I've been watching the crap cinematic realization of Michael Crichton's Timeline, and trust me, it's a guilty pleasure, because there are Scotsmen in it, even if one of them is Billy Connolly. There is more schlock-per-square-inch in that film than in Wayne Newton's smalls, but I'm giddy with the antics, nonetheless. In the most odd sort of parallel, I'm reading a book called Outlander about a nurse who steps through a time portal between standing stones and zips back a couple hundred years and hooks up with a big beefy Highlander. Yes, I'm glad you asked: he DOES spank her, in fact. It only took half the book to get to that part, but they made it worthwhile. Besides - John Wayne spanked women all the time in films. What's not to like? Perhaps Michael Chrichton should throw in some spankies in to turn out a better film in future? It may not be germane to the story line, but it will be most edifying for the people who have to watch it, yeah?
Ugh - barely over two weeks until the California in-laws arrive to tell us what a squalid, lowly, in-bred existence we live here. Joy. Yawn.
Woohoo - going to lunch with my naughty twin Lisa today (Thursday), and then going to dinner with evil friend Liz. Sushi. Yum. Wickedness will ensue. Friday blog may be waylaid, and if so, I'll return upon recovering on Saturday!
Maybe my new shoes will arrive before dinner? Ah, bliss!