I went to see Wolverine tonight. And it was suitably Hugh Jacksony. With the pecs and the flex, and the adamantium. And the pecs. And the Hugh Jackson.
I can’t remember what happened.
With the Hugh Jackson. With the pecs and the flex, and the adamantium. And the pecs. And the Hugh Jackson.
Anyway.
I waited until the end of the movie aka the end of the credits, as I normally do, before I left the theatre. [There was an Easter egg of sorts, but it wasn’t at the very end.] Today the person waiting to clean up after the movie was impatiently waiting off to the side, maybe trying to will me to move or something. But here’s the thing: I paid a LOT Of money to see that movie, plus the money I paid for food and drink. She can chillax until I am ready to leave the theatre. I want the whole experience, dammit. And it is rude to stand off to the side sighing and tapping your broom-and-dustpan assembly against the floor. Excuse me while I take forever to pick up my stuff when I’m leaving. [Note: While I may have gotten a couple of pieces of popcorn on the floor, I did carry my own garbage out of the theatre.]
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