p.s. another chic flix

If I didn't already admit to watching everything, I mean damn near every mainstream and as many art films as possible, I wouldn't wretch at the concept of P.S. I Love You. The book has been sitting on my to read shelf for a couple years, cute little pink of a pulp. It was on last night, so why not. What surprised me was that I didn't even know Harry Connick, Jr was is it - he never got proper billing, it was all about Hilary Swank. I still don't get why people love her - I really don't see her as an Oscar caliber actress. She's skinny with horse teeth and boobs. Maybe that's very superficial of me, but that's what I see, not some amazing artist.

Casting - see the forward where I gush about the men. But the women? Who could possibly see Lisa Kudrow a best friend of a women who is just turning 30? Love Lisa, she's funny as shit, but she's too old for the part. Gina Gershon? I was just waiting for her to turn diver on her gal pals.

I must confess, in all the girliness of the movie, I thought it was very heartfelt. There were way too many cute moments, great first kisses. I wish me a man who thought enough about me to plan out how I'd get through the next year after he died. I know no one reads this, it's really a log for me to list what I'm watching, reading, listening, ie. my consumption, so I can admit this. When the girls are stuck in the boat, Gina lets it slip she's preggers and Lisa says she's getting married - the look on "Holly's" face, the sadness in her eyes, I know that, I feel that. It's the feeling of being left behind, that you no longer belong, you can't keep up with the Joneses, what the fuck have I done to deserve where I am in my life...I've been there for some time. I don't really have many single or childless girlfriends anymore. I'm stuck in this odd place, not yet a spinster, certainly not an old maid, but I feel the air turning to pea soup around me. Haven't spoken to her since the twins were born. Sometimes I feel like the one who really wants to get pregnant can't feel as if it's fair to talk about it with me. She's planning a wedding and my offers to help are brushed aside as maybe I just don't get it. My life took a left turn before Albuquerque and I'm not on level playing field. I find it hard to relate - I find that they are finding it harder to relate to me. Not knowing what to say. Not wanting to hurt my feelings. I know that look - and although I don't think Ms. Swank is all that, she pulled off that look like she owned it...it takes one to know one.

Now after that pity party, I really must talk about the men. I realised that I truly do have a thing for facial hair. Gerald Butler is hot, well, with facial hair. I wasn't all into him in this film, clean shaven. He just looked like he was missing something. Maybe because I will now always see him as Frank Miller's Leonidas. Then again, I have really dug him in other films. Then there's the Scottish thing (which I'll hit on in my next entry.) I'm not sure when it happened, but Jeffrey Dean Morgan (whoa, another Zach Snyder alum - can't wait for Watchmen). My tastes really have changed. Everytime I see him, I just want to engulf that smile, suck him up like a sponge. What's up with him playing dead guys?? Oh yeah, I've always loved Harry. Always. I think I was 17 when I first saw him on stage. One person who I truly missed meeting when I was in NOLA.