My husband operates a movie theatre and is understandably opposed to taking me to see movies on his nights off. In our five years together, he’s taken me out to a movie one time – to see Twilight. He did that because he knew that not taking me would negatively impact his sex life. Looking back, I can’t believe I wasted my “cut off” card on that craptastic movie, but hey, live and learn.
Now, I can go see movies at his theatre any time while he’s there and he’ll pop in to give me a hug or bring me a drink, but it’s not the same as going to a movie with him. Plus, now I need a babysitter so it’s really just not worth the hassle, especially in the age of $1.20 Redbox DVDs.
So all of my movie dates are women now. Sometimes I catch a Saturday matinee with my bestie, GFunk. A couple of times I’ve taken my mom to see a flick. But mostly my movie nights are reserved for my last remaining single, footloose and fancy free friend, T.
T doesn’t have kids, and although she loves my little Monkey guy she really doesn’t want to come over on her night off each week to watch him do cute things like smash Cheerios into the carpet and giggle after he farts. So we meet up for movies instead.
She’s obsessed with the rapid expansion of my belly and is always sneaking in snacks to the movies (shhhh, don’t tell my husband – that’s a big no no) in a redundant attempt to fatten me up. This last time, we went to see Breaking Dawn and she brought me…a burrito.
Yeah. A burrito. To the movies.
So we sit in the back row of the theatre with our purses full of burrito goodness, waiting for the lights to go down so we can commence chow, but the previews are forever long and I can feel my snack getting cold. Cold burritos are not nearly as tasty as cold pizza, so I decided, meh, screw it, there’s hardly anyone in this screening room anyway so I’m eating my burrito with the lights on.
But first I had to capture this gem. Yeah, I can totally balance a burrito on my baby bump now.
Twenty-five weeks and counting…
Share your camera phone photos of the week with Greta and me! (Yes, it’s totally supposed to be “Greta and me.” When in doubt, remove Greta’s name and read the sentence. You wouldn’t say, “With I.” Also, it’s so annoying to see people write things like “Billy Bob and I’s kids.” THERE IS NO SUCH WORD AS I’s. Ugh. Sorry. Pregnant Grammar Nazi rant over.)
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