Ann Aguirre

Firstly, sorry to have let Ann have free rein with her blog for a loooong time, what with missing promised updates and whatnot: with the end of year coming and world economics being truly the dismal science these days, I’ve had my plate full. Full, of hotdogs. Healthy hot dogs. And lack of nicotine… though I suppose the metaphorical plate’s then full of the lack of nicotine, rather than full of it; while nicely poetic, the whole imagery rather distracts from the point at hand. Which was… ah… one moment.

Right, right. I promise to make time to get the Cuba and other assorted pictures up soon.

Before that, though, a brief digression. I was talking to Ann about her new project-in-planning (and I will consider bribes to let you know what it’s about) when she suggested, jokingly, about taking the pen name “Cletus Van Damme” (props to The Shield). I commented that she might want to reconsider, given a new movie coming out.

And from that little comment comes this particular piece of rambling. A piece of rambling inspired by our dog and Jan Claude Van Damme.

Not that those two have met. At least not that we know of… though it would explain a lot about our dog’s butch behaviour, now that I think about it. But I digress. Again.

Our dog has a bit of an addiction to cat food. Started when we first got the cats: she decided their all-protein chow smelled better than her mixed, healthy dry food. So every chance she gets, she makes a run for it and wolfs it down.

We’ve more or less solved the problem, but on occasion we still have the occasional mishap where someone forgets to pick up the food and she runs in like a three foot long, eleven inches tall ninja.

Clatter clatter clatter: she dives in, ducks around obstacles and gobbles up as much as she can before the inevitable cry of “DAISY!” that sends her scurrying through the living room and around the center pillar to get into cover. Followed by her prancing out with a ‘yes, you called?’ expression… you know, the ‘it must have been some other dog that did it’ big eyes and perked ears kind of thing.

Now, that’s bad enough, and shows that our dog has cojones.

Yesterday, however, she ran in while Ann and the kids were busy with groceries. She devoured an indeterminate amount of catfood. But instead of running away… she picked up the cat’s dish and went into the kitchen to ask for a refill.

Now THAT is chutzpah.

Which segues nicely into the original comment about the Muscles from Brussels’ new movie.

A guilty admission: I love his movies. They are bad, his dialogue is painful and the action sequences in overused slow motion give me time to go get drinks in the middle of them. But between my soft spot for Bad Movies and an undefinable quality about his wooden acting, I enjoy the hell out of such offerings as Cyborg, Legionnaire, Double Team, Hard Target… not Universal Soldier, so much. Still, my point is… he plays pretty much himself in every movie, and he can do a half decent job of it.

Reading Newsweek this morning, I chanced upon a little note that he was making a new movie.

JCVD, an autobiographical film (I think you can see where this is going). I read the phone interview transcript. I was, to say the least, torn. Torn between filing him as a jackass or declaring him the god of Chutzpah. By the end of the brief article, I had decided; it’s your turn to make a call.

A couple of exerpts, courtesy of Newsweek.com (with due thanks to Sarah Ball for giving us this gem):

Sarah: Beautiful? Why?
JCVD:  I really opened myself up in “JCVD.” I peeled back the skin of the fruit, cut the pulp and then took that very hard seed. In this film I cut that hard seed, and inside that seed was a kind of liquid cream substance of the man I am, or the woman you are.

Sarah: OK —
JCVD:  It was like being naked—I would love to be naked in front of you.

Sarah: Well, I —
JCVD:  Not being naked being naked. I say such things in Hong Kong and they thought I was being a crazy Frenchman. Being naked of protection.

Sarah: So you ‘ ve no regrets at all?
JCVD:  Believe me—I’ve done very good stuff and very crazy stuff, and I don’t regret the crazy stuff. So are you in New York?

Sarah: Yes, I am.
JCVD:  And are you 27, or 32?

Sarah: I ‘ m 22.
JCVD:  Oh, f–––. That is very young. Will you come to the premiere?

Sarah: I don ‘ t know. When is it?
JCVD:  I don’t know. You will wear all black, a black dress and high heels?

Sarah: Uh —
JCVD:  You can come find me, I will be the one with the very broad shoulders, dark hair and a simple suit. We can have some champagne, you and me.

And *that*, I think, is why Jean Claude is now officially the King of Chutzpah to me, usurping the place of Two and a Half Men’s Charlie Harper. If barely. You can find the original article here.