I know the Super-Smart Lawyer saw Cheri, starring Michelle Pfeiffer and Rupert Friend; did anyone else? I hadn’t expected to like it that much (the S-S L seemed to be meh on it), but I really did. I went through a big Colette phase, back in college, so maybe it’s because I was reading more into the film than was really there?

It’s got very brittle, very facile themes, and equally facile characters. I think the film did a good job at portraying just how empty the characters were.

But even without liking it, you had to like the costumes. Oh. My. Lord. The costumes were incredible. And the main characters weren’t hard to look at either,:

Just because I found it. I [heart] noir and pulp and such.

Yesterday, the Nicknameless Friend and I went to MOMA for Free Friday. There, we saw an exhibition by the German artist Ernst Kirchner. I suggest you hie on over to the Alpha Dog’s blog for thoughts on that, since the extent of my art criticism is:

Hey, that’s neat.

And if I’m really feeling like getting in-depth, I’ll say:

I like those colors.

And then we met said AD for dinner and beer. Fun!

Today, the NF and I are watching North and South–her first time–and later watching Diane Lane’s first movie, Ladies and Gentlemen The Fabulous Stains. The Spouse had an early obsession with the movie (Hello? A young Diane Lane?!?), and is psyched to watch it with us tonight.

A good Saturday.

Is there anything more fabulous than finding a pair of jeans that look good on you? For a cheap price?

Indulge me while I get all girly here. I went into the fine town of Excelsior, MN, which has Ladies’ Nights on Thursdays, which means the stores stay open late (past 5:30!), and tons of women get all dressed up in their white slacks and bright tops (so cyuute! they exclaim in their Minnesota accents) and go shopping.

So I did too, sans the white slacks. And I found a pair of jeans that a) were fancy jeans, trouser style b) dark denim (which I love) c) look cute on me and d) were $39.

Oh, lord. My night was made. Plus my aunt (who doesn’t want to be called my aunt, ’cause she’s only seven years older than me) bought me a great Free People top and then I got a purse made of vintage Chinese wallpaper (how much more Megan can you get?!?) that was 75% off!

Yes. I am a New Yorker who got her shopping on in Excelsior, MN. And had a blast.

Okay, so one unconvinced (some would say misguided) friend calls him “Ratface,” but ohmigod is Richard Armitage hotness defined.

BBC America On Demand has a six-minute feature about RA’s character on Robin Hood called “Good Guy or Bad Guy,” and at the end of the segment, it shows him shirtless. Putting armor on. Wearing BLACK LEATHER PANTS. That don’t look stupid.

Swallow.

Anyway, so I watched Robin Hood, the actual show, and about 15 minutes into it, it hit me: It’s a lot like Power Rangers. The violence is PG, the acting (with very few exceptions) is wooden, the production values are low, the dialogue and events are totally predictable, it’s all about Good vs. Evil, except where Guy of Gisborne (RA’s character) is concerned. That no-one knows that the Night Watchman, who has clearly obvious breasts, is Marion is ludicrous.

A long time ago, Amanda McCabe told me she’d heard that Armitage had joined the cast of MI-5, another BBC show. Thank goodness. THAT show is well-done, plus it already stars Matthew Macfadyen and Rupert Penry-Jones. Hopefully I won’t have to suffer through too many more episodes of RH. You’ll notice, of course, that I haven’t eschewed the show entirely; I have my core beliefs, and one of them is that I should be able to view hotness in black leather and black eyeliner even if the context is lame.

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.

Click on over to Kwana’s place and help her get her breathing back on track. Le pant, le heave.

The Fergie interview went great, she was on a cell phone here in NYC, and we spoke for maybe all of seven minutes.

It was about a new Weight Watchers Success Stories book. I asked her what she craved when she craved food, and she said French baguettes with loads of butter and cheese. Mmm.

Tomorrow I’ll join Kristie in the Conversion Process. And do Kwana and Elizabeth‘s meme.

My freelance job is giving me the opportunity to interview Fergie, the Duchess of York tomorrow. The Witty Spouse suggests asking if her mail ever gets mixed up with the other Fergie’s (whom I have a weird ick thing about, she just creeps me out).

I honestly am terrified of doing interviews, not just because this is someone with a title. But it’s on the phone, and short, and so it should be okay. I know I’ll be sweating like a moose.