black boots and black dahlias

After I'd picked up the tickets from the cinema, there was just enough time to pop into a shoe store too trashy to be mentioned publicly in order to purchase a pair of black suede boots for -believe it or not - € 22,99 before I had to return to the cinema to meet up with Prefab Babe (hereinafter to be referred to as PB). Well, actually, she's a fab babe, but as she and her hubby have just had a prefab home built, I had the brainwave to assign this pseudonym to her for the purpose of this blog. PB and I go back a looong way, in fact until the very first week of university back in 1990 and still indulge in occasional reminiscing about the good (?) old days in the English Department of Vienna University.

The film we'd picked was The Black Dahlia. Don't ask me why we did because it turned out be somewhat, well, beyond us. The plot was overladen with too many characters and it all seemed a bit contrived and hard to follow. We soon gave up our post-mortem in the adjacent café as neither of us cared enough to swap elusive details in the vain hope of completing the jigsaw. I can't remember the last time I'd felt I didn't quite get the plot, but what with my congenital arrogance I chose to blame it on the director/scriptwriter rather than on myself.