As I write this post Sam is still at the office pulling another all-nighter. I have amused myself for most of the evening folding mountains of socks and underwear and trying to watch a few recorded movies that turned out to be real duds. They were:
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Sally, Irene and Mary (1938), a story about singing manicurists starring Alice Faye, Joan Davis and Marjorie Weaver. I had to delete this monstrosity almost immediately. I usually like Alice Faye, but even Alice couldn’t save it.
- The Bells Go Down (1943), described as a comedy about British volunteer firemen during the London blitz in 1939. Nothing about this movie was even remotely funny, particularly James Mason as a loudmouth drill sargent with a Cockney accent. Talk about lousy casting! I deleted this one after the first 15 minutes.
- Doubting Thomas (1935), a comedy with Will Rogers and Billie Burke. This turned out to be nothing more than a showcase for Rogers to make a bunch of snotty wisecracks during the rehearsal of an amateur play. Maybe someone can explain to me why everybody revered this guy like royalty in the 1930s, because I thought he was a weird, un-funny hick. I watched a “Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares” rerun instead.
That’s about all for tonight. I’ve just decided there’s no way I can wait up for Sam because he probably won’t be home until 5 a.m. and I’m already so tired I can’t keep my eyes open. I hope y’all have some nice plans for New Year’s Eve. Sam and I want to watch Marx Brothers movies on TCM if we can stay awake long enough. (I think the sofas in our family room are stuffed with chloroform.)
Don’t drink and drive, and — as always — thank you for reading this.
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