Two bad movies and one notable lunch. That was the weekend that was August 12 to 14, 2005.
Bad movie number one came on Friday night when I saw Must Love Dogs with Rachel. (Which is different than seeing Must Love Dogs With Rachel, although we did establish that she is firmly against the kicking of puppies.) I suppose the movie wasn't "bad" so much as "cliche even for a romantic comedy," and it did have cute moments even if they were phoned in by the leads. But overall the evening was only saved by the fact that Rachel is the best dressed girl in Toronto.
Bad movie number two came on Sunday, and there'll be no quibbling over the definition of bad this time: Broken Flowers is a real stinker. It's one of those "slice of life" movies that takes as its core philosophy the idea that answers need not be supplied. For anything. The movie is bad because of the following three reasons: (A) after two hours of plot hints and loose threads the credits suddenly roll with nothing resolved; (B) there is no need for (B) because of how annoying (A) is, so just go read (A) again; and (C): see (B). I saw this one with Alanna, and she was obviously so upset I dragged her away from staring at that Spanish Tennis Guy who beat Agassi that she punished me with her choice of film.
There was, however, a treat sandwiched between those unfortunate film choices, and it came in an unexpected place: Ikea. I took a short road trip with Tanya (she of Monster Feet Variety Show co-hosting fame) to the northern bounds of Toronto, and the jaunt included a visit to Ikea to pick up legs for a table she's making. While there we were overtaken by the Hunger Monster and we dared the in-store restaurant. The quiche was surprisingly edible for something so cheap, but the deserts were far less tasty than they appeared.
Oh, and I saw some birds on a pole:
I know this whole post probably seems very "teen angst blog," except with capital letters. The point though, and I do have one, was to bring me to this:
I find that I'm exceptionally aware of the first time I do anything. First lunch at Ikea, first walk home with someone, first time in a new cinema … even just first use of a new pen or a new mug. There's something about a first that makes my brain sit up and take notice.
I'm always game for trying food I've never eaten, or taking a road down which I've never pointed my car. It's not just about the new, it's the awareness of first. And it doesn't matter that I'm not the first person to do something, just that it's a first for me.
And that's why there's a photo of assembly-line cafeteria quiche on my blog today. For the first time, I might add.
