. . . and give my $7.50 back. My book club went to see the movie "Stick It" last night. It was only showing in one theatre, the new Century on 78th S. and 13th. E., which should have been a big fat red flag. After my writing group adjourned last night, I headed over and waited for the crew to arrive--Amber, Brenda, Christie G., and Christie M, and a neighbor (sorry, I can't remember her name).
We had the theatre to ourselves. We were able to openly mock the movie's mind-numbing dialogue and jokes. For example, one character (she was so bland I don't remember her name) said, "It's not called Gym-Nice-Stics." And what's with the hand phone messaging in order not to talk to each other? And the farting? It's so junior high. At least we didn't have to worry about ruining anyone else's movie experience.
When we walked in, Amber said, "I'm worried that I'm going to see someone's breast tonight." This probably stemmed from several weeks ago after we were helping Deanna (another member of our book club who couldn't make it last night) paint her new house, both Christie and Amber helped me climb a tree in Deanna's front yard and had to nudge me up. Both testifying that they had touched my butt that night. Well, Amber was almost right . . .
The movie's climactic peak was when the gymnasts decided that they could control the outcomes of the meet if they decided only one gymnast would compete on each event, and the others would "scratch" because a certain gymnast was penalized for having her bra strap showing. The rest of the gymnasts, as they were "scratching" each event, yanked out their bra straps defiantly. As we were leaving the theatre shaking our heads dizzily and wondering where our money went, Amber and Brenda cartwheeled across the theatre and the "neighbor" stretched out her bra straps for us all to see. See, we did see some bra last night.
We thought we had had the theatre to ourselves. As we walked out, I looked up into the small alighted window and a guy waved, where he had been watching overhead.
The next morning, as I'm still picking popcorn kernels from my teeth since I didn't have time to waterpik at midnight last night, I'm wondering if the movie was in fact really that stupid or if I simply need to accept that I'm just not a teenager anymore and these movies aren't meant for me. I'll let you know after the next one . . .
