So there I was, dear readers, shuffling into the movie theater, with the Weekend Warriors, the yokels and rubes, and the many, many, many snot nosed kids. Obviously I was operating under the false pretenses that, being that the movie had already been running a week, and that we were catching the 10AM show, it would be anything less than packed.
Immediately, upon entering the theater, I broke the second cardinal rule of the Anti-Social Club, which is Thou Shalt Not Sit Next to A Stranger. Fortunately, the stranger must have been an honorary member of The Club as well, as both of us spent the entirety of the movie clinging for dear life to our respective arm rests. Oh, for the price of resting our feet on the unoccupied seats of the handicapped section in front of us…TOTALLY WORTH IT!!
Of course about 10 minutes into the movie I had to repress the urge to get up and scream, “Listen people, if your kid can’t keep quiet for 2 hours, they do not belong in a movie theater!” Let me tell you reader, it was a lucky thing I suppressed this urge as it was clear I was sorely outnumbered, and probably would have been pelted by a barrage of undigested popcorn, soggy breast pads and dirty diapers.
Now I know that children’s movies can sometimes be amusing. However, if you are over the age of 18, and find yourself guffawing loudly at the jokes, especially when you are the only one in the theater doing so, I sincerely hope it is because you bought a pot brownie at the concession stand. If you find deep social meaning in said children’s movie, I sincerely hope it is because your popcorn is laced with LSD. But, although I unfortunately, had no mind altering substances flowing through my body, I did learn a valuable lesson from this movie.
About two Christmases ago, my daughter was given a Lego set. I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to assemble it, but whatever joy was to be given to my daughter by said assembly, was soon replaced by the horror of watching her mother turn into The Green Manalishi with the Two Pronged Crown. Curses were not muttered but bellowed, emotions ran high, and pieces were thrown into the dark depths of my living room only to emerge again when I found they were painfully lodged into my foot. Then, once the assembly was done, my daughter would play with the set, only to have it fall apart again, and so the continuation of the vicious cycle.
And so back to the valuable lesson learned…Krazy Glue….why didn’t I think of that?
Is It? Is it really??
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Glorious Results Of A Misspent Youth 