October 13, 2000

So, I’m sitting here at my freelance gig, listening to some country rock fiasco blasting out of the senior editor’s – oh, I’m sorry, we’re talking dot-com -- the producer’s -- giant, spacious office that she doesn’t deserve because, my god, she’s probably younger than me and she’s got beady little brown eyes and a giant forehead while I, on the other hand, have captivatingly iridescent hazel eyes and an entirely normal-sized forehead, and goddamn it, I will never have an office.

Ahem.

What I’m trying to say is, I have a freelance job for the next two weeks, which means I have access to a crazy fast computer, and I thought I should take advantage of this by staying at work ‘til about 8 o’clock on a Friday night and, y’know, updating my site or something. Not that I have anything of note to say. Not that that has ever stopped me before.

So, last night I saw Requiem for a Dream, which, I am going to admit, I actually kinda liked. I am a bit sheepish in admitting this because, as the credits started rolling, one messy-haired woman who clearly Knew Film said to another messy-haired woman who clearly Knew Film, "The only two smart people here were the ones who walked out." I, liking to think of myself as something akin to smart, took more than a slight offense at that.

Then, to add insult to injury (and, where this film is concerned, the injury in question is a big purple throbbing gurgling open vein), the person with whom I saw the movie also thought the movie, for lack of a better or more descriptive term -- because, really, what better term is there -- sucked. And so, because I am spineless, because I have no mind of my own, because I must be liked at all costs, I said something to the effect of, "Yeah, it did suck."

Oh, for shame.

So now I tell you, I do not think Requiem for a Dream sucked. I thought it was pretty good. It has lots of Coney Island in it. Lots of Jordan Catalano tryin’ to be all badass Brooklyn. Lots of scary instrumental music. And a little bit of Jennifer Connolly naked. So, it didn’t suck.

What did suck, however, is that there was a guy behind me on the escalator as we were leaving the theater, and he was cute. This sucked because the cute guy on the escalator behind me laughed at some mindless witticism I said about how Woman on Top would make for an excellent double feature, (like I said, mindless), and then he chimed in with some equally mindless comment. And that sucked because that is when I turned around and saw that he was really cute, and so clearly could not be trying to woo me, but, rather, trying to woo my friend, who is, for all intents and purposes, a far, far better thing to do than I. So I ignored him, because I didn’t want it to look like I thought he was hitting on me. My friend ignored him, as well. We were cold-hearted snakes, yet he would not look into our eyes. Thus, the end of the cute guy on the escalator. Thus, suckage.

And then…and then…my infinitely more attractive friend, upon learning that I thought the escalator guy was cute, insults my intelligence by saying that he was "clearly into [me]," and then my taste with, "He was only marginally cute. And short. Very short." She is tall, thus has a problem with short. Me, well, let’s just say if short is the worst thing about this guy, I will gladly chop off my legs at the knee. Not only will this help foster confidence in Short Escalator Guy, but it will also put me immediately within reach of my goal weight and save me a bundle of time and money in hair removal endeavors.

Excuse me. I think I just found something to do.

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