Look at your little eyes.

Today I walked into Best Buy, all excited to finally purchase two movies: Little Women and A Little Princess. I expected them to be side by side in the Family section, but unfortunately neither was in stock. So then I decided to look for The English Patient, which I've never even seen, but have always wanted to because I think I'd love it and it won Best Picture in 1996. That wasn't there either.

No movies from Best Buy for me. Now there is nothing left for me to do but try and take artistic digital images and trudge out in the snow at 10:00 because my future depends on it, or so they say.

I'm much sadder about this than a twenty-year-old should be.

Lock it up.

Guess who had to answer the door when Steve-Brady-Will-Hunting the Rodenticide man came persistantly a knockin' to check our glue traps at 9:30 this morning?

Me. The best part is what I got to wear: My XL-one-size-fits-all Titanic t-shirt circa 6th grade, my XL men's sweatpants with the saggy inseam and elastics at the bottom, my fleece Laura Ashley robe from BJ's and my dirty glasses. Luckily I had woken up two minutes before he came, so I had already removed the retainers.

There was nothing in the glue traps, thank the Lord. 

Last night I had a dream in which everyone was playing a huge game of Shout About Movies in a movie theater, and then afterward Natale, Liz, Natalie, my cousin Celine and my sister were sitting around my fireplace listening to Kristina and I complain about literally everything when my dad interrupted us by telling us to get on the commuter rail because we were all going to Neiman Marcus for dinner, so Natale ran inside my coat closet and emerged awhile later in a completely different, dinner appropriate outfit.

"Bacon...baconbaconbacon." - Eleanor

Yesterday I succeeded in smuggling a waffle cone full of ice cream into the movie theater.

I think I MAY qualify for the title of movie food smuggling champion. 

My computer desktop is Liza Minelli and David Gest's wedding photo. It gets me every time.

Daddy, why won't Shakira wrestle an alligator?

I don't know what it is about weird weather weekends spent watching movies and consuming massive amounts of football food, but sometimes you just need them. 

Natale is back in Florida, which is very sad, but at least he took a commemerative shot of vegetable dip with my mom before he departed. Ohhh love him.

And now for the highlights:

1. Kristina slumbered here because her parents are totally inSpain. We spent a lot of time in the Hatch, committed to E! because the TV in there has no remote because it was born before those were invented. Scarlett hosted SNL and was amazing.

2. Saw Munich, which was about thirty hours long, but at least I won the Game. Camera B operator was definitely named Danielle. The Game is when you watch all of the credits of a movie to see if anyone has same name as you, nicknames do not count. If they did, I'd win every time, because apparantly there is some quota that needs to be filled in Hollywood where you NEED a person named Randy on the project. Natale, I know you're being a creep and sneakily reading this, so if you want me to give you a list of some movies you should watch if YOU want a chance in hell of winning, let me know. I used IMDB to cheat a little.

3. This morning we made banana pancakes and pretended that it was the weekend. Didn't have to pretend too hard, but make believe is always fun.


Back to Boston tomorrow and GOLDEN GLOBES!!

You are worthless, Alec Baldwin.

Obvious reasons aside, here is why I identify with Scarlett:

"If I spend an hour in the gym in the morning I feel great about myself for the next three days. I'm like, 'I can eat whatever I want. I went to the gym for an hour three days ago.'"

...I did pilates with Natale for two hours before Christmas, and the night before that, I did a few sit ups. This makes it fine that strawberry ice cream on top of the MASSIVE amount of unnecessary food I have consumed all day ("Oh goodness, I am so full, I could not possibly eat another bite..what's that? Pizza? Oh, well if you insist.") is so delicious at 11:45 p.m., especially on my poor throat, which has been itchy for days now.

Other than eat, today I went to Providence to see Evita with my mom and Natale, which was an interesting musical. Does anyone know where/if Evita's body was found after the 17 years it was missing? The show kind of left me hanging. I was also disappointed to learn that Evita was a money hoarding slut and not the humanitarian saint I for some reason thought she was. 

Maybe I should actually learn more on the subject via historical reference and NOT Andrew Lloyd Webber musical before I pass my final judgement on the woman. But uh...really? She deserved a musical, Andrew?

Then I hung out with Kristina and the Blanchflowers, where Natale informed Mr. Blanchflower that a stool killed Hilary Swank in Million Dollar Baby and we watched Team America, which continues to surprise me with its hilarity, mainly because I think Trey Parkey MAY actually hate Alec Baldwin as much as, if not more than I do.

Burlington with Mumsy to try and get a hardrive and my godforsaken B key refastened at the Apple store, as well as LNT tomorrow.

Theresa toasts a bagel.

Ever think about what your E! True Hollywood Story would be like? Naturally I always do, mainly because I love E! True Hollywood Stories and the concept of being famous. Mine would be pretty cool. There'd be a grainy, sepia-toned shot of the exterior of Linens N Things for one, maybe another of a "Welcome to Leominster" sign (because there are like fifteen of those). Then they'd interview some distant member of my family or a really random friend that I haven't spoken to in years, anyone ready to just DIVULGE in my life's secrets, like that random aunt of the Hiltons that loves talking about Paris and Nicole, or Lindsay Lohan's one time friend with a massive nosering who is probably not allowed to hang out with Lindsay anymore, so she just jumped at the opportunity to be interviewed for E!THS. Heh. I wonder which of my friends would do that...

This is Clint Eastwood's mom, Ruth. She was born in 1909. Clint Eastwood was 11 pounds when he was born.

http://us.movies1.yimg.com/movies.yahoo.com/images/hv/photo/movie_pix/oscars/76th_annual_academy_awards_arrivals_photos/clint_eastwood/oscars4.jpg

Whisper Quietly To Your Team About Movies

I thought work would blow tonight, but it didn't, mainly because Jen was there and the damaged snacks just FLOWED in. Now I have a bellyache, thanks to a liter of seltz, gummi raspberries, Kids, sour jelly beans, chocolate graham chracker pretzels and pistacios, in addition to the nutritous vending machine dinner of bacon cheddar potato skin chips and Kit Kat bar. Sickening. I should really work on thinking ahead.

Shh, don't tell anyone, because there are no little secrets, but Match Point comes out in Boston on Friday, peeyourpantswithexcitement. (1:00, 4:00, 7:00, and 10:00 at AMC Fenway, student discount $7.50 WHAT?) My favorite thing about the locale of my apartment is probably its proximity to AMC Fenway, in the Select City of Boston. Bliss.

I'm thinking of capping off the night with Cinderella Man. Going to bed depressed plus the unruly combination of crappy food I have consumed this evening should make for some really bitchin' dreams that I may or may not remember, like last night, where I was on Lost, hanging out with Boone. Oh, Boone. What a strange name. Written out it looks like it should either rhyme with "no one" or be pronounced Boonie or be a typo for Bone.

5...4...-...3...2...1

If this New Year's Eve Extravaganza set the tone for 2006, then I think we're in for a real treat.

I really just love my friends and my family so much, especially when Gabrielle dances, Paul just wants to express himself by acquiring a pom pom fur scarf/cat toy and cubic zirconia earrings, only to be pressured into Yankee Swapping for a manly hammer by his father, my Uncle Stu, who put his Yankee Swap prize (a crushed velvet Santa underwear ensemble) to good use by sprinting a few laps around the first floor of my house wearing nothing but a hat and boxers to ring in the new year. 

And naturally, Grandmama wore the Suzanne Somers gold glittery pajamas, complete with cape. 

For me, the BEST part is that my friends rock SO much that they completely just blend in, embrace the madness and dance along, as my mother, covered in confetti and donning a party hat tries to force feed them beans and champange.

So I just feel really lucky because they are all pretty much the bomb and I love them.

Off to bed for moi though, nothing says celebration quite like a 9-2 shift at Linens N Things.

After that, I think it is high time to just lie down and watch several movies in a row.



Oh yeah, that lurch you just felt was the world slowing its' rotation.