I'm on the Metromover (which is a Disneyworld-style light elevated rail with no drivers) heading toward the train. I have on my headphones and I'm listening to Meat Loaf (Everything Louder Than Everything Else)* Even through that racket, I somehow manage to hear my cell phone ring (The Ramones: Sheena Is a Punk Rocker). I pull one earplug out, and answer the phone. It's RJ.
Here is our conversation, more or less in its entirety.**
RJ: Where are you?
Me: On the shuttle, we're at (looks out the window) Knight Center. Are you at the station?
RJ: Yeah. The southbound train is delayed. I think it's stuck in Overtown.
Me: Where are you on the platform? I'll catch up with you.
RJ: Hmmm. It looks like the train is coming now.
Me: Are you going to get on, or are you going to wait for me?
RJ: Ummmmmm. I'm getting on. Why?
Me: Well, if you waited, we could talk about the Oscars.
RJ: (pause) I didn't watch them.
Me: WHAT??? How could you not watch them? It's like the movie lovers' religious holiday. Child, how can you NOT watch the Oscars, I mean, other than that it's boring, nobody looked too good and Jon Stewart totally sucked as the host?
RJ: Well, that. And I didn't see any of the movies.
Me: Me, neither. Does it really matter? (Sees train heading south) (Suspiciously) Are you on that train?
RJ: Yes.
Me: Bitch.
Both: Raucous laughter, then hang up.
I meant it, too. Not that. The part about Jon Stewart sucking. I don't get it. The guy is brilliantly funny. How he could have slipped into such mealy-mouthed, poor man's version of the very UN-funny Billy Crystal, I just don't know.
Isaac Misrahi was tamed down to boring. The clothes the women stars were wearing were black, black, chocolate brown, navy blue, beige, ecru, sand and black. Except for the handful of women in various shades of Kodak yellow, which, I have to say, was flattering on exactly none. As for the men, nobody even tried to pull a Johnny Depp and dress with a little out-there flair. Boring. Boring. Boring. Face it, the highlight of the evening was Sandra Bullock showing that her dress had pockets. And she was with Keanu...who just keeps getting stiffer and stiffer and thicker and thicker. It's sad.
Speaking of sad, how sad was it that the message last night was "DVDs bad. Multiplexes good." I could have bought that argument, that movies are an art form best enjoyed on a big screen, in the dark with strangers, if there were still big screens in the dark. But there aren't. There are screens slightly larger than a two-car garage door, in a dimly-lit space with strangers yammering on cell phones, playing with Blackberries and not minding their kids. Even though my big tv is smaller than a one-car garage door, I still prefer to watch movies there.
I do go to the multimegaplex on occasion, I went (with RJ, as a matter of fact) to see the latest Harry Potter movie. We went on a week night, during the dinner hour, and were rewarded with great seats, and nobody but our husbands there with us. If all movie experiences could be like that, I might go more often. Honestly, though, ever since they made movie theater popcorn healthier by not popping it in palm oil, the bloom is off the rose for me.
But I digress. I watched the Oscars, but I didn't enjoy it.
*(Go ahead, have a laugh at my pathetic musical tastes. I'll tell you something else, I love Diamond Dave. Yes. Oh yes, I said it. I love David Lee Roth.)
** My god, but we amuse ourselves. It's sad, really.
Here is our conversation, more or less in its entirety.**
RJ: Where are you?
Me: On the shuttle, we're at (looks out the window) Knight Center. Are you at the station?
RJ: Yeah. The southbound train is delayed. I think it's stuck in Overtown.
Me: Where are you on the platform? I'll catch up with you.
RJ: Hmmm. It looks like the train is coming now.
Me: Are you going to get on, or are you going to wait for me?
RJ: Ummmmmm. I'm getting on. Why?
Me: Well, if you waited, we could talk about the Oscars.
RJ: (pause) I didn't watch them.
Me: WHAT??? How could you not watch them? It's like the movie lovers' religious holiday. Child, how can you NOT watch the Oscars, I mean, other than that it's boring, nobody looked too good and Jon Stewart totally sucked as the host?
RJ: Well, that. And I didn't see any of the movies.
Me: Me, neither. Does it really matter? (Sees train heading south) (Suspiciously) Are you on that train?
RJ: Yes.
Me: Bitch.
Both: Raucous laughter, then hang up.
I meant it, too. Not that. The part about Jon Stewart sucking. I don't get it. The guy is brilliantly funny. How he could have slipped into such mealy-mouthed, poor man's version of the very UN-funny Billy Crystal, I just don't know.
Isaac Misrahi was tamed down to boring. The clothes the women stars were wearing were black, black, chocolate brown, navy blue, beige, ecru, sand and black. Except for the handful of women in various shades of Kodak yellow, which, I have to say, was flattering on exactly none. As for the men, nobody even tried to pull a Johnny Depp and dress with a little out-there flair. Boring. Boring. Boring. Face it, the highlight of the evening was Sandra Bullock showing that her dress had pockets. And she was with Keanu...who just keeps getting stiffer and stiffer and thicker and thicker. It's sad.
Speaking of sad, how sad was it that the message last night was "DVDs bad. Multiplexes good." I could have bought that argument, that movies are an art form best enjoyed on a big screen, in the dark with strangers, if there were still big screens in the dark. But there aren't. There are screens slightly larger than a two-car garage door, in a dimly-lit space with strangers yammering on cell phones, playing with Blackberries and not minding their kids. Even though my big tv is smaller than a one-car garage door, I still prefer to watch movies there.
I do go to the multimegaplex on occasion, I went (with RJ, as a matter of fact) to see the latest Harry Potter movie. We went on a week night, during the dinner hour, and were rewarded with great seats, and nobody but our husbands there with us. If all movie experiences could be like that, I might go more often. Honestly, though, ever since they made movie theater popcorn healthier by not popping it in palm oil, the bloom is off the rose for me.
But I digress. I watched the Oscars, but I didn't enjoy it.
*(Go ahead, have a laugh at my pathetic musical tastes. I'll tell you something else, I love Diamond Dave. Yes. Oh yes, I said it. I love David Lee Roth.)
** My god, but we amuse ourselves. It's sad, really.