I would like to lodge a complaint.

But since there is nowhere to which I can effectively lodge my complaint, I must be content to vent here. Lucky you.

Yesterday, the Super-Smart Lawyer and I hunkered down to watch Temptress Moon, a Chinese film that looked promising to fit our usual Film Criteria: A good movie with some nice-looking eye candy and perhaps some sexytimes.

See?

All righty then. You see at the top where it has three pull quotes from reviews? “Sensuous!,” “Ravishing!,” and “Steamy Passion!”?

The movie had none of these elements. It was a fine movie, but it was not at all what it implied, both from the picture and the pull quotes.

If the blurbs had mentioned it was “Disturbing In Its Twisted Sensuality,” or “Showing The Result of Some Very Bad Upbringing,” that would have been more true to the film itself.

In other words, the Super-Smart Lawyer and I are owed a steamy, passionate film with ravishing sensuousness.

Yes, I have just given myself the worst earworm: “Time Passages” by Al Stewart. I HAVE mentioned I cannot stand high male singing voices, right? Yeah. Fantastic, Megan.

So anyhoo, I’m working four days a week at this new not quite a full-time, but bigger than a part-time, thing, and also continuing the other freelance and making dinners and packing lunches and TRYING not to eat ALL of the holiday cookies that are still in the house.

And I’m somehow managing it. It’s only the first week, but I’m not all worn out and overwhelmed. Maybe that’s because I like the new job so much?

Of course, I haven’t yet removed Christmas from the house (note to self: Undecorate tree), and there are larger things (note to you: Do not visit my bathroom!) that need doing, but so far–so good.

This weekend, The His Best Friend Moved To LA And The Knicks Are There This Weekend Spouse is heading to California, which means I’ll be having some fun time with the Super-Smart Lawyer and the Spawn. Much wine will be consumed (not by the Spawn, of course).

Maybe I’ll get tipsy and tackle the bathroom. It’s a thought. Maybe not a good one, but a thought nonetheless.

This weekend was a BLAST! The Long-Suffering (’Cause He’s Married To Me) Spouse and I went out for more anniversary celebration on Saturday, having tapas and wine at an East Village boite (accent circumflex is implied) before seeing Fitz And The Tantrums (YouTube search ‘em).

There, we met the Super-Smart Lawyer and her Amazing-Voiced BF, and after we went to a chichi cocktail bar in Brooklyn, where we each had two VERY STRONG cocktails.

(No, S-SL, we did not go out for more drinks. We wised up on the way home.)

Sunday, we went into the city where we got ramen (good for hangovers!).

Today, however, I think I am getting the flu, so I am pounding Vitamin C and the odd zinc lozenge. Fingers crossed I do not succumb, I have too much to do.

So a couple of nights ago we watched X-Men Origins: Wolverine, which of course I wanted to see because of the hotness of Hugh Jackman, plus I always liked Wolverine, back when the Soon-To-Be Spouse and I watched the Saturday morning X-Men cartoons (Beast is my dream man, but that’s another story).

Wow, how disappointing. I could go over all the story duds, but I am sure people far more versed in X-Men lore have done that. My favorite part, though, has to be when the Kindly Old Couple(tm) say they couldn’t leave him in the barn because it was too cold–and then in practically the next scene he’s in the barn with no shirt on! Does he run hot or something? And if so, why make a point of mentioning the barn is hot? And that wasn’t nearly the only time the guy shed his upper layer. I like me some Jackman chest, but it got to be ridiculous. And Swiss cheese shoulda been insulted at all the plot holes. I liked Liev Schrieber as Sabretooth, though.

Before that, the Super-Smart Lawyer and I watched Lost In Austen, which we both quite enjoyed–it starts out slow, but really gets engrossing after maybe half an hour.

And in case you think all I do is sit around watching movies, I have done edits on half my book, the removing the Two Big Plot Threads, at least. Then I get to stitch it all back together. Yikes.

I am gonna post something today, because I am feeling kinda lonely on out here in Brooklyn, and I wanted to talk to someone. Even if someone means I am typing on a white screen and thinking a coupla random people might read it (someone found me here by searching for “pictures of loving couples.” Um. Move along, Me and The Guy are SO not those people. Dude hardly ever smiles in pictures. Or in real life, for that matter).

I am 50 pages into the contemporary, wrestling with all kinds of stuff, like my writing process, my time management (someone else found me by searching for “SAHM time management.” HA!), my characters, voice, future, goals, etc. A whole lotta stuff.

I need to find time to write, which will mean watching fewer movies, reading fewer books, wasting less time online. I am missing my friends, particularly the Super-Smart Lawyer, whom I haven’t seen in too long (hi! if you’re reading this. She never comments here, so I don’t know). So I am going to make time for that, but I am going to do that whole ‘reaching down inside myself and figuring WTF is important, and forget the other stuff’ thing I am usually a miserable failure at.

Okay. Off to do that. Thanks for listening.

So we haven’t done it in awhile, but last night, the Super-Smart Lawyer (you know, the one I made go to The International with me. Yes, she is still speaking to me. Yes, she does love me, why do you ask?) came over for dinner and a movie.

She brought this lovely Moscato d’Asti, so fizzy and sorta sweet, but not, and it was delish. Sometimes she brings dessert, too, but we are both dealing with excess winter avoirdupois, so she did not. Anyhoo.

Based on Netflix randomly saying, “hey, Megan, you’re a freak for anything British, and pre-20th century, howz about you check out this here movie?” I looked at Firelight, and it looked good, so I took a flyer.

It was really, really good!

Firelight is set in 1838 England, a dark, edgy, not standard romance featuring–I’d say landed gentry, the guy bred sheep and lived on an estate–and a poverty-stricken woman. They strike a deal for her to bear him a child because his wife is in a 10+ year coma.

But, you know, they see each other when the child is about six and, you know, romantic mayhem ensues.

It had a lot of unexpected twists and turns, and that’s saying a lot, I think, given that I am likely featured somewhere in Netflix’s archive as ‘that batty subscriber who never met a British film or actor she didn’t like’ (amongst others of you, you know who you are).

The romance gave me that deep, heart-rending poignancy that I feel in watching North & South, Persuasion and Pride And Prejudice. And I keep thinking about it, and how much I liked it.

It starred Sophie Marceau, who was in that execrable version of Anna Karenina with Sean Bean, and Stephen Dillane, who was also in AK, but not in the same version.

(Myretta, aka the Delightful Phone Friend, told me I’d like it, and she was right. Although I do wonder if she trusts my taste anymore because I said I liked the version of Jane Eyre with Ciaran Hinds. AND the MacFadyen/Knightley P&P.)

Tomorrow, I’ll be going Asian with Farewell, My Concubine. Can you tell the Knicks are at home this week, hence keeping the attention of the Knicks Season Subscriber Husband?

So this being my weekend alone, I decided to go out to the movies. Towards this end, I enlisted the Super-Smart Lawyer, who shares my passion for Clive Owen (and who might even go to see Dan Brown’s Angels And Demons movie for the pleasure of seeing Ewan McGregor, her fave).

We saw The International, with Clive and Naomi Watts.

The movie was awful. Slow, painful, awful. And made no sense, either. And did I mention it was slow? At one point I leaned over to the S-S L and said, “Somewhere, molasses is complaining that this is slow.” And cliches up the yin-yang! The two Italians with slicked back hair and nice suits; Clive who apparently borrowed Columbo’s raincoat and wears it the entire time, just to show how earnest he is in chasing the bad guys. The bad guys, who are coldly polite white Europeans. The former communist who pronounces the goofiest bombast to display his deep internal crisis. Bah.

Both of the leads were good in their respective parts, but really? I wonder if either even read the script, or just thought, ‘hey, international banking espionage murder woo-hoo!’ Because the dialogue was leaden. There were quite a few holes in the plot that even I, non-plot follower that I am, could spot. It was based on true events, but apparently with less gunplay and much, much more paperwork.

[wait. I just went and checked out some reviews, and Ebert actually liked this! And some other reviewers did, too! Am I missing something? Am I an idiot? Did we see the same movie? I am so perplexed.]

Can you tell I am bummed? I wasn’t expecting much of anything, even the previews made it look like a dud, but this didn’t even meet those expectations.

So I came home and watched more episodes of Cranford. I still have that bad taste in my mouth from the ludicrous International, however.

The NBA All-Star Game-attending Spouse returns tomorrow, but the Nine Year-Old is away all week, so the Spouse and I will be out, together, at night! I think tomorrow we’re actually going to see a band!

Many movies this weekend: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which I liked, but the heroine’s hair was both hideous and complicated. The Super-Smart Lawyer and I had wine and ground lamb pizza. Much wine. Toby Stephens is hawt. We agreed a dance party at our house is in order. Apropos of nothing, just that we both like dancing (and did I mention the wine?!?)

Then on Saturday, the Spouse and I watched Volver, starring Penelope Cruz, who tops the Spouse’s list, now she’s gotten a little older and is packing on a little weight. It was good, did not veer into magic realism as I’d feared. We drank Spanish wine to honor the country of origin.

And on Sunday, in a rare outdoor-Frampton sighting, I saw Burn After Reading AT A MOVIE THEATRE with the Greco-Sicilian Doctor. She liked it more than I did, which is good, ’cause we were celebrating her birthday.

Yeah, yawn. I’m dull. But well-viewed.

As expected, the Super-Smart Lawyer and I had a great time last night.

So I’m kinda hurting today. But not as bad as the Convivial Spouse, who was out until 5 in the morning.

Thank goodness for play-dates and oatmeal.

Megan
PS: The graphic is just something that cracked me up. From xkcd.

We’ve had a respite here in terms of frantic frothing about North And South, but that is about to change: My girlfriend, the Super-Smart Lawyer, is coming over on Saturday and we will be watching it.

She has more passion for Ewan McGregor than I do, but we agree on Clive, Heywood Wakefield furniture, the color green, coffee, Mission Of Burma, Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings (although only one of us kissed a Dap-King a gazillion years ago, and it wasn’t me), red wine and the joy of living in Brooklyn.

Woo. And hoo.