So yesterday was the opening of Big V's second movie this summer, and I had my fingers and toes crossed that it would be better than the first. Seemed likely. Difficult for it to be worse.

On Thursday, when I was in such a rage, I called Tracing and basically told her voicemail that if she flaked out on me I would tear her head off and give it to Melissa for a birthday present this weekend. She called me back and assured me that she had no intention of standing me up. Really! And certainly if she had been thinking about it, she wasn't anymore.

So we met before the movie and went to a wrap place, because I wasn't hungry and it didn't matter that there wasn't a thing for sale that I would put into my mouth on a bet.

There was a really cute guy next to us openly eavesdropping as I regurgitated the fertility article that I had just read in Time Magazine (astoundingly depressing for a 37-year-old who hasn't been in a relationship since the first Bush was in office--I have about one viable egg left...nope, wait, there it goes!) and I noted that the mean attractiveness of the wrap place patrons was far higher than in, say, McDonald's.

Then we went to the candy store that sells English chocolate for a mere half of your net worth, and I stocked up on Crunchy and Bounty and Dairy Milk and Tracing fair staggered out under the weight of candy coke bottles. Then we were ready for Vinnie.

The movie was The Salton Sea, by the way, and it was basically great. Thank Christ, as I couldn't have gone through that again, not two weeks in a row.

The one review I read ahead of time said that it would have come off a bit better had it been released before Memento, which was, I think, correct--the man wanting to avenge his wife, the tattoos, the voiceovers, sort of the feeling of it was similar, but I don't think it took anything away from it.

The structure was interesting, and the performances were first-rate. I particularly loved Peter Sarsgaard, sweetly gentle as Val Kilmer's best friend, and Adam Goldberg and Doug Hutchinson, and Val himself was terrific for the first time in God only knows how long. Basically, he was playing three roles, the character in the past, the character in the present, and the voiceover. You see, the version of himself in the past didn't know what was coming, the present version knows everything, but is a meth-head, so he's always high, and the voiceover version knows everything and is straight. It's quite a layered performance.

And sexy sexy Vince D'Onofrio? Kicked butt, natch! He was hugely fat (one review said snottily, "D'Onofrio, who says he gained 40 pounds for the role...), his hair was badly bleached, he had a terrible hick accent, a sunburn, and, o yeah, no nose, but he still made my heart beat fast. Tracing said, after his first scene, "That's your boyfriend?" "Yep, that's my boyfriend!"

His performance was really good, over the top, verging on silly at times, but with this undercurrent of reality and menace that rooted the character in truth. He was dangerous every second he was on the screen, without playing danger all the time, and it blew me away.

Afterwards, Tracing was asleep on her feet, but I needed to pick up a couple of books at Barnes and Nobel and two cds from Tower.

I was looking for presents for a couple of pregnant people I know, and I grabbed a new copy of Watership Down and the reissue of Midnight at the Well of Souls for myself, and then I saw the perfect gift for Melissa!

It was a picture book, the sequel to the best picture book in history, Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type, called Giggle, Giggle, Quack, and it looked really good and funny. But what if she already had it? Wouldn't she have mentioned it if she already had it? I decided to take the plunge and get it. What a great gift! I couldn't wait to see her face when she opened it.

Then I ran across the street to Tower to grab the two albums that I needed desperately. The first was Jeff Buckley's Grace, because they had played a song on Alias that was perfect for the mix tape that I'm making, and the second was Andrew W.K.'s I Get Wet, because, well because I just had to have it. And no, not just because of the cover.

I've just seen him on TV several times, and each time I like the music fine, but I just really especially like him. He just seems to be so thrilled to be on TV. He just jumps up and down after performing, grinning from ear to ear, and it looks like he's thinking, "Hooray! I am on TV! I don't have to work at Texaco!"

He's just the cutest little headbanger that you ever did see, all swinging his hair around and flashing his dimples and kicking his little leg and so on. And there is just something about him that makes me want to look after him. Now don't get me wrong, I certainly want to lick the blood off his face, but I also want to feed him and make sure he has a clean shirt.

Man, how old am I again?

Today's horoscope:
Curiosity about how things work is stronger today. Don't ask embarrassing questions, but do increase your understanding.

One year ago today:
O well, I'll bet there'll be some damn Little League game tomorrow right next to my head and I'll be awake at 8a or something and I'll have to drown myself in the garden hose.

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