Variations on the same theme

Going picture-hunting for that Top 100 of mine is a rather tricky business. One minute you're traumatised by the Phelps twins' new haircut, the next you're OMFGing over the fact that David Tennant and Kelly Reilly did Look Back In Anger together. Am now seized by a rather overwhelming urge to reread that play. And picture those two as Jimmy and Allison. Just look at those pictures, especially that last one, dear gods. The intensity. Oh, how I wish I could have seen this.

Will now go crash in bed instead of diving into John Osbourne, as I am afraid that I have, horror of all horrors, resumed a more or less normal sleeping cycle (who'd have thought, with new year and all). shadesofbrixton, see what happens when you're not around to keep me awake through the night? For shame.

I had a great time with Alex yesterday, whee! And I'm seeing more of him today. We went and saw Ocean's Twelve - the film did not really please me for the exact same reasons as Ocean's Eleven: too expected, no surprises whatsoever (good trick introducing Tess as you-know-who, though). Too classical. Too conventional. And they completely underused Eddie Izzard, a shame. I much prefer a Snatch or an Italian Job. That being said, the one thing Twelve had over Eleven was Vincent Cassel. The guy rocks. That was the best use of capoeira I've ever seen in a film (granted, when the competition is Only the Strong, it's not that hard - where else has there been capoeira?) and I was squeeing at any hint of a jinga. I'm a capoeira fangirl and I'm proud of it, dammit. I wish I still was in physical shape enough to take it up, sometimes, but I'll stick to tai ji for now.

Also, wouldn't I like to be the meat of the Cassel/Belucci sandwich...

Also went and ate at the Palais d'Asie last night, as good as ever - if you're ever in Reims and looking for a good restaurant, go for it! (25 rue du Temple, derrière les Halles - je fais ça bien Elod?) And many thanks to your da who decided not to make me pay. Wheee! Lukas also stopped by for a while and I miss you two guys so much. We reminisced high school years. I love those moments when suddenly, we remember the exact same thing, and there's no need to use words to know what the other one's thinking. A look's enough. I miss high school, but ultimately I wouldn't go back. I do wish some of it had got filmed, though, especially our highly intellectual plays. Juliette's boobs falling out at the exact wrong right time, an SnM Wendy terrorising the Lost Boys, Metrosexual!Limp-Wristy!Lukas, genies and princes, curtains that get torn off by an over-enthusiastic Sporty Spice whose identity shall remain a mystery, "omigodomigodlily'sbeenkidnapped," censorship (I'll never forgive her my bloodies) and death scenes that go on forever, pancake goodness and a Wannabe choreography, bref, loads of fun that I really wish we had filmed. But it'll have to remain something that you had to be there for.

We also wondered whether we would recognise M. Absous in the street. He was our French teacher in seconde, aka year 11 (eleventh grade I suppose?). He rocked. He lent me books all year long and he was always supportive of whatever we wanted to do, acting or writing or whatever, ever so nice and a good teacher. M. Absous - can I call you Vincent? - you're not reading this, but thanks anyway. Thanks for that year. Thanks for being a great teacher in all the ways I think one should be.