On Zombies and Julia Roberts

A long time ago (long enough that I don’t feel like looking up the link, meaning it’s buried somewhere in my old blog), I started having zombie dreams.  They started out as your average way to induce a panic attack in the middle of the night.  No, I don’t mean some fake panic attack.  I mean they were scary enough that once I sat crouched on my bathroom floor for a good 20 minutes at 4 in the morning because I was convinced that the zombies were outside the house, and if they heard someone moving inside, they would come in and eat me.  (I live on the second floor.)

After the 4am freakout, the zombie dreams escalated in intensity.  Instead of the zombies getting faster like in 28 Days Later (which everyone knows is not real), they started evolving intellectually.  They were coordinating.  They could drive cars.  And last night, they had poisoned the water supply.

I blame Julia Roberts.

Also a long time ago, I wrote about how ridiculous Pretty Woman is upon viewing as an adult.  Again, I don’t feel like digging it up, but it serves as a nice segue into why on earth I re-watched My Best Friend’s Wedding last night.

Um, actually, I don’t really know why I watched it.  I’m not premenstrual and I couldn’t remember any amazing part of the movie.  I really can’t explain it.  Oh, wait.  I think I remembered that she was a food critic in the movie, and whatever she ate in the beginning looked tasty, maybe with some seared duck breast and wilted spinach?  Know what I ate for dinner last night?  Garlic bread and green beans.  And I am so not a vegetarian.

So that’s my excuse.  I watched the first 30 minutes of My Best Friend’s Wedding last night for the food.  And you know what?  That movie is bullshit.

Here’s why:

1. She’s a food critic, but everyone knows who she is.  The opening scene is her and Rupert Everett (who I admittedly want as my gay best friend, but only with that cool foppy hair) being hovered over in a white tablecloth/white jacketed staff/French tableside service restaurant.  This is after Charlie Trotter (at least I think it’s Charlie Trotter) threatens to kill the whole family of the Mexican sous chef if he gets the plate wrong.  Which is kind of like a real kitchen, but still.

2. She says she’s writing up a dish in a white tablecloth/white jacketed staff/French tableside service restaurant as “inventive.”  Lady, it’s meat on greens on starch.  It wasn’t even inventive back then.  Get a grip.

3. She’s 28.  Yeah.  Twenty fucking eight.  That’s how old I am.  Bitch, please.  You are 32 at the youngest in this movie.

4. The point of the movie is that if neither she nor her best friend were married by age 28, they were supposed to marry each other.  And…twenty fucking eight.  I have enough problems with people who have marriage contracts at the age of thirty, but 28?  Am I a spinster now?  How is that old?

5. Cameron Diaz is supposed to be twenty in this movie.  She’s getting married to the titular best friend.  As someone who made a very young and similar mistake, BITCH, NO!

6.  Wait a second, why is Rupert Everett hanging out with her?  Is it the free meals?  He’s at least forty in this picture, how on earth would he have a neurotic, allegedly 28-year-old best hetero female friend?

7. Julia Roberts sets out to stop the wedding of her best friend and Cameron Diaz.  As someone who has (already, but then again, I am an old and embittered 28 years of age) been cast aside for a younger, blonder, apparently more…elastic…model, this is a poor idea that will only end in failure.  Especially when this younger et. al. model is a billionaire heiress.  Julia, you are going to lose.

8. I’m really tired of curly hair = quirky.  Curly red hair, too, which is why a lot of people are disappointed when I don’t turn out to be a loveable lunatic.

9. At least someone in this early- to mid-90s movie is wearing shoulder pads.

10. I understand there’s supposed to be some sort of hero worship between 20-year-old Cameron Diaz and (cough) 28-year-old Julia Roberts, but did the director tell Cameron Diaz to sound like a creepy superfan who will wear Julia’s skin as a coat?  Because she does.

11. I remember there being a big controversy about Julia’s character smoking when this movie came out (get over it, I grew up without cable and Hard Copy came on after school).  Which she does, but barely.  It’s one of those non-French movie star smokes.  She gestures wildly, never inhales, and completely fails at making herself look human and/or edgy.  Jesus, Julia.  Get a real habit.

12. Back to the wedding – her best friend calls her 4 days before the wedding to tell her about it in the first place.  I’m no expert on best friend relationships full of subterfuge and sexual tension, but isn’t that kind of, I don’t know, shitty?

13. For someone who’s soooo different and independent and everything else a non-traditional woman in a romantic comedy is supposed to be, Julia Roberts’ bedroom looks like Laura Ashley orgasmed all over a hotel room.  I at least expected a Diet Coke can to be used as an ashtray somewhere.

14. I’m sure there are worse parts of this movie, but I only watched the first 30 minutes before deciding I’d rather go to bed and, as it turns out, dream about zombies and tainted water supplies.

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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