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angelchickenYesterday my dear friend Sara and I saw Freaky Friday which was a lot of fun. Really. Cute and fairly uncomplicated and Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Whoseewhatsit seemed to be having a lot of fun.
The little boy was cute, Mark Harmon is aging beautifully (seriously. The man is hot) and Tristan is such a cutie with longish hair. It had some genuine laughs and wasn't overly preachy or too message-y. All around good fun.
The movie let out around four. And after using the bif we started toward the exit when sweet, kind Sara stops and says: "You know what. I have never snuck into a movie before" to which I replied "Huh. I don't think I have either."
As it turned out, The Secret Lives of Dentists was soon going to start, and, well, it was a movie we both wanted to see. And neither of us had plans. And movies in Manhattan are ten freaking dollars.
Campbell Scott? Yum (though more so without a mustache).
Denis Leary is funny.
And the movie was really good, though it was so real (or so I would assume as I am neither married nor with children) I felt voyeuristic, which was probably the point.
I really liked it and would definitely recommend it.
After dinner we went to a nice French restaurant on eighth and 22nd (and yes, this was my Chelsea weekend, apparently). A quick rain shower had wiped out the humidity, so we sat outside and watched the world walk by. We saw a couple of bodybuilders (in the sense that there were two of them and they were a couple) and they were both big muscley men, like the type that compete for Mr. Universe bodybuilding pageants (or whatever the male equivalent is) and they were holding hands. Two seconds later there was a couple who passed and both the men were rail thin and wearing really low hanging capri's, belly shirts and thongs. They were also holding hands.
And then I got depressed because I don't have anyone to hold hands with. Grr.
But the point is, the restaurant rocked (mmmmm, salmon and apple torte) and the movies were great and all was well.
Today, I woke up around tenish (which is happening more and more) and stayed in bed until about 2:30.
I do so love lazy Sundays.
Granted, I felt a bit slothy so I did laundry, and I am about to do dishes before I make din-din.
Oh yeah. I'm bad.
The little boy was cute, Mark Harmon is aging beautifully (seriously. The man is hot) and Tristan is such a cutie with longish hair. It had some genuine laughs and wasn't overly preachy or too message-y. All around good fun.
The movie let out around four. And after using the bif we started toward the exit when sweet, kind Sara stops and says: "You know what. I have never snuck into a movie before" to which I replied "Huh. I don't think I have either."
As it turned out, The Secret Lives of Dentists was soon going to start, and, well, it was a movie we both wanted to see. And neither of us had plans. And movies in Manhattan are ten freaking dollars.
Campbell Scott? Yum (though more so without a mustache).
Denis Leary is funny.
And the movie was really good, though it was so real (or so I would assume as I am neither married nor with children) I felt voyeuristic, which was probably the point.
I really liked it and would definitely recommend it.
After dinner we went to a nice French restaurant on eighth and 22nd (and yes, this was my Chelsea weekend, apparently). A quick rain shower had wiped out the humidity, so we sat outside and watched the world walk by. We saw a couple of bodybuilders (in the sense that there were two of them and they were a couple) and they were both big muscley men, like the type that compete for Mr. Universe bodybuilding pageants (or whatever the male equivalent is) and they were holding hands. Two seconds later there was a couple who passed and both the men were rail thin and wearing really low hanging capri's, belly shirts and thongs. They were also holding hands.
And then I got depressed because I don't have anyone to hold hands with. Grr.
But the point is, the restaurant rocked (mmmmm, salmon and apple torte) and the movies were great and all was well.
Today, I woke up around tenish (which is happening more and more) and stayed in bed until about 2:30.
I do so love lazy Sundays.
Granted, I felt a bit slothy so I did laundry, and I am about to do dishes before I make din-din.
Oh yeah. I'm bad.
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Date: 2003-09-01 09:48 am (UTC)Hand-holding is a fine thing. I greatly approve of hand-holding.