I was getting into bed last night, quaking with anxiety over the VP debate (people interrupting each other makes me VURY comfortable) when I turned and asked my boyfriend if he'd be interested in seeing The Girl on the Train over the next few weeks.
(I read the book in a crazy daze in like 24 hours this past summer and have no absolutely no recollection if it was good or not.)
"Yeah, maybe," he replied. "Who's in it?"
"Only the world's greatest human being, Emily Blunt. And Justin Theroux-
"Justin Theroux? You know, Jennifer Anniston's husband? He's on The Leftov-
"Babe," he said, settling into bed to check the fantasy football crop circles predictions on his iPhone. "I have no idea who Jennifer Aniston's husband is."
That's funny, I thought. No idea who Jennifer Anniston's husband is! Hahaha!! I began to lean forward slightly and laugh wildly, as if I was at an InStyle party in a sequined halter dress with my very tan and black-clothes loving husband who also co-wrote Tropic Thunder and is from D.C.
Like, I'm sorry, but what? I mean, you think you know someone, and then you realize you have NO IDEA what's going on in their head, ever, and that they probably haven't ever read a single article about Jennifer Aniston in their life and have zero clue that Sia sang at her wedding and then she and J-Tha went on their honeymoon with the Batemans! Men are weird.
Hi! I'm Caroline.