Slowish week. I bailed on three of the movies I was supposed to see last week -- I had them all scheduled for Thursday, and then I was too busy and too lazy to leave the house. I caught up with Married Life and CJ7 yesterday, and Paranoid Park I’ll see next week.

I keep telling myself I shouldn’t schedule three screenings in a single day -- it’s too much. But sometimes it’s irresistible, particuarly if they’re all in a row with no time to kill in between, because I have a longish trip down into Manhattan and it always seems like a terrible waste of time to spend three hours traveling roundtrip for a single 90-minute movie (not that I don’t do that all the time). But that’s what ending up happening yesterday, when in addition to two movies I skipped last week, I also saw Penelope, the Christina Ricci-with-a-pig-face-falls-in-love-with-James-McAvoy fairy tale. I can’t say as I blame her on the McAvoy thing -- he’s adorable, even faking an American accent. Though I’d be all, “Oh honey, do your Scottish voice,” like, all the time.