A Good Ol’ Sunday Matine

I had already been to the beach multiple times in the past week and my skin was beginning to look like Magda’s from “There’s Something About Mary”

Lin Shaye, Magda from There's Something About Mary, Magda, too-tan skin, leather skin

so yesterday my mom and I decided to go to a movie. There weren’t many viable options. We had to choose between “Limitless” and “Red Riding Hood.” We could have seen “The King’s Speech” but as it turns out, I don’t give a fuck about a king with a speaking problem, even if it is Colin Firth. My mom and I both like Amanda Seyfried so we decided to see “Red Riding Hood.”

Amanda Seyfried

Now I know what you’re probably thinking: Sarah don’t even start bitching about this movie; the trailer smelled like old cheese and hot garbage.

Be that as it may, let the bitching ensue.

I am always down for a little cheese and sleaze, but this movie was terrible. From the awful CG environments to the shitty script to the Twilight-esque love triangle, it was a stinkpot. As we were walking out, my mom said, “You’d think that any of these actors would have picked up the script and said, ‘No way. No. Absolutely not.'” Yet here we are.

My favorite part was when the wolf started talking. With his eyes. My mom and I just looked at each other like “whaaat?” And then every time he would talk after that we would just snicker out loud, blatantly disrespecting the other movie-goers.

At least the wolf wasn’t glittery.

The best part, however, was later that night when I pulled the ticket stub out of my purse and saw this wonderful gem:

Matinee spelled wrong, The Dark of the Matinee, Sunday Matinee

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