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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Monday, August 8   >>

HOW YOU CAN WASTE CELLULOID MEDIA, AND VICE VERSA

Peter Jennings died last night. That really, really blows.

I'm going to lighten things up.

Ever go to a movie, pay for it, and, embarrassed out of your mind, come out of the theatre thinking to yourself, "I'm never going to tell ANYBODY that I just saw this movie"?

That happened to me a couple nights ago. And you know what? I AIN'T SAYIN' SHIT.

I don't care what anyone does to me. I don't care if I'm kidnapped, taken to Costa Rica, and tied up next to a legless hooker -- I ain't tellin'. I don't care if you stick me in a room with Carrot Top and Fran Drescher until the end of time -- I ain't tellin'. I don't care if Star Jones' butt is stapled to my face -- I ain't tellin'. In fact, I'd rather have tea with Hitler than tell ANYBODY what movie I saw. AND paid for.

To clear up the air (huge potential for horrible, horrible, slanderous rumors), no, it was not a smut film. And no, it wasn't at a theatre where lonely, miserable men touch their little things. No, no, readers, this is the same theatre ALL of us go to for the latest movies. THE LEGAL NO-TOUCHIE-DOWN-THERE MOVIE THEATRE.

I ain't tellin'. I just ain't. And if that ain't enough clues for y'all, then I just got two words to say to you: NANCY SINATRA IS A SAINT.

Movie theatres are fun. Sometimes.

I, personally, (that is such a stupid opener for a sentence -- it's like a double positive -- wait, is that even bad?) LOVE going to the movie theatre. In fact, I just call it "the movies" because I am a common person, and don't have to use the word theatre to heighten the experience. You know Fanfare for the Common Man? Written for me. Copland and I go way back.

Anyway, I really love going to the movie theatre. But, as I get older, I tend to not like it as much. Why? Well, because as time progresses, SO DO PRICES.

"Hi, welcome to Krikorian Theatres. What'll it be?"

"I'd like... a medium Pepsi and a small order of nachos."

"That'll be $478,000. Oh -- would you like jalapenos?"

"Yeah, sure!"

"Okay, that'll be $3,629,231.02 -- plus tax."

I mean, seriously, the "the movies" industry is going fucking haywire with the prices. I mean, if I want to pay that much everytime I want to go to the movies, I'd rather buy a couple B-list actors to play charades with me every weekend. Just invite the Hollywood Squares oafs over.

On another note, I really feel for the poor, young souls who scrape their pennies up to go on a date. If you think about it, the cost of a 14-year-old boy asking a 14-year-old girl out to the movies costs just about as much as Operation Desert Storm.

2 "OH SHIT! We forgot our student IDs!" Tickets -- $19.50

2 Drinks, 1 Large Popcorn -- $898,000

1 14-year-old boy with bad credit -- priceless.

That's, like, 2 trillion dollars. I mean, seriously, what gives?

Well, I dunno about you, bu-- okay, I've got nothing. Happy Monday!