So I did indeed get all saucy last Thursday night, thanks to a series of bad decisions — most notably, balancing two and a half pint-sized Zeitgeist drinks on top of a dinner consisting of one scant pluot (“I guess it’s either that or ‘apricum,’” as Jill once said) — tempered only slightly by a few good decisions — gobbling a whole pile of potatoes and a surprisingly tasty bratwurst at about 11pm, leaving before giving in to the poor-judgement urge to order one last drink, and not taking off my shoes and socks when the table at which I was sitting suddenly succumbed to a weird, impromptu foot-massage impulse, an error in judgement that would have revealed my three-week old polish and shredded nails … I had noticed earlier in the evening that they needed trimming something fierce, but didn’t want to disrupt my phone conversation with the terrible, metallic snap of clippers, so I just went ahead and tore them off by hand, resulting in bare kicks that were and are cave-lady city.
Speaking of which, and I don’t want to step on Andy Rooney’s toes here, but what is the deal with people clipping their nails on the bus? It’s one of the most disgusting sounds ever, and I hear it all the time on MUNI. Like once a week! The only thing I can think of that’s worse on the ears is the sound of someone vomiting. Or asking fellow riders to “smell my finger.”
Anyway, so Friday started out badly thanks to a small hangover, but it ended spectacularly thanks to my opening-night viewing of BLUE CRUSH! Hoo, was that a fine film … crazy-excellent, just exactly what you’d want out of that kind of movie: Cute, take-back-the-night girls in sexy-practical bathing suits and huge, beautiful waves.
There was some love stuff (featuring the super-hottie star, Kate Bosworth, and the bad boyfriend from Legally Blonde), which was a little cringetastic, possibly because it was abrupt and cursory, possibly because they shared all the chemistry of a stale peanut rubbing up against a freezer-burned scallop.
And there were some sort of, I don’t know, hurt feelings? About abandonment? That somehow created barriers in both the hottie’s love life and her wave-catching technology? But whatever. The surf scenes were really thrilling, scary too, and managed to capture the amazing, frightening, exhilarating rush of being completely at the mercy of the ocean (something that even I know about, just from body-surfing meager waves growing up). In short, it rocked me! Like a hurricane!
Eminem’s 8 Mile (tagline: “Find your voice.”), which previewed before Blue Crush, looks mildly compelling, except … what is up with Brittany Murphy, Eminem’s for-reals girlfriend? You know, the “I’ll never te-hell” girl?
She’s cute and all, but did you see her at the MTV awards? It was just one endless shot after another of her singing along, word for word, with Eminem while he performed, double-flipping him off the whole time. I think she was trying to tell America that oh man did she have the album way before the rest of us … was perhaps even in the studio when the track was cut. Maybe even inspired the song itself? Huh.
It was a very specific kind of embarrassing — I mean, I did and said a lot of really goofy things when I was in my late-teens/early-twenties, and I’m just glad no one was there to capture them on film. Sadly, every last misstep of Brittany’s youthful, crushed-out-on-a-boy-that-maybe-she-she-won’t-be-dating-for-too-terribly-long exhuberence is right out there, front and center, for all the world to puzzle over.
Ever since then, she’s become a sort of unwelcome leitmotif for me, what with her showing up in every movie I rent these days: Riding in Cars with Boys (which blew so hard I almost sprained something) and Sidewalks of New York (which was OK, just a “small” movie really, possibly more depressing than strictly necessary, maybe in an effort to be taken more seriously than it needed to be?).
She might really ass it up in 8 Mile, maybe she won’t. I do think she’s actually a good actress. But I think I’ll wait for the movie to come out on video to find out. Ooh, and I have an awesome double feature idea: 8 Mile riding shotgun with Luke Perry’s stirring tale of a bronc-riding, tender-hearted superstar, 8 Seconds. (Tagline: “The sport made him a Legend. His heart made him a Hero.”)
Better still, couple it up with 9.5 Weeks and work the integer theme and the Kim Basinger angle, simultaneously.
Or maybe I should just play it safe and make myself another bucket of fudge and curl up with my Taebo tapes. Again.