I can officially die happy
The Aimee Mann concert Wed. night was...well, there aren't words, really. She exceeded all my expectations, sounded pristine, played nearly all my favorite songs, and dissed Phil Collins and "that fucking monkey song" that beat out "Save Me" for an Oscar. Besides, the first two songs in the 4 song encore (with new material from the upcoming album, all reall gorgeous) were "4th of July" and "Red Vines." Does it get any better? Methinks not.
So, riding that high, I went for a quick drink with the Reverse Shot boys, all of whom (Pinkerton included, who was wearing a Smiths shirt that made it impossible for me to despise him) were just swell, despite the fact I barely got any time to actually talk to them. Ah, well, there's always next time.
Last night, Mikey finally got me to watch "Femme Fatale," after bribing me with pizza and wine. Have to say, really liked it, in a hot-lesbian-action-guilty-pleasure-Mrs.-John-Stamos-can't-act-her-way-out-of-a-paper-bag sort of way. That, and the abundance of kickass split screens and stellar dialogue like "You don't have to lick my ass, just fuck me."
De Palma, you scamp...
So, riding that high, I went for a quick drink with the Reverse Shot boys, all of whom (Pinkerton included, who was wearing a Smiths shirt that made it impossible for me to despise him) were just swell, despite the fact I barely got any time to actually talk to them. Ah, well, there's always next time.
Last night, Mikey finally got me to watch "Femme Fatale," after bribing me with pizza and wine. Have to say, really liked it, in a hot-lesbian-action-guilty-pleasure-Mrs.-John-Stamos-can't-act-her-way-out-of-a-paper-bag sort of way. That, and the abundance of kickass split screens and stellar dialogue like "You don't have to lick my ass, just fuck me."
De Palma, you scamp...