Fear regarding life-status of flatmate Tom calmed by Facebook wall post embracing blog. Feel warmed. Decide to continue flatmate-Tom-absence-advantage-taking by watching Did You Hear About the Morgans? Know that disappointment beckons but fail to resist lure of update of Uncle Hugh Grant career following in spite of massive distaste for Sarah Jessica Parker.
Know that self-destruction in upward curve as sun apparent through window yet find self sitting in homemade cinema still, finishing blush from The Player experience. Yet, fear still present on off chance that monster Sarandon has read blog and wants to do to self what she did to Robbins. Have also created illusion of surround-sound by drawing curtain across one speaker whilst leaving other exposed.
SJP fear nursed by calming voice of Uncle Hugh during credit sequence. Miss artist-friend non-flatmate Simon as remember fondly career tracking Uncle Hugh with him two years’ ago. (Am alerted to grammar of last sentence because of Lynn Truss’ published dislike of other Uncle Hugh film Two Weeks Notice which Aunt Lynn suggested was missing use of apostrophe.)
Relative love of Uncle Hugh and film in general obliterated by sudden terrifying appearance of SJP trying to sell foreign couple over-priced flat. Look with horror into SJP glazed over eyes staring out from heavily CGI’d face. Terror lapses only when SJP not on screen trying to appear cute. Hope that later blog entry not centred on SATC 2 which The Guardian inferred as most culturally ignorant film of all time.
Confused by appearance of Jedd Bartlett daughter (now working in the 1960s at advertising agency and claiming name as Peggy). Realise Peggy attempting to launch film career and willing to whore herself about in bid to be Meryl Streep. Disapproval rises when Peggy gives Uncle Hugh evil eye.
Wonderment at Uncle Hugh’s desire to remarry SJP. Contents of remaindered blush dwindling and worry that intoxication could lead to enjoyment of film which in turn may lead to Facebook deprication from flatmate Tom.
Shocked when Uncle Hugh and SJP spy man stood on balcony in high rise following awkward dinner. Wonder what man doing. Contemplate possibility that man planning on committing suicide following double screening of The Wolfman and SATC 2. Hope man not Peter Bradshaw.
Instant satisfaction when man plummets to mortality and Uncle Hugh wraps hand around SJP mouth to muffle screams. Hope rest of film of similar ilk. Realise with sadness that Uncle Hugh stifled SJP only because another man has pushed Peter Bradshaw off balcony. Fear for Uncle Hugh as second man on balcony has gun and wants to eliminate witnesses of Bradshaw homicide.
Film takes turn with line: “Wouldn’t you rather live somewhere else than die in New York?” Impressed by mass-audience-orientated film asking philosophical questions. Presume posthumous approval from David Hume.
Uncle Hugh and SJP flown to Wyoming for witness protection. Unconvinced until appearance of moustachioed man from The Big Lebowski. Sickness stirs in stomach from blush intake and become desirous of sustenance. Catch 22 incurs because too blush’d to move. Brain turns over deeper theoretical textual analysis of film and find self forced to note down feelings on Apple application ‘Stickies’:
become moved by improving relations between two ‘democrats’ in “God fearing America country” but find it uncomfortable that new Uncle Hugh-SJP-bondage occurs only because of their simultaneous integration/alienation into/from Wyoming environment
Am too blush’d to elaborate point further but in condition am glimpsing possible future as replacement for murdered Bradshaw.
Become annoyed when Uncle Hugh rejects SJP advances (which have only begun because of revelation that she slept with another man [Mr Big?] whilst they were separated – which surely acceptable, even with relationships involving territorial Uncle Hugh, if not ones involving Ross Gellar) because this results in Uncle Hugh putting hand across back of head whilst lying bed (instead of across SJP mouth before they fled) presenting viewer with a… is that a… a… BICEP?! Feel utterly bemused by attempt to objectify Uncle Hugh and situation instantly worsens when SJP attempts to spoon him.
End of film predictable and undergo uncertainty as to enjoyment. Realise that blush-time-lapse has occurred and have to make a break for work. Fearful that new found enjoyment of blog will cause deviation of evening plans focussed on sex and narcotics. Ruminate over potential abortion of notion of straightening hair because know how much SJP would approve of such flagrant metrosexuality. Accept that must straighten hair anyway on off chance of bumping into Uncle Hugh.