The weather has gone from Key West to Reykjavik in about twelve hours. Welcome to the valley. Bring your sun hat and your snowshoes.
Joan's back, Thank The Gods. If I had gone more than one hour without her OR 'Bus I surely would have succumbed to A Dreadful Malaise. We had the kind of evening that can only happen to us, with the potential for Hard Copy material magnified tenfold by the fact that Ryan was with us. We exchanged Christmas presents, to howls of delight. Joan got Mystery Date: The Game. I got Mono and Black Death. Mono has eyelashes!! That's a sentence that's never been typed before, that is.
So Ryan got a GPS thingy for Christmas (no, not from us), and the three of us went geocaching, which I had never done and highly recommend. We acquired a couple of action figures and a squirt gun, and left behind a plastic flask, some Oliver(!) swag, and LOTR valentines. Our next mission is to plant a cache in Steak & Slash, covered in bubblegum and ashes to match the surroundings. Anyway. We were sitting in our booth, thankfully sans Michael (who very nearly ran us down in the parking lot as we sprinted for the cinema, but that's another story), and the talk turned as always to movies. I mentioned the piece that Pamie wrote about how pretending that Julia Roberts was from the future made Mona Lisa Smile so much more believable. I should've known better. They could not be dissuaded from trying it out. At least Ryan bought my ticket. So we loaded up on Cherry Coke and Sudafed (no, I'm not joking. Hi, Mom!!) and prepared for the worst. Good thing, too. The high (low?) point of the whole mess was the idyllic Maypole scene, beautifully shot and costumed, whose presence in the film was to indicate that It Was May.....set to an a cappella version of "Istanbul". Yes, the song. My eyes....dear sweet tap-dancing baby Jesus, my EYES. We compensated by taking the time frame inference one crucial step further by imagining (out loud) that not only was Jula Roberts from the future, but that she was, in fact, a killer robot. This enabled the three of us to punctuate all dramatic flourishes on the screen with loud interjections of "CH-CH CH CH-CH" (as orchestrally realized in the Terminator instrumental theme). Forgive Mike Newell, Father, for He Hath Sinned. And when Team Hawlowe/Moran ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.....babies.
Reading: Still with More Things You Need To Be Told. Have handed TYNTBT off to Daria.
Last "Film" Seen: Mona Lisa Cyborg
Quote of the Evening: "Oh, hell; Gepetto's wedged under the brake pedal." (Joan)
Ta ta,
H
DOES NOT COMPUTE!
Today, YOU LEARN!
Ch-ch-ch-ch.
Good times, good times.
Posted by: Ryan M at January 31, 2005 06:44 PM