I was texting with my friend Shelley about favorite films recently, and she asked a hypothetical question: if you were on your deathbed and you were able to pick ONE movie to watch, the last movie you'd see before shuffling off this mortal coil, what would it be?
For me? Annie Hall. No question.
"Wonderful, then why don't you get William F. Buckley to kill the spider?"
Then I said, wait....what if it took me a while to kick off and I had some more time to kill (pun intended)? If that were the case, I'd have to add Manhattan. Shelley said that Manhattan was problematic because of the whole Mariel Hemingway thing. I said, well, it's my last day on earth, and unless Mia Farrow is standing at my bedside with a hypodermic full of bleach ready to inject into my jugular, I'm watching Manhattan, too.
Also co-starring Diane Keaton.
And I thought, hold on....if I'm watching Manhattan, I am absolutely watching Sleeper. Also with Diane Keaton. (This scene with the bad poetry is one of my favorites. She's brilliant.)
"DAMMIT! I always get that wrong!"
And if I'm throwing in Sleeper, I gotta throw in Love and Death to round it all out. Also? Diane.
Shelley pointed out that if I watched those movies in that order, Annie Hall wouldn't, in fact, be the last movie I ever saw. So I said, okay then, reverse it. I'll do Love and Death, Sleeper, Manhattan, and then Annie Hall.
But I gotta end with Annie Hall, for sure. It's as close to perfect as a movie gets.
R.I.P. Diane. You were a real one, as the kids say.
Sunday, September 08, 2024
Tsk. And to think, I was once a (casual) fan of Russell Brand.
I'll admit it, I even used to fancy the bloke. I thought he was sexy and funny in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and I found him witty and intelligent in interviews.Then in the late aughts, something dire happened: I saw those uncensored naked photos of him getting arrested in Picadilly Circus. Suffice it to say, my crush on him did not survive seeing those images. ("Hashtag iykyk," as the kids say.) Even so, I still saw Get Him To the Greek when it was in theaters in 2010. I recall it being funny, but apparently not funny enough to make any sort of lasting impression, since all I remember about it now is that Mad Men-era Elisabeth Moss had a significant role.
Yep, there she is, and that's all I remember about GHTTG.
I definitely stopped following Brand by the time he did that Arthur remake, which I most certainly did NOT see, because why the hell would anyone remake Arthur? Dudley Moore is the only Arthur, and Liza Minelli is the only Linda, and that film belongs in 1981 where it can remain wonderfully endearing and forever perfect. Don't fuck with it.
The next thing I knew, it was 2020 and Russell Brand was suddenly an anti-vaxxer with a podcast promoting QAnon talking points and Trumpian rhetoric, and I was pretty damn disappointed in him. I mean, when I was a fan back in the aughts he seemed so punk and irreverent, the furthest thing from the rightwing lapdog he's reportedly morphing into. And it's not so much that he's done this 180, it's more the realization that he was just a big fucking phony all along. The fact that he's also recently "found Jesus" and embraced Christianity is pretty suspect too, and yet very fucking predictable, considering that he got Me-Too'd last year with some serious rape allegations. What a perfect time to get religion! Just blame woke feminism for your legal woes, praise the Lord, and bro out with Tucker Carlson and the other psychopaths.
If ever you find yourself onstage praying next to Tucker Carlson,
you may want to question the life choices that led you there.
The one positive spin I can put on this is that now that he's gone to the dark side, there is absolutely no going back for him. If he wants to act again, he has to settle for starring in terrible "anti-woke" fare alongside Z-listers like Kevin Sorbo and the Quaid brothers. Also, he better be able to afford good security detail for the rest of his existence, because otherwise he will be getting up close and personal with his new MAGA admirers on a daily basis. Hey Russell, shopping for pumpkins at the farmer's market? Here comes a smelly adult in an American flag shirt who wants to talk to you about LGBT "groomers." Taking your kids to school? Hi, this paranoid schizophrenic would like to discuss how to stop the Deep State using Jewish space lazers to mine rare tellurium oxysalt minerals in South Africa so Pat Sajak can prevent Chelsea Clinton from giving birth to the next Antichrist on Columbus Day, 2026.
So yeah, have fun with all that, ya twat!
What did I learn from the uncensored version of this photo?
That Katy Perry is definitely NOT a size queen.
Wednesday, August 31, 2022
I obviously didn't plan for two celebrity death posts in a row, but no way could I ignore the passing of Anne Heche. I've been a big fan since Walking and Talking, a lovable little indie film starring actors who were mostly unknown at the time (Anne Heche, Catherine Keener, Liev Schreiber, Todd Field) who all went on to bigger careers. For me, W&T was one of those movies that came along at just the right time in my life, and it was so funny and true and I connected with it so deeply that I felt like it was made just for me. I think most people have a movie that's like that for them, and Walking and Talking was mine.
Although Amelia (Catherine Keener) is the one I related to back in the day--mostly for her hot mess of a love life--Anne Heche is equally fabulous as Amelia's neurotic best friend, Laura.
Anne is brilliant throughout, particularly the bit where she reacts to her fiance's....gift. The whole scene is so bizarre and hilarious that I won't spoil it by revealing too much.
The Walking and Talking soundtrack is perfection. Not only does it feature Billy Bragg and Liz Phair, it also introduced me to artists I probably wouldn't have discovered otherwise, like The Sea and Cake, Frente, Pal Shazar, and Green House 27.
Speaking of Liz Phair, the use of her excellent and underappreciated song "Go West" in the scene where Amelia stalks Bill the video store clerk is E V E R Y T H I N G.
"Look at his legs. Look how they walk."
Walking and Talking must be one of those films that the studio had trouble marketing. The Roku description is downright inaccurate: "Neuroses and angst fill Manhattan yuppie best friends on the eve of one's wedding." Yuppies? Uh, not really. And the story doesn't take place on the eve of Laura's wedding, the bulk of it happens a few months beforehand. The writeup on the DVD box is even worse, making W&T out to be a generic zany romcom of the variety that Ashton Kutcher used to star in: "There are good dates, bad dates, and no dates. Wild fantasies. Long-distance phone sex. And an outrageous search for Mr. Right that turns up every oddball imaginable!" Okay, none of that happens, apart from the "long-distance phone sex," and that's an offscreen subplot involving Amelia's ex Andrew (Liev Schreiber). I don't know who shit out that synopsis, but he didn't watch the movie. And yeah, I suspect it was a guy who wrote that. Just a hunch. Whatever. Basically, don't trust any "official" descriptions of the movie, because they all seem to be bullshit.
It's funny that I've always seen Anne Heche as this '90s indie movie queen, a la Parker Posey. The fact is, Heche's only indie movies from that era were Walking and Talking and a 1995 film she starred in called Pie in the Sky. I remember renting that one with some girlfriends for a movie night back in the day, which is a ritual I so dearly miss. My favorite thing to do back then was to grab a few friends, pick up some tapes at the video store, order Thai carryout and watch movies. I mean, I know we have Netflix and Prime and everything else now, but I think we can all agree that it's just not the same. Anyway, I remember all of us enjoying Pie in the Sky, an off-beat little flick about a traffic-obsessed 20-something dude (Josh Charles) trying to land his dream job as a helicopter traffic reporter in L.A. while pursuing a romance with an avant-garde dancer played by Heche. I recently discovered the full movie on YouTube while I was laid up with COVID, and gave it another look.
While PitS has held up well and is quite charming, it unfortunately features that lazy trope that panicking screenwriters often toss in at the last minute: "WHAT? You mean to tell me that (love interest) is on the way to the airport right this second to start a new life in New York/Paris/Australia/Timbuktu? Follow that taxi!" (Cue quirky song by Cowboy Junkies/Rusted Root/The Lumineers/et cetera).
Although Heche had some high profile roles in the late '90s in Wag the Dog and Donnie Brasco, I feel like she didn't become known by the public until she was revealed as Ellen Degeneres's real-life girlfriend (which was in 1997, according to Wikipedia). After becoming famous for her personal life, her career picked up and she landed starring roles in major movies like the fun popcorn comedy Six Days Seven Nights and dramas like Return To Paradise and Gus Van Sant's Psycho remake.
But then she and Ellen broke up and then...then came that batshit incident where Anne was found wandering in the California desert, knocking on random stranger's doors and claiming to be a space alien searching for the mothership to take her to heaven. When I read about it at the time I just thought, "Hmm, bad acid trip?" Although I think the official story ended up being that Heche was suffering from dehydration and/or nervous exhaustion. You know, the usual crap that a celebrity's PR people will fart out when their client has an embarrassing public meltdown.
It's weird because in my mind I'd conflated a lot of those events. I was thinking that Anne Heche started dating Ellen Degeneres around the same time she was in that Harrison Ford movie, then like a month or two later came the Ellen breakup and the-wandering-in-the-desert episode, and then shortly after that Heche did the ill-advised "Celestia" interview and the press junket for her memoir, Call Me Crazy. According to Wikipedia however, all of that took place over a period of several years, between 1997 and 2001.
In fact, it was 2001 (like a week before 9/11) when Anne did that infamous Baba Wawa interview where she spoke in tongues (Heche, not Walters--though that would've been hilarious) and claimed that she had an alter ego, "Celestia," who was a goddess in a parallel universe. I think she also said that she used to think Jesus was her brother? Or maybe that she was Jesus? I can't recall exactly, but I know Jesus was involved somehow.
I remember watching the interview when it aired and just thinking, "Oh gurl, NO!" I hated that "my" actress from my favorite little indie chick flick was doing this to herself. I mean, I didn't give a shit about Anne Heche's personal life; I just loved her work and I was really pulling for her. I wanted her to have the career she deserved, and I was convinced that her wackadoodle behavior would surely torpedo any future prospects.
Note: pretty sure this was shot at the loft where they interviewed me and my British cohorts in our 20/20 interview back in 2012. (I always get excited when I recognize "our" loft in ABC interviews.)
But apparently I was wrong, because Anne Heche seemed to bounce back just fine, working steadily and--according to her IMDB page--completing over 50 projects between 2001 and 2021.
I think it's a testament not only to Anne's talent and versatility as an actor, but also to how well-liked she seemed to be in the industry. After her death earlier this month, Emily Bergl was quoted as saying, "Anne was not only a genius, but one of the most astoundingly focused and prepared actors I ever worked with.....All day, scene after scene, her work would be technically flawless, and yet always remained spontaneous. I don't think she was capable of phoning it in. And then she would do it all again the next day."
I'm not interested in rehashing the gory details of Anne Heche's car crash and death earlier this month. It's too sad and too sordid. I just hope that in time she's remembered less for her personal life and more for her work, because she truly was a gifted actress.
I'm closing with my favorite track from Walking and Talking, which will always be the quintessential Anne Heche movie in my mind. I feel like this song is appropriate, since the lyrics describe a tempestuous relationship with a funny, free-spirited, eccentric woman....kinda like our gurl.
I was actually surprised to find a video for this one; I had no idea Billy Bragg even made music videos. And watch for cameos by Michael Stipe and Peter Buck!
Nice summation of Anne and her work from The Guardian.
Good writeup from 2016 on the 20th anniversary of Walking and Talkinghere.
Tuesday, December 04, 2018
ADVENTURES IN SCAM BAITING, PT. II:
THE LEGEND OF BALLSACK GIRL
Well, at least he's not pretending to be Rod Stewart, but he's still a trolling POS.
This one messaged me out of the blue under the pretext of "Nice Guy looking for love." If you haven't seen my Instagram--and there's not much reason for you to follow it unless you know me in real life--it's just photos of my cats, John and me, and whatever else I feel like posting. This guy obviously didn't look at my Instagram before messaging me, which is typical; I've deduced that most scammers just message several random women without looking at their profiles, then wait to see who bites. Lucky for robert_paul124, it was me.
This is where I decided the theme for this one would be lyrics to John Mellencamp's Small Town, hence my name-checking Seymour, Indiana.
It's pretty clear from my Instagram pics that I'm married. Lazy ass can't even be bothered to check. But whatever, I'll play along with some confusing responses.
I think this asshat just copied and pasted a bunch of words. That's still no excuse for that hideous sentence structure.
Below: yes, I used "Nail Polish Tester" as my job title again. I pulled that out of my ass, thinking it couldn't possibly be a real job. Then I Googled it and turns out that it actually is, according to spammy clickbait site Mashable.
ALSO, note that he claims to be a badass bomb disposal specialist in the army. What is it with these jackasses pretending to be in the military?
Yes, I have a special man, you nipplehead. He's called MY HUSBAND and if you'd bothered to scroll down on my Insta, you'd see the evidence. And nice question about whether I rent or own. That's not obvious at all.
Below: buckle up for the best part, "I invented Post-Its"! It's a reference to Romy and Michele's High School Reunion, because that movie is fabulous as all hell and I happen to love it.
If you haven't seen it, a bit of background: Romy and Michele are two ditsy L.A. girls who travel to their hometown for their 10 year high school reunion. At the last minute, they decide their lives are not cool enough to impress the popular douchebags who harassed them back in the day, so they cook up a story about how they invented Post-It notes and (presumably) became multi-millionaires. No one at the reunion buys it, of course, but the girls still triumph in the end, and it's awesome. There's also some flashback scenes with everyone sporting hilarious '80s hair and clothes, an insane dream sequence, and a choreographed dance to Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time."
Word to the wise: never trust anyone who can't have fun watching Romy and Michele's High School Reunion.
And now, back to our story.
And here are some more Mellencamp "Small Town" references. I love the notion of someone becoming hugely rich off their invention and choosing to stay in a cow town like Seymour, IN. "Welcome to my estate. It's so peaceful here, most days you can barely smell the hog farms! Would you like to see the tennis courts?"
There are some quaint, picturesque towns in Indiana--Ferdinand, for example, and James Dean's hometown of Fairmount--but Seymour ain't one of them.
***BTW, that song is misleading, because Mellencamp didn't stay there as the lyrics imply. I know he's got a place outside Bloomington, Indiana, and probably Beverly Hills or somewhere, too, but not Seymour. But anyway....
"Dancing to the oldest music." Yeah, I don't know what the fuck he means by that, but it gave me something to riff on.
Re: "Shadow Chant" below--that was an autocorrect gaffe--the oldest known song is actually the "Shaduf Chant." I learned this from Duran Duran's "Planet Earth" video. (Everything I needed to know, I learned from Duran Duran.)
Sure, Wayne Newton, Nine Inch Nails, and The Osmonds. I'm wasting all my smartass answers on this guy, he's not even reading them.
Asking for a photo of me because, AGAIN, he hasn't looked at my photos on Instagram. That's really a good thing, though. I don't think I want him rooting around in there.
So I Googled "weird model photos" and found this meme:
I cropped out the poor girl's hair, trying to make it look like a "selfie" (although it still doesn't look like a selfie, the angle is all wrong).
And here's where the story ends. He never replied after seeing this pic, like he's too good for Ballsack Girl? It's not her fault some asshole hairstylist decided to give her that nasty 'do for a runway show. I feel strangely protective of Ballsack Girl. Sure, her hair sucks but she's got nice skin and her bone structure is poppin'.
I got news for robert_paul124. Ballsack Girl wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. She is still miles out of your league, with or without ballsack hair. Besides, she heard from her sister's ex-boyfriend's brother that you have gross backne and your breath smells like French onion soup.
So there.
Oh yeah, this is also the point where I blocked this guy and reported him for spam, natch.
***OMG, you guys, I just remembered that John Mellencamp is dating Meg Ryan. What a weird, random celebrity coupling that is, no? Although, I can see their '80s versions hooking up:
Oh yeah, DEFINITELY.
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Sometimes It Snows in April
Damn, it just doesn't feel real, does it? The headline "Prince Dies at 57" still does not compute, and it's freaky to even type that. I had the same issue with Bowie's death. It's like both Prince and Bowie were sort of these ethereal figures--almost supernatural--like it was just sort of understood that the rules of the universe did not apply to them. They were on a higher plane than the rest of us mortals.
My writer buddy Dan Kennedy said it best:
As shocked as I was by Bowie's passing, the fact that Prince is gone just seems harder to fathom somehow. My friend Marcus posted on FB that although both deaths were a huge shock, Prince hits closer to home (for Gen-Xer's like us) because, growing up in the '80s, Prince was "our guy." I totally agree.
"Little Red Corvette" (1982) was the first Prince song I remember being aware of. I recall my sister and other "big kids" really digging it, but I was just sort of neutral (also, at nine years old I was more obsessed with horses than current pop music). Then in 1984-85 there was an amazing explosion of artists and albums that coincided with that sort of musical awakening a lot of kids have at around 11 or 12 years old and I discovered Duran Duran, Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Michael Jackson and Prince--specifically the Purple Rain soundtrack--which blew my mind.
I saw Purple Rain (the movie) when it premiered on HBO in the summer of 1985. It was so dark and "adult" that it's funny to think of my little 12-year-old self watching that. I mean, my family (along with everyone else in our neighborhood) had gotten premium cable a few years earlier, and it was a big thing for us neighbor kids to secretly try to catch "the dirty parts" of movies like Porky's and Fast Times at Ridgemont High (or if we were feeling really brave, one of the Friday the 13th movies) when we were at each other's houses. But Purple Rain was a lot racier than the typical teen sex films of that era, so I'm pretty sure it was one of those movies I sneaked out to the living room to watch at like 2am while my mom and stepdad were sleeping. That was something I got really good at: creeping into the living room and turning on the TV so it was barely audible and sitting like five inches from the screen so I could hear the movie while simultaneously listening for my mom in case she woke up. (In the event that she did, I would switch off the TV, race into the kitchen, and pour myself a glass of milk so it would look like I'd just gotten up to get a drink. Back in the day, we had to be really creative with stuff like that. I think kids today have it a lot easier, they can just watch whatever they want to on their smart phones and their parents probably don't have a clue.)
Speaking of access, everyone knows by now how impossible it is to find Prince clips on YouTube; the only ones that exist seem to be live performances from award shows (which are awesome, admittedly), and the only Purple Rain clips viewable online are the ones from the trailer.
I guess this is indicative of how many times I've seen Purple Rain over the last 30 years (um, a lot), because there are a few little flashes of scenes I don't recognize:
00:28 -- Apollonia in a barn? WTF was that?
00:51 -- Prince getting smacked around by his dad (I think?) at what looks like a rehearsal space?
Marcus, help me out....do you remember any of this? I'm also unsure about the snippet with the cop car driving by Morris and Jerome. I'm guessing they were deleted scenes, but I want your opinion.
Anyway, Prince is gone, and it sucks. I have more to write on this subject but I'm still getting my head together.
(Psst...looks like someone posted the video for Take Me With U in the past few days, but it will probably get yanked ASAP, maybe by the time this goes up.)
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
I know that the 2013 Academy Awards are old news by now, but I'd still like to add my .02 and say that SETH MCFARLANE SUCKED BALLS as an Oscar host. Yes. He did. Big time.
I remember reading several months ago that McFarlane was going to host the Academy Awards, and I thought it was an odd choice. I know he's emceed a few of the Comedy Central celebrity roasts, and I know his shows (Family Guy, American Dad, The Cleveland Show) are insanely popular, but still....Seth McFarlane? Hosting the Oscars? Um....why?
He seems just as bewildered by the choice as I was.
Then I thought, "Well, okay, I guess he could be one of those wild cards that will either be totally brilliant or completely miserable." At the very least, I hoped he would be entertaining. But a few minutes into MacFarlane's opening monologue--around the time William Shatner showed up--I had a sinking feeling that the whole thing was headed straight down the crapper.
William Shatner telling Seth McFarlane how much he sucks. How meta.
It wasn't to do with William Shatner. I think William Shatner is quite funny, and he's generally pretty good at poking fun at himself. It was the fact that the show's writers were already trotting out that tired "let's interrupt the opening monologue for some lame banter" thing that Saturday Night Live has been doing since the nineties, and it makes me nuts. (Here is one of many examples, if you're curious.) Seriously, I can't stand that shit. It is such a cop out: the writers are basically saying "We couldn't come up with enough decent material for an opening monologue, so we're going to distract you with a bunch of contrived bullshit in the hopes that you won't notice." Dicks.
And speaking of body parts, there was the infamous "We Saw Your Boobs" song which was--like MacFarland's other "jokes," that night--sexist, uncomfortable, and way too long.
In the words of the great Parker Posey: "Lick me! All of you!"
It also brings up another pet peeve of mine: there's something about grownups (especially men) saying the word "boobs" that totally skeeves me out. It's like an adult saying "pee wee" instead of "penis." Obviously I don't think we should be all technical and use medical terms when talking about naughty bits; it's just that the word "boobs" in and of itself is so juvenile. Seriously, no more boobs. If you have to be crass, say "tits." But unless you're in seventh grade, please--for the love of all things holy--STOP using the word "boobs."
Thank you.
After that nonsense with the tit song and a spate of misogynistic jokes from the host, the rest of the telecast just seemed...off. It's like Seth MacFarlane and the weird, uncomfortable energy he brought threw everyone else out of whack.
To be fair, it wasn't just MacFarlane that sucked. There were some truly cringe-inducing moments with the presenters. While I like Paul Rudd--I don't think he's that funny himself, but his movies usually are, and I like Melissa McCarthy--she killed it in Bridesmaids, anyway--their little skit introducing the Best Animated Short nominees was painful to watch.
Can we not have any more of these lame sketches? Is that too much to ask?
Then, of course, there was the Ted bit with Marky Mark (okay fine, Mark Wahlberg) that was so stilted and embarrassing it made my teeth itch.
Yes, it is too much to ask. Here's Dirk Diggler with a CGI teddy bear.
It was all so bizarre that when Jennifer Lawrence did a face plant on her way to the stage after winning Best Actress, it was kind of startling but somehow not surprising, just another weird moment in a very weird night.
Fuck the haters, I'm glad she won.
But even after all the awards were given out, they weren't finished torturing us. No. That's when they had to trot out MacFarlane and Kristen Chenowith to sing a stupid song dedicated to the "losers." It's the kind of thing that Billy Crystal might have been able to pull off, but in the hands of Seth MacFarlane it was just the moldy, dried-up cherry topping off the shit sundae that was the 2013 Academy Awards.
I think Jennifer Lawrence speaks for all of us....
Sit and spin, MacFarlane. Sit and spin.
For a more in-depth piece on Seth MacFarlane's ugly, sexist display at this year's Oscars, follow the link below to Lindy West's essay. She says it all better than I could.
I try not to borrow too many clips from Everything Is Terrible, even though I'm constantly fighting the urge to post about 90% of their videos on my blog and pretend like I found/made the clips myself (which, for the record, I haven't done yet. As far as you know). But this one was just too good. I knew I had to share, and I didn't care about being derivative.
Because all art is derivative.
These shots are very nineties-heavy. Dead giveaways include:
Plaid. Lots of it.
Jeans pulled up to the armpits.
Floppy haircuts on the men and boys.
It was the only decade in which Ricki Lake, David Arquette, Skeet Ulrich, and Cuba Gooding Jr. were allowed to make movies. Well, movies that weren't direct-to-DVD.
Oops, forgot that Ricki Lake was in Hairspray in 1988 (the ONLY worthwhile movie she's done.) Seriously, she should have stuck to John Waters films. I actually paid to see that abominable "Mrs. Winterbourne" with some girlfriends when it was in theaters. I'm still pissed about that one.
I'm also still pissed about spending 9 bucks to see Eyes Wide Shit Shut in 1999. I also hated the stupid film critics who bent over backwards to praise that nut-filled turd of a movie. The worst offender was a reviewer in NUVO who wrote, "If you're the kind of person who loved Runaway Bride, you'll hate Eyes Wide Shut." Oh yeah, what if I hated both films, asshole? Do you not realize that there are more than two types of movies?
Sorry, I didn't mean for this to be a rant on wasted money and dumb film critics.
Back to the above clips, I totally didn't get that last one, the mom and kids shouting "CHIHUAHUAS!" I'm a cat person though. Maybe I'm not meant to get it.
Say what you will, the best part was Rob Lowe emoting at 1:34. He emotes hard. Go Rob go!
"There wasn't even a St. Elmo. They made it up. They made it up because they thought they needed it to keep them going when times got tough, just like you're making up all of this. We're all going through it. Hey, it's our time on the edge."
Back with a new post soon. I promise to make it 100% all natural, original material.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
One-Word Movie Reviews
Pressed for time? Check out these reviews of films I've seen over the past year or so. The good, the bad, and the stinky.
Pimpin' my new piece for Praxis! Preview below, then follow the link to your heart's content.
8 Rules For Romantic Comedies by Andie Ryan
Character Names
It is important that the two leads have charming, bite-sized first names. Acceptable names for male protagonists are Jack, Sam, and Max. These names work regardless of the character's age, personality, or profession. The rules for naming female characters are a bit more complicated. Is she quirky? Go with something cute like Lucy or Annie. Is she edgy? Go with a unisex moniker like Alex or Jesse. Is she hilariously old-fashioned? Go with a traditional name like Sarah or Kate. Read the rest here.
