besides, fosse is dead
January 20, 2003, 11:01 pm

After watching Chicago today, I'm convinced that I'm a gorgeous songbird with tousled curls flying and a hot, tight ass. I've been flying down staircases with enough musical-zeal to outlast a trillion Gene Kellys; I've been sliding across the hardwood foyer like it's my job, landing in the kitchen with a resounding High C blast from my diaphragm. Kicking up my heels in impromptu can-cans, every guy in my sight has "had it commminnnnggg!" and every flick of my head has been so crisp and clear you would think that Bob Fosse himself was choreographing my every move.

Then I look down where my glitzy flapper dress is actually a bulging XL pandamoonium tank top and a pair of ghettofabulous grey sweatpants I bought at Value City for $12.99. Instead of Catherine Zeta-Jonesesque thighs and strappy sandals, I am relegated to my bare feet with their chipped toenail paint in Purple Passion.

I am not a Broadway Darling. I am not Velma Kelly. I am most definitely not Renee Zellweger OR any Bridget Jones facsimile.

I am a 24 year old English teacher who didn't grade any papers this weekend, who is on the verge of a nervous breakdown and the flu, and who still lives with her parents. I am more excited about the announcement of a new Potter book than I am about any possible dates (there are none).

This will not do.

But at the very least, I do have friends, and my friends are kind. They take care of me when I'm down (like Friday), and they are understanding when I'm ill. And if any of them witnessed me pretending I was Catherine Zeta-Jones, they'd surely laugh first, but because I'm cute and endearing, not because I'm a freak.

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Chicago is the best movie of the year (so far). I still have to see Schmidt and Adaptation, but Chicago is tough to beat. I'll let you know after I've seen them.