Fluffed out

I've been working flat out, shuffling between home and office, all weekend, so am using the little spare time I have to read. Not dense, multi-layered, door-stopping classics, mind. No, my brain right now, filled as it is with the complexities of work issues, needs light and fluffy, frothy and shallow -- books with pastel or primary-coloured covers: Jane Green's Babyville, for example, or Tony Parsons' Man and Wife, or Matthew Barrowcliffe's Girlfriend 44... And boy, is it easy to read them at lightning speed. If I stick just to froth-lit, I could more than triple my lifetime reading total easy.

Still haven't finished work for the night, but when I do, I might also flop out in front of Annie Hall or Six Feet Under.

Hmmm, actually, what I feel like for dinner are some Batchelors super chicken noodles, a Cadbury's creme egg, some Rowntrees fruit pastilles...

Update at 11:45pm: I ate the noodles, the candy and also, for my sins, the cold baked beans with frankfurters, bacon bits and kidney (Heinz London Grill) straight out of the can as I watched Woody Allen's Annie Hall. I haven't seen this movie in a while and it cracked me up over and over. Some great lines. Now I want to see Hannah And Her Sisters again -- one of my all-time favourite films -- but don't own a copy of it. Might have to nip out to the shops tomorrow.

Annie Hall: Oh, you see an analyst?
Alvy Singer: Yeah, just for fifteen years.
Annie Hall: Fifteen years?
Alvy Singer: Yeah, I'm gonna give him one more year, and then I'm goin' to Lourdes.

Annie Hall: Sometimes I ask myself how I'd stand up under torture.
Alvy Singer: You? You kiddin'? If the Gestapo would take away your Bloomingdale's charge card, you'd tell 'em everything.

Alvy Singer: Those who can't do, teach. And those who can't teach, teach gym. And of course, those who couldn't do anything, I think, were assigned to our school.

Alvy Singer on sex: It was the most fun I ever had without laughing.

Alvy Singer and Annie Hall in California:
Annie: It's so clean out here!
Alvy: That's because they don't throw their garbage away, they turn it into television shows.

Alvy Singer: There's an old joke. Uh, two elderly women are at a Catskills mountain resort, and one of 'em says, "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know, and such small portions." Well, that's essentially how I feel about life. Full of loneliness and misery and suffering and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly.

Alvy Singer to Annie Hall who has asked him if he loves her: Love is too weak a word for what I feel - I luuurve you, you know, I loave you, I luff you, two F's, yes I have to invent, of course I - I do, don't you think I do?

Alvy Singer: I was thrown out of NYU my freshman year for cheating on my metaphysics final, you know. I looked within the soul of the boy sitting next to me. When I was thrown out, my mother, who was an emotionally high-strung woman, locked herself in the bathroom and took an overdose of Mah-Jong tiles. I was depressed at that time. I was in analysis. I was suicidal as a matter of fact and would have killed myself, but I was in analysis with a strict Freudian, and, if you kill yourself, they make you pay for the sessions you miss.

Annie Hall in frustration at not seeming sophisticated and smart around Alvy when they first meet: La-di-da, la-di-da, la la [just how I feel around guys I like!]

I could go on and on, the lines in this movie are so razor-sharp.

Quotes from here, and here, and, of course, here.

I'm off to bed, now, a happy girl.