We were watching a DVD tonight, “Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events”—
this is a brilliant movie, really brilliant, the kind of movie the movies were made for, and what better way to watch it than—if not eight months ago on the big screen—with pizza and gelati, and on the new sixty-eight-centimeter flat-screen television Matthew and CC got the other day when Matthew was home sick from work. He was lying on the couch groaning about some upset stomach or other, Matthew was, and I said, “Can I make you some soup or something?” and he said, all groany, “Nooo.” He may have clutched his stomach at this point, or wiped his feverish brow, before he said: “What I need is a new television.” And just like that they drove off into the sunset and “Hi-ho, Silver” referred, two days later, to the shiny new Panasonic the delivery guys brought to the door.
But, anyway—
oh, wait. Just one more. May I take this moment to say that Lemony Snicket is played in perfect typewriterly fashion by the backlit shadows of Jude Law, oh, hurrah, and I know the word on the street is that he is a philandering cur, but I, as I told my friend Jazon, when I move to London I WILL BE THE ONE WHO MAKES HIM COMMIT.
Hum. So.
CC and I were watching “A Series of Unfortunate Events” tonight, and at some point I looked down at the table and found that the words printed on the side of the pizza box were: DON’T DESPAIR.
It is this sort of moment that makes you aware there is suddenly a prickle on your neck. At this moment, if you were a fourteen-year-old girl inventor—the best fourteen-year-old inventor around, uncontested—and if you were in some sort of tight spot, and if you thought you might be about to give up because all was lost—if all this were the case, the moment of seeing DON’T DESPAIR printed on an unexpected surface would be the moment where you realize that the answer to your dilemma is, if not right in front of you, at least around the corner.
And if you are not, in fact, any sort of inventor, if you are not in a movie with artful clothes and the dusty-gorgeous atmosphere of a fantastical film set, if you are only a girl muddling your way through a troublesome bit of life, well, DON’T DESPAIR, black on corrugated white, is a pretty nice thing to see.
We were taking an affogato break later, and I was mulling over the pizza shop, wondering if they had a whole selection of pizza boxes with unexpected sayings. MAKE MERRY, perhaps. DON’T DALLY. LOOK UP. FORSOOTH. And CC said, “If your cupboard’s bare.” I was delicately pouring espresso onto a scoop of tiramisù gelato so I distractedly said: “Mm?” and it turns out the four sides of pizza box put together read: “If your cupboard’s bare / Don’t despair / Give us a call / We’ll be right there.”
Oh.
I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes I like to read the horoscopes.
this is a brilliant movie, really brilliant, the kind of movie the movies were made for, and what better way to watch it than—if not eight months ago on the big screen—with pizza and gelati, and on the new sixty-eight-centimeter flat-screen television Matthew and CC got the other day when Matthew was home sick from work. He was lying on the couch groaning about some upset stomach or other, Matthew was, and I said, “Can I make you some soup or something?” and he said, all groany, “Nooo.” He may have clutched his stomach at this point, or wiped his feverish brow, before he said: “What I need is a new television.” And just like that they drove off into the sunset and “Hi-ho, Silver” referred, two days later, to the shiny new Panasonic the delivery guys brought to the door.
But, anyway—
oh, wait. Just one more. May I take this moment to say that Lemony Snicket is played in perfect typewriterly fashion by the backlit shadows of Jude Law, oh, hurrah, and I know the word on the street is that he is a philandering cur, but I, as I told my friend Jazon, when I move to London I WILL BE THE ONE WHO MAKES HIM COMMIT.
Hum. So.
CC and I were watching “A Series of Unfortunate Events” tonight, and at some point I looked down at the table and found that the words printed on the side of the pizza box were: DON’T DESPAIR.
It is this sort of moment that makes you aware there is suddenly a prickle on your neck. At this moment, if you were a fourteen-year-old girl inventor—the best fourteen-year-old inventor around, uncontested—and if you were in some sort of tight spot, and if you thought you might be about to give up because all was lost—if all this were the case, the moment of seeing DON’T DESPAIR printed on an unexpected surface would be the moment where you realize that the answer to your dilemma is, if not right in front of you, at least around the corner.
And if you are not, in fact, any sort of inventor, if you are not in a movie with artful clothes and the dusty-gorgeous atmosphere of a fantastical film set, if you are only a girl muddling your way through a troublesome bit of life, well, DON’T DESPAIR, black on corrugated white, is a pretty nice thing to see.
We were taking an affogato break later, and I was mulling over the pizza shop, wondering if they had a whole selection of pizza boxes with unexpected sayings. MAKE MERRY, perhaps. DON’T DALLY. LOOK UP. FORSOOTH. And CC said, “If your cupboard’s bare.” I was delicately pouring espresso onto a scoop of tiramisù gelato so I distractedly said: “Mm?” and it turns out the four sides of pizza box put together read: “If your cupboard’s bare / Don’t despair / Give us a call / We’ll be right there.”
Oh.
I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes I like to read the horoscopes.
posted by stellou at 6:47 PM
4 Comments:
it's just that we made pickled cherries in Prades this summer with a boy, is all...
and they are damn good let me tell you...
M.
That is some Pizza box. It would be so cool if the pizza boxes did have happy slogans on them for the depressed comfort eater.
What pizza chain makes such entertaining pizza boxes? Mine only have instructions on how to reheat the pizza, and during Chinese New Year, there was a scribbled "Gong Xi Fa Cai" on one.
I tried reading the "A Series of Unfortunate Events" books when they first came out. The first two suitably entertained me before the narrative formula got really staid and then I gave up. Given your esteemed recommendation, perhaps I'll give the movie a go some time ...
Mo: I likes pickles and I likes cherries, but I can't say I've had a pickled cherry yet. Um. Hello, you know my number!!!!!
Wait, you don't. HA HA HA.
+ + +
tscd: Oh dear. I can just see it now: the comfort eater, a tear, and a pizza box--"You are not alone"--and Eric Carmen, soft, in the background: "All by myself..."
And scene! :-p
+ + +
tym: The pizza shoppe is not a chain, I think. It's this place called Zesti's down on Darling Street. You come lah! We order. :-)
Also, I haven't read Lemony Snicket, but I keep meaning to. So I can't say anything about the books, but the movie is entertaining like sometimes you want a movie to be. And we are still quoting from it two days later, so maybe that is a good sign?
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