Tonight, one of my girlfriends called me from the red carpet in Westwood, where an LA movie premiere is being held. The movie she and her husband were invited to see is Transformers, the heartwarming tale of a children's toy car that turns into a robot or vice versa. Actually I have no idea what it's about. But there are two chances I'm going to pay money to see that flick. Slim and none.
My friend's hubba bubba does a lot of work for film studios, but I'm not sure what he did for the one that produced this movie. It could be anything from posters to animation for the opening credits to the website. Meanwhile she's on her phone giving me a play by play of all the famous people walking by her in the lobby of the theater. "Oh, there's Martin Short, no that's not his name, Martin somebody. And there's Angelina Jolie's dad, what's his name? Oh wait, there's Josh Duhamel, the star of the movie. He's so cute, he's meeting and greeting all the fans outside. They're closing down the street after the movie for a big party. . . "
You can have the movie stars. I'd love to be there for the food. Hey, it's free.
I've actually been to the Westwood theaters and I think they have the best sound systems in the country. Well, let's clarify that. Of all the movie theaters I've been to around the country, they're the best. They're full size theaters with big screens -- none of this postage stamp stuff. If you want me to pay ten bucks to see a movie, gimme a big screen to see it on and a great sound system to hear it with.
Meanwhile I'm sitting here in my room, wearing clothing that would get me arrested for indecent exposure and writing an entry in my journal. It's a lifestyle.