I'm 13,000 words into my first novel. I have to be in a certain mood to write, and this is my playlist that helps me fake the mood when I'm just not feelin' it:

Klaxons - "Golden Skans," "It's Not Over Yet"
Ting Tings - "Be the One," "Shut Up and Let Me Go"
Incubus - "Stellar"
Charlotte Sometimes - "Losing Sleep," "Waves and the Both of Us," "Sweet Valium High," "Ex-Girlfriend Syndrome," "Toy Soldier," "This Is Only for Now," "Build the Moon"
Rod Stewart - "Maggie May"
The Smiths - "This Charming Man"
Paramore - "Decode"
Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillot - "Lucky"

My precious website readers, all three of you: Please tell me you remember Farkus from A Christmas Story. He's my all-time favorite buttertoothed redhead.

"And to think... I couldn't see into this heart I knew so well, and see that it was sacrificing itself for me. No good can come to either of us without the other - I know that now."

When I was a kid, one of my favorite movies was Annie. There's this neat little scene towards the middle of the film where the fantastically wealthy Mr. Warbucks rents a Manhattan movie theater for a night and takes his charge, Annie (of "Little Orphan" fame), and his dedicated secretary, Grace Farrell (think Depression-era Pepper Potts), to a private showing of a new film. We're treated to the opening scene and then the climax of that movie-within-a-movie (for those of you keeping score, the term for this is an "embedded narrative"). In the shots that cut back to Annie's main characters, the little orphan is entranced, Grace is in tears, and Warbucks, the no-nonsense captain of industry, is flustered and embarrassed by all these shows of (*gasp*) emotion. He's particularly appalled that Grace weeps openly when the dashing movie hero's lover dies in his arms as he calls out, "Marguerite, come back! Come back!"
I just finished watching this movie, 1936's Camille, and I'm telling you what, if you don't go through at least three hankies when Robert Taylor cries over Dead Greta Garbo, you have no heart. I'm serious. Go to your doctor immediately, because there's a giant vacant place in your chest cavity. Greta Garbo is, of course, amazing; also, Robert Taylor?

Maybe I'm just old school, but I think he broods a hundred times more compellingly than Robert Pattinson does, and he's got much better hair.
Both Camille and another favorite of mine, La Traviata (the Verdi opera as filmed by Zeferelli), are based on the same source, Alexandre Dumas fils' La Dame aux Camélias . (Incidentally, Dumas fils was the illegitimate son of Alexendre Dumas, author of The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, etc.) A more recent adaptation is the visual smorgasbord that is Moulin Rouge!, the Baz Lurhmann flick with Nicole Kidman (one of her best roles, honestly) and Ewan McGregor (swoon) - and the "Come What May" scenes in Moulin Rouge! rival Camille for inducing tears in the female of the species (this one, at least).

Joel has a house rule: only two-legged mammals are allowed in beds and on couches.

Teh Fergus also has a rule: only when Joel has left for work and Katie is sawing logs with untoward ferocity can I sneak into The Big Bed unnoticed and catch some Zzzs in comfort.

Katie knows that when she wakes up to find The Bed Invader has struck again, she should, as a good and just Puppy Mommy, yell and kick Teh Fergus out of bed and be generally unpleasant so that the four-legged ones understand that they are mere dogs and do not have bed privileges. However, Katie is susceptible to extreme cuteness. When faced with cuteness of this magnatude, Katie is rendered powerless to resist Teh Fergus' wiles.

Thankfully, zee uzzer dog finds it impossible to do that which she knows is wrong.

Perhaps this is why zee uzzer dog is Joel's favorite?