Ok, I lied about not getting any post-interview thank-you notes. This morning brought one by e-mail. Etiquette is apparently not dead.

Daniel and I watched Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle courtesy of Netflix last night. During the opening sequence, Daniel turned to me and said, "You know, an RPG (rocket-propelled grenade) actually travels more slowly than that." And I was like, "Oh no. Don't go there. Realism is so not the right frame of reference for appreciating this film."

Realism is definitely not the right frame of mind for this film. It is riddled with physical, biological, psychological and intellectual implausibilities, and I loved every minute of it.

You know, I'm not sure that Hollywood is getting any better at making smart movies. But I think they're getting very much better at making good dumb movies. Somebody should make Charlie's Angels 3 with Johnny Depp playing a swaggering flamboyant villain. And, um, vampires, and a meteor colliding with planet earth and causing an ice age. And giant robots. And a dude with a magic samurai sword. That would be cool.

We had a very pleasant mother's day brunch with Daniel's grandparents and his aunt and uncle and four cousins and one cousin's significant other, even if people kept escaping into the TV room to watch the Sharks/Flames game. (I watched about 15 minutes of it. I think it was actually the first time I'd ever watched a hockey game. Daniel's grandfather thinks that my lack of appreciation for professional sports makes me culturally deficient. He's probably right. The game must have made some impression on me, though, because now I find myself curious about who won. Guess I'll go find out online.)

But, hey, at least I wasn't the San Jose resident present who asked, "So, what city are the Sharks from?"

Had quite a bit of trouble waking up this morning, and generally still feel like I'd like to crawl under a rock. Instead, I think I'll go get a latte and then crawl under a pile of HTML Help.