I have the tickets, baby! Alex and I are headed down late Monday afternoon. I am SO FUCKING EXCITED. I owe my friend J an infinite debt of gratitude, as he was the one who stumbled upon the screening and, for some strange reason, thought of me. Hee hee.
I would have a drink to calm down beforehand, but I think it might just have the opposite effect.
I am hoping they have an actual print, but that is nearly too much to hope for. It might just be the DVD. But fuck me, if it's an actual print...that would be just too gorgeous for words.
It's ok. I'm fine. Really. *cough*
**FUNNEST MOVIE EVER!!**
Besides, what sort of Ellen Aim would I be if I did not attend? Sheesh!
Anyhoo. Looking forward to this weekend, as Alex and I will be running around Dallas doing whatever the hell sounds good.
Hopefully I will behave on my diet, because my pants are starting to fit again! I got on a pair of cute capris this morning and I didn't have to lie down or struggle or anything! Woo hoo!!
Oh, and last night was lots of fun--D and I met up with Mob, the wife K and the good friend Morris (who you may recall from past shenanigans). We met up with them at their hotel, the Palomar, and all ate dinner at Houston's.
Now, the first time I ate there, I was somewhat unimpressed, though I wanted to like it. This time? I stopped myself from licking the plate. Center-cut filet with glazed carrots and a nice Malbec to wash it down. The food was nearly as good as the conversation...
I was telling Morris and K about The Savage Lovecast and what I had learned from it recently (don't ask), when D and Mob asked what we were talking about. I said simply that we were discussing a podcast, but really we'd already moved on to how anyone might ever desire something as painful and involved as fisting (stolen from Skyler'sDad's site!). (I'm not sure what Morris had to say on the subject, but some things are better left unknown.) K, who delightfully has no concerns about mincing words, asked her husband from across the table--in a voice that carries even more clearly than my own (seriously!), "I mean really, sweetie, do you have any desire to ever fist my asshole?"
And I've also decided that I need to make up random stories about random friends I don't know. On the ride over, someone mentioned having had chicken cordon bleu for lunch. Morris replied, "You know, chicken cordon bleu always reminds me of Tommy Hannigan," (no idea what the real name was), "He always said the chicken cordon bleu was the worst part of rehab."
It's those colorful little stories that can really make the evening. And since these stories don't seem to happen to me, by god, it's time to just start making them up!