Bubble Burst

I called the BF from work. I was very excited.

“What are you doing on Wednesday”, I squeaked, breathlessly, “because I’ve got tickets for the UK premiere of Broken Flowers!”

I know he wants to see Broken Flowers. Apart from being big fans of Jim Jarmusch, we both love the incredibly sexy and funny Bill Murray. I’m not sure the BF feels quite the same way about him, but you never know. I can’t help hoping he’ll be there, but I don’t suppose he will. Still, I might put some mascara on anyway.

The BF’s reaction was rather less effusive than I’d hoped, once I revealed that it’s at the inferior Cineworld cinema, rather than the fashionably arty Arts Picturehouse. He kept saying “Oh”, really quietly, as if I’d just asked him to my grandmother’s funeral as a treat.

If you ask me, he’s bloody lucky to have a considerate girlfriend like me who wants to take him to see things he likes, even if it is to ogle aging film stars, or even, with any luck, chat them up, and run away with them to LA, where I’ll get a boob job and a fake tan, and take Hollywood by storm.

Yes. Mascara will do the trick.