you can only move south down the coast

Leaving Las Vegas:  well! That certainly was a repellent little nugget of cinema. Hey Emerson College film nerds, and I know there are a couple of you lurking around out there, can somebody please explain this carnival of atrocities to me? Total slam-your-hand-in-the-drawer theatre, by which I mean, I wouldn’t slam my hand in a drawer for two hours, so I’m not entirely sure why I sat through the whole thing (see also Precious; anything by Neil LaBute). I made Tom watch an episode of White Collar with me afterwards, so I could scrub out my eyeballs with a little Matt Bomer, and this morning I am going to put Leap Year at the top of my Netflix queue.

In a Breadbowl: It’s cold and I think I’m getting a cough, so I’m obsessed with the Soup Factory. I  got their cookbook out from the library yesterday and am looking forward to many happy evenings with my Le Creuset. First up: split pea with bacon. Then tomato-corn.

Chris and Lauren: are getting married this weekend! And Marissa is coming to visit! And I am getting a manicure and buying some city flats and working on the novel, and nobody is gonna rain on my parade.

Tell me good things.