Tag Archives: Leonardo DiCaprio

Operation Fornicazione

“May I unclog your pipe, Princess Peach?”

“Why, yes, my Super Mario, but be gentle, my pipes are tender and there is not enough toilet paper in the world to clean the mess if you break it.  My pipe has been broken by one of your kind (Italian) before and it took years of therapy (ie, boring my friends to tears and crying in my dog’s back)  and drinking a vineyard of wine for me to open the door for your services  (plumbing).  But you know what, Mario?  I am okay with it all. Sometimes you just have to throw caution in the wind.  Make a decision. TAKE A VACAY!  Slap it on a credit card.  Sell all your crap on eBay to pay for it. Because life is long and if you don’t fill it with a story, then all you’ve got is a toilet that is clogged because you tried to flush the TV guides.  So yes, my Super Mario, take your plunger and pump away as I, Princess Peach, am ready to be ravished!”

Let me explain this one.  Out of the blue, a friend asked me to go to Italy for a week this summer, a cheap and cheerful little holiday, with air mile points and to survive off of white carbs and local plonk. This is our prime and this is our time, she said, let’s do it.  Eat, pray, LOL, I thought.  I want to go!  But there were pros and cons to weigh.

“You are broke,” my mother, nay-sayer said, “If you can’t afford it, you shouldn’t go.”

“You will get Italian bone,” A friend, yay-sayer, said.

Decision made.  Italian bone trumps poverty.

Apparently Italians in actual Italy are different from Italians here in North America.  I’ve been to Italy once as a young lady in the ’80s, menstruating her way through Europe.  That is my curse, literally, every time I go on vacation, without fail,  Aunt Flo packs her bag and hitches a ride. Back then, I had noticed European men were freaky about lady flow.  “You will curse our village, and its citizens, with your sangria clotting, cover your astro turf and be away with you!”  Was the rough translation, via a pocket dictionary and through my understanding of latin based languages based on one Spanish course I took in third year university.

North American men don’t care about such things.  They will pull a ‘pon with their teeth and throw down a towel to get to their destination.  Which is far more civilized as far as I’m concerned. Maybe things have changed in Rome and Aunt Flo and I will be in luck.  In any case, I have compiled a list of my favourite Italian-ish men…let’s groove:

First of all, I do believe that this is Andy Garcia, who is not Italian but Cuban descent. But when I googled “Italian men” his picture came up on a blog with the caption “Close Enough” and if its good enough for this awesome blogger, its good enough for me.

Fabrizio Moretti, the drummer from the Strokes, who is only half Italian and actually born in Brazil.  I like him because he dated Drew Barrymore for a while.  I always thought Drew Barrymore would play me in the film version of my life.   He is super cute. I also thought he was full Italian.  Joke’s on me.

This is Dario Franchitti, IndyCar champion, winner of Indy500.  He is married to Ashley Judd who I love because she is the bi-polar Voice of Reason of that crazy Judd family.  They were the best guests that Oprah ever had and when Wynonna Judd sang “I Want to Know What Love Is,”  I actually cried.  You think I’m joking but I’m not.  I have a super mushy side.  Anyway I love a man who puts up with all that whacked out estrogen.  But again, he is only half-Italian…the other half, Scottish.

I make no apologies for my love of Leonardo Dicaprio.  His modelizing ways makes me feel like he is floundering his way through love.  He and Kate Winslet need to get it on.  Kate Winslet is in the running to play me in the movie of my life so maybe Leo could play my future husband since they’re so good together.  Oh, and he is about as Italian as my secret ingredient in pesto (Corn Flakes!) but the name counts.

Seriously, even Super Mario is a watered down Italian.  He is created by a Japanese designer and although originally from Brooklyn, lives in Mushroom Kingdom.  But his M.O. is to save the damsels in distress.  Or just unclog their pipes, which is all I’m asking at this point.

And here’s Wynonna on Oprah, wanting to know what love is, which might be the next step AFTER ITALY:

 

My Badass Heart Will Go On

I saw the Titanic in 3-D over the weekend.  I know we’ve all moved on to other topics and I don’t care what the haters say, it was totally exciting and I have been ruminating about it ever since.  The next night I pretended my couch was a life raft and I was safe watching the ABC Titanic Downton Abbey-like mini-series and then Saturday Night Live waiting for the rescue ship to show up.  And then during Aquafit on Tuesday, I pretended all the bobbling silver lady heads in the water were drowning victims and our pool noodles were life vests and we were flailing for our lives when really we were doing  rocking horse kicks.  Such fun!

My daughter and I went to the local Beach Alliance theatre where I wore my Neil Degrasse Tyson tshirt in honour of his contribution to the newly revised version of the film.  Hipster geek girl ticket taker “got” my tshirt as she must be a Redditor. No secret codes of when the narwhal bacons (google it) were exchanged because she was probably weirded out that an old lady, who could never see a narwhal bacon because midnight is past her bedtime and she was probably alive when the real Titanic sank , was wearing a meme shirt:

Memes may well be the newest lowest form of humour but I’m still laughing.  LOL.

Anyway, apparently the star configuration in the sky the night the Titanic sank was all wrong in the film. After seeing the film for the first time, Astrophysicist extraordinaire, Neil Degrasse Tyson contacted James Cameron in a letter to let him know of this anachronism. James Cameron ignored it. Years later they bumped into each other at a planetarium of all places and Neil asked him why the sky was whack and James said:  “Dunno” then puffed up his chest and said:  “Well, last I looked Titanic grossed 1.3 billion dollars, imagine how much more I would have made if I got the sky right?”  As he is all about the details (change the devil or God to “James Cameron is in the details!”), he fixed it for the new version, so just for that, it’s worth seeing again.

Otherwise, it’s pretty much the same as it was the first time.  Kate Winslet casually walks around in flimsy short sleeve dresses on the deck of the ship like she was in Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s April on the North Atlantic, brrrr.  Dear James Cameron: Did they not have goose bumps back in 1912?  Those would have looked amazing in 3-D.  The rest of the effects were sort of meh and those 3-D glasses tickle the third eye chakra, it’s almost distracting.

Also the second time around (actually the bazillionth time I’ve seen it, but second in the theatre where I am not distracted by the spiders and clutter in my own personal tv watching ashram), I got the gay subtext between Creepy Cal  (Billy Zane) and his man servant Bruuuuuce Ismay  (Jonathan Hyde).  Why else would dude run around a sinking ship chasing Jack because he was on the payroll?  Only a man with a boner would bother.  Did dapper society men in 1912 get their eyebrows groomed? I bet the latent homosexual ones did. And whatever happened to Billy Zane in real life?  Is he crazy?  I have a feeling he is a heap of trouble.

Also just so you know, according to the laws of physics, Jack and Rose could not have shared the raft.  Force of gravity is larger than that of buoyancy, so they both would have sunk, so let’s not joke about it anymore.  And I like a fat Kate Winslet better than this new sinewy version:

I love how she went around, promoting the re-release of Titanic 3-D talking trash about how she hated that Celine Dion song and about the reversal of fatness between her and Leo.  Don’t get me started about Fat Leo.  I. Love. Him.

Here are my thoughts on Leonardo DiCaprio, who has eclipsed my lust for Fat Vince Vaughn:

He reminds me of  Orson Welles and Orson Welles was my favourite fat man.  Maybe he will even get that rotundo, in which case he will probably not score with the models so much. Speaking of which, I feel like Leo’s chronic modelizing is just because he is not self-actualized. Dr. Drew would know what I mean.  I know of a fellow who modelized for years and when he did settle down it was with a Filipino nanny of one of his spawn (modelizers often breed randomly, I’m looking at you, Mick Jagger).  I feel like it’s a just a phase for Teflon Leo, he hasn’t met me yet and my environmentally friendly ways.  I recycle bacon grease!  Dear James Cameron:  Hook me up!

And on that note, check out this video about the Titanic artifacts and it  actually did melt my cold, icy heart and make me cry, DON’T LAUGH: