I went and saw No Country For Old Men on Sunday and it scared the bejeesus out of me. In a good way, but still, I spent at least a quarter of the movie with my heart pounding, hiding behind my hands.
Also, is it just me, or is it almost impossible to take Woody Harrelson seriously in a movie? All he has to do is show up in a ten gallon hat and I’m already chuckling.
My winter TV viewing seems particularly bleak right now without any new episodes of, well, anything, and no Golden Globes. I know they’re ridiculous, but I love them. And having the winners announced in a press conference just doesn’t do it for me. I want the glitz and glamour of seeing how badly Keira Knightley needs a sandwich and watching a drunken Jack Nicholson yell (probably obscene) things at the Miss Golden Globes (who was supposed to be Rumer Willis this year, which would have been amazing).
I did watch Me and You and Everyone We Know again last night for the first time since it came out, however, and remembered how wonderfully wacky Miranda July is (and realized for the first time that she looks a lot like Monique).
I had forgotten how totally priceless the scene with the curator and her assistant viewing potential works was: “Email wouldn’t even be possible without AIDS.” Oh my lord.
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