It's over.
It was so good while it lasted, I don't know if it will happen again. Pursuit of Happyness. Casino Royale. Children of Men. Pan's Labyrinth. The Devil Wears Prada (not fantastic, but Meryl Streep was so rockin' I wanted to send her money). So many good movies in a row and The Da Vinci Code killed it. Did Ron Howard actually watch the tripe he gave the world and feel good about himself? Was Tom Hanks all, "If my fans can forgive me for The Terminal they can forgive me for anything!"? Did Jean Reno and Audrey Tautou have some kind of karmic debt to pay off? And why do I keep seeing Paul Bettany naked? At least Ian McKellan was kick-ass, but really, in this conglomerate of talent and power GANDALF is the scene-stealer? For the sake of Pete, I want those two and a half hours of my life back.
Sigh. Last night I saw The Holiday at the cheap/ghetto theater, and while Ms. Diaz can't act without overacting (which is great in some movies), Jack Black is very lovable and Kate Winslet, Eli Wallach, and Jude Law add actual talent. Plus, Jude is so, so pretty, and he acts well enough to make me forget he is an adulterous prick in real life, but he cheats on Sienna Miller who is color blind and hasn't gotten the message that even if you're hot you STILL have to wear clothes that flatter and not those damn leggings, so I guess I can forgive him. What was I talking about? Right, movies or something. So, in conclusion, yay Kate Winslet!
The good news is that even though Monday sucked all kinds of bad, the majority of trauma drama was relegated to that 24 hours. One of my people told me I need to lose 35 pounds, one of my low-maintenance guys was Emergency Detentioned, one of my favorite co-workers has Stage 4 cancer, and MacGyver's and my career plans for the next couple years were derailed in one fell swoop. Then I got to class and was enlightened on what I really need to be worried about: the giant African land snail. I like snails, not as much as sharks or barn owls, but I have a soft spot in my heart for them. But these guys are like the antichrist of snails: destructive, parasite-carrying sacks of protoplasm that are not giant, they are behemoth leviathons! On a small scale the icky snail bits are easy to overlook, but at 30 centimeters your eyes cannot look away, so just give in to the heebie-jeebies. Be aware, and be afraid.
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If you lost 35 pounds, you'd snap in half and blow away in the wind. What the hell?
How did you and Mac's plans get derailed? Give us a call and fill us in.
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