I don't know how these things happen, but last night I found myself lining up with Inge de Bruin for tickets to see 'He's Just Not That Into You'. It turned out the session we'd planned to see was Gold Class only so we threw caution to the wind and paid extravagant sums of money to sit on big comfy chairs and be bored witless. If it was really as bad as I expected, I figured on snuggling in and catching up on some sleep.
As it turns out, the film held my rapt attention all the way through. Not because it was any good, but just because I couldn't take my eyes off that poor, sweet girl Jennifer Aniston. Remember how cute she was in 'Friends'? Oh she was - don't deny it. But now she just seems to be all big square chin, bad skin and a moustache that won't go away. It was appalling and riveting - her acting wasn't enough to make us feel sympathy for her character, but she certainly was. So entranced and horrified was I that I ended up spilling the satay sauce to go with my chicken skewers all down the front of me.
I was born for the high life. As long as it comes with a bib permanently attached.