REAL night fever

Last night Ben and I saw The Brothers Grimm. It warn't bad. But I can't figure out why the bros, who were German (right?), spoke with English accents. Heath Ledger's character, a bumbling scholar of folk tales with a slight speech impediment, is my kind of movie heartthrob. I can't say I would have a crush on Jacob Grimm as played by Wallace Shawn; what I'm saying is that jocks dressed up as nerds, who then dress up as ladies in bonnets, are HOT.

In the middle of the night, Ben woke me up and claimed to have heard a prowler in our backyard. We spent an edgy hour or so with our ears cocked at various windows and, ridiculously, refusing to turn the lights on or speak out loud. Were our exaggerated lip movements supposed to allow the guy to enter the house, so we'd have something to charge him with? I can't explain our logic.

I'll now take every opportunity to poke fun at Ben for being brainwashed by the movie into dreaming up our own Evil Forest. It's entirely possible that someone has built a fort in our backyard, camouflaged by vines and ti leaves, but I hold to my belief that it was a wild boar. I prefer to reserve my hysterics for predictions of volcano eruptions, WMD attacks, and giant meteors destroying the earth. Things against which Heath's square jaw and bulging biceps would be utterly useless.