When Tex called for date movie advice last night, he had narrowed it to two choices: Marley and Me, or Yes Man.
I hadn't seen either, but still had to explain to him that in the history of cinema, Jim Carrey has never, ever gotten anybody laid.
I asked if she was a hot girl or a smart girl. Smart girls want to be told they're hot; hot girls want to hear how smart they are (and frankly, they'll believe anything).
After he described her in more detail (ok, actually he just told me her occupation -- and I'm not printing it here, because everytime I say something disparaging about this particular profession, I get a LOT of hate mail), I sent them to Slumdog Millionaire.
I haven't seen it either, but I knew it was the kind of movie you'd pick for a hot girl who THINKS she's a smart girl.
Me? I stayed home and read Revolutionary Road so I'd be ready for the smart-girl movie adaptation that hits town later this month. (The book is very Mad Men, but WAY more distressing.)
I plan to see it with a Hot Guy.
I'm the smart-but-shallow girl.
Tex says he would just sum me up to unwitting victims as "a handful." I think that's fair.