Happy Holiday of Your Choice!

Sending out all good wishes to all good people.

Our long national nightmare is over… let the dream begin!

Yes, my fellow Americans, all this and she can pronounce “nuclear.”

 

The Henry Countian announces the 2-hour “24” prequel airs on Fox, Sunday, November 23^rd at 7 p.m. Paris, Tennessee time. 

 

They also provide a link to the trailer which showcases Ms. Cherry Jones all on top of things with that voice of hers to boot.  But who is that man she has on her arm? That’s all kinds of wrong.  Where’s her First Lady?

 

http://www.henrycountian.com/news.php?viewStory=3618

 

http://www.fox.com/24/trailer/

 

the mighty fine ms. cherry jones in all her scout-finchesque glory

it don’t get no better than this, peeps!

hail to the impossibly-easy-on-the-eyes chief!

ms. cherry jones, i would like to be in your cabinet.  or storage room.  whatever works for you.

(another gift from shazam)

Ms. Cherry Jones alert: another gem of an appearance on the horizon

(Thank goodness for Shazam the Elf and his tasty info morsels) 

Ms. Cherry Jones will be playing Eleanor Roosevelt in “Amelia”… the upcoming picture about Amelia Earhart.  She’s even been fitted with a set of Rooseveltian choppers.

As always, the folks at The Henry Countian are on top of it:

http://www.henrycountian.com/news.php?viewStory=2048

Here are a couple of pics of the originals hanging out (click for the bigs):

ms. cherry jones even rocks sensible clothes

well, we’re on our way, fellow cherry pickers!  (thanks to shazam)

ode to spring!

oh please, all those other broads put together couldn’t carry ms. cherry jones’ LUNCH BOX.

Bless her heart, someone (a lumbering Philistine, if you will) wrote in to Parade (Geritol-addled clucks, if you will) Magazine this week and asked them to point her toward “America’s best stage actress ever,”  eliciting this (spuriously teetering, if you will) response:

“Glenn Close is our pick for America’s Greatest Living Stage Actress. Rounding out the top five are Julie Harris, Cherry Jones, Mary-Louise Parker and Meryl Streep. And rounding out our top ten are Angela Lansbury, Laura Linney, Patti LuPone, Audra McDonald and Martha Plimpton. Who’s your favorite? Vote in our poll at the right.”

so, here’s their mercifully chadless poll for y’all to Cherryize: 

http://www.parade.com/articles/editions/2008/edition_03-16-2008/Personality_Parade

(thanks to shazam for the yo)

ms. cherry jones raising her right hand?

The Hollywood Reporter is… well… reporting, that there will be a two-hour prequel of “24″ to enjoy this fall after all.  Will she receive a 3 a.m. phone call from the Speaker of the House informing her that she is up to bat because the President is ouuuuut?  And will she be wearing a sleeveless blue and lilac floral waltz-length negligee by Vanity Fair when she jumps out of bed from the shock?  I’ve obviously never watched that show, but someone has to think of these things.

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/content_display/television/news/e3ib9ecd214eaeda2c0d0d56a2af0af12c8

i’ll be in otis’ cell if you need me

As if she’s not intoxicating enough on her own, a steakhouse (shame!) in NY called STK has named a cocktail after Ms. Cherry Jones.  $16 a trip.

THE CHERRY JONES

Ingredients:
1.25 oz Hennessy VS
1.75 oz Dark cherry liqueur (Wisniak)
Float of Piper-Heidsieck Rosé champagne

Mixing notes:
Shake brandy and cherry liqueur.
Strain into martini glass.
Top with rosé champagne.
Garnish with an orange peel or cherry.

http://www.notesonaparty.com/index.php/2008/01/10/cherry-jones/

george bailey’s sister…

… is a philanthropist in the coolest of ways.  that’s all i want to say.

sending thoughts for peace and bon appetit.  and more peace.

how in tarnation…

… is a lady such as myself supposed to decide whether she most wants to be the “er” or the “ee” when she looks at that photo?  It’s making my synapses misfire, and frying my ganglia.  I may be checking back into St. Scoopable Hospital.  They were so helpful with the vapors and all.

uh… note to self:

Dear Beastie,

In the future, please delete visions of this nature, for you do not possess the requisite sophistication to conceal the depth of your desire.  Especially from yourself.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation,

Love, Beastie

PS- Still doesn’t beat the bowling photos.  Just sayin’.

PPS- Unless that’s the Clinton-era Oval Office.

she’s busted the needle on my trusty little cute-o-meter again!

(thanks to a little elf named shazam)

Click ’n’ scroll to see pics of Ms. Cherry Jones bowling (and of her h-h-hands).  Oh, my bitten tongue, my bitten tongue. 

Say, I wonder if Sherri Shepherd was surprised to find that bowling balls are, indeed, round.

http://www.broadwayworld.com/viewcolumn.cfm?colid=24888

perfect time to do that musical

variety is reporting that 24 won’t be back until january of ‘09.

worth it just for her howling

I put this CD on my ipod and have been walking around my neighborhood laughing like a hyena, in my tie-dyed shirt and striped shorts (really).  This book was custom-made for Ms. Cherry Jones to read.  She is all on top of the humor and pathos, and just takes this thing and runs with it (kind of like when she did Nellie Oleson).  And then, of course, there’s her voice in and of itself, which makes one feel like one has a cube of dark chocolate melting on one’s tongue, and orange-clove massage oil melting in one’s navel.  Yeah, I said it.

genius concept

What would happen if Sister Aloysius from Doubt met Martha from Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?  Holy smokes, who wouldn’t love to be a fly on that wall?!

Well, check it out, peeps!  For seven minutes and fourteen seconds, we can.  On the new Forbidden Broadway: Rude Awakening album,  Ms. Cherry Jones and Kathleen Turner explore that fantasy pairing, and it’s a hoot.  I won’t give it away, but think of Sister Aloysius confronting Martha about trying to seduce Nick and giving wine to him and Honey.  (If you didn’t see Doubt, a pivotal element was whether an altar boy snuck sacramental wine by himself, or it was used by Father Flynn as a tool of seduction, ala Michael Jackson and his Jesus Juice.)

Ms. Cherry Jones is quite delicious as a comedienne, and whoever came up with this idea gets a big, platonic, both-hands-on-the-table kiss from Beastie.

hi googlers

looking for concrete, reliable info on ms. cherry jones? 

oy vey! are you in the wrong place.

try http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0427728

and http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9904E4DE1330F934A35752C0A96E958260 

and http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1589/is_1999_Feb_2/ai_53729229

and http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A18958-2005Apr1.html

and http://www.broadway.com/gen/Buzz_Star_File.aspx?ci=23192 

and http://www.broadwaystars.com/ellis/2005_07_11_ellisarchive.shtml

and http://www.americantheatrewing.org/downstagecenter/detail/cherry_jones

and (2nd one down) http://www.tonyawards.com/en_US/interactive/video/index.html#j

‘Don’t Dare Me’ CliffsNotes Version:
as an actress, anabolic through catabolism.  certainly the most gifted, emotionally informed, humanistically intelligent.

as a person (pure speculation on my part), robustly earthy, basically egoless (consistently deflects praise and attention onto castmates, playwrights, directors, etc.).

and then, there’s this:

that’s all the easter bunny brought for now.  i’ll add more, if it comes.  enjoy your journey. 

day 31: cherry jones NaBloPoMo

Pablo Neruda once wrote in a poem for his friend, Federico Garcia Lorca, “I could die for how sweet you are.”

i’m just sayin’.

nuf sed.

something new will go here

ms. cherry jones: THE HOLY GRAIL

Fishnet stockings? Blah.
Latex bodysuit? Meh.
White v-neck tee shirt and spectacles?   Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

The white tee and specs ensemble is my weakness… my catnip… my lawsuit waiting to happen, if you will.  It says, “I love Sundays full of newspapers and pillows and baguettes and maybe a bike ride later.  And I am not foofy.  My books and I would be happy living in a little bungalow with you, and I will wrap you in my flannel shirt when the shadows grow long and the apple is on the vine.”

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present… a whole ‘nother kind of insomnia for Beastie:

(thanks and credit to Skedaddle)

awww…

Nothing puts a smile on a girl’s face like the prosecution of high-ranking Republican officials. 

Ms. Cherry Jones, when you tire of dating beautiful young actresses with firm bodies and Avia tires of dating scruffy feral writers with pachyderm knees, will you marry me?

i can’t think of a more meaningful award

I do believe Ms. Susan Jones is living my version of the ideal.  What a lovely family.

http://www.henrycountian.com/2007/news/sep30_oct6/oct5_susan_jones.htm

ms. cherry jones: a merchant ivory production

Abstract wars have been waged over which shade of blue is most pleasing to the eye, as blue holds the power and imagination of the depth of the oceans and the vastness of the sky.  Artists are enamored of Prussian Blue and Cerulean Blue, yet each of them yearns to concoct the zenith of blues… a blue so startling in its gorgeousness as to render description ineffable.  Behold the Zenith Blue eyes of Ms. Cherry Jones.  Each, a limpid and fathomless jacuzzi that compels one to submerge one’s nakedness in its mysterious throbbing waters and marinate in a weightless world of swirling heat, without the worry of chlorine turning one’s hair green or drying one’s skin out.

Then let your gaze alight on her smile.  If you were to sit thee down at a drafting table for decades with books full of formulae for achieving perfect proportion, you could never reach the design heights of her warm, welcoming, natural smile.  It beckons one to sit on her theoretical porch in a wicker chair with a bird-of-paradise cushion, and sip Crystal Light lemonade as the scent of magnolia blossom embraces the balmy air and Ms. Jones steals glances at one over the top of her copy of The Care and Feeding of Beasties.

And those are no ‘tonsil hockey on the first date’ lips.  No ma’am.  Those lips say, “Kiss me with the promise of a picnic in the country tomorrow, a Tiffany eternity band in the spring, and a 30-year-fixed in autumn time.  Kiss me at the white picket gate, as we stand dappled with moonlight through the sycamores and the crickets serenade us.  Kiss me softly and sweetly, with my head cradled in your hands, your whirling solar plexus pressed against mine, and that big pocket on my cargo shorts brushing your thigh…

Dang!  I was doing so good, too.  Oh well, I was done anyway.  Except… may I just say… never since Liz Taylor in the ‘60s has anyone done cleavage so splendidly.  Namaste.

ms. cherry jones: spectacular arms, exhibit D

In the context of my addiction to the heady drug that is Ms. Jones, Hal has become the equivalent of a corrupt pharmacist… a pusher of Cherry-infused opiates… an orderly with a dupe key to the meds cabinet that was carved out of a tongue depressor, if you will.

ms. cherry jones: spectacular arms, exhibit C

why, pulling a barbecue fork out of a german shepherd’s neck, of course.  in my book, a little pudge on her bones would be welcome, but there we are.

god’s wacky sense of humor

This was not what I meant when I knelt down in my footies last night and asked God if I could wake up to the sublime face of Ms. Cherry Jones someday.  Nevertheless, I was thrilled to find her in my lap with my coffee in bed this morning in the form of a pic and kind words in the L.A. Times.  It’s a piece on the power of an actor’s performance in a play to influence, for better or worse, the playgoer’s perception of the quality of the written word.

Here’s the condensed version:

Doing a dramatic double take

Was the play overrated, or is the performance subpar? Sometimes it’s hard to know — witness the recent ‘History Boys’ and ‘Doubt.’

By Charles McNulty, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
December 23, 2007
 
IF a culturally curious Martian were to land on Earth with the intention of catching a show, it would be fascinating to hear its thoughts on, say, one of the numerous Shakespeare productions that have passed through our area in the last year. “Hamlet” might be dismissed as “feverishly chatty and interminable” and “King Lear” shrugged off as “melodramatic and overwrought.”

Judging a play by a performance can lead to some embarrassing verdicts, yet theatergoers do this all the time when sizing up new works. Separating the player from the play, to paraphrase Yeats, is never easy. And critics themselves aren’t always adept at distinguishing where fault and virtue lie. An ambitious drama given an uneven premiere is flicked away like a piece of lint while a mesmerizing performance in a silly trifle can translate, as it did for Douglas Carter Beane’s giggly 2006 comedy “The Little Dog Laughed,” into not just raves but a Tony nomination for best play.

A matter of ‘Doubt’
OUR city not too long ago played accidental host to an experiment on this very issue. In 2005, John Patrick Shanley’s “Doubt” had its West Coast premiere at the Pasadena Playhouse in a production starring Linda Hunt that received mixed reviews. In 2006, a touring version of the acclaimed New York production with Cherry Jones made its way to the Ahmanson, where it received mostly raves. I didn’t see the Playhouse version, but I had heard from many people who had. They were wondering whether they should give the play another chance because they still couldn’t understand how the work they saw could have racked up nearly every accolade known to dramatists, including the Pulitzer.

…The point here isn’t to make invidious comparisons but rather to shed light on the way a production can affect, for better and worse, our judgment of writing. Acting — good, bad and indifferent — can lead you down some strange and regrettable byways of opinion.

…The play-performance relationship isn’t one-directional. Our reading of plays isn’t always larger than our experience of them in the theater. Great actors, like great critics, can make you alert to shades of meaning and color that would have otherwise gone unnoticed.

beastie’s ballot box

Two individuals who shall remain nameless (Nik and Blanche) have used the “I always tell my agents if a Quaker would do it, I’ll do it” quote to scare me, as I wrestle with this deletion dilemma.  A plague on both your trailers!

One lost soul, whom I shall affectionately refer to as “The Pill” sent along an interview during which Ms. Cherry Jones ate bacon, and wondered how I reconciled myself with the vegan cardinal rule to never canoodle with carnivores.  To The Pill I say: cardinal rules were made to be broken.  Preferably on a satin-sheeted round bed, with me in a beehive costume, her in a bear costume, and Barber’s “Adagio for Strings” playing in the background.

Where was I?

All of the rest of the voters have been vehement about keeping all of the indelicate posts up.  But, let’s be real, y’all are kinda indelicate yourselves.  It’s like the fox guarding the choir.  Or the preacher singing to the hen house.

So imagine my delight when I received a supportive missive from a sane somebody with actual authority… a somebody named “Hal”.  Hal is a user of pseudonym… an obfuscator of truth… a likely fugitive from justice, if you will.  Hal also used to be a neighbor of none other than the subject of my indelicate posts.

Hal assured me of three things to help reacquaint me with slumber:

1) Ms. Cherry Jones likely has no computer.  (She communicates by way of two tuna cans on a taut string, and by tapping Morse code on her radiator with a spatula.  Not really.)

2) Ms. Cherry Jones, in fact, skinny dips in lakes.  (My loins beseeched me to obtain the GPS coordinates of said lakes from Hal, and so I did.  Not really.)

3) Ms. Cherry Jones has a good sense of humor and probably wouldn’t be offended by my achings.  Really.

So the scales have tipped in favor of the Keepers.  And to make your victory all the more sweet, here’s a treat from Hal:

“what makes a family”

The films that are important and excellent are often hard to watch.  True dat.  Such is the case here, and mad props should go out to everyone who was involved in this.

Okay, I think my work on the high road is done.  Let’s release the brake, shall we?

Harvey Weinstein, in all his savviness, would have entitled this The Ms. Cherry Jones Pageant of Foxiness, instead.  It’s a must-see because you get a glimpse of Cherry being Cherry (although, I doubt she cruises AM/PM Mini-Marts for chicks in real life.  If so, bring me an orange and purple polyester pantsuit with a pair of black Rockports, pronto!). 

She gets enough screen time here – latitude and longitude — to really display her resplendent feathers.  And she plays sick marvelously (although, even when she’s looking her worst in this film, she is still quite fetching.  There are some things the studio makeup department just can’t disguise.)
 
What else? Oh, she saunters into bed wearing shorts and a tank top (of course, this happens when the lighting is at its lowest, but hey.)

And, finally: dear God, that woman has sexy hands.  I thought I was in Candyland when she fondled her shawl as Mrs. Clack in The Village, but this film blows that out of the water.  There’s a close up of said hands when she exchanges rings with Brooke Shields and, I swear, I needed a cigarette afterward.  I tell you, I…

Hello?  You guys?

the voice of ms. cherry jones: secret recipe

Through this weeklong Little House on the Prairie audio immersion course, I’ve become quite a connoisseur of Cherried voices… a bon vivant of Jonesied brogue… a sweatshirted Taco Bell-nibbling hermit, if you will.  For instance, did you know that the voice she uses for Mrs. Jarley in Little Town on the Prairie is strikingly similar to the voice she uses for Sister Aloysius in Doubt?

Hello?  You guys?  Come back.  No, really… they say I can have visitors and that it might even be good for me.

So, by listening to these CDs, you really get an intimate lesson in how good this woman is; why she is the best at what she does.  Her singular interpretative sense and range of talent are not really of this world.  She sings this “Backward, turn backward, O Time in thy flight Make me a child again, just for tonight” song and it’s just… beautiful.  Seriously, a heavenly kind of beautiful.

That said, her voice is also perfect for a midnight “Hey, Baby, what are you wearing right now?” cell phone call.

Where was I?

Ah yes.  The point is, by all this keen listening, I have deciphered the recipe that makes up the voice of Ms. Cherry Jones. 

It is as follows:

4 parts Colleen Dewhurst; 1 part Peanut Butter ZigZag creamy dessert; 1 part carnations; 1 part sunshine; and just enough Maker’s Mark Bourbon to make her say “Oh, what the hell… which way’s Vegas, Beastie?”

An honest review of TIVO by an ex-Luddite

Ever notice how the contenders for Best Invention might take the Worst Invention category, too?

The cell phone.  It’s given us unprecedented communications mobility, enabling us to stay in constant contact with loved ones and emergency personnel.  The downside?  That knuckledragger in the restaurant who is invariably talking to “Buddy” about the logistics surrounding some sports telecast.

The internet.  It’s spawned a virtual global community; placing facts, figures, opinions and hookups at our fingertips.  The downside?  Well… have you seen my blog?

And then there’s Tivo.  Four months into it, and not a downside in sight.  I hopped directly from video tapes to Tivo (skipping the DVD recorder altogether), so I’m still in a kind of tech euphoria.  You mean I don’t have to buy and store video tapes?  And I don’t have to slog through a TV guide?  And Tivo will find the lovely and talented Ms. Cherry Jones and bring her to me?   Yes, yes and yes.

I got the standard 80-hour box, thinking that would be more than enough, but that was before I discovered the ravishing splendor that is the Turner Classic Movie Channel.  Classic movies, no commercials.  The proverbial kid in the candy store, I currently have seventeen TCM movies recorded that I haven’t had time to watch.  But, since I stopped watching (well, fast-forwarding, mostly) the Ellen show after she had Bush on, I got some space back.

So here are some of the sweets:
1) You can tell Tivo to search for stuff and it goes out into the fortnight ahead, finds all appearances of said stuff, and tells you when and where it’s going to be on.  You can search by keyword, actor, title, director, etc.
2) With just the push of a button, you can get a “season pass” to your fave shows (Brothers and Sisters, hello!) and Tivo will automatically record them whenever they air.  No worries.
3) If the phone rings while you’re watching live TV, you can pause it then go back to it when Aunt Helga nods off on the other end.

And here’s the only stuff I can think of that could be better (and there’s a good chance there’s a way to make these things happen, I just haven’t figured it out yet):
1) On the initial “Tivo Central” screen that shows the list of features, etc., there is advertising.  Granted, it’s just one line of type, but I will never buy the Lexus they’re trying to unload and wish I could walk out of the showroom somehow.
2) There’s a way to delete shows you’re done with from your “now playing” list, but I wish there was a folder for things I want to keep forever, just to declutter the list a bit.

These two things are the only nits I’ve found to pick.  Tivo is golden.  You just push a button to tape and erase.  And who knows how many unnecessary video cassettes and DVDs this thing is going to save the landfill from.  (Actually, Avia probably has that calc’d out.) 

this is what’s up

apparently “alien beings” are reading this malarkey i’m coming up with.  besides the usual motley crew, i’ve gotten emails from a few nice strangers telling me not to take my ms. cherry jones posts down (frankly, i think one of them is my mother). 

anyhoo, i’ve been thinking on it and… if anyone has ever read an interview with ms. jones that indicates she has a bawdy sense of humor and/or is cool with being ogled, send me the link and i’ll rethink (apologies to johnnie cochran.  on second thought, not really.)  i ain’t never seen such an interview.

thanks.  love, Beastie.

bummer. not the kind of stirrups i had in mind

“Doctor Jones, I have this… pain.  A kind of phantom, shifting pain.  It seems to skitter across every square inch of my body, and just as I attach a location to it, it moves again.  Honestly, I think I need a manual scan by someone with warm hands and defined triceps…”

Actually, this pic is from The Horse Whisperer.  Also actually, I fast forwarded through this movie due to the fact a friend told me it showed calves being branded and a horse being used as a sofa.  Looks like there’s alot of lovely scenery and discontent, though.  Anyway, Ms. Cherry Jones plays Liz, a horse doctor… a doctor of horses… a veterinarian, if you will.  And, yet again, she turned a small part into something chewy.  She saves a horsie’s life and breaks the needle off the cute-o-meter by walking around in a layered denim-and-parka ensemble, to boot.

“two people thoroughly in sympathy can do pretty much as they like”

Elementary school.  I was lucky enough to have my favorite.teacher.ever for both 4th and 5th grade (no flunking required).  She wore Keds, played Debussy records, acted out the times tables with hand puppets, and taught us the Roman numeral system and how to write checks.  She also read the Little House on the Prairie books to us a chapter at a time, every Friday after recess.  She had a unique voice for each character and pulled off accents, songs, and sound effects with gusto.  Through her, I became enthralled by Laura Ingalls Wilder’s magical powers of description that brought simple things to life.  I decided then that I would retire to a farm… whatever “retire” meant.

Well, guess what I got clued into recently?  There exist CDs upon which Ms. Cherry Jones reads the Little House on the Prairie books!  You could have knocked me over with a feather.  I drove my surrey with the fringe on top to the library and checked them out, and have been sitting in the corner with my headphones on, having multiple eargasms ever since.  As one would expect, Ms. Cherry Jones has a unique voice for each character and pulls off accents, songs, and sound effects with gusto, too.  And I guess it’s safe to say this, since the final grades are in… she’s even better than my favorite.teacher.ever.

hark! ms. cherry jones, thou art hot!

You know, one would think that somewhere along ye olde line, someone would have called Shakespeare on his horrible misspellings and mangled grammar.  And yet, his books still sell.  Color me curious.  Anyway, from what I can tell from this clip, Mr. and Mrs. Macbeth own a bed and breakfast, and Mr. Macbeth stole aromatherapy sleep masks from a religious gay couple that was staying there.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmYyZCnbnPI

ms. cherry jones: the incarnation of barber’s adagio for strings

look at the photo on day 1. 

close your eyes and listen to the music. 

no difference.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NYHD-XD44s

sigh me to the moon

An early Christmas present from Ms. Cherry Jones to Beastie: a brand new case of the vapors.

something new will go here

pamela duncan, i would like to unclip your barrettes and make beautiful laundry together

The first time I watched Erin Brockovich, I was thinking, “Oy vey!  Is this nothing more than a showcase for one fashion faux pas after another?  What is this, the summer stock version of La Cage aux Folles?”

Then it happened.  The first time ever I laid eyes on Ms. Cherry Jones.  She may have been pickled in chromium 6, but she was the most pulchritudinous being I had ever seen in a picture (apparently, one can be sick and hot at the same time.  who knew?).

And here’s the thing: she has maybe 45 seconds of screen time in total, but she fills every one of those seconds with depth.  This concentrated potion of hers imbues all of the films she appears in.  I used to sit cross-legged on my grass mat and meditate on why she (always the cast member with the richest presence… always) didn’t get bigger roles, and it would make me very grouchy.  Then, I decided I have to regard her as an ephemeral-yet-unforgettable comet, until the jackalopes in Hollywood wake up and see what’s good for ‘em.

day 12: cherry jones NaBloPoMo: ixnay! ixnay!

Dear Diary,
A lot has happened since I last wrote.  I’m sorry to say, I have fallen in with the wrong crowd, just as Dad warned.  This blog ring with which I am associated has had peculiar writing assignments in the past, however this most recent one has proven to be disastrous.

The subject of “safe lists” came up in chat.  Diary, I thought they were about fire extinguishers and deadbolts, but they are not.  I will not go into the lurid details, but I can tell you that when I informed the group that I would have but one woman on such a “safe list”, I was made the laughingstock.  “Bumpkin!” cried one.  “Turnip truck ejectee!” shouted another.  “Dude, you can’t have just one chick on your safe list. That’s sick,” barked yet another.  And so, it was decided by the ringleaders that I would redeem myself by blogging honestly and openly about the subject of my short list every day for a month.

Well Diary, come to find out, Ms. Cherry Jones is, in fact, a fine southern gentleperson.  She uses words like “reckon,” and “sweethearts,” and most probably, “smooch.”  I would guess she also appreciates tea and writing implements.  All this, and yet I have sullied her good name by dragging it through the mud on the way to my den of iniquity.  I have sunk to the depths of waxing poetic about her physical attributes, and I am ashamed beyond… hang on, I just got a new picture of her in my email.  Will write later.

if ms. cherry jones and i were in the same room together once, can i call it a date?

The Guinness Book of World Records says the record for holding one’s breath is what… 12 minutes, 47 seconds?  Nonsense.  I know for a fact that on this day, for 90 minutes straight, I forgot to breathe.  She is lit.

ms. cherry jones: spectacular arms, exhibit B

order in the court, people.  order in the court.

my socks are falling into my shoes

do they still make sominex?

Sleep and I have been like ships passing in the night this month.  The top 3 things that worry me?
1) The oddly metrosexual-yet-neolithic leader of Iran 
2) The impact of the mortgage meltdown on the baseball card market

and last, but most:
3) That Ms. Cherry Jones might have internet access

I open my email every day expecting a “cease and desist” order from Somebody, Somebody and Somebody Else, Attorneys at Law on the grounds of indecency.  So, may I just state here under oath that it is solely the chaste post on Day #1 that accurately expresses my feelings about Ms. Cherry Jones.  The rest of it — the posts that express raw carnal desires — is composed merely to win the shoe contest. 

For example, I would NEVER delve into the unquestionable truth that her hair is a divine mingling of beguiling colors in the form of gossamer strands of light that compel mere mortals to yearn to reach out their hand and gambol through the meadow of its lustrous softness, preferably from a position of being propped on one elbow.  Never.

ms. cherry jones: spectacular arms, exhibit A

i. am. just. sayin’.

something new will go here

ms. cherry jones: unrivaled alchemist of the human experience

be still.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1TloU7SXJo

Open Letter to the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers

Dear Sir or Madam or Curtain #3:

Firstly, I would like to state that it is with great respect that I address your tribe.  The genius of creating a sitcom about the Geico caveman cannot be overstated.

That said, I would like to address the most egregious result of this WGA quagmire… the delayed appearance of Ms. Cherry Jones in the role of Madam President on “24”.

Specifically, my tribe has four main grievances in regard to this particular situation:

1) Deprivation of witnessing Ms. Jones get torqued up at the Secretary of Defense and voice her displeasure in that slinky panther-like growl of hers that is not unlike a jar of molasses being massaged onto a naked body.  Where was I?

2) Deprivation of witnessing Ms. Jones in finely-tailored shirts and suits (and perhaps no-nonsense camisoles, if God is good to us) that accentuate her aesthetically-pleasing physique.

3) Deprivation of witnessing Ms. Jones crossing the Potomac in a rowboat, clad in cargo shorts and tank top… is it just me or is the room spinning? Paging Doc Johnson!  Paging Doc Johnson!

4) Deprivation of witnessing close-ups of Ms. Jones’ hands as she signs executive orders and the like.  This is perhaps the most detrimental facet to my tribe, for reasons known to all of us.

In short, to prevent rioting in the streets and dirigibles falling from the sky (oh, the humanity), just give them their four cents!

Just my two cents, (see? we’re halfway there)

Beastie

diagnosis: the vapors

It was truly an ordeal for such a delicate lady as myself.  After posting entry #1 in my Cherry Jones NaBloPoMo, I capriciously reread the passage.  Well, my musings begat a fantastical waking dream… a daydream, if you will.  In it, a dewy Ms. Cherry Jones, clad in cargo shorts and a tank top that revealed her spectacular arms, was manipulating the oars of a rowboat in a most agreeable rhythm.

I began an involuntary ecstatic dance, spinning wildly as a whirling dervish might (or Julie Andrews, depending on your affinity for musical theater, if one doth catcheth my drift).  As I spun in a delirious fever, my pantaloons became ensnared on the spinning wheel next to the hearth and I tumbled onto the bricks.  When I revived, I found myself in a crumpled heap with a bump on my nether regions the size of a horseless carriage.

Fortuitously, a healer by the name of Doc Johnson has hung a shingle in the strip mall next door, between Taco Loco and Chester’s Check Cashing Depot.  I gathered my skirts up and shuffled yon for some sage medical advice.  As unladylike as it may be, I was forthcoming to the good doctor about what precipitated my injury.  In all his good humour, he thoughtfully replied, “You do realize you don’t have a chance in hell with her, don’t you?”  I believe he also invoked the term “loser”, but I was chortling so at the nonsensicalness of his statement, I cannot be sure.

And so, gentle reader, take this as a cordial admonition: do not conjure up rowboats and Ms. Cherry Jones together, lest you bring a case of the vapors upon your good soul.

note to self: dial it down, homey

Friends, I write you now from the recovery room at St. Scoopable Hospital.  In accordance with my doctor’s orders, I can say no more than this: 

I’m JONESin’ for a CHERRY soda. 

Details to follow as soon as is prudent. 

Ever so fondly, Beastie. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

day 1: cherry jones NaBloPoMo

How do I put this?   Hmmm…  here we go…

Your diaphanous springtime dress – the one with the robin’s egg blue dahlia print – drapes gently across your bosom, as you lay nestled in the bow of a pomegranate rowboat.  Warm, sweet puffs of air float over the cool viridian lake to caress your skin.  Beneath you lay a cloud of downy silken pillows, softly cradling your body as you watch the canopy of ancient trees pass above in slow motion.  The leaves subtly quiver in the gold of the late afternoon sun, making a dreamy sound like the breathy whisper of a lover.  The scent of jasmine cedes to a bouquet of pears and spices as you bring a glass of Pinot Grigio to your lips.  You close your eyes and grope the brim of your straw hat as the oars slide deeply into the water, coaxed and guided by the sinewy presence astern.  A smile of serene contentment spreads slow and wide like honey across your sun-kissed face.  You open your eyes and gaze wistfully into the eyes of…

  

Now, who would you want womanning your oars?…

I’m just sayin’…

Nuf sed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

it’s not a tough job and somebeastie’s gotta do it

TJ, who just (barely, if the truth be told) completed NaBloPoMo, has thrown down his pink rhinestone-encrusted gauntlet at my feet and I have taken it up.  For the month of December, Lil’ Beast must mention Ms. Cherry Jones at least once every day on this blog.  He’s being deliciously coy about the prize.  I have a feeling it’s a pair of those taupe velcro shoes they sell in the AARP catalog, because he’s been raving about them.

ps- i will share my winnings with anyone who can supply me with photos and the like for this endeavor.  you can have the left shoe.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

something new will go here