We thought it was only professional tennis that got Anna Wintour's blood pumping. No so. Because when a runway show ends, there's only one means of making an exit.

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Hi! I'm currently at a tennis club in Tucson, Arizona. Court moms are being catty and one woman just asked me where to find the best sushi in town. (Arizona is landlocked, lady! Nowhere!) Fun fact: Everywhere I look I see athletic shoes with metallic details.

Why am I telling you this? Slow day, for one, but also because I just witnessed a few septuagenarians have a ten minute discussion about the benefits of casting Julia Roberts and Tom Hanks opposite one another in Charlie Wilson's War. One kindly woman told two others she left the theater saying, "YES!"

The conversation terrified me on different levels, but mainly because I'm not certain that when I write I don't sound like these people; these chirping twits prattling on about fucking movie stars. Besides blood and bones and a heart, is there a commonality that exists between me and those three women fawning over Julia's hair?

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