Yay! Linksys signal strong this evening! It’s Friday night. Self had no idea, none, that hubby had any sentimental feelings for William Petersen’s CSI character, Grissom. However, he has invited self to watch the last episode. Which is a pretty gruesome episode, dear blog readers (Self wonders: What does it say about America that perfectly normal people think nothing of watching this series while having dinner?), self has to cover her eyes when the blonde girl strapped to the table regains consciousness and first becomes aware of the various chains and saws about to be applied to her person.
Having finished the episode (with requisite shmaltz ending: Grissom united with Sara in Costa Rican rainforest– bleeeah!), hubby now sits self down and insists that, before she starts washing the dishes, she must watch Laurence Fishburne’s first CSI episode.
All right, self will humor the man. He worked like a dog while self was eating her way through Manila: he worked Saturdays and even one Sunday, and since arriving she’s eavesdropped on some of his conversations with the office and there have been meetings, many meetings, with potential investors. And plenty of nail-biting. And plenty of: Oh my God, where will we be in a few months’ time? Will we even still be alive? But self will force herself to think positive! Otherwise she’ll never stop kicking herself for having gone to Manila at this extremely critical juncture in hubby’s professional life!
So here she is, watching Laurence Fishburne (who’s grown rather thick in the neck since his Matrix days, in self’s humble opinion). Hodges seems to have come to the fore. The new blonde actress is still pretty generic blonde. Grissom looks handsome in the closing shots. Self wonders how Marg Helgenberger can maintain such erect posture.
Since the weekend is here (how very prescient of self to schedule her return for a Thursday, rare indeed are the times when she shows such perspicacity), self parses the movies now showing: There’s a new movie called “Waltz with Bashir” showing in the Aquarius. Self remembers reading a review while she was in Manila, and the review actually used the word “brilliant.” The other movie showing in the Aquarius is “Milk,” and self is happy because she certainly does want to see it before the Oscars!
In the downtown Redwood City cinema, there’s a new movie starring Renee Zellwegger, but self only likes that squinty-eyed actress when she’s playing Bridget Jones or appearing in “Jerry MacGuire.” There’s something called “Inkheart” (Whaddat??) There’s “Underworld: Rise of the Lycans” — self has seen all the Underworld movies, but this one seems to have someone else, not Kate Beckinsale: instead, the star appears to be the woman who played the puffy-lipped sado-masochistic vixen/police investigator in “Nip/Tuck.” There’s something called “Hotel for Dogs” (No, no, not another dog movie!) There’s something called “Paul Blart, Mall Cop” (No thanks! No comedies unless they star: a. Robert Downey, Jr. b. James Franco c. Seth Rogen, or d. Owen Wilson). There’s “Bride Wars,” which self thought was pretty stupid when she saw it in trailers before going to Manila, but lately Anne Hathaway’s star seems to be on the ascendant, for self read a good review of her performance in the People magazine she read on the plane home. There’s “Defiance” which — oh, my, self’s always had extreme hankering to see this movie, not least because she read the book, in 2007, but hubby says it looks depressing. There’s “Revolutionary Road,” the classy movie of the winter, starring inimitable Kate, who only seems to grow sexier as she grows older, but self doesn’t know whether she wants to see a 1950s “American Beauty.” Pass on “Bedtime Stories,” pass on “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,” which all her brothers wanted to see as soon as it opened in Manila (probably because of Oscar buzz for Dear Brad), and there’s “Last Chance Harvey,” which self does want to see, though it’s really shocking how fat Emma Thompson’s calves have gotten (Exhibit A: the recent Golden Globes, where she was a presenter). And, if self really wants to be serious about her movie-going, she should see “The Wrestler,” but she doesn’t relish looking at pillow-faced Mickey Rourke for two hours. And “Doubt” is almost gone (only show as of today was at 10 p.m.) There’s also “Gran Torino,” which appears to be experiencing something of a lift, and “The Reader” (yet another classy movie from La Kate), and “Frost/Nixon” (but now that self has read all the reviews, she wonders if this movie has anything left to surprise her with). For some reason, self feels absolutely no compulsion to see “Slumdog Millionaire.”
Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.
