I borrowed Meet Me in St. Louis from the library this week. I really can’t imagine what possessed me to check it out. The library’s random selection of mismatched videos does inspire some odd choices, and, hey, they’re free, y’know.
On the day I chose it, I was ass-deep in final exams, and I had no faith that I would ever again spend an evening curled up in front of a film. (Or, to be more accurate, briskly cooking or cleaning while a movie plays. A former housemate once remarked that video previews evoke in me a Pavlovian urge to cook.)
But, unlikely as it seems, I am delighted to have borrowed this stiff, clunky not-so-musical. Already, it has spurred several sentences I never expected to hear, much less utter. “Oh, holy cripes, it’s Mary Astor!”
Oh, gotta go. It’s time to witness Tootie’s Halloween walk of death and her subsequent rise to power, which provides her first taste of true corruption. They’re so cute when they’re that age.