Keeping it Epic

When taking in the SATC movie, the last thing you'd want to be part of is a cliched sundressed quartet click-clacking your way into the Boston Common theatre.  That was one of the excuses bandied about as four of us sat on the city sidewalk, conjuring some epic and soaking up the late day sun with al fresco cocktails.  Should we scrap the 4:55 movie all together and just plant it right where we were until our 8 p.m. dinner reservation? It was tempting. At 5:05,  we decided we'd better woman up and get ourselves to the movie, lest dinner -- this month's Suppah Club -- become an event, a vodka-drenched one on an empty stomach with shoes gone missing.  A very good call.  So, we saw the movie, which was what we expected -- four episodes in a row, meow, meow, meow. However, it sort of brought everyone down a bit, which was very unexpected. We slogged off to Ivy in a haze and were seated next to a bachelorette party with a giant inflatable pink penis (that had a face) as a centerpiece. Needless to say, it took awhile for our somber waiter to deliver the dirties.  From thereon -- all hopped up on olive juice -- it went all heroic and silly around the edges.  For whatever reason (maybe b/c of the neighboring inflatable and the fact that I possessed a video) there was an engaging discussion about this thing.  Absolutely mesmerizing.  The South Shore's proverbial American Beauty plastic bag.

I'd Like to Thank...

...the fucking Oscars for keeping me up way too late again. Right now, I'm so tired and cranky that I'm talking like Grandpa from Little Miss Sunshine.

The Shining Redux

It's all in the presentation...

Snakes on a Muthafuckin' Plane

The most anticipated bad movie to hit theatres in decades has spawned yet another catchphrase even though the film has been out less than one day. The newest phrase, in its Zen-like simplicity, complements the raw eloquence of Samuel L. Jackson's -- and the film's -- flagship line: "I've had it with these muthafuckin' snakes on this muthafuckin' plane!"

According to Urban Dictionary, "snakes on a plane" is the new "shit happens," the "c'est la vie," the "whaddaya gonna do" of the noughties.

So, the next time something goes awry, something over which you have no control -- do not fret. Just take a deep breath and say,"Snakes on plane, man. Snakes on a plane."

Thank God the DaVinci Code is Finally Here...

...Not because I can't wait to see the movie but because I'm hoping to see less of this guy's fat face. It's William Donahue, the Catholic League's bitchy goon and chief gay basher, who has been bloviating about disclaimers and boycotts on every television network for more than a year -- and doing so with all the composure of one of my drunk shrill aunts. In many ways, he's the film's best publicist. I simply don't get what all the controversy is about. The DaVinci Code is a novel -- it's fiction. The film version is entertainment, not a documentary on Catholicism. Where were these morally-superior zealots when priests were raping boys? Apparently that scandal was not as formidable a threat to the church's reputation as a fictional movie. These people are idiots. As DaVinci Code author Dan Brown said, "The Catholic Church survived the teachings of Galileo and Darwin, it'll surely survive a novel written by some guy from New Hampshire." The outcry only makes it look like they really do have something to hide after all.