Shannon and I used to go to the movies nearly every week when we were first married. But now that we have kids, once every six months is about all we can muster. It also hurts that when we were first married, a movie was only $5.50 and the "dollar" theater had just bumped up the cost of a ticket to $1.50.
Last night we went to the theater for a cool $9 each. The older boys were with Grandma and Grandpa playing in the global warming snow and the younger boys were with Aunt Sonya and Uncle Craig. So we had a narrow window of time to grab a bite, visit the loan officer, and watch a movie.
The time constraints limited us to Will Ferrell's Blades of Glory (2007). It's a 90-minute, forehead slapping, groan-inducing type of movie. In fact, IMDB's (Internet Movie Database) list of keywords for this movie is as follows: Person On Fire, Cowboy Hat, Vomit, Figure Skating, Hit in Crotch, Bad Haircut.
Yeah, that's about right.
If only Dr. Zhivago (1965) or Schindler's List (1993) had had a few more hits to the crotch to make it more watchable! Just think what Citizen Kane (1941) could have been with more vomiting! If only!
To atone for my proletarian ways, I went out today with a friend from church and got tickets for the New Theatre Restaurant. That's right, a live performance at a place where they spell "theatre" like the British do. How hoity-toity is that? You even have to dress up (a little)!
However, while we were out last night rubbing elbows with the great unwashed, I couldn't help but see several trailers and posters of movies I really want to see this summer: Pirates of the Caribbean 3, Spiderman 3, Transformers, Ratatouille, Harry Potter 5, Bourne 3, etc. All high-brow, sophisticated stuff, no doubt! How hopeless am I?
[A shiny nickel to whomever identifies the reference of this post's title.]
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