Charming, but single

I am not ashamed to admit that I just downloaded “Little Miss Obsessive” by Ashlee Simpson … I’m just not telling anyone other than, you know, the people who read my blog.

I’ll put it in my secret “embarrassing” playlist, right after “Low” by Flo Rida and “I Don’t Like Your Girlfriend” by Avril Lavinge.

So the “Sex and the City” movie trailer just came out.

Jezebel has a frame-by-frame breakdown.

Thoughts? Kind of over the top, in a way that you can see more clearly after a few years away from the show? (Look, I’ll be honest. My roomie and I in college used to rent all of a season and sit there with Chinese takeout and wine and watch the whole thing years ago and it seemed far less annoying than it does now. Perhaps it was the wine.)

I’ll go see the movie anyway, I’m sure.

For some crazy reason, I want to read chick lit this holiday season. First on my list is BreakupBabe, which I bought months ago and never read, not because I didn’t want to read it, but because I haven’t really had the time.

Then I could sift through all of the publicist-gifted books I get. “Dating Up” or “How to avoid marrying a Jerk,” to name a few. (Seriously, Publishing Publicists, I love the free books. I do. Keep on keeping on. But don’t fashion publicists want to help a sister out? Maybe some cute shoes like these or a Hobo International clutch in, say, Ocean? Didn’t I once call “Envy Me” by Gucci the official scent of this blog? I also like the new Burberry scent! Free online dating? Don’t you people want to use me for something other than book reviews that I sometimes don’t even write? No? Just books?)

Leave book suggestions in the comments. Remember, I’ve never brought myself to read an entire Shopaholic book. But I did like Bridget Jones.

Sunday afternoon I saw “The Holiday.” I happen to love seeing matinee movies alone with a big diet coke and candy, which I bring in my large purses, naturally. I get there early, pick out a good seat – high and in the middle.

As the previews began, it was obvious to me that there was a projection error. There was a two-foot black stripe at the bottom of the screen and the actors’ heads were cut off at the top. I am not one to settle for a subpar movie experience. Theatres cannot always control their patrons. People will talk. Cell phones will ring. But they can definitely fix projection issues.

So I abandoned my good seat, gathered my purse and diet coke and headed to the lobby to find a staff member. A theatre manager quickly agreed to have the project fixed. By the time I got back to the theatre, the film had been corrected so that it projected correctly. Fantastic.

Not wanting to disturb my fellow moviegoers, I hunted for a row with several empty seats on the end. And as I found one, I missed a step and fell face first into the row. My drink splashed on me. My purse flew open. I was in a denim skirt, so I bashed my knees against the hard floor and I felt a breeze on my bottom. The theatre was dark, but everyone around me saw and the women around me gasped and jumped up to offer assistance. I was mortified. It was all I could do to reach under seats to put my belongings back in my purse and slouch in a seat so that I could examine my knees and assure everyone I was okay.

Cheeks burning, I swigged from the diet coke that hadn’t spilled on me and slumped in my seat, hoping that the start of the movie would distract from my faceplant on the dirty movie theatre floor.

The Holiday was good. Not spectacular, but entertaining.. It had all of the elements of a good romantic comedy – beautiful women finding their way in a cruel world, montages of budding romances, idyllic settings, charming male leads, great clothes, predictable plot. Exactly what I wanted.

It won’t be a spoiler for me to say that one woman makes movie trailers. Needless to say, this is sort of a running theme, as she has a few flashes of what the movie trailer of her life would look like.

This, of course, started me thinking about what the booming voice in a movie trailer would say if narrating the trailer to my little life.

“[Charming] grew up with in a typical Southern family …”

[Cut to footage of 23-person family dinners.]

“… surrounded by opinionated women …”

[Cue shots of gossipy Southern ladies]

“… who married young and raised children …”

[Montage of cousins running through the house]

“But when [Charming] was 17, she laid out a life plan …”

[Cut to footage of our young heroine telling the other girls at the lunch table, “I’m not going to be one of those woman who gets married and has babies young just because! I’ll wait until I’m 25 before I settle down! And then I’ll have my kids in my late twenties.”]

“ … ten years later, [Charming]’s finding out that the best laid plans of Southern girls …”

[Cue montage of clicking down the street in heels with coffee in hand, chatting on a cell phone, “It’s a date!”]

“ … often go awry …”

[Montage of falling on her face; hissing into her cell phone, “my date is CRYING about his ex wife!” and announcing “I’m going to be the ONLY single bridesmaid in the wedding!”]

“ … This Spring, follow one woman as she tries to get herself back on track …”

[Cue clips [Charming] making to do lists, going to the gym, smiling at men, with voiceover, “This will be the year that I get it all together.”]

“… and finds that sometimes straying off course …”

[Cut to [Charming] covering face and moaning to friends, “I was supposed to be married by now!”]

“ … brings you where you need to be.”

[Cue powerful chick lit pop music and scenes of dancing, kissing hot men, fabulous shoes]

I swear. I am too cheesy for words.

A few nights ago I was sitting in the cigar bar with Prom Date, after having been out to two bars after work with co-workers. I spied The Blackberry across the bar. He was talking with a Tall Man and it took me a few minutes to realize that they were looking at me pointedly.

The Blackberry came over.

“What did you and your friend have to say about me?” I asked The Blackberry

“Oh, he wants to f—k you.”

I almost choked on a sip of Merlot. I dismissed him as being silly.

But then the Tall Man came up behind The Blackberry and mouthed, “I want you.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I want you,” he mouthed again and motioned to the bathroom.

I grimaced and shook my head.

They walked off and I died laughing, “Do I look like the woman who has sex in the bathroom of a bar?”

A few minutes later, The Blackberry was back.

“You should thank me. I got that guy to go away.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yes, I told him you were my girl.”