Another wedding today! This time in Portland, and for my best friend from my first two years of college, Mel. It starts at 5:30 p.m. I'm a little wary, as it's taking place at a Catholic church. I know this doesn't insure a Catholic service, but it seems more likely than not. And a Catholic service, for those of you who've never had to experience one, is literally endless. She won't be saying "I do" until sometime Monday afternoon. I was told in advance by the bride that she would very much like for me to get "wasted" at her reception. Her plan is to do the same, and she very much likes when we're drunk together. Let's hope for an open bar, shall we? We're staying with friends Michelle and David tonight, who live a maximum of two blocks from the ceremony.
We watched Bewitched and Melinda and Melinda last night. Bewitched was a clear example of what Nora Ephron does best: takes a very very stupid plot, and fills it with funny jokes. So the movie was, in fact, funny. But it's not good. As to how that translates for watchability, I say why not! That's not a recommendation. But if you wanted to see it before reading this, you must already have an inkling as to what you're in for. It'll meet your expectations. Also: Steve Carell completely channelled Paul Lynde. You can almost see him in his face. And that, folks, was far more than I indended to say about Bewitched. Melinda and Melinda is the newest Woody Allen movie, and I'm pleased to report that it's better than anything else he's put out in the last 5-7 years. Sadly, that's still not enough to make it interesting. Great concept, the story, but blandly executed. But it's kind of fun, coupling it with Bewitched for an evening of Will Ferrell-based entertainment. Compare, contrast...
My dreams have taken a psychologically interesting turn as of late. I've now dreamed a few times that I'm not naked, but in public in undergarments. Last night I was in downtown Orono with Crystal, my best friend from grade school, and I was in Wonder Woman underwear, and my legs were completely unshaved. She was fully dressed. We ended up at what used to be my grandparents' camp in Acton, and I had to swim. I should look up what this might mean. I'm quite sure this is my subconscious's equivalent to the naked dream, but my aversion to being nude is so deep-seeded that even my brain refuses to allow it. I also dreamed about an Eddie Griffin movie called "Junior Clinton's Rocks". I think this could actually be made. Of course, the plot in my dream involved three fold-out chairs in the middle of an empty room, but there are trained professionals who could spice it up.
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