26 Dresses

A few months ago I predicted that 27 Dresses would be my movie for the new year. It doesn't hit theaters until January 11, but yesterday I stumbled upon a sneak preview and I dragged K along. We were late (stupid parking in stupid SLC), so we only saw 26 Dresses (quip courtesy of K), but I still thought the movie was worth blogging about. (At this point, anything is worth blogging about as long as it's not my thesis.)




Please note that there will be spoilers, although none of them should come as a surprise if you've ever seen five minutes of a romantic comedy.



Katherine Heigl plays Jane, a perpetual bridesmaid and the owner of the 27 title dresses. Jane is super-organized, super-efficient, and super-super. She's super in love with weddings and romance and articles written by Malcolm Doyle, a wedding columnist for the New York Journal. She's also super in love with her boss George (note to self: blog about how George is not a sexy name), played by Edward Burns.
As mentioned earlier, K and I missed the 25th and 26th dresses because we missed the first ten minutes of the movie, but while wearing them, Jane meets Kevin Doyle (played by surprisingly adorable and just possibly outdoor material James Marsden). The next day, Jane arrives to work to find flowers on her desk and her sister Tess arrives from Italy and her super-glamourous life as. . . something. Missed that.

We can speed up this next part: Jane goes to party, George goes to party, George mentions he left something on Jane's desk, Jane assumes flowers, George means dry cleaning ticket, Tess shows up for drinks, George meets Tess. Oh, and Kevin sent the flowers.

Tess falls for George, George falls for Tess, and suddenly Jane is planning her sister's wedding to the man of Jane's dreams. In the meantime, Kevin is booking it after Jane--literally. In one of my favorite moments of the movie, Kevin returns Jane's day planner, but only after penning his name in every Saturday for the rest of the year.

Here's the spoiler/twist you may not see coming: Kevin Doyle is Malcolm Doyle. He's writing an article about Tess and George--but he's also writing an article about Jane's state as a perpetual bridesmaid. Hence the booking. Sad, because he really is cute. Cynical and cute make an excellent leading man.


The movie works itself out exactly as it's supposed to, complete with a boat scene and "Benny and the Jets." And most importantly, as K pointed out, Jane gets around to kissing both guys. We awarded the movie 3.5 out of 5 stars, mostly because Marsden wasn't on screen enough. He really was that cute.

Happy Christmas

I know I'm American and that an American who says "Happy Christmas" is pretenious. But if you're reading this blog, you know that at times I can be pretenious. Just a little.

I've been considering a long list of possible Christmas-y posts. Something about how I've given up my Grinch-like ways or how my mom keeps trying to create new Christmas "traditions" or how the baby has taken over Christmas. And then the Christmas Eve present happened and it wasn't pajama pants--it was "Jenkins University" t-shirts. Not sure what message they're trying to send with those. . . but I did promise that I'd walk if they wore them to graduation. I'm just not sure which definition of "walk" I should say I meant.

Speaking of definitions, I took a test yesterday. A test. I haven't taken a test in at least a year. But this was for a job (have I mentioned that I'm currently jobless?) that I'd really love. And I got stuck on the first question: List five of your favorite books and explain why. I had to come back to it.

So what Santa needed to bring me was a job. A job, an acceptance to a PhD program, and, to quote my grandfather, "a fat little friend" (i.e., gentlemen caller). Maybe a car. And a finished thesis.

I did get a chair.

SOS: Millennium Bridge

I'm trying to put the finishing touches on my graduate applications. This is one poem I'm hoping is nearing completion, or at least presentability. Is that a word? Oh well. Please to tell me what you think.

Millennium Bridge

St. Paul’s grows larger, larger until I
am standing on its roof,

the city small at my feet,
the city spiraling at my feet.
I can see from here—

here where breath comes cold,
and draws back to the river,
crawls across the river

to the heat of the Globe,
to the false sun heavy setting.
I hold it between my fingers,

hold it all, let go, wait to disappear
in audience applause.

TMI

Every time this time of the month rolls around, I recite the few lines I remember from a 319 poem: "It's a relief / when the blood comes." I didn't particularly like the rest of the poem--are you supposed to like 319 workshops?--but I can't shake those lines. And the thought that maybe this should be a relief. But right now my legs are cramping up and I know any craving I satisfy will result in stomachaches for what will seem like forever. I'm sure there are worse things. I'm sure I'll experience worse things. But right now, there's no relief.