, “We’re going to make fun of WalMart shoppers!”

So, the sexy murderess is a white girl who killed a white man.  The foreign looking bombers killed a white child, a white woman, and an Asian student, and wounded a whole lot of athletic white people.  The evil dungeon master abducted and tormented three, pretty white girls.  The psychotic abortionist killed live babies (we don’t know if they were white, but they were babies, and we aren’t racists until after children have hit puberty.)  Judging from the photo, the people affected by the NO shooting were a) Not White, b) Not Athletic, c) Not Attractive, d) Adults. I can only assume that these are the reasons we haven’t heard about it.

Look, when even MY mother says, “You know if they’d shot up white people, we’d have heard about it,” there is a big issue.

Is that it?  Is that why it isn’t getting the same level of coverage?  It was a Mother’s Day parade and 19 people were injured!  By a shooter!  With all the media attention focused on gun control right now, and a SHOOTING at a MOTHER’S DAY PARADE is getting the amount of attention usually reserved for a 2-alarm fire?  You know how I found out about it–with CNN blaring in my ears all day–one passing mention of it in my Facebook feed.  I wouldn’t have known it had happened at all otherwise.

We’ve covered that national attention rarely highlights missing minority children.

And that the media largely ignores missing black women.

What can we do?

How do we change the narrative so that color and socio-economic status aren’t what drives media coverage?

As a bonus rant:  WTF is wrong with these women who are throwing themselves at the remaining Boston bomber?  Are they mental?!

Uncategorized

Woof

the outside lane

I had a really funny conversation at the nail salon today.  To read about  it, click here to go to my new blog devoted exclusively to all things romantic:  La Voie de L’Amour.

B pointed out, recently, that the boy is old enough to be embarrassed by my internet antics, so I won’t be posting so much about Thor anymore.  You’ll just have to trust that he is brilliant and beautiful, and the best kid I could ever have hoped to meet.  Fortunately for me, Hoo has no such sense of self, so I can write about him forever.

We’re going to the beach soon, and taking the dog with us.  I forsee many opportunities for personal growth in the areas of patience, patience, and patience.  And learning how to get sand out of dog fur, which will likely require patience.  As much as I am looking forward to the beach, I am not looking forward to finding out what wet dog smells like when it is sea water wet. 

Any ideas for things to do with a dog on the beach?  Other than chase after him, trying to grab for his leash, yelling, “No!  NO!  Come back!”

Uncategorized

A Few Good Ewoks

the outside lane

Congratulations to Jenifer DiB and Mikey DiG, who are our two winners of the Subscription Celebration Giveaway!  It was DiWinner night, obviously.  Jenifer and Mikey will be getting a grab bag of some of my favorite things soon.

Jenifer and Mikey are both moms, and I’m sure they never have mornings that go like this:

The scene opens on a happy mother and child, who have just enjoyed most of their morning rush-around.  The child has been given significant time to accomplish a task, and has then been sent to brush his teeth.  It is 7:05, and the two of them need to walk out the door in 20 minutes.

The Mother:  Brush your Teeth.  (pointing at clock on the wall)  You have 5 minutes.

The Child:  Okay.

(5 minutes later)

The Mother:  Have you brushed your teeth?

The Child:  (stops making faces in mirror) No.

The Mother:  Brush your teeth.

The Child:  Okay.

(5 minutes later)

The Mother:  Have you finished brushing your teeth?

The Child:  (stops humming into his toothpaste foam, while making faces in the mirror)  Mmno.

The Mother:  Finish brushing your teeth.

The Child:  Mmokay

(5 minutes later)

The Mother:  Have you fin–  Why are you not finished brushing your teeth?

The Child:  (stops licking toothbrush) Uh…

The Mother:  (shutting off water.)  You are finished.  (taking toothbrush)  You are finished.  (lifting child–gently, of course–and setting down in hallway)  You are finished.  (following child into other room where it becomes obvious that the first directive was not completed.)

The Mother:  Why didn’t you do [what child was told to do]?  What were you doing all that time you were in here before?

The Child:  MmIdunno.  Mmplaying.

The Mother:  (through her teeth) Get. It. Done. Now.

The Child:  MmbutIneedtospit!

The Mother:  (channeling Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men) You don’t get to spit!

The Child:  Mmbutyou mmhave mmnoidea what is inmm my nnmouth!

The Mother:  Whatever it is, swallow it!  It cannot be worse than the rage I am swallowing!  Now do [that thing the child was told to do] before my head explodes!

/scene

I’m not saying I ever have conversations, or mornings like that either.  No, sir.

I will say that I now understand why my mother used to want to wring my neck every morning, and recognize how much of her wrath I brought down on myself.  There are Mom-mornings when I feel like all the walls are closing in on me, and I have to find the off switch before I am crushed like so much space garbage in a trash compactor.  Then, the kid asks for a hug, and all of a sudden, I feel like this instead.

I’ve found that being a mother is equal parts adrenaline and stress, seam-bursting love and pride, crushing guilt for having missed the mark, and sheer terror.  There is very little resting space in between the momentum it takes to raise a child into adulthood in health, happiness, and retaining all his limbs.  This is why it is good for a child to have grandparents, and for parents to get a nap now and then.

Uncategorized

Up in Arms

the outside lane

Doing an audition for stage is a lot more fun than TV or film.  With a stage audition you generally have a live audience of other wannabes, and I play a lot better to a crowd than to just one or two people.  Put me on a stage in front of a teeming mass, and I do a lot better than when you put me in a cold room, in front of a table with two casting directors and a video camera.  Doing a stage audition is a little bit like doing a performance, and I can tell myself to go out there and entertain the people.

The other great thing about a stage audition is that you get to watch everyone else.  If you like musicals, and you’re doing an audition that calls for a vocal, it’s like getting a free showing of some of your favorite songs.  It was a decent night for music, last night.  No one was terrible, and several people were quite good, so I got a great show.

I dorked out when it was my turn.  I had prepared one piece from Harry Connick, Jr., but in light of what everyone else was performing, decided to go with an actual Broadway number, and did an accapella version of Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile, from Annie.  If I’d just stood still and sung, it would have been a good performance, but I couldn’t stop my arms.  I had some crazy Matt Smith arms going on.  When I tried to put them down at my side, they were shaking visibly, so I–well, it is highly likely that I looked like a monkey on crack.

I belted the tune well enough, but managed to go Al Jolson on the last line.  Still not sure how that happened, but if nothing else, I was memorable.  Good, strong voice, terrifying body movements.  I hope that’s what the director was writing on my call sheet, not, “Woman is having a seizure–who let her in the door?”

When I finished, the director said, “…aaaand we got some choreography on that one.”  I tamed my elbows at that point, but giggled psychotically as I went back to my seat.

Then, they made me dance.

They made us dance, I should say.  All the actors got up and did a flap step, a shuffle step, a time step, a shuffle-ball-change step, and a flap-ball-change step.  I stood in the back and hoped I didn’t look too much like Frankenstein’s monster being threatened with fire.  AAARRGH!  shiffle shuffle  AAARGH! flap flap

After that, it was time to read.  We did groups of 4, and while I feel like I did read well, I also stomped on someone else’s line.  To my credit, it was a cold read.

So…  Good, strong voice + Decent vocal range + Good cold read – Insane body movement – psychotic laughter – overweight = Probably in the top 25% of my age group.  The good thing is that I have no delusions of being a Leading Lady.  I’m a Second Banana all the way.  I’d like to end up with a couple of lines, but I don’t harbor any great hopes of getting cast in a named part.  There are too few parts within my age/range wheelhouse, and I was not the best one there*.

We’ll see what happens.  The director said he wanted to cast within the week, but he may have to do callbacks.  I’m not going to cry if I don’t get called.  I’m just going to practice not waving my arms around.

As a reminder:

It’s your last day to enter the Subscriber Celebration Giveaway.

cropped-tol-smug1.jpg

I’ll be drawing two names as winners tomorrow.  To get in on the drawing do one, or all of the following as many times as you like:

  1. Leave a comment on ANY entry from the blog
  2. “Like” the Facebook page
  3. Leave a comment on the Facebook page
  4. Share the blog from your Facebook, Twitter, or Blog (and leave the link in a comment on TOL or the TOL Facebook page)

Don’t go nuts, though.  If you leave 50 comments saying the same thing, you’re only getting one entry.

When I have 2 winners, I’ll pick some of my favorite things to fit the person.  I’d hate to send a guy a bunch of face cream.

 

*I did have the shiniest hair.