Food on my belly

Yep, you read correctly, "on" my belly, not in my belly. That's what I've been up to the past few days....spilling food on my belly. And since I've been eating pasta, pizza, soup, and Indian while I recline in my chair, well, there's been more than a few tomato-red spots on my shirts. Fortunately, the former residents left a shout stick behind and that seems to work for those pesky spots. Don't know what I'll do when that runs out. I'm sure there's some baking soda concoction that will work as well. Then again, I could do without so many darn fitted tees.

B and I did not exercise yesterday, even though the heat broke, because we were too busy on a date. We saw Indiana Jones. And might I say that Harrison Ford is as beautiful as ever, though I thought the acting, or perhaps just the writing, was a bit off in the opening scene. Of course, I forgot that Indiana Jones was set in mid-20th century, and it took me a while to realize why the Russians were the bad guys. I felt like I had just crawled out of the trunk of a 1952 Buick. Anyway, it turned out to be a fun little flick. I especially liked that they were returning treasure instead of taking treasure.  

Day before yesterday we watched Metropolis on DVD. Pretty interesting stuff coming out of Germany. Kind of depressing, though, to think that there were cool people making socialist movies like Metro at the same time Hitler was coming to power. This is the 2nd time I've seen it and I still don't know how I feel about its commentary on the working class. But, then, I'm not sure how I feel about my own commentary on the working class. Except that working class women get married far. too. young. Why do we keep perpetuating this ridiculous cycle? And why doesn't this happen to middle-class girls?