Can I buy you a couple drinks?

That is, hands down, the best line you could possibly have when a female friend, who unwittingly arranged to meet you in a strip club, arrives and realizes her mistake.

Yes, I finally watched Lost in Translation this evening. I’m happy to say that it’s the best movie I’ve seen in a hell of a long time. Happy, because I was beginning to doubt that I’d see another good “new” movie before I got old. (Things sort of fell apart for me when I got to the point where I didn’t like seeing people get shot—that singlehandedly destroyed my enjoyment of most action movies.) It’s nice that these slower-paced, thoughtful films still get made. It’s the first movie I’ve actually felt like buying in many, many years, even though it’s not one I’ll watch all that often. Heck, I think the last Real Movie my family bought was Back to the Future. That says something.

I’ll try to wax (more) eloquent about the movie later, if I can. See, I made the mistake of watching the behind-the-scenes video extra after watching the movie, and the hand-held camera shots (harkening back to my Blair Witch Project experience) made me extremely nauseated. Extremely nauseated. And, when I get this nauseated, the only thing that sets me straight is sleep. I’m not sure how it works, but that’s the way I am.

Outside of Lost in Translation, the highlight of my day was listening to a woman’s bitter impression of the two college gals who maintained an insipid conversation during my hour wait at Les Schwab (taking off my snow tires, you see). An hour is quite a while to listen to insipid conversation, let me tell you—so I’m glad I was there for the payoff.

 

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