So I'm all panicking that my throat is going to burn away like I swallowed boric acid, and I'm going to straight away buy a drink and fix it, right? I go get my tickets, and there are two dudes in front of me: one large and in charge, the other like he's been stretched out in a taffy pull. (Just like the guys in Superbad! Except well over 6 feet, the twain of them.) The lady behind the booth asks them for ID and they get all huffy and affronted, "Seriously? I don't even need ID for bars, how hilarious that you need this. Ha ha ha. I'm 24." And they make a big show of how much of a pain in their ass this is. (Are you thinking not old enough? Me, too.) I go to get mine, she cards me, I say thank you (because come on. My kid started junior high today.) and go to get a Coke. These two knuckleheads stand behind me and start chatting me up!
"Hey, you coming to see Superbad? It's awesome. We've seen it, like, twice already." Okay. I show I'm not interested, just need a drink to keep from dying via acid throat, get my soda, go sit down and chug it. (My neck did not, in fact, dissolve. In case you were worried.) The two guys come in and climb over chairs (because steps are hard you guys, zomg) and sit RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. There are 10 people in the theater. Um... Well. One of the dudes, the taffy-pull guy, has a shirt that reads:
Ahahahahahaha!! They keep laughing at jokes in the movie and checking to see if I'm laughing!! They WAVED GOODBYE when the credits rolled, after sitting there for a while whispering. Awwwww! I feel like a MILF. Bless their little hearts. Okay, now I have to go pick up my GROWN UP MANCHILD who probably has a mustache and a draft form for me to sign. *stomps off* hee!