twin-peaks « WordPress.com Tag Feed

...and there's always music in the air.

Mariana Costa — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 12:38:26 +0000

Em Twin Peaks, todos dançam

TV: USA

leharlot — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 19:57:01 +0000

My television is a museum piece, it will no longer work when I get it out of storage in January but I’ll keep it anyway for sentimental reasons. We had one of those until I was pretty old, then I lived for a long, long time without one at all. Maybe that’s why I won’t be bothering to buy one when I move into a house next year, it’s not something I need or ever really use when there is one. Yet, to me there is nothing more amazing entertainment wise than a superbly executed, well acted, 24 episode long season of fine television. I’m a hardcore escapist and I love movies but aside from the occasional epic, 2 hours isn’t enough to truly love a character, 900 minutes is way better. 5 0r 6 seasons of 900 minutes? Now we’re talking.

The Sopranos. Without the Sopranos there would be no Mad Men, no True Blood, no Breaking Bad, there would be no TV drama renaissance full stop. God only knows what we would all be watching but it would most likely suck. The bar was raised by about a million and TV became something else. Not that there weren’t great shows before 1999 but nothing like this, not that level of acting, the sublime scripts, the subtle character arcs, the pace of the story, the soundtrack and the eventual conclusion, which in true style managed to just work where other shows would fail. Who was your favorite? Mine was always Christopher.

So if you haven’t actually watched the Wire and by that I mean actually watched it not just read about it in every magazine, newspaper, blog going. You really should. I hate bandwagons, hate jumping on them and I managed to avoid this until season 4 was airing in the USA but when I finally succumbed it was like descending into TV heaven. For some reason I ended up watching season 2 first and the going back to watching the first season before carrying on with the rest. Occasionally people tell me they tried season 1 and got bored (insane) so I tell them to go watch 2 first then come back to it, I call it the ‘Charley Way’. Actually I don’t but it works because the second season is fairly detached from the rest of the plot and then you’re hooked. There have been so many eloquent love letters to the Wire written by all kinds of great writers since it ended last year, I don’t need to say anymore. Google them. Omar, who might genuinely be my favorite character in the world, is worth it.

Ok. I don’t even know where to start with this one. I think about it almost every day, I still look in the mirror and get upset that my eyebrows will never be like Sherilyn Fenn, that I will never be like her at all *sob*. My entire aesthetic has been distorted and designed by watching this show, I’m STILL desperate to live in the Pacific Northwest. Hearing the theme tune is like a call to arms for dreaminess, owls are awesome, BOB still terrifies me as much as he did when I was 11 and watched it for the first time on late night TV, Agent Cooper is still my dream man, I don’t even care that it gets ridiculous in season 2. Essentially it’s my favorite show ever and I was going to write something intelligent about why. Fail.

Six Feet Under. There is a point with TV shows, usually around season 3 when they start to get a bit silly (excluding my first 2 selections) and this really happened with SFU. I’m about to go and re-watch it starting from the pilot and I think it’s been long enough for me to forget exactly why that was. Obviously it was never bad enough for me to stop watching or for those characters to stop being so special or for me to not cry for about a day when it ended. Recently I’ve come across a lot of people who have never even seen it, especially since the success of Dexter (I’m afraid Michael C. Hall will always be David in my mind) and True Blood, how is that possible? I’m always happy as larry when I find people who loved it as much as I did. Favorite character? Brenda, of course but Ruth a close second.

♥

So I guess that’s a top 4. I could go on but after that the ordering becomes hazy and I can’t decide whether Northern Exposure comes before or after Arrested Development or if I miss Dead Like Me more than Carnivale. Or if House is my favorite medical drama or whether I have enough guts to say in public that in all honesty Grey’s Anatomy probably is. Or if True Blood is going to be more of a classic than Mad Men or if 30 Rock might just be the best thing that ever happened to me.

ADDICT.

(proud)

♥

The Scent of Prey — Trésor

the diarist — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 03:34:42 +0000

The first real grown-up perfume of which I was ever in possession was Trésor. At twelve, I had a tiny miniature of the ridged, Deco bottle, containing at most 3 milliliters, on my dresser. It had probably been obtained by my elderly Great Aunt Lorraine at the Lancome counter as part of some gift-with-purchase set, along with a coral, “works-on-everyone” (read: no one) lipstick, a teeny tube of mascara, and a chintzy compact. I imagine she found the Trésor too much a departure from her standard Chantilly dusting powder (though in their mutual über-girlishness the two have something in common) and handed it over to me.

A twelve-year-old’s perfume vocabulary is generally meager, as is her capacity for criticism. I couldn’t have known, much less articulated, what made Trésor any different from any other fragrance. But I dabbed it on once in a while, with an uninformed delight in its essential prettiness (ignorance really is, as they say, bliss). In my total, almost matter-of-fact acceptance of the perfume I was not unlike twelve-year-old Frankie Addams in the Carson McCullers novel The Member of the Wedding; Frankie anoints both herself and her bespectacled little cousin with something called Sweet Serenade.

“ Frankie sat up, licked the tears from around her mouth, and wiped off her face with her shirttail. She sat still, her nose widened, smelling herself. Then she went to her suitcase and took out a bottle of Sweet Serenade. She rubbed some on the top of her head and poured some more down inside the neck of her shirt.

‘Want some on you?’

John Henry was squatting beside the open suitcase and he gave a little shiver when she poured the perfume over him. ”

Sweet Serenade, I imagine, could only have smelled of some syrupy amalgamation of violet pastilles and baby powder, but Frankie didn’t give it a thought. Likewise, I didn’t analyze Trésor’s smell; mostly I noticed its color—a sparkling, juicy apricot shade (the perfume is said to smell of “apricot blossoms,” among other things)—and how singular, how lonesome it was on my dresser in all its jewel-brightness. In fact, it was almost exactly the same apricot hue as my goldfish, Harold (he had a beige companion named Maude), who inhabited a small glass aquarium on my nightstand. The Trésor fairly glowed in the late afternoons, when the Orange County sun shone through the window of my lonely only child’s bedroom.

No, I knew nothing about Trésor apart from the fact that Isabella Rossellini was its face. I learned this from reading the many magazines with which I passed my aforementioned lonely only childhood, sprawled on the floor of my aforementioned bedroom during the after school hours, steeped in golden light, drowning in quiet. Isabella’s visage stared dreamily from all the Trésor ads. 1990 was the year the new version of the fragrance, which first debuted in 1952, was launched, and the ads were plentiful. I admired Isabella because she had a lovely name and possessed the type of creamy complected, ravenhaired beauty—with dark eyebrows, imperfect teeth, and floral lips—that I found so heartstopping.

Also, Isabella was the love of David Lynch.

I was privy this adult business of who loved whom thanks, again, to the magazines. David Lynch was the creator of my then-favorite TV show, Twin Peaks, which, during its premier 1990 season, was infusing the airwaves with the smell of Douglas firs, and injecting popular culture with images of dead girls, deep dark woods and the mysteries that occur therein.

I had a crush on David Lynch, as much as is possible for a twelve-year-old to have one (which is, actually, quite a lot possible, for when is sexual attraction ever as novel, or, consequently, as potent, as in childhood? I had just begun having the sensation that there was a long, invisible violin string that reached from my nose and mouth all the way down to my wee womb, and this violin string would, when faced with some person or thing that fascinated me, vibrate as though it had been plucked just once, resulting in a strange, delicious shiver…this even happened when I smelled the white waxy blossoms that sprouted from the few remaining orange trees in my neighborhood, but the significance of those narcotic treasures shall be saved for a later post…).

In magazine interviews, David Lynch seemed intensely creative, highly intelligent, and intriguingly eccentric—traits that both then and now comprise my own personal holy trinity of Attractive Male Characteristics. And his creation, Twin Peaks, of which I caught sporadic glimpses (it aired sort of late and was rather racy for a seventh grader) evinced Lynch’s at least artistic if not personal fascination with the dark shadowy corners of sex and sexual behavior, which I admittedly comprehended only on the most subconscious, intuitive, symbolic level. The show also demonstrated his appreciation for Dark Beauties in the vein of his Isabella, such as sad, pillowy Sherilyn Fenn, who played teenage siren Audrey Horne on the series, and whom Lynch had described, the magazines told me, as “five feet of heaven in a ponytail.” I hoped and prayed, as I examined my own coltish figure in the mirror, all legs and feet and sprawling hands, to grow up to be one of them: a Dark Beauty.

In those days, on the cusp of puberty, when the final, crucial touches were being applied to the sexual blueprint I would carry through my life, I was receptive to the existence of this intensely creative and strange man who seemed to have knowledge of some vaguely sinister carnal darkness; and I was receptive to the TV show he made, in which inkyhaired damsels danced slowly to a soundtrack of sultry, sleepy songs, in a place where love and death, beauty and sadness coalesced against a backdrop of deep dark woods. Twelve was a seminal year for me. I have changed very little or maybe not at all since then. It was the year I read, saw, thought and smelled so many of the things that sculpted me into my more or less permanent form. Also, life was smaller then; it was easier to see how everything connects.

So I unspooled an invisible thread, much like the invisible violin string that ran through me. And with the thread, I connected Twin Peaks to David Lynch to Isabella Rossellini to the tiny bottle of Trésor on my dresser. And still, when I smell Trésor today, I make the same connections with the same invisible thread, but in reverse. One sniff and I bounce through the series of associations like a smooth rock skipping over water and land at the famous line from the Twin Peaks pilot: “She’s dead. Wrapped in plastic.”

But Trésor itself has no inherent darkness. Rather, it is a soft, pretty, feminine girl to whom dark things happen. It is an Eastern European mail order bride with no bony angles in a too-tight angora sweater wearing too much eye makeup, but still lovely, sweet, girlish, tame, sexually guileless. It is a quivering, fluffy bunny with a fast heartbeat, fixing a watchful sideways gaze out of one eye. It is the scent of prey.

And so, in a way, that mini bottle of Trésor was appropriate for me in 1990, for who is more prey than a twelve-year-old girl? A girl on the threshold, whose body men start suddenly watching for signs of blossoming buds? Twelve is the age at which Frankie Addams of The Member of the Wedding is preyed upon by the sleazy soldier (“What did you say your name is, Beautiful?”), the age at which poor plastic-wrapped Laura Palmer of Twin Peaks is first preyed upon by the being named Bob who eventually does her in.

Trésor is the smell of don’t hurt me, and also the smell of who I was, sometimes still am, and alternately do and do not want to be.

"Harry, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret" - la cérémonie du café chez David Lynch

desheuresoisives — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 15:20:28 +0000

Voilà un beau passage de la série Twin Peaks diffusée aux Etats-Unis entre 1990 et 1991 :

C’est en effet une belle idée que celle énoncée ici par l’agent Dale Cooper :

Harry, je vais vous confier un petit secret. Tous les jours, un fois par jour, faites-vous un cadeau. Ne planifiez rien, n’attendez rien, laissez les choses arriver d’elles-mêmes.

On trouve dans ces paroles, à mon sens, l’une des clés du cinéma de David Lynch. C’est en effet un cinéma qui s’attarde, qui prend le temps d’observer, de s’offrir cet instant de répit. La dynamique de Lynch fonctionne sur ce rapport entre cette terrible tension qui règne bien souvent et ces moments d’étrange accalmie. Je pense à Lost Highway, à ces longues déambulations sans but, mais aussi à Mulholland Drive. Un exemple précis me revient d’ailleurs à l’esprit dans ce dernier film : la scène, là encore, du café.

Il y a, dans cette scène, un mystère, quelque chose de terrible qui se trame et dont Lynch, intelligemment, nous donne l’indice (la photographie). Puis, soudain, la tension s’immobilise – sans retomber. Et l’on passe à ce rituel du café.

Le personnage du producteur (joué par Angelo Badalamenti) accomplit en effet tous les gestes d’un rituel. Il prend le temps de déposer sa serviette sur sa main gauche, attrape avec délicatesse la tasse de café. On est ici dans une sorte de “cérémonie du thé” inversée. Inversée par la boisson elle-même mais aussi parce que chez Lynch, ce n’est plus l’abandon à l’instant qui est mis en scène mais la recherche même de cet abandon.

Le personnage joué par Badalamenti, contrairement à Dale Cooper dans Twin Peaks, ne laisse les choses arriver d’elles-mêmes. Il planifie, il organise, il attend. Et cette scène, qui est la scène d’un échec, la scène d’un homme qui, tendant vers soi, ne parvient jamais à l’unification, ne peut se terminer que par un hurlement (“help me” crie ce personnage étrange qui est une sorte de “doppelganger”, de double – Lynch insistant ici sur l’impossibilité de revenir à soi).

Le cinéma de David Lynch (dont on sait qu’il est adepte de la “méditation transcendantale”) met en scène cet échec tout en prenant bien soin de jouer avec le temps, avec les tensions. Mulholland Drive, comme Blue Velvet et, dans une certaine mesure, Sailor et Lula, est un film qui prend le temps. Un film qui laisse les choses arriver d’elles-mêmes. Comme si le regard du cinéaste flottait, n’enregistrait que l’instant. C’est, justement, l’incapacité des personnages à évoluer dans cet instant (à toujours imaginer ce qui doit advenir ou à calculer les conséquences comme c’est le cas dans cette scène de Mulholland Drive ou comme c’était le cas du shériff dans Twin Peaks) qui crée la tension chez Lynch.

D’où cette sensation, comme je l’ai définie, d’”étrange accalmie” sur laquelle se clôt la plupart de ses films et que l’on retrouve, par exemple, dans Inland Empire. Prendre une décision, vouloir évaluer les choses, tenter de contrôler la situation : c’est à cela que sont confrontés les personnages de Lynch, à ce besoin de comprendre, de saisir. Voilà leur enfer.

Seuls ceux qui savent s’abandonner à eux-mêmes, à leur inconscient, à leur appartenance au monde et à son irrationnel, seuls ceux-là en sortiront saufs.

♫ Short Stack ♫

Battle Bunny — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 12:34:32 +0000

I’ve been sick and lazy this week.. but now I’m getting back on the blogging horse! The

Homemade Cherry Pie

fudgiebakes — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 22:14:29 +0000

Tastes better than it looks.

Ever since J and I watched the entre Twin Peaks tv series last fall (along with The Wire, one of the best shows I’ve ever watched, and if you don’t get the cherry pie reference, that’s your problem, you’ll just have to watch the show), he’s been asking for me to make a cherry pie. Just slightly hungover enough from my holiday Christmas party to want to eat something made with Crisco and sugar, yet, feeling happy and energetic enough that I could embark on a difficult baking project, I decided yesterday was the day to do it. I’ve only ever made one pie before, completely from scratch, and it actually turned out quite delicious and somewhat normal looking. Sadly, I can’t say the same about the appearance of the Cherry one, but it did taste fantastic.

Generally, pies are fairly easy to make and I’m a stickler for trying to do everything from scratch. Since November is not exactly peak season for cherries in Montreal, I had to use canned filled with a few of my own alterations, and while it was still good, I think it could’ve been way better with fresh or even frozen berries. The trickiest part of the recipe is rolling the dough, but even that takes no more than 10 min or so, and from start to finish the total prep time is about 25-30 min max. So, directions below, along with an unattractive but yummy-looking picture to brighten up your Sunday.

Fudgie’s Cherry Pie (Recipe adapted from The Joy of Cooking but modified enough to call my own)

Crust:
2 cups of white flour
2 tablespoons butter
2/3 cup crisco
1/4 – 1/3 cup warm water

Filling:
1.5 cans of Cherry Pie Filling (it pains me to write that! I will re-do this recipe next year when fresh cherries are in season!)
2/3 cup white sugar
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons corn starch
splash of fresh lemon juice

This crust comes out really flaky, dense, rich and delicious. That being said, I’m on the lookout for a slightly lighter tasting version because by your 2nd piece, it can be a little too much (and I love pie crust, so that means it must be super intense if I find it too much). Try to handle the dough as little as possible when mixing it.

To prepare pie filling:

-in a medium bowl, mix together canned pie filling, sugar, cornstarch and fresh lemon juice. Taste to make sure it’s the right level of sweetness/tartness for you, and then set aside for about 15 min while you prepare the dough, to let it thicken.

1. Cut crisco and butter into small 1cm cubes, and mix into the flour mixture with your fingers, until the flour has the consistency of cornmeal or a thick crumble. Spoon in the warm water a bit at a time and mix more, until the dough can be formed together into a large ball. Separate the dough into two balls, one slightly larger than the other, and refridgerate for at least one hour. I personally never do this, with cookie dough either, because I’m rather impatient, but it’s recommended and will make the dough a lot easier to roll.

2. Sprinkle your counter and rolling pin with flour, then place one ball in the middle and begin to roll it out gently into a circle. Try to do as little rolling as possible, but keep at it until your circle of dough is about 1cm wider than your pie plate. Flip the dough into the pie plate.

3. Fill the pie plate 3/4 full, then place small dabs of butter scattered on top of the filling.

4. Roll out 2nd ball of dough into a circle, and place on top of pie as a cover. Pinch the edges of the top and bottom crust so that it is sealed together and looks pretty.

5. Sprinkle white sugar on top and poke steam holes in the top so that heat can escape while the pie is cooking, and it doesn’t explode.

6. Bake at 450 for the first 10 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 and bake another 40 minutes, until crust is golden brown.

7. Remove from oven and let cool fully before attempting to serve. Again, my impatience has been my downfall in this regard many times, and if you serve a pie while it is still piping hot, it will fall apart. See picture above.

Saturday Trailer Trash: Hungry Eyes Edition

viciousblog — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 12:33:23 +0000

What if David Lynch had directed Dirty Dancing?

I miss you, Mr. Swayze

Carteles de series de televisión reducidos a su mínima expresión

Snake — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 23:15:13 +0000

Un símbolo. A veces sólo falta eso para que la serie de turno nos venga a la cabeza. Eso es lo que han debido de pensar los autores (o el autor) de estos carteles que hacen referencia a series de gran éxito. Algunas actuales y otras con más solera. Lo bueno es que su simpleza tambien tiene su complicación. Ya que estas cosas no se hacen así como así. Hacen falta grandes dosis de imaginación y saber bien sobre la serie que quieres tratar de homenajear. Por desconocimiento hay algunos carteles que no he llegado a entender muy bien, mientras que hay otros que al seguirlas los he reconocido de inmediato. Precisamente el que abre este post es uno de ellos. Los que no veais la serie “Dexter” igual no entendeis muy bien que han querido decir. Pero es una clara referencia a uno de los secretos del protagonista. Esas láminas de cristal en las cuales deja una gota de sangre de cada una de sus víctimas. Todas en una cajita, alineadas y guardadas en un aire acondicionado (en la cuarta temporada cambia su ubicación ).

Mis preferidas son, ésta, la de Prison Break, Twin Peaks, Los Ángeles de Charlie, Héroes, House M.D., El Coche Fantástico y McGyver. ¿Y las vuestras?

Fuente: exergian

Fdo: Snake

Aphorismus #548

ungenannter — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 23:02:50 +0000

The worst thing about this modern world is that people think you get killed on television with zero

Episode 30: Slap Shot (1977, George Roy Hill) / Cruising (1980, William Friedkin)

Andrew — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 21:45:24 +0000

This week on An Alan Smithee Podcast, we apparently continue our Queer Film Studies program with the most notorious and most quickly forgotten Hollywood movie ever made about gay men, and a not-very-gay movie which nonetheless contains jokes about homophobia and lesbians decades before it was fashionable.

The cult classic Slap Shot has essentially endured solely by word of mouth amongst Hockey fans since 1977. We’re now at the point where most people have at least heard of it, as evidenced by the recent straight-to-bargain-dvd-bin releases of Slap Shot 2: Breaking The Ice starring Stephen Baldwin, and Slap Shot 3: The Junior League starring a bunch of adorable urchins and Leslie Nielsen, getting in some last minute slumming before death. Both these follow ups feature the original film’s most indelibly iconic characters, the lovably dumb and merciless Hanson brothers, still doing their quasi-retarded shtick well into their 40s.

All comedy fans owe it to themselves to check this one out, besides the Hansons there’s the brilliant script (written by a chick, no less), the genial Paul Newman under direction from George Roy Hill of previous work like Butch Cassidy, the prerequisite various goony team members, and for Twin Peaks fans a stirring performance by young Sheriff Truman himself, Michael Ontkean. Oh, and the lesbianism.

Then, we delve into the seedy underbelly of New York gay bars circa 1979 for a serial killer thriller that no one asked for, no one watched, and few will ever defend. William Friedkin must have considered himself quite the progressive for setting what would otherwise be a competently directed potboiler in a subculture whose mainstream counterparts in male homosexual America were barely gaining acceptance on The Match Game and Hollywood Squares. There’s also a really cheap and stupid ending which completely contradicts the film’s mealy opening disclaimer:

This film is not intended as an indictment of the homosexual world. It is set in one small segment of that world, which is not meant to be representative of the whole.

Besides protesting too much-eth, this warning actually tricks one into thinking William Friedkin had something to say about what the newly legal, pre-AIDS gay bar scene meant about the condition of homosexuality in our society. No, he seems to have simply thought gay bars to be the perfect setting for an undercover police thriller. This exploitative approach might have been forgivable had Friedkin embraced it, but the feigned compassion and stupid twist ending make Cruising probably the most off-handedly homophobic movie ever. Pacino has never looked more like Eric Bogosian.

iTunes Link Click Here

MP3 Download Click Here

NEXT WEEK: BARTON FINK (1991, JOEL & ETHAN COEN) & COPS & ROBBERSONS (1994, MICHAEL RITCHIE)

David Lynch Trees

waxydan — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 17:53:59 +0000
DSCF0172a, originally uploaded by Waxy Dan. Sheriff Harry S. Truman: There’s a sort of evil ou

i think about

fashionrenegade — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 13:06:32 +0000

The twin peaks lady’s

Edie – i love you! Betsy johnson – i miss you,60’s

yoko ono, i love you,too

burn star ;}

i love this shoes

David Lynch and Michael Jackson (130/365)

redfallnight — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 05:47:19 +0000

It’s quite amazing how things sometimes fall into your lap when they’re weighing heavily in your thoughts.

David Lynch has been on my mind all day, so I thought for tonight’s entry, I’d do something featuring him, but before I even started “Googling” for material, the link for the video, featured at the bottom of the entry, randomly fell into my lap in an MJ forum.

I’ve mentioned before that I’m a huge David Lynch and Twin Peaks nut. My favorite character from the series is Audrey, but I have to say the characters I can identify with the most is a cross between her and Laura. Michael Jackson was also a huge David Lynch fan as he loved “The Elephant Man” and could relate to that character.

The teaser for “Dangerous: the short films” was directed by David Lynch, but I really wish he had actually done a whole music video for Michael.

In the following video created by Steven Boone, he tried to capture what it might be like if David Lynch directed Michael Jackson’s life story. He spliced clips from various Lynch films including “The Elephant Man,” “Mulholland Dr.,” “The Straight Story,” “The Grandmother” and “Eraserhead” as well as audio from several of Michael’s interviews. As you can imagine, I adored watching this.

To quote the creator:

“It all comes down to what you believe, because none of us knew the man.

I believe Michael Jackson was a good guy. I believe he never harmed anyone’s child. I believe he was one of those rare people who tried to apply his otherworldly talent to healing some of the basic, eternal problems of humanity. I believe he was a great man of strong constitution and boundless vision. I believe that the incessant lies told about him were his indirect murderer.

MOONWALK is the autobiography he wrote in 1988.

I believe David Lynch is the filmmaker who should make the inevitable MOONWALK movie. Lynch’s capacity for empathy; his ability to describe alienation, suffering and loneliness in spiritual, visual terms; his American ear; his understanding of corporate show business as a place where dreams are nourished with candied arsenic… make Lynch the best equipped among marquee-value auteurs to say something vital about Michael’s life and death.”

(Unfortunately, WordPress doesn’t seem to let videos from “Vimeo” embed, so please click on the following link to see the video)

DO IT! Click here! ——->Notes for a David Lynch adaptation of Moonwalk from Steven Boone on Vimeo.

You can view Boone’s blog “Big Media Vandalism”here.

Minimalist TV Show Posters

Matt Thomas — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 17:03:55 +0000

I’m partial to the poster for Twin Peaks because it’s one of my all-time favorite shows, but every one of these posters by Albert Exergian is great.

For more, see http://exergian.tumblr.com/.

(Via.)

Twin Peaks - 1ª Temporada

ademarjr — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 16:31:30 +0000

Falar de David Lynch não é tarefa fácil. O diretor é famoso por seus filmes inusitados e únicos, foi várias vezes indicado ao Oscar (Coração Selvagem, Veludo Azul e O Homem Elefante). Depois de dá os primeiros passos (bem firmes) no mundo do cinema, ele resolve tentar algo pra TV, e o resultado disso é Twin Peaks (1990). Criada pela parceria de Lynch e Mark Frost, essa série é uma jóia rara.

Twin Peaks é uma série muito criativa, que envolve mistério, muito suspense e humor negro. A primeira temporada (de duas) conta com sete episódios mais o piloto, que é tão bom que acabou sendo exibido e vendido junto com os demais episódios. A série que a princípio parecia invendável, e que recebeu da ABC apenas 7 horas para exibição, acabou tornando-se um sucesso garantido que rendeu uma segunda temporada de 22 episódios. Essas 22 duas horas extras foram conseguidas como fruto do excelente trabalho de Lynch e Frost.

Ao assistir temos o prazer de desfrutar de uma mistura de talentos. A série é escrita por David Lynch (piloto e episódios 01 e 02), Mark Frost (piloto e episódios 01, 02, 05 e 07), Harley Peyton (episódios 03 e 06) e Robert Engels (episódio 04). E dirigida por David Lynch (piloto e episódio 02), Duwayne Dunham (episódio 01), Tina Rathborne (episódio 03), Tim Hunter (episódio 04), Lesli Linka Glatter (episódio 05), Caleb Deschanel (episódio 06) e Mark Frost (episódio 07). No elenco temos Kyle MacLachlan, Sheryl Lee, Everett McGill, Richard Beymer, Ray Wise e Mädchen Amick.

A história, bem construída, gira em torno da investigação do assassinato de Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee), uma garota muito popular na pequena cidade de Twin Peaks. Para investigar o caso chega à cidade o agente especial do FBI, Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan). Com o tempo ele acaba descobrindo que a cidadezinha está repleta de segredos fatais, e mistérios inexplicáveis. Numa trama onde todos são potenciais criminosos, comprova-se pelo caráter de cada personagem, é difícil se chegar ao verdadeiro assassino, e é isso que instiga o telespectador a ver tudo de uma vez, sem parar. Atente para a relação afetiva insinuada e implícita entre Laura Palmer e seu pai.

Deve-se prestar o máximo de atenção se quiser obter o mínimo de informação sobre o que a história realmente trata. Em se tratando de Lynch há uma tempestade de coisas implícitas e subtendidas que permite a cada um sua própria interpretação. Uma análise psicológica profunda, a vida pacata de uma cidade pequena fielmente recriada. Onde todos são traidores dos outros e de si mesmos, onde a corrupção e a hipocrisia caminham lado a lado. Os “ossos do oficio” e temas perturbadores, é de disso tudo que se compõe Twin Peaks.

A primeira temporada da série foi uma aposta que deu certo da emissora ABC. No final da primeira temporada há o máximo de finais abertos que uma série pode ter, o destino de todos os personagens fica indefinido, e foi justamente isso que fez com que a série conseguisse uma continuação, e aproveitando que na época as emissoras estavam passando por uma greve de roteiristas, Lynch e Frost deram uma tacada certa. Além da segunda temporada há também um longa-metragem (Twin Peaks – Fire Walk With Me, 1992) que encerra a história. No geral é um excelente trabalho que vale muito, mas muito a pena ver.

Trailer:

Old Soul Ent Presents: Soul Sessions 4 Year Anniversary 11/25/09

eromedome22 — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 22:02:56 +0000

The flyer speaks for itself. I imagine it’s gonna be a night for the ages. “I’m talking incontrovertible, structural damage, human injury…. real mayhem, basically.” Ok, maybe not that crazy. But butts will be moving, and drinks will be flowing.

Damn good coffee...and hot!

theboyrobot — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 13:46:12 +0000

If you have never watched Twin Peaks, you are really missing out. I recently found out that you can watch every episode online at http://www.cbs.com/classics/twin_peaks/ I wish there were more than two seasons, I suppose it was just too far ahead of it’s time.

FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper, you are my hero.

Here are a couple of my favorite clips from the show ( no worries, no spoilers).

and here is a trailer for the series

twede's cafe

kid1carus — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 23:27:47 +0000

So this past weekend, one of my oldest, dearest friends paid a visit to the great Northwest to celebrate the reunion of the mighty Devo at a special show downtown. A great deal of Diamond Knot IPA was quaffed, duck rillettes and banh mi were consumed, and a sidequest was undertaken to locate the perfect reuben in Seattle. Our journey took us far afield, Eastward into the foothills of North Bend, home of Twede’s Cafe, better known to us as the Double R Diner.

In fact we had not originally sought Twede’s as the answer to our reuben hunt, but rather as a site of pilgrimage. This was an homage, an expression of our unwavering devotion to Twin Peaks, David Lynch’s wonderful and strange serialized television drama from the early 1990’s. The original Twede’s (it was gutted by a fire and later remodeled) was the setting for the fictitious RR Diner, a primary recurring destination throughout the length of the series. Many of the surrounding environs from North Bend to Snoqualmie were also used as principal location shoots during filming, so a little road trip around the area is a lot of fun for hardcore fans (eg., giant nerds).

So anyhow, here we were at the RR Diner. I’d actually visited shortly after moving to the Northwest many years earlier, but it had been a long time so I was surprised when I walked into the neon-lit diner. The entire room was lined with plush, yellow Tweety birds – you know, like from the old Looney Tunes cartoons. So yeah, that’s Twede’s like the bird, not the fabric. There’s something willfully contentious about those stupid birds, something heretical about their presence in this hallowed space. We plopped down into a taped-up, red vinyl booth and perused the menu.

The joint is pure cheese, pure Americana. It’s about as diner as diner gets. Black and white checkerboard floor, postcards for sale, gnarley truck stop types rubbing shoulders with the occasional Twin Peaks fan. I found myself wondering exactly what the ratio of fans to locals was, somewhat surprised that we weren’t the only ones. One guy came through the door and asked to buy a coffee mug, another spent a long time lingering over the lengthy wall of memorabilia, mouth agape.

I knew from past experience that the famous “damn fine cup of coffee” was actually damn terrible, and neither of us felt like cherry pie. Still, it seemed a waste not to eat anything, and there was a baffling array of hamburgers on offer. From something called a Bombay burger seasoned with chutney (!) to a Pizza burger (?) to an “Aussie” burger with pickled beets (?!), there are well over 50 varieties of hamburger to try at Twede’s. Among other things. Like a reuben! A tasty reuben at that – lean corned beef, nicely toasted rye and melty Swiss with just the right amount of grease. The only thing that kept it from total greatness was a tragic paucity of sauerkraut. Still, it was a Twin Peaks miracle!

A Catfish Hoagy was also surprisingly good. Two lightly breaded fish filets piled high with onions, lettuce and tomato and slathered with mayonnaise on a massive loaf of French bread. It was quite a monster. Best of all was a side of onion rings – lightly fried, crispy, very good. Much better than the fries (which weren’t all that bad). Again, it’s a real diner. And the service was smoking fast and appropriately surly.

We headed outside into a sudden downpour, and as we ran back towards the car I was like “Dude that’s where Lynch’s nephew comes jumping out of the bushes and it’s all the Black Dog Runs at Night!! I know, right?!” We decided to head back down towards the Salish Lodge (aka the Great Northern hotel), but I’ll save that experience for another time.

So yeah Wow, thanks for letting me nerd out, guys. In return, I give you this – the freakin’ RR Diner Myspace page. It’s awesomely bad. My mind is officially blown.

Fuoco pedala con me

lafattaturchina — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 11:40:39 +0000

La citazione è superlativa.

I gufi non sono quello sembrano.

Twin Peaks

oldschooltv — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 18:58:16 +0000

The haunting theme song and eerie other worldliness of this show make it incredibly addictive. Who knew that Kyle McLachlan (who everyone remembers as Trey, Charlotte’s uber-uptight first husband on Sex and the City) had such screen presence? Answer: Anyone born before 1980?

This show follows the investigation of the murder of a much loved prom queen and popular girl, who wasn’t really what she seemed. But no one is in this quaint town. Really, the show is more about the interactions between the townsfolk than it is about the murder. The murder is just what ties everything together.

WARNING- Shark Jumping- This show jumped the shark when greedy network execs forced David Lynch and his production team to reveal the murderer part of the way through the second season. After the murderer was revealed, the show was left with a fuzzy plot and subsequently NOT renewed for a third season.

Seasons 1 and 2 available on Hulu.com. The second half of season two is available on Veoh.com

Strig:Baaaaaa,mogulilor, hai sa-l dam jos pe Basea!Huoooooooo,cuplu odios,Adolf Hitler si Eva Braun !

florinmihai — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 15:12:47 +0000

Iubit popor,iubiti romani!

Sa ne unim cu toti eforturile ,cei care nu dorim sa-i mai aruncam gologanul, in poala, acestui cersetor pervers numit Basescu , sa punem mina de la mina si sa ii facem cadou, un mandat cu transmisie permanenta live ,sa aiba o Romanie numai a lui,cea din propria celula!

Sa-i spunem ,intreg poporul,la unison:

„Mars la puscarie ,escrocule!Mars la puscarie,Satan!”

Popor roman, sa-i dam un sut in cur lui Satan si tiitoarei sale diavolesti,Elena Udrea!

JOS TIRANUL!VIVAT PATRIA!

Bravo,Mazare,mi-a placut!Bravo, Mircea Dinescu!Bravo, Mircea Badea!Bravo,moguli!

Bravo baaaa,romani!M-ati uns la inima!

ASALT FINAL : REDUTA DIN COTROCENI!

Suntem alimentati de Basescu,ca mogulii reprezinta raul acestui neam.

Tot ce e potrivnic lui Basescu este impotriva interesului national.

Basescu se crede interesul national.

Mogulii sunt :

Liderii rezistentei poporului roman in fata unui dictator .Traian Basescu.

Traian Basescu este: CANCERUL ROMANIEI!

Mie nu mi-e scarba de Romania,nu mi-e scarba de institutiile statului.

Mi-e scarba de Traian Basescu si Elena Udrea!

Nu-i inghit nici cu un camion de lamai,vorba unui apropiat.

Traian Basescu a amenintat ,furios ,ca daca mogulii o sa mai „muste din Romania” o sa le arate el in viitorul mandat.

O amenintare.

Un atac direct la libertatea presei.

Traian Basescu spune :

”Daca nu va astamparati comisarul Daniel Morar va va ingropa in dosare!”

„Baaaaaaa,va fac dosare,lasati-ma sa ies presedinte!”

Traian Basescu isi elimina opozantii prin dosare de politie politica.

Curata mizerie!

Odios acest chelios si chior presedinte al Romaniei!

Cine sunt „mogulii”?

Dan Voiculescu si Sorin Ovidiu Vantu.

Fratii Paunescu proprietari ai televiziunii B1TV,unde se difuzeaza emisiuni de genul „Nasul” un fel de „Telejurnal” de pe timpul lui Ceasca nu sunt moguli.

Difuzeaza conform directivelor materiale de propaganda basesciana si exulta in laude.

Daniil Sihastru,din viitoarea chilie Gherla, maraie ceva de escrocii astia doi,fratii Paunescu ?

Mogulii au cladit prin munca imperii financiare.

Dau de lucru oamenilor.

Fac cinste Romaniei in relatiile internationale.

Se zbat,construiesc,nu dorm noaptea.

Investesc.

Sunt oameni de afaceri romani,fac parte din acest popor.

Mogulii sunt piinea de pe masa a multora.

Nu au averile ca Basescu si Berceanu dosite prin offshore-uri,nu au vase care navigheaza sub alte pavilioane.

Pe unul din acele vase se intoarce capitan ,Basescu?Nu mai apuca!

Procurorii de la DNA iau leapsa mereu de la avocati,de la ei mai invata si ei cate ceva.Politia politica DNA,nu respecta legile tarii si drepturile omului in Romania.

Ce sa faci cu facultatile private.Ecologica ,auzi!

Morar de la DNA, un fraier ca si Placinta Constantin, care copiaza rechizitoriile.

Morar este un papagal foarte bun cand ii rasuceste Basescu cheita.

Doru Tulus,Ionita Vasile,Doana Vasile: cheita si spaguta.

Basescu e nemultumit ca ,cei mai bogati romani, nu i-au aruncat gologanul in poala de cersetor lui si curvei aleia.

S-a lamurit lumea buna dupa cazurile Anghelescu si Becali.

Sa nu mai vorbim de consilierii prezidentiali care au zburat ca potarnichile in toate cele patru vanturi!

Arunca dupa ei cu scrumiera.

Baaaaa,mogulilor dati-i bani lui Basescu sa cumpere voturi!

Fara moguli la ce ne-am fi uitat?

La TVR unde,tara arde si baba se piaptana,la B1TV unde se lafaie Talpes protectorul criminalilor si Udrea santajista ?

Suntem o tara de manelisti sa ne uitam la „Taraf’ si mai stiu eu ce mizerii de televiziuni de-ale lui Prigoana ?

Nu mai zic de televiziunea care era favorita mea PRO TV care traieste,parca,intr-o lume paralela.

Dan Diaconescu e mai libertin,apare orice numai sa platesti factura,daca mai e vorba si de pupat in cur basescu e si mai bine.

Din care Romanie musca mogulii?

Romania este mosia masii,a lui Basescu?

Ce a facut acest betiv in viata?Nimic.

A furat banii impreuna cu frate-sau si Udrea.

De la primaria capitalei,de la ministerul transporturilor,de la Cotroceni.

Au nenorocit judetul Prahova cu furaciunile lui William Branza,Andrei Volosevici,Roberta Anastase si cele doua curve de pe centura politicii,Florin Anghel si Emanoil Savin.

Baaaaa chiorpecu’ dracu’ la Ploiesti ,la gazari,a fost republica.

Noi l-am dat pe Caragiale,noi l-am dat pe Nichita Stanescu.

Ioan Grigorescu ,un pionier al documentarului de televiziune, e tot al nostru.

Nicolae Iorga a trait,a scris si a murit tot la noi in Prahova.Hasdeu asisderea.

Ploiestenii nu sunt prosti.

Noi aveam lumina la coltul strazii cand toata Europa nu avea.

Noi ,ploiestenii,americanii si rusii,am invatat intregul glob petrochimie.

Prahova a fost rezervorul de petrol care a alimentat masina de razboi germana.

Americanii in al doilea razboi mondial nu stiau unde e Romania,dar Ploiestiul il stiau ca pe tatal nostru.

Pe noi ,prahovenii,ploiestenii republicani,ne pune in genuchi ,prostituata Elena Udrea si proxenetul,Traian Basescu?

Rusine prahoveni,rusine romani!

Are dreptate nu iti trebuie prea multa carte.

„How much?”sau „Skolko?” si „OK” sau „Davai”

Ce sa mai facem cu invatatorii si profesorii?

Le dam droguri usoare si prostituate la copii.Ce ne trebuie noua educatie?

Primul program al presedintelui american Barack Obama,se numeste „CARTI NU ARME!”

Investitii colosale in educatie.

Ai copii stiutori de carte,ai elita.

Valabil si in sport si in arte,cultura.Nu sadesti in pepiniera ,nu ai de unde sa culegi!

De unde echipa nationala daca nu mai avem un lot mare de selectie?

Am ras de „Daciada” lui Ceasca,luati sportivi,acum!

Copiii nu mai merg la sport de performanta.Nu au cadru,nu au burse de merit.

Un speculant,un bisnitar,un betiv,un curvar!

A adus el si piticul din Twin Peaks-Boc ,tara asta in sapa de lemn.

Niste diletanti la carma Romaniei!

Pe Basescu il deranjeaza 100 de oameni in plus in Parlament.In plus sau in minus ,cu toate cheltuielile aferente,nu insumeaza la un loc cat o singura teapa ca cea data de ministrul sportului Placinta.Un demagog.Cel mai prost presedinte al Romaniei!

Bag mina in foc ca l-a asasinat pe Anghelescu Florin.

Prea s-a atacat ,marti,cu internetul.

Sunt bucuros ca sunt in atentia presedintelui.

Multumesc de confirmare:Traian Basescu este un asasin!

Sunt responsabil pentru aceasta informatie difuzata in premiera de subsemnatul pe internet.

Sherlock Holmes ,sunt!Lazarus ,pe cai!

Romania este si a mogulilor dupa cum este si a mea,a altora ca mine dar si a ultimului maturator din tara asta amarata!

Nu o sa mai fie a ta,Basescule!

Era plin portul.,vanzoleala ,strigate de hamali,chingi care zburau prin aer.

Pescadoare pline cu peste.

Ma minunam ca un copil.

Cunosc portul din Constanta ca pe propriile mele buzunare.

Am avut cunostinte la capitanie.Oameni de treaba.

Machedoni de-ai lui Becali.

E pustiu azi.Unde-i flota tarii mai hotule,mai escrocule de Traian Basescu ?

Decat incarcaturile cu armament ale lui Mircea si arabii lui Ioan Talpes.

Transportul e gratis.

Iar marinari filipinezi sunt garla,cand nu mai are cu ce-i plati ii arunca peste bord.

Marinarii romani sunt someri.Au limbarnita.Cum sa-i angajeze?!

Neamul lui Basescu este inrudit cu Onasis,armatorul miliardar grec,nu stiati?

Va spun eu.

Garjania mamilor voastre de hoti!

Un popor de elite a ajuns sa fie condus de un proxenet.

Traian Basescu si cu Elena Udrea sunt criminali.

Liiceanule,elitistule sari dracu din bmw-utul tau pe care l-ai botezat,semn al senilitatii,fa ceva,repara ce ai lins in cur!

Florin Anghelescu ,bietul negustor,evazionistul de casa al lui Basescu, i-a carat valize cu dolari in campanie si l-a lasat sa moara ca un caine sau chiar i-au comandat asasinarea(vezi articol pe blog).

Cazul Gigi Becali:„Azi te beau,maine te iau!”

Dupa ce a baut cu Becali,i-a ticluit miseleste arestarea.

Sunt criminali.

Ce mod pervers de a-l mulge de bani.

Generalii de opereta Oprea si Iordanescu,evazionistul nr.1 in alcool,Netoiu, prostituata ,blonda falsa,Udrea,vor club de fotbal.

Inaintarea e Hagi,probabil inghioldit de DNA cu dosarele lui cumnate-sau Gica Popescu.ISM.

Au fost presedinti si Ion Iliescu si Emil Constantinescu,dar nu au facut golanii din astea .

Traian Basescu este o „hurjuma”,un neica-nimeni care o sa arda in iad,la smoala.

Un astfel de diavol criminal nu a mai stapinit Romania.

Romania are nevoie de moguli !

Unire!

Astfel de oameni construiesc,Basescu,darima!

Sa nu mai credem in povestile plasmuite de Petre Ispirescu- Basescu cand mogulii refuza sa sustina financiar despotul.

Strig:

Baaaaaa,mogulilor, hai sa-l dam jos pe Basea!

Cum rabda omul de afaceri ,Videanu ,sa fie coordonat de un excrement ca Basescu ?

Mai nea Videne,e prost rau seful asta al dtale…

Vasile Blaga-cap de porc,este un alt exemplu:

adica el cara bani pentru tot partidul sa cumpere voturi si pentru el nu putea?

Parol,Udrea l-a lucrat cand a candidat la primarie.

Bai,Vasile Blaga ,daca taica-tau vindea branza,il stiu.

Daca ala-i taica-tau,cum a iesit un prostavan si un hot dintr-un om asa istet si cumsecade ?

Stolojan este un alt exemplu:

i-a distrus in mod ireversibil cariera politica,i-a furat in mod nedrept imaginea,capitalul politic.

Scapati,mai oameni buni,de Satan si tiitoarea sa!

Apropo,cu cine are Basea un copil?

Cu Boagiu?I-a umblat ala micu ,Sida la motor?

Nea Bebe cauta-i femeie neinceputa la baiat,ca Eba ii distruge copilaria.

Aia e muiere in toata regula ,vorba lui Vadim !

Udrea Elena este Talpa Iadului!

Basescu este insusi Scaraotchi-capetenia dracilor.

Scarbit de Basescu am scris catre:

US-President,Mister Barack Obama,

US-Vice President Mister Joe Biden,

prestigioaselor Washington Post,Il Messagero,The Guardian,The Independent si institutiilor UE

Am mai scris tuturor presedintilor europeni.

Asa sa stii betivan ratat-Basescu!

Scriu tot ce stiu si este adevarat pe internet sa te ataci tu .

Mor de el, e vax,cel putin se crede Ganditorul de la Hamangia sau Esop.

Esti varza mai ticalosule!

Mars la puscarie!Ia-o si pe Udrea!

I-a mai ramas un singur sustinator ,curva cu care face sex oral in biroul de la Cotroceni,Elena Udrea.

Idiota suna la Realitatea cu vocea pitigaita de atata vascozitati care ii astupa gatlejul criminal.

Huoooooooo,cuplu odios,Adolf Hitler si Eva Braun !

Cu astia nu putem sa ne comportam civilizat, trebuie sa ne comportam ca pe stadion cand ne fura arbitrul echipa de suflet.

Cu prietenie si devotiune pentru poporul roman ,

Florin MIHAI.

http://florinmihai.wordpress.com

http://dinscarbadebasescu.blogspot.com

http://my.barackobama.com/page/community/blog/florinmihai

Twin Peaks Embroidery V - Killer BOB, The Giant and The Log Lady

jennifer andrews — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 21:04:38 +0000

This is the last post of Twin Peaks Embroidery from my current show.

These are all fairly large, Bob and the Giant are 2×3 and the Log Lady is slightly larger.

I used all 6 strands of floss included in the standard Embroidery floss pack, so the stitching is pretty thick. They are all done in stem and chain stitches. After I was finished embroidering on the cotton I stretched them over canvases and used spray adhesive to secure them.

This is ten solid hours of knot work on Bob’s beard. I struggled a long time with how to do the stubble, as I knew the knots would take me forever, eventually I could not come up with any other viable options and gave in to the knots. Oh, colonial knots, thousands of colonial knots.

I kind of hated the one for the Giant, until I got it on the canvas. Now it’s my favorite of the large pieces.

Now to go work on tiny, tiny patches (one inch) of Twin Peaks character…. is this my new fate… bleeding fingers for Twin Peaks?

Twin Peaks

susanshay — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 14:51:57 +0000

Susan here.

DH and I wanted to try someplace new to eat last night. We’d seen a new restaurant being built near restaurant row, and since it had been finished for a few months, we decided to try it.

Remember TWIN PEAKS, that the nighttime soap opera that was on in the early ’90’s? I thought maybe this eatery was a nod to that show. I didn’t watch it, but info about it is still available online. It was an entire series based on one murder investigation. Different twist, to say the least, but doomed to end. How long can you spend on one murder investigation?

The only thing I remembered about TP, the TV show, was that it was named after a real place where there are twin peaks. Again, it’s been a long time and I wasn’t certain about that memory. So, I looked it up. Here’s what the Internet says.

Twin Peaks in San Francisco has incredible panoramic views and sits at almost the geographic center of the City of San Francisco. With a height of 922 feet – Twin Peaks has two summits used for both view residences and television / radio transmission towers. Atop the summit is a reservoir holding 14 million gallons of water for San Francisco hotels and homes. Many birds also enjoy Twin Peaks views.

Maybe it was a restaurant in honor of that small part of San Francisco. Sounded like it could be interesting.

Little did I know just how interesting it would be.

We pulled into the parking lot crowded with cars and people, but not one handicapped space was taken. That should have been my first clue! DH looked around and asked, “What’s up with this place?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, happy to be out and about. The building had a covered veranda with a flat screen TV (tuned to the OU football game–ouch!) several tables, one which was occupied by a couple of guys whose table was COVERED with very tall, very empty beer mugs. By the time I saw that, we were half-way inside, and I hated to look like a chicken, who’d turn tail and scurry away.

We went inside, strolled confidently to the desk, and then looked at the cute little girl hostess. Yes, LITTLE GIRL in every sense. Even her uniform was little.

My first thought?

Can you spell H-O-O-T-E-R-S?

After numbly accepting the ready-to-seat-you buzzer, I looked around and noticed there wasn’t a person in the place over the age of 25. Murmuring to DH that they should have a sign up with an OVERage limit, we moved away from the desk and stood next to a couch crowded with kids, pretending to be twenty one. (Looked about 15 to me.)

One of those girl got up and offered me her seat. Imagine, manners in a place named in honor of a certain portion of a woman’s anatomy.

We were told the wait would be about twenty-five minutes, but we were seated within five. (I think they were afraid kids would look in and be scared away when they saw a parent-aged couple waiting to be seated, so they moved us quickly.)

Our waitress wore the regulation low-cut short-shorts and scooped low short top–which left a lot of space between the pieces of clothing. Many of the waitresses had decorated that expanse in between with belly button rings and tats. Our waitress had a tattoo that rose diagonally from her waist, along her ribcage and disappeared under her top that said “Bella Mia”.

The food was okay, but the appetitzers better–at least the nachos were. When we asked about a drink menu, we heard about a special with beers, shots and coosies for only $6. Their peach tea was good. <g>

Everywhere we looked, there were televisions. Flat screened. And most tuned to watch OU lose to Nebraska.

To be honest, I think TP is a bar with a food menu–I doubt if I’ll go back. And like I told DH as we were leaving, I’m SO glad I’m not the age of most of those kids anymore. It was just too exhausting.