I'm one of those people, whether you want to call me a movie fanatic or an old person who remembers "At the Movies," when it still had that classy balding dude and that robust fatty with the glasses who would proclaim a movie good or bad by simply the swing of a clenched fist with the thumb struck out, but I'm one of those people who gets really sad when I hear about the death of Roger Ebert, that aforementioned fatty who hung out with the baldie and now gets to look down upon us (if you believe in that, heaven and all) and laugh at our cinematic faux pas, the two tittering together once more. I'm also one of those people who hasn't always been so nice about Jessica Alba
since I perceived her to be a spoiled and unworthy diva (you're a stripper in a movie where you don't take your clothes off? You have your clothes digitally removed in another movie? Whaaa?) and have felt her to have sported the sneer that could cause KStew to wither to her knees long before people decided it was only Stewart who knew how to glare at anyone taking her picture. But now I see Jess in St Bart's (one of those island resort places for the rich people) and she's smiling. She knows people are taking her picture and she's not trying to hide herself away. Perhaps it's time to stop being one of those people regarding her. Then again, a hot chick in a bikini has clouded many a great mind over the years.
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