"What are you doing New Year's Eve" by the darlings of indie cinema...

Happy Holidays!

Wishing you all a very festive season!!! If I disappear for a couple of days, it's probably because I'm recovering from the excessive eating that's about to ensue...because that's what Cypriots do best!

We're also very big on family, so this is a great time of year to get together, air out old grudges/feuds/grievances (another thing Cypriots do best) and spread a little love (we're good at that too).

Happy Holidays beautiful people!!!

And two before and after clips from one of my favourite Christmas movies "Scrooged".

(I'd warn you about the spoiler in the second clip, but who hasn't seen this movie?)

Dating Diaries - Part 3

I was asked the other day about Anna, for those of you who missed Part 1 and Part 2...

I actually do have another Anna story. She doesn’t mind. In fact, she encourages this as a cautionary tale to randy women everywhere. Anna was the girl who dated a player, put out on the first date and was promptly dumped. Before she knew it, she and said player were shag buddies. This was completely out of character for her, so it happened very rarely and usually with huge amounts of guilt and panicked phone calls before and after. But she liked him, she was lonely, she had just moved to a new country and she was going with the theory of “better the devil you know.”

So I get another phone call, only this time, she’s whispering but she’s so angry, it sounds more like hissing.

Me: Why are you whispering?

Anna: You know how addicts have to hit rock bottom before they come to their senses? Well, I’m there: rock bottom.

Me: Where? Where is rock bottom?

Anna: I’m at his place…

Me: Is he asleep? Is that why you’re whispering?

Anna: No…it’s much worse than that…

She takes a deep breath and I can hear her shuffling around.

Anna: So he invited a bunch of us over for dinner last night and I ended up…well, spending the night. Then this morning, his friend John calls to say he’s stopping by to pick up his sunglasses. I barely have time to scramble out of bed when the doorbell rings…

Me: Oh man…

I should mention that none of our mutual friends knew about her ‘relationship’ and she would be judged pretty harshly for this in a small place like Cyprus. His reputation would remain untarnished, of course.

Anna: And it’s John’s wife. 

Me: Oh?

Anna: She was close by so she came instead…

Me: Oh my...

Anna: ...with their two kids! 

Me: ...God...

Anna: Meanwhile, I left my clothes in the spare room and got stuck in his bedroom in nothing but my knickers. He locked me in and went to open up for her.

Me: Okay, so that’s not so bad…

Anna: That was two hours ago!!!

Me: What?!

Anna: John came by afterwards to collect the chairs and tables they had lent him for the dinner party…

Me: Couldn’t he have told them to leave and come back later?

Anna: Yes, if he had a soul! And just as they were done, his parents arrived!

Me: So you’ve been sitting alone half-naked in his room for the past two hours?

Anna: Well, I wrapped a sheet around myself. And no, for the last half hour, I’ve been in his cupboard.

I have now buried my face in a pillow to keep from laughing. I fear this may push her over the edge…picture the headline: Woman strangles man with his own sheet.

Anna: I was busy texting and his mother needed to get something from his room while he was downstairs loading tables into John’s car. So I jumped into his cupboard and I’ve been hiding here ever since. But I can’t remember if I left anything outside, so my hiding might be in vain. So this is my lowest point. I shouldn’t be hiding in cupboards!! I’m the type of girl you introduce to your mother! Not the one you hide in your cupboard! When did I become that girl?!

Me: Don’t be so hard on yourself…

Suddenly there’s a sliding sound and I hear the player’s voice, “They’re gone.”

Anna: I’ll call you back.

And call me she did. I got the full (and much louder) rendition of how she took out all of her frustration on him. She has sworn, sworn, that it’s over. Personally, I need the blog stories, but good for her!

Thursday Thought

Due to an increasingly intense production schedule, I'm copping out...I mean creating "Thursday Thought"...just a cool / inspirational / funny / corny / fabulous thought for the day. As a writer, I thought I'd start with this:

Have a beautiful day! Catch "Dating Diaries" tomorrow...yes, I'm very big on alliteration.

Pushing Buttons

Suffering for your art can come in many forms…mine looks like this: moving in with your parents at the age of 30 so you can make a feature film. I actually adore them for supporting me and it’s an especially big deal when your parents are Greek. They haven’t a clue as to what it is that I really do, (for many years they told people I taught French…I don’t know why), but they support me anyway.

Of course, the day to day reality is another story. Imagine two people who are polar opposites bound to each other for decades and who are still able to push each other’s buttons.

I have a literal example of this. All you need to know for this story is the following:

•         My mother spends her life in the kitchen.
•         My father spends his life in front of the TV.
•         My father is a little hard of hearing but that’s not a problem because my mother only has one volume: loud.
•         The number “6” is pronounced “exi” in Greek. The word “exit” as pronounced with a Greek accent sounds exactly like the number “6” in Greek; the “t” is left out and people say “exi”.
•         Both the number “6” and “exit” are buttons on a standard TV remote control.

Still with me? Good.

So we recently switched from analogue to digital television in Cyprus. This resulted in weeks of intensive training for my father on how to use the new remote control, despite the fact that it was exactly the same as the old one. He has the tendency of pushing random buttons, bringing up menus and strange displays. My mother, who was a much better student, knows that all you have to do when this happens is push the “exit” button.

One peaceful Sunday morning, while my mother bustled in the kitchen, my father yelled from the TV room:

Dad: How do I make the menu go away?

Mom: Push exi!

Dad: What?

Mom: (Yelling from the kitchen) EXI!

Dad: Why?

Mom: Just push it!

Dad: It’s not working!

Mom: What are you pushing?

Dad: Exi!

Mom: No, not exi…exi!

Dad: I am pushing exi!

Mom: Not that exi! Push exi!!

Dad: There is only one exi!!

Mom: I didn't say exi! I said EXI!!

Dad: That's what I'm pushing!!

Mom: EXI!!!

Dad: I AM PUSHING EXI!!!

Eventually I had to go in and pry the remote from their hands before it “exited” through the window. Fun times.

Movie Moments - Love Actually

Time to get festive so I thought I'd share one of my favourite holiday movies...Love Actually.

There are some spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen it, otherwise, here's a little Christmas cheer and a grand gesture by a little boy!

Captain Obvious

I call my mom Captain Obvious. It’s a term of endearment really. It’s because of a unique habit she has. I also believe that this habit is directly responsible for my high level of sarcasm. Allow me to demonstrate:

I walk into the house at about 10pm after a night out, she’s sitting in front of the TV with my dad and says “Are you home?” and no, I haven’t altered the meaning in the translation from Greek. It’s exactly that question. I think it’s a Greek thing…this incessant rhetorical questioning. As far as I can tell, it’s just a way to start a conversation, or, if said with a certain tone, to instill guilt (another Greek specialty, but that’s another story). So this is where my sarcasm comes from:

Mom: Are you home?

Me: No Ma, I’m still out having drinks…cheers!

I walk out of the bathroom wearing a fuzzy robe with a towel wrapped around my wet hair and dripping slightly.

Mom: Did you take a shower?

Me: No, this is a new look I’m trying out.

Or, aside from the questioning, there’s also pointing things out…like when I’m in the shower and my phone starts to ring. The ringing is followed by banging on the bathroom door.

Mom: Your phone is ringing!!

Me: What do you want me to do?! Come out wet and naked and answer it!!

Mom: But it won’t stop ringing!!

Fortunately I now find it funny. And I’m trying to curb the sarcasm. And much to my horror, it seems I’m starting to do it too. Another fine family tradition passed on to the new generation.

The Art of Dating

This is how I feel about dating...(watch Meg Ryan at the end of this clip)

“Happy, smile. Sad, frown. Use the corresponding face for the corresponding emotion.”

Some women were born with the innate ability to bend men to their every whim; they have mystery and sensuality oozing from their pores and their use of tactics and strategy in romance would put seasoned military veterans to shame. I am not one of those women. I obviously missed the class on manipulation and pouting and it seems to have wrecked my entire dating career.

I agree with Meg Ryan. Keep it simple. I spend all day working and schmoozing, trying to impress people and present myself in a certain way and it’s exhausting! So when it comes to relationships, be it friendly or romantic, the word that defines them is: effortless. I can be myself and share a good experience with a kindred spirit.

I can’t speak for the gentlemen out there and I don’t know about you ladies, but I for one have had it. Dating has become a tango across a minefield. First, what to wear: sexy but not slutty, just enough make-up to highlight your features but not so much so it looks you’re trying too hard, same goes for perfume, heels depending on his height and whether he has short-man-complex…then you get to the date and it’s conversation Olympics.

Ask questions, but don’t badger him, laugh at his jokes even if only crickets should be responding, steer clear of any serious topics like marriage or children to avoid him making a man-shaped hole in the wall as he runs for his treasured bachelor life, touch his arm not his hand, make eye contact and smile, but not too much.

And the post-date saga. No-one is supposed to appear to be eager, so no-one calls for a couple of days. Instead we torture each other, watching the phone, checking if it’s working and my personal favourite thanks to facebook and the like, cyber-stalking. And once a week has gone by and you’ve heard nothing, you come to the realization that perhaps he’s not going to call.

I’d like to add a small insert here: I would like for the universe to strike every man who says he will call a woman when he doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t have to be struck dead, just some mild electro-shock therapy to keep him from doing it again. We’re big girls, if you’re not going to call us, just say so or better yet, don’t say anything at all. But the line “I’ll call you” has become synonymous with the notion of an unfulfilled promise and yet it still gives us false hope. A plague upon you cowardly cowardly boys.

So he doesn’t call. My first thought is that he’s died. Of course. It’s the only reasonable explanation for not calling. But thanks to social media you can ascertain that he is, indeed, alive and that he’s not calling by choice. So you throw on your peep-toe stilettos and go back to square one.

Kind friends have tried to help with various suggestions:

Be aloof, play hard to get, no man wants a clingy girl who calls the whole time.

Result: I come across as a cold-hearted bitch who isn’t interested.

Be encouraging and supportive, let him know you’re interested.

Result: I come across as over-eager and desperate.

Just giggle lots and wear a low-cut top.

Result: I yelled at my friend for even suggesting that (though it would have probably worked!)

So I’m done. I am not hard-to-get and I am not desperate. I know what I want and I go for it. Aren’t men always complaining about women not knowing what they want? Well all I see is them running after girls who jerk them around, play games and when they get bored of their toy, toss them aside for new prey. So, on behalf of the simple girls who call it like they see it, I’m sorry if I’ve taken the chase out of it and presented myself on a silver platter. Perhaps the challenge shouldn’t be catching me, but keeping me.

And on that note, here’s the theme song to the film “French Kiss”

Dream a Little Dream by The Beautiful South

Beauty without Brains is nothing...

Just for fun today I thought I'd share this ad. Sorry to all the fabulous blondes out there, but you know how to take a joke better than brunettes, right?

Tomorrow is Friday which means: Dating Diaries, and I have a goodie for you.

Interactive TV

A blind person could watch TV with my mother and understand exactly what was happening.

She’s a hard-working lady, so her daily reward and joy is her array of nightly TV shows. From Greek game shows to Cypriot comedies to Brazilian (dubbed) soap operas…and it’s a fully interactive relationship.

This is what it sounds like:

The Game Show:

Mom: Who directed the black and white film “Goodnight and Good Luck”? (all questions are read out loud)

Mom: Ah! I know! I know! What’s his name? Who’s that doctor who won’t settle down? That doctor…what’s his name…oh come on!

And despite the fact that I’m on the other side of the house, I can hear her running commentary and I get roped in.

Me: What doctor?

Mom: The one who won’t get married!

Me: What are you talking about?!

Mom: The one who drinks all the coffee and martinis!

Me: Ma, are you drinking anything?

TV Presenter: That’s right, it’s George Cloo-

Mom: GEORGE CLOONEY!! I knew it!

The Soap Opera:

By now my father is home and sitting next to her on the couch. He doesn’t say a word. I don’t know if he’s concentrating on the show or blocking out my mother, but it sounds something like this:

Soap Actress: Roberto I don’t love you any more…

Mom: *Gasp* She’s leaving him!

Soap Actress: I’m leaving you…

Mom: I don’t believe it!

Roberto: I don’t believe it! (He slaps the actress)

Mom: *Gasp* He slapped her!

Soap Actress: You can’t hurt me anymore because I already have my revenge!

Mom: What did she do?

Soap Actress: I slept with your brother!

Mom: That hussy! She slept with his brother! I don’t believe it!

Roberto: How could you?!

Mom: Unbelievable!

Soap Actress: I have to go Roberto, don’t try to follow me…

The tension in the room is palpable. My parents' eyes are wide and unwavering, their mouths slightly ajar. The big-haired actress storms out the room and my mother finally lets out a breath of air and sinks back into the couch. My father blinks and tries to process it all.

Mom: This is such rubbish, I don’t know why we watch this!

Dad: Who’s Roberto?

Movie Moments - Bugsy

This is hands-down one of my favourite lines as delivered by the spectacular Annette Bening.

The film is "Bugsy", produced in 1991 and directed by Barry Levinson (Good Morning Vietnam, Rain Man, Wag the Dog). It's a biopic on notorious gangster Bugsy Siegel and how he started Las Vegas.

Warren Beatty and Annette Bening got married after this film was made - and remain a Hollywood married couple, an urban myth in its own right. I like to think that this is the line that sealed the deal.

Also, very handy next time you need to bring a man down a notch or two...

The Slime-High Club

I love airports. They’re that special gateway to foreign lands, a great reunion venue for families and lovers, and great for stories. When it comes to the Cyprus airport, the most fascinating part must be the customs area.

Here’s what you need to understand about Greeks and Cypriots, whether they are coming or going from their motherland…they love their food. No really, they looove their food and even though they may have spent their entire vacation stuffing their faces, they want to take as much as possible with them and of course, they’ll never be forgiven if they don’t share their bounty with the folks at their destination. So suitcases are packed, not with clothes or souvenirs, but with cheese and nuts and the best olive oil on earth. I was once given a full tray of baklava to take with me…where am I supposed to put an open tray of sticky, syrupy pastries?! You would also think that this would be a problem with security, but in Cyprus, it aint the first baklava that’s crossed their path.

And while you protest to relatives as they pack your suitcase with stuffed vineleaves (koupepia/dolmades) and legs of lamb (true story), telling them that you can buy food in your own country, they automatically reply “it’s not the same!” I don’t know if it’s the brainwashing, but I suppose I agree.

Anyway, I don’t know if the airport authorities have given up, but to my knowledge, no-one has ever been stopped and all these delicacies reach the mouths of happy relatives on the other side.

I have to give special mention though to the ultimate smuggler. My friend’s Yiayia (Grandmother). Picture it: a frail little old lady, clad in black from head to toe, with a scarf over her hair and wearing a big, cozy jacket with big, spacious pockets. She hobbles along with the aid of her wooden cane. She slips through the metal detectors without so much as a beep. She smiles sweetly at the security officers. She shuffles along to certain victory as she makes it on the plane with none the wiser. Escobar has nothing on her.

A couple of hours into the flight and Yiayia is fast asleep. I was nodding off myself when a strange object caught my eye. It was blurry at first but it slowly came into focus as it inched towards me along the window…and there, thousands of miles up in the sky, streaking across the airplane window and leaving a slimy trail behind it, was a genuine Cyprus Snail!

I rubbed my eyes and noticed that he wasn’t alone. I looked around and all along the side and ceiling of our cabin were snails ‘fleeing’ for freedom. You see, Cypriot Snails are another delicacy, but you have to cook them alive (sorry all animal lovers), so Yiayia had stuffed her pockets with LIVE snails! But when she fell asleep, they escaped!

Yes, the Cyprus Airport is a fun place.

(I was forced to become a collaborator by plucking the slimy bastards off the window and shoving them back in Yiayia’s pockets before anyone noticed. Those who did notice, were also Cypriot. They barely flinched. They understood.)

The Wedding Ambush

I saw this on Facebook yesterday and it got a HUGE response! This is possibly the most elaborate, over-the-top proposal I have ever seen, but personally I think it was tons of fun and it even brought a tear to my eye. What happens afterwards though is a big no-no. Take a look...

Gentlemen, gentlemen...at the point when he suggests they get married on the spot, you could probably hear the collective gasp of horror from women around the world. You can even see the bride herself is not a fan of the idea, but what can she do in front of hundreds of people and on live television, besides reply sweetly, "Really?"

It's actually amazing how unanimous women are on this issue. Even a gal like me who is not very girlie-girl or dreaming of puffy white dresses, would be furious at being robbed of my wedding day like that. First of all, she didn't get to enjoy the proposal, the engagement and the whole build-up to the wedding...no announcing to the family, no showing off the ring, no wedding dress hunt, no hens night...This poor woman has probably been dreaming of this day her whole life and it got condensed into a ten-minute parade! She got some random  dress thrown over her clothing and said "I do" with mascara streaming down her face (which will make for very memorable wedding photos by the way).

I can guarantee that she would have asked for a do-over...or an annulment.

Evian spelt backwards is Naïve – Part 3

Time to wrap up our little story! For any late-comers, check out Part 1 and Part 2.

So, it’s about 5am, I’m on a sleek black yacht, docked at a Greek island with a modern-day Onassis…who we’re calling ‘Bob’. Bob, who is also a filmmaker, wants to show me some of his projects, but the DVD player is in his bedroom. Of course.

I continue to drown out the little alarm bells in my head, calling myself paranoid and presumptuous. What on earth would a man like this want with little ole me? Upon entering his room, I got my answer. There was no normal lighting, just rope lights lining the walls and the bed. “My friends call this the Vegas Room” says Bob. I smile stiffly and start berating myself for being so stupid. I allow the alarm bells to wail away, late as they may be.

He lounges back on his bed and grabs the remote. He puts the TV on so we can watch his show. I sit bolt upright on the very edge of the bed and run through my options. I should point out though, that while this was an idiotic situation, it was at no point dangerous; the man was horny but harmless. This still left me with a problem though. So my stream of thought went something like this:

“It’s 5 o’clock in the morning. I’m on some Godforsaken island in the middle of the Aegean. I know absolutely no-one but him and the only way off the island is via ferry boat which comes every couple of days. Perfect. I don’t want to do anything with him…but I don’t want to upset him either, and he probably thinks this is why I came.”

So I went with my greatest strength:

“I’ll just play dumb.”

Suddenly he was nestled up beside me, the TV was off and his hand was sliding up my thigh. He might as well have been pushing an ejection seat button because I jumped up off that bed so fast, that his hand was still mid stroke.

“Oh look at the time!” I yawned and stretched my arms. “Off to bed! See you in the morning!” and I spun around bolted into my room, locking myself in with everything but a chest of drawers.

This was possibly my first lesson in the wicked ways of the male species. It was also my first lesson on the power of the female species - what we have obviously surpasses all money and power as history and my little boat incident have proven. 

I spent the next two days artfully avoiding him in what he must have thought was the world’s most prolonged tease. I came to realize that everyone on the island must have thought I was the weekend floozy and to this day when I meet people from that film set, they refer to me as ‘Bob’s guest’ with a smile and a wink.

Thankfully, nothing happened, I wrote my story and never got an invite to a yacht again! 

Fallen Art by Tomek Baginski

This is a disturbing and brilliant piece of short animation from a Polish production company called Platige Image...

Evian spelt backwards is Naïve – Part 2

So there I was, on the remote Greek island of Ikaria, at 4 o’clock in the morning. I had just stepped off a 12-hour ferry ride and was waiting for my host to arrive.

In case you missed Part 1, my host was an eccentric billionaire filmmaker/actor who had invited me to write a story on the film he was shooting in Ikaria. He had also offered me accommodation on his yacht for the weekend. He also had a girlfriend who I thought would be on the yacht with us. As you may have gathered, the point of this story was the express my extreme naiveté at the time.  

I stood on the harbor looking like a cross between a tourist and a refugee: flip-flops, three-quarter jeans, strappy top covered by a disheveled tracksuit top and indescribable hair, matted and aggravated by my attempts to sleep upright on the teeny tiny seat on the boat. So in defense of my extreme naiveté, you could understand why it never even crossed my mind that a man who mingled with the glossy, the rich and the famous would ever take any interest in me.

A fancy bike roared up to me; I was greeted warmly by Bob (the sophisticated pseudonym we’re using for our billionaire) and whisked off to an even fancier yacht. Bob pointed out the three cabins: his captain’s, his own and mine. I noticed that his was empty. “Where’s your girlfriend?” I asked. “Oh she didn’t come with,” he replied casually. Ding! First little alarm bell goes off, but I shush it away.

We then sat in his sleek living room and caught up. It’s always great talking to a fellow filmmaker and the time flew, despite the fact that we were nearing sunrise. He wasn’t shooting the next day, so he could introduce me to some of the cast and crew. My main interview would be with the Hollywood star of the film, who we’ll just call Matt. (No, not Damon).

So Bob describes some of his latest projects and offers to show me some footage. “I would love to see your stuff!” I gush. Our next alarm bell moment is coming up…the DVD player was in his bedroom, so we would have to watch there. Ding! Ding!

TO BE CONTINUED…

Dating Diaries - Part 2

Remember my friend Anna? The good girl who, after a two year drought, threw caution to the wind and slept with a guy on the first date? Well apparently the story did not end there. Sigh.

So I get another random phone call from Anna:

Anna: So I’m on my way to his place.

Me: Who’s place? (Gasp) Noooooo.

Anna: Relax, I won’t do anything stupid, I’m not a complete masochist.

Me: Anna…

Anna: I missed hanging out with him and I called to ask if he wanted to meet for drinks…

Me: You can’t see this but I’m shaking my head in despair. Okay, so drinks, public place where you can keep all your clothes on.

Anna: Well he’s out of town, at his holiday house, so he told me to come over. He said I could spend the night and drive back in the morning.

Me: Are you learning impaired?

Anna: I’m not going to do anything!

Me: Did you shave your legs?

Anna: (Pause) Maybe.

Me: You are officially a ‘booty call’.

Anna: Aha! No I’m not, I called him! He’s my booty call! He’s my bitch!

Me: Mmm hmm.

Anna: I miss sex and he’s available and I like him…

Me: Yes sweety, but he doesn’t feel the same…

Anna: Let me just see how tonight goes.

I actually went out and bought some double fudge chocolate chip cookie ice cream immediately after that conversation…just to be ready for the following day. Now, I’m not saying that women aren’t sexually liberated or that they don’t have needs…but at the end of the day, given the choice, I believe we would all rather be with a guy who was genuinely into us, all of us and not just our hot asses...and any woman who says otherwise is lying.

The Black Hole by Phil & Olly

I must apologise for my tardiness...I have been editing a short film all week and have lost track of time...and personal hygiene, ahem.

There will be more stories tomorrow, but in celebration of the short film, here's a little goodie:

Have yourself a beautiful day!