O Mr. Littlejeans!
Basement-Life has a cool review of The Royal Tenenbaums, which I plan on seeing this weekend. Interesting side note: it was written by Joey Sweeney, who also wrote the fabulous year-end music article in Salon. I loved it so much, I wrote him an email:
To: Joey Sweeney
Re: Year End Music
I just want to commend you on your excellent article, and tell you to get out of my brain, because you are obviously living there. I’ve yet to read an article that I agree with 100%, especially about music. I should either find more controversial reading material, or marry you, but since my last boyfriend was named Joey and it would be way too weird to date two Joeys in one lifetime, I’ll just go look for something else to read.
that’s very sweet. thank you for the nice words. i just pulled a booger out of my nose that was so huge i couldn’t see my finger. oh my god.
Happy New Year’s, all.
The Best Sentence Ever, Regardless of Context:
S, to K: “See, that is why you don’t deserve to have teeth.”
B: He’ll say, “I’m sorry sir, the rave is in that museum,” as the Guy Who Works at The Museum points at the Other Museum.
S: That is the best sentence I’ve heard in a long time.
B: I wonder if Stone Phillips will be at the rave.
S: When is he not?
Auld Lang Syne:
Me: Maybe you and I should try to start a new New Year’s tradition this year…
Me: When it’s midnight, we should smile fetchingly, lean in close, and punch people in the stomach.
Me: Just to spice things up.
Him: This is why I love you.
I was mulling this over:
Typically, nothing good ever follows the phrase “...and one more thing: ”.
That’s some crazy punctuation there, though.
Little Dragon Revisited:
One quick Google search turned up Laura’s first kiss. Please, leave all your pole vaulting jokes at the door, because I’ve already made them.
Tonight, at the Mexican restaurant:
Sarah: That guy over there looks like my first kiss.
Laura: I remember my first kiss! Mmm… it reminded me of oysters.
Sarah [gets out pen and paper to record that comment]
Laura: Do you want to know his name?
Sarah [writing]: Sure, but it’s not going to top that line.
Laura: His name was Chris Westfield, but his Chinese name was Little Dragon.
Sarah [retrieves pen and paper]
Other Sarah Browns of Note:
Stealing directly from my old page, here are links to some other Sarah Browns. Judging from these, I would go so far as to say that I am more attractive than 87% of all Sarah Browns. (Except for the dead one, and the YWCA in Memphis.)
- This Sarah Brown is a mediocre soap opera actress. But wait—that’s redundant.
- This Sarah Brown is by far the coolest.
- This Sarah Brown is a dork.
- I wish I was this Sarah Brown.
- Or this one.
- This Sarah Brown is dead.
- This Sarah Brown is a grandma cop!
- This Sarah Brown does not want teenagers to have sex.
- This Sarah Brown has an album on Blind Pig records.
- This Sarah Brown is really more of a building than a person.
- About a year ago, this Sarah Brown’s link was right after mine in Google’s search for “Sarah Brown.” I was 162 (out of 588,000). Now I’m #10. 10! That’s Ivy League, baby.
Chasing the Girl:
Mazarin has a new album! Did you know that Mazarin has a new album? I didn’t! Aren’t you excited? I am! Can you afford it? I can’t!
Last night, while doing my dad’s company Christmas cards in calligraphy (the annual task of much grumbling), I watched some awful Penelope Cruz movie on HBO—Woman on Top, perhaps? The writing was beyond terrible, and the plot was inane, but I’ll be damned if she isn’t just bewitching. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. They also could have used the movie to bolster travel agent business, because as horrible as it was, when it was over, I was gripped with a sudden desire to visit San Francisco and Brazil.
A word of advice:
When people ask you if, after the party, you want to go to “Taylor’s house,” you do not. All Taylor has at his house is lots of cats and pot and red Christmas lights, and his weird girlfriend playing the organ. Yes, like a church organ. And I know what you are thinking, because initially, I thought it too: An organ? That can’t be all bad! How quirky! But trust me: you are very wrong. A bad end to a bad evening.