Holmes

Here's you laying awake at night, worrying: War, plague, relationships, family, global annihilation, maybe the subprime mortgage crisis, perhaps the impending CTA fare hikes. Here's me: What in the heck is that actress's name? Kate something. Kate... not Winslet. Not Blanchett. Not Beckinsale. Damn it what the. She was on Dawson's Creek. She married that guy with the nose. She was on the cover of that magazine I looked at while waiting in line at Jewel last weekend. She was droopy-faced in Batman Begins, she was topless in The Gift -- BUT NOT CATE BLANCHETT. AHHHH!

Ever since I've moved to the city, where no one I know cares about movies, that's how it's been. My movie-watching frequency has dwindled down to a sad flat line on an oscilloscope, which means my ability to identify every actor and every movie they've ever been in has gone down the drain. It took me like five minutes to come up with Jude Law the other day. Jude Law! This is the sad part of the TV movie where I make a scary fall down the stairs and am forced to admit, teary-eyed, that I'm no longer capable of taking care of myself.