When I first started blogging, I never dreamed it would bring me fame and fortune…

Which is a good thing because it hasn’t.

A bit of fame, sure – in and amongst my people and their people and even some of their people. But fortune? Erm, not so much.

But then a funny thing happened on the way to the blogosphere…..people started sending me stuff. Free stuff. Despite not making a dime on these musings of mine, I have somehow become one of those bloggers that people think people wanna know about. I love that!!! And now the marketing genies, keen to cash in on all things bloggy – ie. trusted word of mouth – have sent me freebies. Samples. Swag. Call it what you want, it’s free free free!!!

HOW COOL IS THAT?!?!

Well, it was cool. Except now that they’ve paid the bill, I’m expected to, ahem, put out. And I can’t. I’m just not that kind of girl. (Anymore.) Look, I know nothing’s really free. And that when something seems too good to be true it’s cuz it is. Or isn’t (is too good? isn’t true? Y’know what I mean). Anyhoo, I’ve been tracked down. The stuff’s been sent. And now it’s payback time.

Faced with mounting pressure to lie back and spread ’em – the word on these products, that is – I find I’m more inclined to blow is all off and hide. Except now I feel like a real tease. They took their time to treat me to their product, and yeah, I encouraged them to, so the least I could do is tell you about it, right?

Wrong. You see, trusted readers, at the end of the day, I’ll only tell you about things I love. Or loathe. Anything in between, well, what’s the point, right?

Remember Pom Tea? I adored it. At the time I couldn’t sing its praises loud enough… Now I can’t stomach the stuff.
Joe Fresh? Cheap and cheerful. And cheap – the zippers are constantly undoing and they wash like crap.
Tassimo? Retired my machine the other day – too pricey and I felt like an environmental terrorist in my own home.

No one paid for this press – good or bad.

Banu? Paid full price for every meal. Every hookah. And I’ll keep going back for more.
Paige Denim? A bloody fortune, but I love love love ’em. And I’ll keep going back for more.
Jude Law? Didn’t give me the time of day, despite bringing a hot leggy blond as my winger. And, yeah, I’ll keep going back for more. (Sheesh, not even a passing glance….)

Again, think any of that was free? I WISH.

Granted, once in a while something works for me – I got these awesome Crayola crafty paints and markers and crayons that rocked down my house. Especially the crayons – triangular, easy to hold (what? my kid has fine motor issues) and even easier to clean.

And see? I told you about them. Because I wanted to. On my own terms. I don’t think I need to write about something simply because someone went to town and couriered it to my house.

Am I protesting too much? Probably. I’d kill to turn a profit here in the blogosphere. Maybe I should whore myself out a little more. Maybe I should write about any – and every – sample that someone sends me. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m not being sent the right kinda things. Hear that PR people? Marketers, start your engines….and start sending me stuff I can get excited about!!

Jude Law’s agent – you getting all this?

Please and thanks….

Back to everybody’s dirty looks ‘cuz the Toronto Int’l Film Fest is on. The stalking, gawking, and party crashing has begun. Not for me tho’. Despite daily visits to Ted, Lainey, and Perez (and a ‘script to US Weekly), I refuse to lower myself to the standards of the camera-toting throngs, opting to see some films instead.

And of you believe that….

That’s right kittens, after sitting out last year due to newborn babe (and accompanying heft and angst) I’m back in the green room. Sorta. Gone are the heady days of lounging backstage at the Galas. What? You call it skulking around, I call it lounging. Tomato/Tomahto. Anyhoo, those days are done, replaced by the wealthy big game hunters who pay to play with the stars. Or stand near ’em, cuz their handlers have become ever so ferocious, protecting their charges from the flashes of unathorized cameras. But whatever, I can still share, right?

So sit back and relax, cuz this might take a while. Ladies and Gents, I bring you the First Annual Mother of All Mavens, Not-even-close-to-the-red-carpet, All-singin’, All-dancin’ Revue Review.

AKA the who’s nice, who’s rude, and who’s loaded with tude report. With a slice of cinema on the side.

First off, saw a Brit Flick called Confetti. LOVED IT! Hilarious and completely improvised. Took ’em 6 weeks to shoot, yet 6 months to cast. Well worth the wait because these actors are GENIUS. Anyone who is married, was married, wants to get married or – hell, knows anyone who is/was/will be married should go go go. Opens later this fall. Remember: C-O-N-F-E-T-T-I. The little flick that could…

Unlike Volver. Sorry Pedro, but I was unimpressed. Sure I liked the film, but I wanted to love it. Problemo was Penny. She was just too hot to handle. Seriously, her beauty was distracting. The camera loves this gal. Little Pia was there in person and, while obviously pretty, I hate to break it to ya boys, but she’s certainly not the robobabe she is on-screen. Go figure.

On the other hand, a man who IS a robobabe (in a farmhanded kind of way) is Brad Pitt. But y’know what? I kinda felt bad for him. The stage was lined 3 deep with snappers (hee hee) and the second Brad set foor on stage the place turned into a rave. They should’ve warned us. We’re talkin’ seizure-inducing amounts of flashbulbs. They should’ve warned Brad too ‘cuz he became a deer in the headlights. Poor guy. And he’s quite slight, not nearly as hunky as expected. Beyond the pretty face was the movie itself: BABEL. Now we’re talking magnificent. It was un-f&cking-believable. Run, don’t walk. Intense and brutal and amazing and and and. Can’t praise it enough.

Oh, and after it was all over? It was like being at a boyband concert. Deafening screams, chants, the works. Ole, ole, ole Brad Pitt indeed. We found ourselves outside with the greatest access ever (basically outside his car. Yes, his car) (we’ll take what we can get, thank you). But my Man and I decided to just take it in stride. And leave. Why stoop to such levels of stalkerazzi? He’s just a guy after all…

Unlike Jude Law.

He’s my fave. Topper on my List. That List. And he. was. there. last night. But wait!Before we get to him, I must tell you we saw Christopher Guests eagerly anticipated oscar spoofer, For Your Consideration.

Two words:

Wha happened?

Loved Waiting for Guffman. Adored Best in Show. Amused by A Mighty Wind. Wouldn’t consider Consideration. I hate to be the one to tell y’all, but it sorta sucked. Yes it was amusing, of course it was. But the subject matter was ripe for the pickin’ and they barked up the wrong trees. Think of any metaphor for DISAPPOINTED and you’ll get my drift. Kudos, however, go to Kitty O’Hara. As always, she stole the show. And Fred Willard wasn’t bad either. But the rest of the gang? Solid “c”: Coulda done better.

Jude Law. Jude Law Jude Law Jude Law. J-u-d-e L-a-w.

In a flick called All the King’s Men. With Sean Penn, Kate Winslet, Mark Ruffalo, Anthony Hopkins, Patricia Clarkson and James Gandolfini. Star-studded? Whatev, wake me when it’s over. Or so said my Man. And he had the right idea.

Flick was a heavy handed snoozefest that went like somethin’ like this: narration by the gorgeous and talented Mr Law. Screaming speech by Crazy-haired Penn. Plot, plot, plot. Shot of cross-lined rural road. Dramatic music. Shot of car/train/truck nearly missing camera. More narration by the gorgeous and talented Jude Law. Another screaming speech, etc. And repeat. Over and over and over.

Swing and a miss.

And the kids themselves?

Sean Penn? Surly, as you’d expect. Princess Buttercup? Gorgeous. Might way 100lbs on a bad day, as you’d expect. Jimmy Gandolfini? A brute and boor, as you’d expect (come on, people, he could go either way) Mark R.? Divine. As you’d expect. Kitty Winslet? Eyebrows aside, a stunner – and also quite tiny. As you may not expect.

And Jude? I could barely look at him. Magnifique! But he’ll be making another appearance later this week. As will I. As you’d expect. Hopefully I’ll muster up the mustard to actually look at him for more than 2 seconds. Or not. Stay tuned for all that…And more!