Last night I missed Rich Franklin’s UFC fight because I was at a couple of birthday parties, warming up for a very, very bad Sunday. Seriously, I was puking until about four this afternoon and I still feel like there’s essential nutrients missing from my body. I also missed the first part of Wuthering Heights on Masterpiece Theatre tonight, because I was eating pizza. It’s not supposed to be very good but, you know, it’s the kind of story that I could easily watch twenty different adaptations of and not regret a minute of it. (Though, for the record, I really like Luis Bunuel’s the best; it’s very unlike his other movies, and set in Mexico; Cathy becomes Catalina and Heathcliff is Alejandro. It’s very dramatic, but probably a disapppointment if you’re looking for sliced eyeballs or people trapped at the dinner table or other Bunuel-ish shenanigans.)
I also haven’t seen any football this weekend, although I did watch Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day this afternoon. (It’s good! Not great, mind you, but the sets were beautiful, the costumes and hair were great, Amy Adams was hilarious, Frances McDormand was wonderful as ever, and the love story bits took my mind off the awful hangover.) I also saw the Obama concert thing this afternoon, which my friend was smart enough to record so we could watch it later and fast-forward through Garth Brooks’s American Pie/Shout/We Shall Be Free medley of shit, and also James Taylor’s dreck. By the way, though John Legend usually bores me to tears, and today was no exception, he looked really good. Everyody looked really good, actually, except James Taylor and Garth Brooks, whose pants were tighter than Shakira’s were. I really like that everybody decked themselves out in super-elegant winter wear, and most everyone had excellent scarves and coats and especially belts. Sheryl Crow even looked less like Skeletor than usual, though why anybody thought she and Will.I.Am and Herbie Hancock should all do a Bob Marley song together I can’t say. Mary J Blige looked amazing in crazy boots, so much so that I almost forgot that she has made exclusively terrible music for the last five years. She sang Lean On Me, very well, though her pre-recorded backing track sounded like it was made on Songsmith. Bono acted like a twat, the way he does, and Jon Bon Jovi didn’t really annoy me in his duet with Bettye LaVette.
Anyway. You probably saw it, so I don’t know why I’m explaining it that much. In other news, I started reading Janice Galloway’s Blood yesterday and, while I’m bad at reading short-short stories in the sense that I’m not mentally capable of reading more than one without a break, I think I’ll head back to it now.
