I want to go to sleep! The predicted crash has come, it was here all bright and shiny this morning, forcing me to hit snooze for an hour. I didn't want to, I swear! Right now it's 12.33a, I should be sleeping or studying my lines or writing this entry, but the basketball game is on and my Jazz are crushing the Mavericks, so I'm not doing a damn thing.

Well, I am actually writing this entry, but it works better if we pretend that I am just staring at my man Stockton kick some Dallas ass, eyes slowly revolving like I'm Charles Wallace.

So, yesterday I needed to learn my lines, my lines, dammit, but Bridget Jones's Diary was the SAG screening, and I wasn't missing that one, baby, not a chance.

So, Tracing and I agreed to meet at 8.15p, but I left work slightly later than I expected, and basically just got there at 8.29.59 as they were closing the doors around my ears. If you are late, you don't get to go in, them's the rules.

And I was so glad that I didn't blow it, although Tracing said that if I had, we would have gone to a regular movie theatre, because it was just aces, baby! It was the best movie in the whole wide world (that is a joke, not that it's not that good, but because Fran teases me that I say that about every movie that I see).

But it really was just the swellest thing you ever did see. Renee was great--she wasn't afraid to look silly or stupid, and she looked much better with a little flesh on her than the lollipop look she is currently sporting, and the accent was quite good. The only thing was that she looked about 14, and she was supposed to be ridiculously younger than this one woman, who, in truth, looked like she could have been Renee's mother.

Hugh Grant was full of Hugh Grant-y goodness, as per usual, if not more so, because I always find him quite astoundingly attractive, but being a heel just puts him over the edge into a whole new zone of sexiness. You could feel the pheromone right through the screen, which is really something.

Colin Firth was pretty incredible as well, and without him, this movie wouldn't have worked at all. Because he was playing Mr. Darcy you see, the same Mr. Darcy that he played in Pride and Prejudice. So much so that at one point I leaned over to Tracing and whispered, "What's Mr. Darcy doing in an open-collared shirt holding paper plates with grilled sausages on them at an outdoor grill?"

Because it looked odd, you see.

But he was lovely and Hugh was lovely and Renee was lovely and Jim Broadbent and Gemma Jones were great as Mr. and Mrs. Bennet-I-mean-Jones. And I am her, that's me, that's my life. You know, except for the actually sleeping with Hugh Grant bit.

I must find my tape of Pride and Prejudice.

Afterwards I had meant to go straight home and study my lines like the good little actor that I am, but Tracing said, "You want to go out for a drink?" and I said, "Yes." Well, I'm not made of stone.

We found an upscale pizza place that had a bar and had one drink each, that I got rather looped on, since I hadn't eaten for hours and hours, and talked about the movie and the Great Night. Yep, only two days later, we were already reminiscing.

It was just astounding how perfect it was, how every element fell together ,how if any one of those people hadn't been there, it wouldn't have been as good, couldn't have, because it was only every element being present that made it what it was. And it cannot be repeated, even when Dawn comes back in May on her way home, because Dreama won't be here, and I doubt Claire can come over during the week.

It was like camp or something, this sudden intimacy, this shared experience, unrepeatable, unique. And Tracing and I celebrated its memory by closing down the pizza place--suddenly I turned around and all of the chairs were up on the tables and the staff was looking surly.

Ah, mem'ries...

Lenten entries missed:

Cindy came to New Jersey and did not visit me! No, really, she didn't! The fact that she and I have never exchanged an email, she doesn't know that I read her journal, I have no idea whether she reads mine, and she doesn't know where I live doesn't matter a damn. She also went to Arizona, had a long week, met other journallers in DC, posed the quite excellent question why eat anything that isn't your favorite food, and finished her book!

Today's horoscope:
Let loose! Footloose and fancy free activities are accented. Laugh, play and have a good time.

One year ago today:
"Gee, I notice that Jesus' table is nearly all sweets! I guess when he rose from the dead, he really really wanted a cupcake."

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Last Updated Wed 25 April 02:04:09 2001