So DeHubby and I finally venture out of the house last night for dinner and a movie. Dinner was great, the movie (The Scorpion King) was campy, but alright…not so wonderful were the commercials we were forced to sit through.
First, the eardrum-rupturing volume of the heavy bass tune that accompanies the glory that is the new Matrix. Yes, it’s probably more the theater’s fault that the volume was so high, but damn it…I am not interested in this crappy little car, and would rather be allowed to anticipate the Star Wars trailer in peace, thank you. Worse than that, though, was the commercial that followed. To the singing of a song that involved the phrase ‘I don’t need…’ we get a glorious sequence of adolescent female crotch shots. True, they’re all wearing undies (or what passes for undies, with as little fabric as possible) but still, I have absolutely no need to watch a procession of boy-slender hips wrapped in thong string wriggling into a pair of stretchy jeans over and over and over and over again.
I realize that a number of people in the audience probably enjoyed it, but I go to the movies to see a movie. If I wanted to watch commercials, I’d turn on my TV, and if I wanted to watch young girls gyrating about, half-naked…well, I guess I’d go to more movies.
I should probably throw in a few cuss words to liven up what I know is a pretty lame rant, but my grasp of creative swearing is pretty shaky. I do feel better having gotten this off of my chest though.