AN EVENING WITH THE PRETTY BOYS
::sighs:: I've exhausted myself with swooning. I almost went to Paris this afternoon - Flatmates pounced on me completely unexpectedly (come on, Saturday afternoon and someone's got a plan? It doesn't happen in our house...) and told me that they were just about to book Eurostar tickets to Paris on some kind of super cheap deal and would be leaving in an hour's time, if I wanted to come. I didn't. I had just got back in from grocery shopping for the week and was not prepared to go back out into the ninth circle of hell that our area becomes every weekend. And the deal stipulated a very VERY early return tomorrow morning, and Flatmates weren't booking any accomodation either and were planning to just keep going until dawn and since I've just very grudgingly paid my rent and have yet to be paid, and can't afford even this trip whcih seems to consist of little more than a few hours of fun and then sitting freezing on a park bench until sun-up... it just didn't appeal.
So what did I do? I rented The Talented Mr Ripley, bought myself the most orgasmically rich and deep Chilean red wine I have tasted since one memorable Valentine's day in Cambridge, sat back and just wallowed. Before I flicked on the video, I got distracted by Plunkett and McLeane and watched that - a very good-looking film if a bit flippant. It's clever but only in the way modern Shakespeare is: innovative, refreshing, original while simultaneously butt-clenchingly embarassing and tawdry. Pretty boys though. And nice costumes. But too many wigs.
And in Talented Mr Ripley - god, I want to go to Italy. It was like one long moving postcard, with "Wish you were here...?" scribbled all over it. And of course, Jude Law and Matt Damon are quite attractive too. Who would like to join me in playing with them?
Oh, after this evening's viewing, how will I ever get to sleep?