Friday, April 13, 2001. 141 lbs, cigarettes: 33, alcohol units: 19 (mostly postviewing cocktails brought on by consistent overindulgence displayed in movie, not own fault), calories 5,424 (same). Morning. London. My fellow Englishmen have had their knickers in a bunch that Yank Renée Zellweger would play me in this adaptation of Helen Fielding's bestselling book.
Bollocks! Yank does a bloody good job, even if the accent isn't exactly spot on. As for my love life, I'm still torn between my gorgeous but deliciously pervy boss, Hugh Grant, and barrister Colin Firth (also quite yummy). Meanwhile, mum is off shagging a TV pitchman and dad is a bit at a loss on being alone. My fab friends are quite similar to Hugh's chums in Notting Hill, in that they can steal a scene with a pinch of dry humor. If you loved Fielding's book (great subject matter, I might add) you'll like the film. All others, expect to fall in love--with the movie. Shazzer says it's much better than that despicable Someone Like You, anyway. Off to the gym--or maybe I'll grab a cocktail first. Just one. -- Bridget