Act natural

( Monday, Jan. 17, 2005 12:13 pm )

>Fri Sat Sun Mon Lazy

Saturday night David and I headed out to see either Closer or Sideways and as usual encountering a city parking dilemma were a little late and found Sideways sold out. Closer, or as I like to call it, Sexual Lunatics, turned out to be a train wreck of a picture (although I should note I hardly ever like the movies I go to see) and I was embarrassed to have taken Davy to it, even though I think we were both glad to have seen Natalie Portman bend over in a thong For Art's Sake. Anyway, my first thought after it was all over was of that Kids in the Hall sketch in which the guy (Kevin McDomald) argues with his wife (Dave Foley) and leaves the house, but thinks the better of it and comes back a moment later, only to find she's gotten married in his absence. And then he re-enters and she's abandoned with a baby. And then he re-enters and she's kissing a grown son goodbye. And then he re-enters and she's leaving for Paris. The movie has plenty of similar flashes when everyone's love/hate orientations with the other 3 characters has totally changed with just a little exposition to see you through. It takes place in London, population 4, and every new scene they're all lovey-dovey with somebody different from the last scene, For Some Reason. Hoo boy. I did learn however, whose come is sweeter, Jude Law or Clive Owen, (Jude), and what Natalie Portman's cunt tastes like ("heaven"). There's also clearly something about Art and Representation going on, but the whole thing was so soap operatic that I just gave up on trying to deconstruct it early on and just evaluated people's outfits instead.

Actually Davy thought of the name "Sexual Lunatics." Such a briliant boy. We also adopted a new favorite word, "slag" with various modifiers, from the movie, so all was not in vain.

For the rest of the weekend (today is day off number 4 hooray) I just committed the usual weekend sins of lust, sloth, and gluttony. It's always definitely good to be involved with a boy who smokes and has no muscle tone, cause there's no way he'll wanna, like, get up early to jog or play goddamn frisbee golf. Actually by the end of a weekend with Davy I'm usually exhausted with resting, although my cabin fever is always alleviated at critical points with Humorous Seductiveness, Wookiee Impressions, Other Funny Business, Co-Showering, Small Partings and Reunions, and Sex at Regular Intervals During the Day. Poor Jim, although luckily while drunk on Friday night he and I both assured each other that we find each other good company and not annoying at all.

Friday night consisted of us advising Jim at great length about how exactly to go about asking this girl out. It was very amusing, after so many nights of drunken political and sports chat, to finally be very opinionated about the topic at hand. Anyway, Davy and I, the two people least qualified to dispense romantic advice, delved into the issue, very thoroughly and minutely debating every point, with Jim periodically egging us on by neurotically re-asking "but SHOULD I CALL?" Anyway, we all drank excessively and slept late, and while Davy and I were seeking out Closer on Saturday the girl called Jim anyway, so all our work was moot. And thank god. I was a little worried upon sobriety that he might actually listen to me, but thankfully it was not so.

Weekend!

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