Thursday, July 31, 2003
I'll start with the small news first: It looks like movie night is going to be a weekly thing. Which is cool; I like Kate and Jen. Kate would really be my type if I were still me, and I certainly wouldn't kick Jen out of bed for eating cookies. I don't like lying to them, but who wants his only friends to think he's nuts? Jen's seeing someone, anyway, and Kate just got out of a relationship. Not that either of them would go for me right now, of course.
Of course, the problem with combining "movie night" with "girls' night out" is that occasionally you wind up at something like Morvern Callar. It's definitely a chick flick - I don't think there are any male characters of any consequence in it - and outward appearances aside, I'm not a chick. It bored me senseless, and that's from someone who loved Samantha Morton in Minority Report. I felt stupid watching it, especially seeing Kate really getting into it and Jen at least not looking at the clock like I was. (How strange is that clock in the Brattle, anyway? I can't think of any other movie theaters that have working clocks in the auditorium) And looking at the clock just reminded me that I could have been home or at a bar watching the Sox game at first.
Afterward, Kate was going on about how the lack of men in the movie made it about female independence or something, but Morvern doesn't actually do anything except live off the money and work of her dead boyfriend. Sure, I could see that Morvern was realizing show liked women more than men, and this made her something of an outcast, but it wasn't terribly entertaining, especially since she seemed so dim. I don't think Kate expected a receptionist to really be analyzing a movie like that, so it kind of broke down before we could really get into it. Jen just jokingly seperated us and said it was my turn to choose the movie next week. I think they're expecting me to choose something just as arty. Oh, how wrong they are...
Anyway, I got to Michelle's apartment and turned on the ballgame and immediately wished I hadn't - it was an ugly, Nomar-less mess that added credence to the idea that Ramiro Mendoza is some kind of Yankee spy. But that wasn't the big news.
The big news is that there was a message from Kurt on Michelle's answering machine. I wasn't quite starting to get worried - after all, a lot of guys will wait two or three weeks before getting a phone number before calling a girl - but it's a load off my mind. I'll probably call him back sometime tonight, and hopefully this will put me on the road to getting my real life back.
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