Rediscovered a surprisingly gold comedy last night - She-Devil, starring Roseanne Barr (as she was at the time) and Meryl Streep. Streep played romance novelist Mary Fisher, who lived in this pink palace in Malibu or somewhere where she wrote trashy romance while cavorting with her latino butler. Anyway, the funniest moment was when Streep's sitting in her rose-filled garden, with her laptop open, trying to write her new novel (the font, perfectly, was perpetua). She's trying to churn out the love-scene, but has run out of ambiguous sexual descriptors. She's torn between "he reached down to touch her nub", and "he reached down to touch her love-button". After deciding on "love-button", she moves on to describe the moment at which his "love-nectar was spent". Hahahaha. Actually, spent is another uncomfortably word, along with panties. Now Elanor, where is Fermina?