On Friday night, a few friends and I enjoyed the latest Coen brothers film, Burn After Reading. It was typical Coen fare, in that it's oddball hilarious with bursts of violence. I think anyone who can appreciate the directors' style will enjoy this movie, but I can see where people might despise it. However, let's get to the important thing here: George Clooney can sell me on anything. His character wears a gold necklace, and he's still gorgeous. Sizzling. Amazing. As Rachel Zoe might say, "bananas amazing." Gold necklaces are somewhat of a dealbreaker for me. (Not that I'm in the market to be making any deals!) BUT - George is always charming, endearing, sexy, and BANANAS AMAZING.
After the film, I think Gaby could particularly sense the effect George has on me. I get caught up in it, I get hyper and giggly. Schoolgirl status, if you will. And when I said George can sell me anything, I meant it; his character has a lot of downgrades/dealbreakers. But, whatever. The cast of the film was brilliant; they're all great actors from Tilda to Frances to Brad. But my heart always belongs to George.
(But not in real life, obviously, obviously, obviously.)
Anyway, Saturday was spent lazily and with little activity - it's nice to do so. And if you haven't seen the amazingness that was the Fey/Poehler Palin/Clinton opening sketch of SNL, PLEASE DO SO. Quite hilarious. The rest of the episode hosted by Michael Phelps bombed, as SNL tends to do these days. And you know why this particular one was less than impressive? MICHAEL PHELPS IS A SWIMMER, not an actor, and certainly not a comedian. I can only hope Fey continues to come back to portray Palin, as her impression was dead-on from her look to her accent - and dare I say, the things that came out of her mouth... Sometimes it's frightening how close satire is to reality.
Yesterday was Football Sunday. We've ushered in a new season, thus, Erica, Jesse and Jessica's place is THE place to be for televised Pats games each Sunday. Cause, y'know, we have the 52" HDTV. Whatever. Erica concocted a brilliant sangria for the Pats v Jets game, which the Pats won triumphantly, and we watched with our heads in a tizzy via Erica's drink. (You could probably equate this feeling to post-Clooney intake, as well.) I'll say it now: Erica's mixes are always delicious, and this one even had an ingredient called Venom.
Now it is Monday, and the calm of the weekend has vanished.