Space Invaders

I decided to go to the movies today. By myself.

It didn't start out that way. My usual movie companion had plans. My daughter was working. My other 2 kids who still live at home were with their father. That pretty much leaves the dogs, the practice of taking them to the theater is generally frowned upon.

So I went to see "Did You Hear About the Morgans?" all alone. The theater was at about 50% capacity. I settled in the perfect seat with my Trio of Movie Goodness (cherry coke, popcorn, milk duds) and told myself that going to the movies alone is a perfectly reasonable way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Side note - At the stroke of midnight on Sunday night/Monday morning, I have to give up junk food. The opportunity to consume the Trio of Movie Goodness one last time was, in fact, the driving force behind my solo attendance - not any overwhelming desire to see this film.

Back to the story.

So, there I sit, plenty of empty seats around me. After I'm comfy, the very next people to enter the theater (two rather bulky women in Wal-Mart sweatshirts and big poofy coats) decide to sit down right...behind...me. I don't just mean in the ROW behind me. They sat DIRECTLY behind me.

Empty seats stretch out like rows of corn in Field of Dreams....but, no. RIGHT BEHIND ME.

I got to listen to the following conversation, which I memorized for the sake of science to regurgitate for you, dear reader:

LADY ONE: Who stars in this movie?

LADY TWO: What?

LADY ONE: Who stars in this movie?

LADY TWO: What?

LADY ONE: The actors in this movie...who are they?

LADY TWO: Oh...uh...I don't know.

LADY ONE: What?

Dear reader - would you shell out $7.50+ to go see a film, and have not a clue as to neither the name of the film nor the actors in it?????? Some do, it seems. You will be proud to know that I did NOT turn around and announce that we were watching "Did You Freakin' Hear About the Freakin' Morgans" which stars Sarah Freakin' Jessica Parker and Freakin' Hugh Grant. Was, however, sorely tempted.

I won't give you the gruesome details of how L1 and L2 sounded as they masticated their popcorn- I'll leave that to your imagination. Frankly, I don't want to relive it.

And yet it gets even better.

So, as the previews start, Husband and Wife come in and sit right...next...to...me.

Rows of open seats like little soldiers at Pickett's Charge....but no. RIGHT NEXT TO ME.

Sigh.

So I leaned WAY to the left, certainly causing permanent pelvic damage to myself, in order to avoid physical contact with Wife, Wife's coat, Wife's leg, or Wife's big ugly handbag that she jammed into the seat.

And to top it all off, the movie pretty much sucked. I actually would have left part way through, but didn't want to climb over Wife and Husband (in that order). Has Hugh Grant made a decent movie since Notting Hill?

Now I am just content to be in my own home, amongst my own germs, without fear of having my space invaded by someone other than those I birthed. I tell you, dear reader, I'm 18 months away from full-blown Howard Hughes. Without the money.