Archive for February, 2010|Monthly archive page


Yes, yes, doubleawk is supposed to be a repository for snark, embarrassment, and other sassy fare, but today I have something far more important to share.  A few weeks ago, my dear friend Morgan Faust (loyal readers and friends will know her as the Mo half of MoPa) went to Sundance with a film she’d edited, 3 Backyards, which ultimately earned best director honors for Eric Mendelsohn in the US Dramatic competition.  And I was made even more gleeful by Morgan’s win than I was by her stories of celebs and swag.  (See, Doubleawk does have a heart).

Morgan and Me. Not pictured: Captain Morgan, but he was obviously there too. And I haven't hung out with him since. But I still love the real Morgan a whole lot.

Morgan herself is an incredible director, and today she’s launched a new website where you can learn more about her work.  Please visit, and tell your friends to do the same.

And no, I’m not trying to insinuate myself into her next project with bloggy-suck-upage.  I’ve already used our years of friendship to manipulate her into working on a writing project with me.  So there.

Although, I am still hoping she’ll cast me in something….  And maybe someday take me to an awards show….

A girl can dream, right?  Even an awkward one.


Like a fine wine…

No, this time I’m not blogging about a fine whine, although that’s one of the art forms for which doubleawk is known.  This time, I mean wine, as in the stuff I love to quaff!

Despite being loath to draw attention to the day of her birth (cough cough, liar, cough cough), doubleawk absolutely had to post this gleeful birthday gem.

Que Syrah, Syrah! Yum!

I got free wine for my birthday.

And not from someone who loves me, but from my favorite wine store, Donna da Vine.   Ok, so maybe the owners do love me for all the money I spend in there, but still.  Free wine (up to a $20 value) for my birthday?  Best thing ever.

Second best thing ever?  I know my little self is growing up, ’cause I didn’t go home, uncork it, and spend the afternoon in the throes of a Syrah passion.  I went to class.  Sober.  Like the good girl I should have been in college.

When I was seven, the “My Me Book” (no wonder I became a self-absorbed memoirist) our teacher had us fill in posed the question, “How old are you when you become an adult?” I said twenty-two, because “I’d be out of college and no one could tell me what to do.”  Looks like doubleawk was only about ten years late.  Or like she’s getting better (behaved) with age.  Dreary news indeed!