12.12.2004 - 11:50 a.m.
JB and I went and saw Ocean's Twelve last night, and I highly recommend it for its super-hot soundtrack, improbable heist scenarios, and Brad Pitt's wardrobe. Also, I noticed that a LOT of the Brad footage featured him talking with his mouth full - mumbling through a mouthful of chips or a wad of gum or between gulps of wine or whatever. Did some Warner Bros. focus group reveal that women find him at his most irresistible when he's spraying wet crumbs down the front of his impeccable Regis tie? Actually, my theory is that the talking-while-chewing thing is intended to convey a sort of uber-coolness, an I-can't-be-bothered-to-swallow cavalier air (remember him as Tyler in Fight Club, when Edward Norton calls him from the phone booth? "Chomp chomp chomp chomp"), both elevating Pitt to an impressive Bondlike social state while simultaneously making him more accessible and human, therefore balancing out somewhat his ridiculously good looks. The constant junk food eating also makes him look as though he doesn't in reality monitor every speck of food that goes in his mouth, the same visual bullshit we saw in Sex in the City. I mean, please, I already have to suspend belief with the fact that Sarah Jessica Parker's character somehow earned enough money to buy all those stupid shoes, must I also watch her ramming french fries down her sinewy throat every other scene?
Actually, it occurs to me that there is yet another reason - Brad Pitt has some seriously sexy jaw muscles. Yeah, that's probably it right there. Gratuitous facial beefcake. If you've seen that fine piece of cinematic art, Total Recall, you may remember a scene that, for no plot-driven reason, showed Ah-nold with a jackhammer, in order to highlight his gigantic poofy pectorals. Same thing.
Anyway, like I was saying, way back before all the chewing-related goat trails, the Ocean's Twelve soundtrack is pretty awesome - it worked perfectly in the movie and now it's a spiffy addition to my iTunes library, which means I can boogie around the house to David Holmes while, say, vacuuming. Am Armani-clad international thief! Except am actually wearing Old Navy pajama bottoms and wielding a dust mop! Sexy.
(Oh yeah, watch for Eddie Izzard in the movie. Gotta say, I like the man better with lipstick.)
I'm not sure what to do with the rest of my Sunday. JB left this morning, off on another jaunt across the ocean, this time to Taiwan but only for a few days. With the house to myself I have a number of options for activities I might not otherwise indulge myself in, like slapping on the creepy Face of Death white facial mask that smells of acne medication and dries to a hard plaster that chips off into my Diet Coke (SO GROSS, I know), or maybe just plonking down on the couch and watching back-to-back episodes of The Simpsons, because people, I don't know how it came to be, but I married a man who doesn't like The Simpsons. It's a good thing he has other redeeming qualities, that's all I have to say.
I just checked, and MAN, there's nothing playing at our local theater. Christmas with The Kranks? Jesus. Has anyone seen National Treasure? I don't know, I used to love Nicolas "This snakeskin jacket symbolizes my individuality and belief in personal freedom" Cage, but not so much anymore. Middle aged guys who marry 19-year-old sushi waitresses don't do it for me. Maybe I'll go see The Incredibles again. We came in late when we saw it a few weeks ago, so I missed the Pixar short with the...jackalope? Also, have you SEEN the preview for Constantine? WITH KEANU REEVES? I Strenuously Disapprove.
LA LA LA, this thrilling entry is brought to you by Starbuck's Christmas blend.
I actually have some chorelike things I should be doing - we're going to Sunriver, Or., with JB's family next weekend for an early holiday get together, and I'm expected to bring some desserts, just like I'm the sort of wife that bakes things, which holy shit, I guess I am. So clearly I need to test-drive the apple crumble and maybe some pistachio biscotti. Hey, how do you make peppermint bark? Is it really hard? Could the sort of person who consistently burns the bottom of cookies pull it off?
All right. I'm off for now, but I shall leave you with yet another humiliated pet:
Ho ho ho!
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comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004