It’s the day after my birthday. I spent last night laying in bed watching comedy on Netflix. First, I watched Jo Koy: Don’t Make Him Angry. Let me tell you, that man made me feel damn good about being a woman. If no one else appreciates what I’ve got, at least Jo Koy does. Maybe I should send him a thank you note.

I followed up by watching Comedy Central Presents: Chelsea Handler. I’ve got to check when that was filmed, because the girl seemed pretty off her game. (edit: It was 2007.) Some of her jokes were spot on…like pretty much everything she said about people with kids. Others, though, seemed like she was trying a bit too hard. She came off a little shrill…like that one drunk girl at the party who has to make sure she’s got everyone’s attention. I don’t get it, because I love Chelsea.I’ve read Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea...and I watch Chelsea Lately almost religiously. I love the raw quality that Chelsea seems to have about her. It’s like she isn’t trying at all…she’s just being Chelsea.

Good Night

I fell asleep at some point after that, watching a comedy special that I’ve seen on TV a few times before. I woke up around 4am, when Billy Riker texted me from a birthday party he was at…presumably the same one that A. and Mike were at. A. came in shortly afterward, trying to tiptoe into the bedroom without waking me, but failing because 1) I was still awake from the text notification and 2) My bedroom door squeals whenever you touch it. He sat on the floor and played a few harmonica licks before going to the kitchen and making some pasta. He asked if it was ok to turn the TV on, and that’s about all I remember. I tried shutting out the inflammation that had once again settled in my limbs, and fell back asleep until around 10am.

And Good Morning

After getting up, I made plans with Sam to grab lunch. Jay and I met up with him and Fred at around 1, and headed off to the Broadway Lights Diner. It’s kind of weird for me to call it that, since I still remember when it was the Colonial Diner, back before the shiny facade and the 1950s-themed menu.  Sam ordered a Texas burger, which turned out to be just a hamburger with an egg on top…Jason got a Buffalo chicken wrap, which seems to be his usual nowadays. Fred got…something. Damn. Why can’t I remember what Fred ordered? OH! Right…two texas weiners and a cup of chicken and rice soup. I decided to go for the biscuits and sausage gravy, which is only offered in two of the diners in Kingston. I think Broadway Lights is the only diner to actually list it on their menu. It wasn’t bad, but not fantastically delicious, either. I’m finding myself more and more put off by diner fare. I think I may need to give it a break for quite some time, to acquire an appreciation for it again.

After lunch, we went back to Sam and Fred’s apartment, where Jason and Sam engaged in digital fisticuffs (Streetfighter 2), and Fred and I read the Sunday Freeman. Finally, Sam, Jay and I decided to go to the mall and see Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.

Michael Cera: Hapless Hero of Talentless Typecast?

I’ll admit, I was initially skeptical. I’m not a huge fan of Michael Cera. Quite the contrary. I was pretty indifferent to him at first, when I saw him in Juno and Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist. I don’t really remember him at all in Superbad, because I was busy paying attention to Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, and that guy who played McLovin’. More recently, I was introduced to Cera’s earlier work as George Michael on Arrested Development. I liked him in that role, but it’s hard to say whether it was his acting, or the writing which I enjoyed more. Recently, I’ve been kind of anti-Cera. Maybe I’m just angsty about his breakup with Charlyne Yi...though that’s a little confusing, considering that now she maintains that they never ACTUALLY dated, and that Paper Heart was a fictional account of things. I think I just got tired of him being Michael Cera.

This month, in Interview magazine, Jason Schwartzman does an interview with Michael Cera in which Cera is described as carving out his own niche as the geeky hero. That’s all well and good, and I suppose is what makes many people love him. I get bored easily, though…when I’m watching an actor, I want to see him ACT. I want to see range. I want to see him challenge himself. This is why I love actors like Heath Ledger and Christian Bale. I love actors who go to great lengths to develop the characters they are playing…to do them justice. I don’t want to see variants of the same characters over and over again. That’s one of the reasons (and it pains me to say this) that I’ve grown tired of Johnny Depp lately. I want to see something different.

Youth in Revolt Strikes a Change of Heart

My perception of Michael Cera started to turn around a week ago, when I watched Youth In Revolt. For those unfamiliar with the film, Michael Cera’s character develops an alter-ego named Francois Dillinger, a moustachioed badass who is essentially the polar opposite of every other Cera character to date. Needless to say, I loved it.  On to Scott Pilgrim…

Scott Pilgrim vs the World: The Review

Wow. Just wow. This movie has next to nothing to do with Michael Cera. Ok, that isn’t really true. He stars in it, and actually plays most of the music featured in the film. I was beyond impressed to learn that Cera is actually in a band, and performs many of the songs on the soundtrack, which were composed by Beck Hansen. Beck Hansen…as in Beck. Holy crap, how cool is that?!

The film is a video gamer/comic book geek’s dream. It’s got the awesome Bam-Pow! campiness a la 1960′s era Batman. It’s got some amazing over the top effects. The storyline is absolutely ridiculous. There are also a few subtle musical references and puns sprinkled throughout the film, which tickled every geeky bone in my body. The movie is an all-around good time.

It may still be a little fun to hate on Michael Cera, but I’ve got to admit that the kid is showing some admirable chops. Time will tell whether he continues to settle into his self-carved niche, or branches out into new territory. I’ll be watching to see which way he goes.