French cooking still isn't my bag.

After a massive week of filming for Vampire Diaries (something which I shall likely moon over later) Dave took me to see the film Julie & Julia. Now, I had been dimly aware of the Julie/Julia Project for awhile now. I mean, when you have a book hit the best sellers list and a blog climb its way to the top of Salon (which I cannot say I have ever read, but apparently people do) it's hard to go on completely oblivious. At the time I'm sure I was hardly interested in food at all except when I was eating it; and even then there surely was a passing interest at best. So the idea of sitting down and reading about a project where someone is going to cook their way through Julia Child's cookbook seemed...well...bland.

But things change.

Now when my my thoughts seem to be utterly consumed with food when I am not worrying over one project or another in my foreseeable future the idea of a film about two women who must love food as much as I do seems appropo. That, and I simply adore Meryl Streep and Amy Adams (who doesn't?). It seemed like something I could absolutely relate to. I wasn't disappointed. When Julie threw her hands up to the sky and exclaimed to her husband, "I never seem to finish anything..." Well...let's just say it's a complaint I find coming out of my mouth more than I would like to admit.

The only negative thing had nothing really to do with the movie at all. Apparently everyone in Decatur decided they wanted to go to the Regal 24 to see Julie & Julia so the place was packed. We manged to find two seats together up front only to be joined by this old man. No problem. Plenty of people end up coming to the theatre alone, right? I've done it before more than once. I do not, however, make it a habit of taking up my seat as well as half of the seat of the person next to me (which, in this case, happened to be myself) and spend half the movie pressing down on that person's hip. At first I thought it was an accident or else he was larger so he didn't have much room so I scooted over as close as I could manage to Dave. It was distracting and uncomfortable. When I was at last driven to confrontation (something I hate) the guy ignored me. Dave said he thought he was asleep, but I am unconvinced. He didn't look asleep to me and I had heard him chuckling at several points during the movie. I was going to just suffer through, but Dave got over protective and lost it. Which, in this case, meant that he got up and started looking for another seat. Embarrassed, I decided to go out of the theatre and take a bathroom break. When I returned the old man had left and Dave had reclaimed our seats. This time I sat on the inside away from where the old man might sit if he returned. How odd.