Make Me Love You:
Public, Part One
Public, Part Two
Private

So in this interview last week, the dude interviewing me asked me what the best movie I ever saw was. I always find this an interesting question because I wonder what, exactly, that's supposed to tell someone about me other than maybe if my favorite movie of all time is The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, that I have some major issues.

Although, come on. The dinner with Grandma scene is classic.

Was it Grandma? Can't remember exactly. Doesn't matter. It's still classic.

Anyway, the best movie I've ever seen is Taxi Driver, followed closely by Hedwig and the Angry Inch. These are two movies you don't so much want to invoke at an interview, maybe not a first interview anyway, and certainly not in the field in which I work. At work I'm sort of stealth, see.

So in the interview, I'm short-circuited suddenly. Now, sitting right here at home in front of my computer, I can think of any number of movies that I really, really like that would be appropriate for an interview yet still show me as a witty, intelligent person, sort of a smoke screen for potential employers. But in the interview, no. The only single movie I could think of, sitting there, right then, was this GODAWFUL flick I accidentally saw one time that had Sarah Michelle Gellar in it as a socially-disabled chef who is also a witch. And I don't even know the name.

Okay, okay, so I get sucked into bad movies. It's a curse. Possibly splashed liberally on me as a child. (I'm not alone. Louise has it too.) I feel very guilty about it. It's mortally embarrassing when someone catches me at it. I fear that if I continue like this, I will go blind, or possibly something much, much worse.

So I watched this movie, okay? Well, some of it. And it was baaaaaaaad. And I certainly couldn't tell this dude interviewing me, "Oh, yeah, the best movie I've ever seen is this torture device from the crusades starring Sarah Michelle Gellar. She's going for lovably inept in the role, but really coming across as annoying, neurotic, and shrill. She cooks stuff. And knocks over plates. The name? Oh, I can't recall."

It was one of those moments where time freezes, and I could feel myself getting ready to spit out The Ghost and Mr. Chicken just to have said anything at all, for God's sake.

(But hey, Don Knotts turns into a fish in that movie. That's a cinematic moment. It is. Back off.)

(Wait a minute. Was that The Ghost and Mr. Chicken? Oh, dear God. I'm actually mixing up my Don Knotts movies. Help me. Please.)

Thankfully, at the last possible moment I noticed that the interview dude's mustache was wholly and completely crooked. I mean, it looked like he had accidentally shaved off a good half-inch on the right side. That sort of tripped something in my brain, and suddenly I thought of The Graduate, a fine, fine movie, certainly in my top five of all time, and appropriate, if a bit wacked out.

Saved. By bad personal grooming.

So thank you mister stupid-question-asking-interview dude. For having a screwed up mustache. Kudos.

And I shall return,

-Mlle R