I'd Make a Good Movie Critic

Went to see Harry Potter 7 today! Had a glorious time by myself. Mostly, just because I was by myself, not so much because of the theater experience itself. I have come to a solid conclusion that there is no point in going to a movie with other people. Why, why, WHY is this considered a social event? When I go with other people, I feel obligated to communicate...giggle, elbow, you know. Socialize? But it's not the place. I don't get it.

You know what else I don't get? Taking a little kid to that movie! I'm sorry, but I spilled popcorn and almost peed my pants when that snake came at me from the screen. Who takes kids to see that? Call me a scaredy cat, but that movie was SKEERY. What makes it scary is [this is the part where I'm going to start to sound like a crotchety old lady. If you will, picture me in a bathrobe, waving a broom on my front porch while I say this] that movies are WAY TOO LOUD. Like, ear-shattering, make your heart get off rhythm too loud. Why is this necessary? Do people really like this? Who are these people?

I know I said I had a good time, but the whole movie experience is confusing to me....perhaps because I don't go often in lieu of activities more quality in nature. Like Gossip Girl or America's Next Top Model that I can watch right from my own bed at a reasonable volume. And not sitting next to a member of the Great Unwashed. Hey, let's talk about that.

The man in line in front of me had clearly sat up in bed this morning, slapped his hand to his forehead, and said, "I'm going to see a movie! Right now." And he stood up, slipped his feet into his Crocs, and drove his car to the movie theater. He stood in front of me, trying to rub yesterday's stubble off of his face while he pondered the show he wished to see. I stared, unabashed, as he thoughtfully scratched the western region of his south side and I thoughtfully took in his entire appearance.

Clearly, the man was a back sleeper, judging by the wicked toucan-like bed head he was sporting from behind and the location of the wrinkles in his wife beater that was hanging sloppily out from under his acid washed jean jacket which had been jauntily thrown atop his night wear. His kelly green sweatpants with the elastic ankles didn't offer any significant clues, aside from poor taste, but I suppose they did coordinate with his Crocs. You know, THE ONES HE WORE IN PUBLIC.

I was fairly relieved when he didn't choose to see Harry Potter, but mightily skeeved knowing that his type was wandering freely about. Whenever I sit in public movie chairs, I start to get that creepy lice paranoia. I mean, everyone writhes and wallers in movie chairs, and it's just shudder-worthy to think of coming in behind someone like Toucan Sam from the movie queue. I felt no shame when I pulled my hood up on my head after sitting. It made the experience a bit more comfortable. Well, that and the hand sanitizer. The theater was kind enough to let me tuck my shaking broom under my chair for the show.

Now that I've completed my analysis of the general public and public movie-going practices, I will say that I enjoyed the movie. I haven't reread the 7th book, so I had forgotten a lot of the plot, which made it more exciting. I'm still so, so sad about Dobby dying and I missed seeing actual Hogwarts in the movie, but it was well done, I thought. The guy that plays Ron Weasley seems to have FINALLY figured out acting here on the last movies and his comic timing was really cute. And, unless you wish for me to wax about how dirty and dusty everything in the wizarding world is or start in on British teeth, I'll just stop there. Can you tell what a great time I had? I really, honestly did. This is just how I show joy.