In the Springtime Dark

So I went to the movies with The Patented Burp and her friend, Carrington, on Wednesday.

First of all, how lovely to have a day off work. Though, ungrateful wretch that I am, it only made me long for more. But, Lord, if you're listening, not at the expense of having no job or a debilitating illness or injury or anything.

A big juicy Lotto win would do.

Anyway...we went to see Bridget Jones's Diary: The Edge of Reason and it was okay. Hugh Grant had all the best lines, of course. And Colin Firth had way too many lines - he needs more silent brooding scenes to maintain that romantic facade. There was one gag about John Curran at which Carrington snorted. I think it was a "you had to be there thing" - as in, you had to be there for many long years of artistic endeavour and suffering. I wouldn't know, having neither endeavoured nor suffered.

But the best joke of the whole afternoon was during the previews when Carrington, who had been carrying the popcorn and lecturing everyone about spilling it, let her bag slip down her arm and the resulting jolt sent a huge cloud of fluffy kernels flying over seats and movie patrons all around us. The Patented Burp informed me that it was a bloggable moment.

I'm only doing as I was told.