Broccoli cassarole was a roaring success. No whipped cream, though. But there was a chocolate martini. And literal towers of foil-wrapped leftovers for Neal and me. And then there was a turkey coma.
By some miracle, I had Friday off. Neal didn't. I used the time to its fullest advantage, namely sleeping in and doing abso-fucking-lutely nothing. I mean, nothing.
I had all these plans lying in bed Friday morning. Next thing I knew, it was Friday evening and my lazy ass was still in bed. Sure, I'd talked on the phone for hours. Yup, I went ahead and wrote an entry about my insatiable laziness, and then promptly managed to lose it. But mostly, I just laid still and thought about stuff. That's right, stuff. Heh.
Friday night, we watched The 9th Gate. I would have chose something else, but Blockbuster was practically stripped bare. I'd heard tons about how much the movie sucked, and was pleasantly surprised to find myself pretty entertained. Until the end, that is.
Me: "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!! That can't be the end. They didn't explain a SINGLE DAMN THING!"
What a waste.
Dear Johnny Depp,
Look, I know what you're trying to do. You're selecting these rather obscure, "challenging" roles, trying to maintain your integrity as an artist. It's cool and all, really.
HOWEVER... um, Johnny? I hate to break it to you, but these roles aren't so much "challenging," as they are "boring." Really boring. And guess what? You're a nice-looking fellow, and there's a little bit of a beefcake factor in your image. I'm sorry to break this to you, but much as you try to distract us, EVERYONE remembers 21 Jump Street. I'm sorry, but we do.
I know you're trying to avoid the Keanu Reeves route. I can just tell. But for God's sake, use those chiseled cheekbones to your advantage! Make us swoon! You don't have to be a Keanu-bimbo. You can pick juicier roles and add some humor and intelligence to them. I just know you can, if you'd just try.
So for the last few films, you've played boring, intellectual experts in various fields. (Astronaut, colonial scientist, bibliographer, etc.) Although the roles are mundane, you've been pulling them off okay, except for one little thing... no one is watching the damn movies. I'm sorry, but it's true.
I hate to objectify, Johnny, but I'm not the one who chose to be an actor, m'kay? So take my advice and start shaking your groove thang. Otherwise, no one's even going to let you take the mundane roles, and then where will you be?
Well, you can always be in Edward Scissorhands, The Next Cut.
Heh.
Yawn,
Jamie
Anyway. Neal and I did a whole lotta sitting around Saturday. We ran some errands and crap, too.
Yesterday, we headed over to the new apartment. The old tenants moved out, and we have a 2-week overlap where Neal and I are entitled to both places. So extensive cleaning and painting are planned. Neal mopped the walls, I scrubbed the hell out of the bathroom.
I then proceeded to have a allergy attack. Uncontrollable sneezing fits are fun! (If you like boogers, that is.) So I popped a Benadryl and we got some grub. The Benadryl then knocked me flat on my ass, so I went home and washed 84,000 dishes while in a drug-induced trance. Neal went back and did more cleaning. I'm hoping we can start painting this weekend.
Cleaning conked us both out, so we stayed in last night, too. I know, we're boring. Well, that's not true. We spend entire evenings cracking each other up, so that's pretty fun.
Anyway, I'm here at work. Whee.
Look for (another) rant about sexism later today or tomorrow. I know, you can hardly wait.
