Mommy with a Penis

I have never written about movie awards before but something magical happened to me this year that prompted me to change all that. For the first time in all the years I've been an active member of the Screen Actors Guild I was randomly chosen to be part of the elite SAG Nominating Committee for film.  What this means is that I got to watch a shitload of this season's films and then voted for who, in my estimation, should be nominated for the SAG Award in the following categories: best lead male and lead female, best supporting male and supporting female, best performance by a cast, and best stunt ensemble (go figure). It's an interesting film season, in that there isn't a decisive front runner in any category. Remember a few years back when Helen Mirren graced the silver screen in  The Queen ? She received endless accolades, sashayed down many a red carpet, and, according to IMDb , snatched up no less than 29 statuettes, plaques, ribbons and bangles portrayin...

Residual checks always perk me up. They're sort of a mystical concept. You never know when they'll appear nor how how much they'll be. And I, at least, have no earthly clue what sort of algebraic gymnastics the Screen Actors Guild goes through to determine what ends up in our bank account. Today, when I found a residual check nestled amongst the bills, it was like Christmas in March. Then, once again, I had that nagging thought that I should be more diligent in understanding the byzantine world of residual pay, but to be honest, I got a turkey to cook (guests tonight), beds to make and dogs to de-worm. Who has the time? Luckily, it doesn't have to be a lot of money to make me happy. Just enough for a jumbo-sized bottle of Ketel One and I'm grinning like Carol Channing off her meds. Well today was a red letter day. Seventeen payments were added together in a single check. I can practically taste that martini. Foreign Royalty Statements are always a hoot because you ...