I’m not a gambling man. Not even close. In fact, I really dislike gambling. I entertain an abhorrence of gambling. I don’t mind playing the occasional geriatric bingo match at the occasional school festival or whatever other Roman Catholic event they can dig up for cash, but nothing material is on the line.
I’m talking about the gambling where you put your money on the line for some stupid game of chance, or partial chance. I’m not against gambling for any reason other than I find it extremely boring. I hate Las Vegas with a passion because it is nothing but a big boredom sea out in the middle of a hot, dusty desert. Gee, that’s sounds like fun. Let’s go now! There are all sorts of Indian casinos in SoCal. Guess where you’ll never find me!
I’m not a gambling man but sometimes I have an inkling and a hunch and I wouldn’t mind risking some of my heard-earned money on ridiculous speculation. For instance, I would love to start a “name-the-next-hot-female-sex-symbol” game. Players would be encouraged to pipe in with their thoughts and cents, none of it common.
If I were to participate in this travesty, I would vote for a hot young starlet. It’s kinda late in the game because she has now trespassed into the “hot” category and her life will never be the same (sadly). I would like to proclaim my prehistoric belief that she would reach this level of sexual popularity over a year ago when I first saw her playing a nondescript meth-buster in “Winter’s Bone.” I recognized her presence the moment the movie’s ending credits began scrolling. First of all, the movie in itself was a classic and didn’t get the mainstream attention I felt it deserved.
Poor Jennifer Lawrence. Cast in a dumpy, gritty, hardly-sexual role as a teenager trying to keep her house and family in one piece after learning that her meth-dealing father put her mother’s house up for collateral and…bailed. Of course.
“Winter’s Bone” details her journey as she maneuvers the Missouri backwoods in the same pair of jeans and over-sized t-shirts while remaining utterly hot. Jennifer Lawrence pulls off something that is fantastic. She is viscerally sexy and oozing of lurid feminine magnetism while traipsing through the landfill. And she is a tough cookie. I love her style and her look. She is not one of these emaciated, high-maintenance fragile plastic snowflakes dotting the wastelands of modern showbiz. I don’t know if it’s accurate, but Jennifer Lawrence is no shrinking violet.
In fact, in honor of the previous pop-cultural Jennifer sex symbol icon, I propose a moniker for this sweet young girl: J-Law.
J-Law it is, the hottest new thing to grace our big screen in years!
OK, she can’t kick a man’s ass, but she will try and when she gets her nose busted, she won’t go crying like some hysterical bitch. We need more like her. Men would do well by understanding that it’s women like this who help them toughen up. The soul of woman can be just a s tough as man but man must be tough too. He must be tougher. That’s the test. The delicate daffodils men lust after and believe epitomizes femininity are unnatural. It’s women like Lawrence’s movie character who men should demand. OK, she doesn’t like nail polish or 5″ inch heels. Boo hoo.
After Winter’s Bone, I was now quite willing to bet that this girl would be the next “big” sex symbol. There was nothing about the role that gave anyone reason to believe this, I suppose. She was a thick, dirt-stained hillbilly chick. She never showed skin. I saw her potential. I knew she was sexy in the bud.
And I forgot about her for a long time.
Even after hearing about “The Hunger Games,” I had no idea Lawrence was the leading star. Only after I read a few mentions in the LA Times pertaining to the movie did I realize. Still, the movie did not appeal to me. It is not the type of thing I normally watch. I’m not terribly fond of movies based on teen literature lead by overly robust female characters.
“But it is J-Law,” I reasoned to no one other than myself.
Perhaps the visual factor might be enough to justify paying to watch this movie. C’mon, I’m cheap, but I’m not poor. Surely I can pay to see this if need be. I can swallow my pride and stand in line with a bunch of fangfirl dweebs looking for a testosterone burst. I’ll keep my head down!
But wait. There are connections to be had. I work in the almighty IMPORTANT INDUSTRY. Opportunities present themselves in abundance.
I might get invited to a special screening for the movie on Wednesday night in West L.A. Lo and behold. I’m in! Two days before the rest of the prole nation can watch, I get to line up with a bunch of below-the-line production-related (or not so related) people who have been invited to watch this movie two days before its wide release. In the wonderment of Westwood, no less. This should be reward in itself. Go all the way to Westwood which is like a foreign country to most people who live in Los Angeles, and definitely to all people who live in East L.A. Westwood has smart and high-achieving White and Asian people. Oh yep…this is nothing like home.
We are finally allowed into the theater at 6pm and we get a free popcorn and soda. I took the popcorn.
We sit early, get the seat of our choice, and for an hour watch as people march into the theater. A procession of early birds to the last minute rushers. It’s a great study in human behavior and social phenomena. I’m a rabid introvert, so my guest (and host) got up to go to the bathroom and get more popcorn while I hunkered down and refused to look at people. I ate popcorn. I refused dinner earlier because I will not eat while racing the clock. Sorry. That’s how I roll. That is not eating…it is feeding. I eat at my own pace, or I don’t. If there’s no time, I skip the meal. So my movie guest came back and I refused to take part in the social chaos. We saw a couple of people from work. I didn’t want to see anything. People were loud, talking too much, looking for seats as the they became scarcer, flamboyantly self-conscious. It was all too annoying. Friggin’ Hollywood White people are a funny breed. Some of them act as if they are in the movie themselves.
At one point, some people in the row behind us recognized someone walking by.
The bitch yelled in her loudest, shrillest voice, “xxxx, xxxx, is that you!?”
xxxx turned around and they recognized each other and xxxx said “Hi xxxxx!”
The bitch behind us started yelling “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD” in the most despicably overplayed manner possible. She got up and they embraced and began catching up. This played out as a stream of conversation punctuated by the occasional OM MY GOD exclamation and updates on where they worked, which shithole had merged with shitholde. In Hollywood, everyone is merging. There is a mighty industry shrinkage going on.
The bitch kept yelling OH MY GOD in her shrill manner and I sat there trying to sink into my seat.
At that moment, it occurred to me…this is what White people do. They goddamned explode everything into some major spectacle of non-existence. Every stinking time.
Really, you run into someone you haven’t seen in ages. Chances are they have never meant that much to you. Otherwise the chance encounter wouldn’t be so…chance. Hypocrites. I wouldn’t have minded if they had just seen each other and caught up but the one-woman-show that kept yelling OH MY GOD just made me want to vomit.
Speaking of crazy White cinematic habits…
Why do White people feel obligated to applaud wildly when they see a trailer they like?
What the hell LOL
You’ll have your chance, people. Just calm down.
You marketing folks, you calm down too. Sure, it was nicely done trailer, now shut up.
The movie? Not bad. The beginning was great. Jennifer Lawrence was made for the role. Hot and earthy-sultry. She has a nuanced face which I see make-up crews are dampening with cosmetics. Her eyes are precious. But they put eye makeup and make her look like a typical Hollywood dime-whore. The problem is, Hollywood does not know how to elevate this kind of beauty because it is the antipathy to everything Hollywood shits into the public spotlight. This is the sexiest non-sexy girl to hit the big screen in ages. If for no other reason, keep an eye on her.