Monday, January 15, 2007
Ray. If someone asks if you're a god, you say, "yes!"
Or in my case, when four black people turn around after Dreamgirls has finished and coo, "Did you just love it?" well, you say yes.
We were at the VIP opening for Arlington's Studio Movie Grill, all you can eat and drink. I'm glad I tried the fruit and cheese platter for FREE, cause the cheese was amazing but even I couldn't get it all on a measly five crackers. Two glasses of wine for me and a bucket o' beer for D. (Don't worry, it's fucking Miller Lite, there's no alcohol in that). And I was contemplating seeing 007 again, which they are opening, but it turned out they were only screening 4 things for the VIP night. Trust me, it was no contest and since I'm a Golden Globes/Oscar junkie, Dreamgirls needed to get knocked out sooner or later. Thank god it was free.
And don't worry, I totally bonded with my new friends over my lie (though I was curious what they thought of the whole Beyonce v. Jennifer "controversy") and they shared their third pitcher of margaritas with us. Having been consuming wine before this, I proceeded gently.
But jesus. I really thought it would be a guilty pleasure. I was drinking and I was bored off my ass. But I will say, to steal that NYTimes reviewer's line about The Vertical Hour, Jennifer Hudson did indeed MOP the damn stage with Beyonce's ass. Damn. But it still sucked, no two ways about it. And I'm starting to loathe Jamie Foxx. I just want to roll my eyes every damn time he's on the screen.
I finally started the last Prime Suspect last night, which I've been dreading. I adore Helen Mirren and the whole series, which is why I fail to see the need to make her an alcoholic. I'm not giving anything away there, it's in the preview and it's all too prevalent throughout. Almost done with the first installment. Tolerable...
But for now, it's time to wine it up and start up the pre-show Golden Globe spectacle. I printed out ballots for D and I for our guessing entertainment. But we don't make bets on these usually, just Oscars. Damn, we're too poor to make bets this time of year. (Especially since the bets usually involve him having to buy me the meat of my choice at Central Market, a trip to Dakota's...there are free ones, too. Like clean out your fucking car). We shall see.