This weekend was spent at the movie theater, at the mall, at church, and at our apartment. On Saturday we caught a matinee of Prince Caspian, which was okay, but was inexplicably given the most questionable PG rating ever given since the 80s. In no particular order, and without giving away any spoilers, here’s a list of some of the things an entire theater full of children were subjected to.
1) Lots of throat slitting
2) Very noisy childbirth
3) A minotaur death by crushing
4) A crunching noise as a dislocated shoulder is reset
5) Multiple slaughters – in one, an entire group is trapped behind a gate and we watch their faces as they’re dying; and
6) A decapitation – we even get to see the head lying next to the body
Anyway, the movie is mostly bloodless, so I guess that’s how Disney squeaked past with the PG rating, and I’m not personally offended by any of it…but it definitely goes to show the flaws in the rating system. I wouldn’t take my 5 year old to see it (if I had one...). Check out this link to Eric Snider’s thoughts on the issue.
But even more ridiculous than the rating was the man sitting next to us. We opted to sit in the very back to minimize our contact with unruly children, only to realize we’d chosen to sit next to a man ten times worse than any ragamuffin child in that theater. He was your typical, annoying, movie-going buffoon. He laughed out loud during the preview for “Beverly Hills Chihuahua”. He noisily and inaccurately predicted the twists and turns of the plotline, and felt it necessary to repeat each joke out loud (sometimes several times). I guess he thought the actors’ inflection was off, or that he could do it better, or that it would be funnier when he said it, or something. He was a real cartoon.
After the movie we shopped for a while in the mall – Jon bought two pairs of jeans, which means he has to throw away two pairs of jeans. He hangs on to more clothes than any human, so I make him throw some away each time he adds more. He threw away a pair of ten year old Wranglers the other day, but not before squeezing into them and parading around the apartment for a few minutes. I have never been less attracted to my husband. He physically injured himself, too. The tightness of the high waist strained a muscle or something. Ew.
After shopping, we went to eat at El Charro – a yummy Mexican place that we really like, despite the weird service we always get there. Well. So. I had to use the restroom, so I made my way to the back, where I was confronted with two options for doors. Upon initial examination, each of the bathroom signs appeared to be the same, but when I looked closer at the one to the right, I could tell that the conquistador silhouette appeared to be slightly more feminine than the one on the left. Looking closely at the words on each, I realized one said “Charros”, and the other said “Charras” (although at first glance it was almost impossible to tell, since the defining letters had been transformed into logos for the restaurant). Anyway, so after taking several moments to make my choice, I swung open the “Charras” door, only to nearly flatten the old man who was inside, carefully washing his hands. You can imagine how quickly I spun around and walked out, and after taking one last sideways glance at the confusing door signs, I headed back to my table unrelieved. The waitress saw the look on my face when I sat down and asked if everything was okay. So I tried to brush it off, and just told her I was confused by the bathroom signs… but she practically carried me back to the scene of the crime to explain to me the anatomical differences between men and women. “See this image here? This is a lady” (she outlines the curves with her finger). We had passed the confused old man on our way there (now wandering aimlessly down the hallway) so I lowered my voice and told her the real story. She reacted just how I’d hoped she would, too. Just the right amount of shock, near-laughter, and deep sympathy. (“Oh no!! Oh, poor little dear. He must have gotten confused…”) And yes, I’ll never be able to forgive myself for not taking pictures of the bathroom signs. How much easier this entire thing would have been to explain if I’d have only remembered. We were halfway home by the time I realized my mistake, and I let out a blood-curdling gasp. The kind that almost makes Jon drive right off the road. Anyway, I’ll take the pictures next time we’re in the vicinity of that restaurant. I’m just mad they couldn’t have been included in this original post.
…And all the time in-between these events was spent watching the second season of Friday Night Lights. Such a good series. How come you’re not watching it? You really should be. Ready, go.