This is where I talk about why it's not so bad to be fat. Among other things.
Saw the Artist Friday night. In a 1933 theater. That served beer. Not like I'm bragging or anything.(Okay, I know you're not into the beer part, but I had to make your other readers jealous. Just HAD to.)Before anyone goes and gets too jealous, you know that agonizingly SILENT climax that makes everyone cry? Yeah. A cell phone rang. In the middle of that scene. A CELL PHONE RANG IN THE MOST CRUCIAL PIVOTAL SILENT PART OF THE WHOLE DAMN MOVIE.Someone start me a charity or a telethon or something. I deserve it.
I LOVE drinking beer in movie theaters. I also love drinking pop there, but I don't do that anymore either. I am un-fun.When I turn 80 tho, I am going to start smoking, drinking alcohol AND coke zero, eat lard from a spoon. . .and if Greg is dead. . .I'm gonna get me some Cougar bait!I'll call you! It's only in 34 more years!
I'm incredibly jealous Nicki. Where is this heaven you speak of? Wait... no I'm not. We have a dine-in theater. It's just farther than I want to drive.
Even though it's French, I still really want to see this film (which, from what I can tell, is a FILM, not a MOVIE. Bruce Willis and George Lucas make MOVIES).
Correct. It's a film. Be sure to wear your black turtleneck so you can look the part!
Then I shall get hither to a cinema!Which hopefully sells Milk Duds.
I LOVE to read comments. Seriously. I check them every day. Insecure? Maybe.