Saturdays are not generally a quiet time for me. The afternoons are usually spent with friends, shopping, coffee drinking, and putting the world to rights. And not always in that order. Once that is out of the way, I concentrate on getting myself ready for a night out on the town. I am not ashamed to admit that by the time I shower, decide what I am wearing, do my hair etc, about 4 hours and a couple of glasses of plonk have passed me by. Then it is on to town to dance, drink and flirt the night away before innevitably doing the walk of shame back to my house sometime Sunday morning.
Today things were different. A knee injury playing rugby earlier in the week means there was no coffee and shopping, no preparing for a wild night out and no drunken antics to be had. That's not so bad I guess, but what is worrying me is that my flatmate is now nagging me to go to the cinema. 'What's wrong with that?' I hear you say. Well she wants to go and see.... New Moon!
Appealing as the above image is, it still isn't enough to make me consider going. I just don't get the fuss. Did I miss something? I am starting to believe that I could be the last person breathing who hasn't seen the film or read the books, and I kinda pride myself on it. The Robert Pattinson guy that everyone seems to be swooning over looks like he needs a good soak in the bath, and the premise of the story itself sounds a bit shit. Don't get me wrong, I love a good vampire story. But give me David Boreanaz and a Buffy boxset any day of the week.