White Christmas

Jeff and I went to the Sing-A-Long White Christmas at the Music Box Theater on Friday night. It was an interesting evening of Christmas carols and people who knew the movie WAY too well. They hissed Rosemary Clooney when she fulfilled the necesary role in Comedies of Manners of the romantic partner who misunderstands a situation, gets mad and huffs off without bothering to get an explanation because the courtship process is still young. It's not Rosemary's fault! Someone has to do it or the ultimate make-up kiss isn't nearly as good!

Anyway, the evening was made perfect when I was talking to the 22-year-old usher with chunky little glasses and dirty hair that had so carefully been arranged to look like he'd just run his fingers through it that morning: obviously he considered himself an artist. So, I was talking to him about what to do with my extra tickets and my evening was made complete when he said, "I don't see why anyone would want the tickets. If I had the choice, I'd be in Gilles Wife; it's actually a good movie."

Ah, the cynicism of youth. How I miss those days. Missing all that fun because it felt so good to judge. Ummm.