don't tell anyone, but I've got a run in my stocking

One thing I've realised and am not all together happy about... Cary Grant wasn't always an attractive, suave man.

My love affair with him started with An Affair To Remember because of the whole longing angle. The Empire State scenes, later destroyed by Sleepless in Seattle, made my 1997 trip there a little more memorable (or it could have been my travel companion). Lately I've been watching more movies that he's in and my gaze is shifting slightly. In The Philadelphia Story he had moments of dreaminess, but the dreadful collarless jacket he wore at the end kind of shocked me. That was more or less forgotten with Holiday until I reviewed the cover. He just looked kind of weird on the cover. And how quickly he started making out with the sister. What a manwhore.

What's funny about the movies I've been watching is that they all have Cary Grant and/or Jimmy (James) Stewart and Katherine Hepburn. Damn, they dressed her well. How ridiculously thin that woman was. Ridiculously. And yet I don't hate her in the way I sometimes hate ridiculously thin, beautiful women. Maybe it's the dresses.

With my parents' plane being delayed an extra hour-and-a-half, I've got some time to kill. I don't want to keep watching movies because they're making me kind of depressed. Because in almost all of them, the women wear high heels and floor-length gowns in the middle of the day and have parties until 4am and have fabulous parties involving trapeze bars. That, unfortunately, doesn't reflect my life.

I had a small dinner party last evening and barely wore a skirt (it was corduroy, rather than me being a slut who couldn't keep my skirt on), but my clogs probably don't really equal high heels. And people didn't even last past 10pm. It became horribly apparent that I am not glamourous or interesting or a spitfire like Kate Hepburn. No, I'm just the sort that can maybe feed people, but not entertain them. And, on top of that, 10pm was too late for me to get downtown to see Dead Man's Bones, so I lost on all counts.

There's nothing I want to do more than sleep until sometime in November.