We finally watched The Devil Wears Prada. Perhaps another time I’ll babble more about this movie because a) I’ve lately been spending a lot – and when I say a lot, I mean a lot – of time obsessing over the development of women’s clothing sizes and b) it made me twitchy because I used to work for the Devil. Not the real one, but a deeply annoying pretender to the throne, nonetheless.
Husband stayed up and watched it out of solidarity. I wasn’t feeling well and two medications had interacted to give me insomnia. We were both kinda bored by the movie, to be honest, but it still wasn’t enough to put me to sleep. Husband thought it needed some action sequences to liven it up. I pointed out I’d punch someone for those Chanel boots, he said it wasn’t enough.
Speaking of the Da Vinci Code, which we were, you just weren’t paying attention, Tom Hanks is still annoying. And it’s not often I say this, but that’s a movie that would only have benefitted from a few musical numbers. We were not amused.
Ha! There was an article in the New Yorker about the difficulties of getting that boot on in the store when one wanted to try them out. It was in talk of the town, and was quite amusing. You could get into a total smackdown over the boots, ending with a car chase where the boot holder’s car uses a yellow cab for a ramp and spins, flying through the air, over the polar bear retreat in Central Park. *that* would pack some action.
OMG, I remember that piece in the new yorker, it was hilarious.