You guys, I am living Notting Hill this morning, and not the part where I hang out on a park bench in London and listen to Hugh Grant read Henry James (...yet).
I'm skipping out on work this morning to attend the press junket for Night at the Museum 2--it's at the Smithsonian Castle--and am strangely surprised to find that this is, like, a real
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Also, we should totally watch Notting Hill this weekend! It was on last weekend, and I watched part of it, even though I own it, and was all, "Aww, I heart you, movie!"
"I think the apricots was the real low point." Hee!
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Hee! I wish. Then I wouldn't have had to leave early. Except then my whole office would have been there, cramping my style. (Ha, my "style." Fear of famous people is not a great quality in an entertainment journalist.)
Also, we should totally watch Notting Hill this weekend!
Okay! I vote we do something out and about, and then maybe watch the movie as a reward for all our out-and-aboutness. What do you think?
Also, I feel the need to tell you that I quote your George Michael icon to myself all the time. That's such a useful line.
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