I’m a grump, a grouch, the kind of lady who says, “Ugh” at romantic comedies with a thumbs down and over-exaggerated eye-rolling. I should have hated this film because it’s just Jennifer Aniston playing Rachel from Friends again for the umpteenth time and Jason Bateman is playing a variation of Michael Bluth from the brilliant Arrested Development. Well, friends, I’m going to confess something to you. I know I’m a noted cynic and hater of all things corny and cheeseball and over-processed, gimmicky bullshit, but I gotta tell you: I love Rachel and Michael Bluth, all right? [side note: I’m starting to think that maybe it’s time I stop kidding myself and stop telling people, “My favorite film? Why, Wong Kar Wai’s seminal film, In the Mood for Love, of course,” and instead say that it’s Mannequin 2: On the Move starring Kristy Swanson and William Ragsdale– gotta love the main theme song, “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” by Starship] I avoided seeing this at the theater because I didn’t want to be seen as one of those women gushing, “Ohhhh, I love The Notebook. Ryan Gosling + Rachel MacAdams should be together forever!” and “OH MY GOD, how accurate was He’s Just Not That Into You? It’s like they read my web diary!” and “SHUT UP, Sex in the City 2 is the best movie of ALL TIME. OF ALL TIME!!!” or “I WILL JUST DIE IF I DON’T SEE THAT NEW KATE HUDSON MOVIE ON OPENING NIGHT!! My girlfriends and I are going to head on over right after Happy Hour at Cosmo’s where I will drink many pink girly drinks with umbrellas in it.” Or “Ohmygaw, I’m so going to crash Target’s website and servers because I just absolutely have to have those ugly rain boots with the print on it by some Italian guy I’ve never heard of.” That’s just not me. Admittedly, I scoff at those women. And why, for God’s sake? I like cats, I write romance novels, I LOVE romance novels, and I like shoes very, very much. Why should I make fun of these ladies when I once watched that movie with Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel and found myself rooting for those 2 crazy kids to make it work? On top of that, I am unabashedly excited for that Stephanie Plum movie starring Katherine Heigl when I just know that the critics will hate it. What do I gain for pretending I hate these movies and proclaiming loudly how awful and sexist they are? Why should I deprive myself of happiness from watching goofy, critically lambasted films just because people might think I’m uncool? Hipster cred makes NO ONE happy and satisfied. From now on, I will proudly declare that I LOVE so-called “awful” movies. So there.

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I don’t know if it’s because I now fall under the descriptor “thirtysomething,” but lately I’ve been feeling maudlin and sentimental. Or maybe it’s the post-holidays blues or the I-don’t-have-money-or-a-job-and-my-car-is-dying-and-I’m-fifteen-pounds-overweight-and-I-live-with-my-parents-and-I-should-be-on-the-show-Hoarders blues. While I was unable to sleep some nights ago, I caught “While You Were Sleeping” on TBS or WGN or one of those channels and I felt compelled to watch it from beginning to end. By the time I got to the scene where Sandra Bullock was telling Bill Pullman’s family that all she really wanted was a family of her own and she was grateful to them because they treated her as family, I was a hysterical sobbing mess. And seriously, if I were making my living as a subway ticket booth operator and I am living in a crappy apartment where I am constantly stalked by my perverted landlord and my love interest is Bill Pullman, I would have pushed Peter Gallagher out of the way and got run over by the train myself. But what does that have to do with “Sleepless in Seattle,” you ask, other than they both have sleep in the title? Well, I was suffering from one of those sleepless nights again and trying to get myself sleepy by staring at the ceiling and humming “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning,” which is one of my favorite songs of all time. Somewhere in the middle of it, I got choked up and my eyes started to burn with tears and before I knew it, I was sobbing again. To distract myself from my own maudlin gloominess, I turned on the TV and guess what was on? Yep, “Sleepless in Seattle,” whose soundtrack “In the Wee Small Hours” happens to be a part of (other great songs in this soundtrack: “A Wink and a Smile” by Harry Connick Jr and “Stardust” by Nat King Cole, which never fails to make me cry a little bit).

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Something New is one my favorite “guilty pleasure” film. It’s one of those movies that I have to stop and watch whenever it’s on the Oxygen Network and it’s on at least once a week. Simon Baker is always to-die-for (gurrrrrrl, he is foiiiiiiine) and this is Simon Baker at his best. He’s laid-back, handsome, charming, an owner of a golden retriever named Max, and isn’t afraid to get dirty (he’s a landscape architect). He is just diiiivine. And those laugh lines around his eyes when he laughs or smiles… oooh yeah. Gimme some of that. Ahem. Sanaa Lathan, on the other hand, is one of the most beautiful women on the planet. She’s so poised and elegant, has beautiful bone structure and the cutest button nose (I can eat it with a spoon. nom-nom-nom). She is just yummy. So pretty. I just really enjoy looking at her and listening to her talk. “It’s not about skin color or race, but the energy, the vibe between a man and a woman…” says one character and these two make it work. They’re beautiful people and have electricity like whoa. It is one of my favorite romance trope: she is an uptight, image-conscious, career-driven woman and he is an easygoing, happy-go-lucky charmer who runs a successful business, but doesn’t let it run his life. They clash at first meeting, eventually warm up to each other, go out on a date, get caught on a torrential downpour while out and about; he puts his arm around her, she looks at him, they start kissing (warily at first, cautiously, testing the waters), and she tells him it’s not going to work. He drops her off at her house, they awkwardly say goodbye, and she walks out of his car and into her house, dejected and wondering if she’s made a mistake. The doorbell rings. She opens the door. It’s him. They go at it like Bonobo monkeys in her all-beige foyer. I swoon.

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(Lost in Austen was a 4-part mini-series originally broadcasted in September of 2008 on ITV.)

I love Jane Austen. Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve devoured her books from Northanger Abbey to Mansfield Park to Sense and Sensibility. I love getting lost in the world of manners and propriety and terribly clever dialogue, where the women are headstrong but not precocious and the men are so dashing and handsome and swoon-worthy. But my favorite and probably the most well-known of Jane Austen’s heroes is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, played to perfection by Colin Firth in the BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice (Jennifer Ehle, who plays Elizabeth Bennet is equally perfect). Mr. Darcy is the ultimate in British propriety: he is an intelligent, wealthy aristocrat known for his principles and the rigid standard of behavior that he imposes upon himself. He is also an unbearable snob. When he encounters the feisty, mouthy, headstrong Elizabeth Bennet, he finds himself rather discomfited for the first time in his life. She is not at all like the proper, biddable girls he had known in the past. She is a pain in the ass and a baggage. On top of that, she belongs to a loud, boisterous family led by an anxious, nagging mother desperate to marry off her five daughters and her feisty attitude is not only tolerated by her fond father, but often times encouraged. Naturally, Darcy soon finds himself bewildered and madly in love with her.

There might be spoilers if you haven’t already read the book.

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Why do horror movies want you to believe that dirty foreign people from Latin America and “under developed” countries in Eastern Europe do nothing but sit around all day and wait until a bunch of dumb Americans come through so they can kidnap them, stick them in cages, and cut them open one by one so they can steal their precious organs or torture them for shits and giggles? Why is this such a popular trope in American horror films? In the Hostel movies, psychos from foreign countries who pay people to kidnap victims for them to kill, are wiling to shell out more cash for Americans; in Turistas, the locals specifically target Americans to abduct and steal organs from; in Shuttle, the girls are told that there’s a huge market for white girls in foreign slavery before they’re locked up in crates and shipped off to God knows where (probably to Slovakia or something). In this movie, an entire train of people enough to fill up a small town, conspire together to trap a group of young Americans on a moving train bound for Odessa, Ukraine, cull them off one by one, take out their organs, and sell them on the black market. At one point, the outraged Final Girl, walks up to a group of people on train to beg for their help; when they only stare at her, she screams and says, “What is wrong with you people? What do you want from us? Why are you doing this?” They want your braaaaaains, Thora Birch. Not to eat, but to sell on Ebay.

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