If ever there were a time to dream about X-men, this morning was it. When I say this morning, I mean this morning (or Friday morning, depending on the time stamp). I went to bed around five. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Our story really begins on Wednesday.
Shortly after noon on Wednesday, I arrived at Bonster's house for six marvelous hours of X-men movies, Red Vines, and frozen pizza. There's nothing like a good movie marathon. Perhaps the best part of the afternoon was the birth of the phrase "pectoral cleavage".
This marathon was in preparation for the release of the new movie, X-Men: First Class.
On Thursday, I drove over and met some friends in Tempe Marketplace for the midnight premiere. There is also nothing like a good midnight premiere. In fact, I propose that we sometimes do the same things over and over again (movie marathons, midnight showings, rereading Jane Austen novels until we have them memorized) because these experiences and the pleasure they afford us are unique, and we want to keep experiencing that one-of-a-kind joy. Of course, that really has nothing to do with my story.
There were nine of us (ten later on), traipsing around, eating frozen yoghurt (which I was forced to get by She of the Awesome Bumper Stickers, which I am interpreting as a sign of affection), and playing Egyptian Rat Screw on the floor of the movie theater.
The movie was simply splendid, made all the better by the types of people that tend to go to midnight shows. Maybe it's all in my head, but it seems to me that midnight movie crowds are more apt to laugh out loud, cheer, boo, groan, and applaud as a collective. (As a side note, I'd like to point out that elegant little Oxford comma in the last sentence. They're terribly marvelous creatures, if you ask me.) Last night's theater-goers were no exception. I think it's safe to say that everyone in that room agreed on what the best part of the movie was, as evidenced by the roar of applause for a certain cameo appearance.
I really have no good segue to put here, but is this the right time to mention the guy sitting in front of us with gauges the size of Snapple lids? If it is, then it's probably also the right time to mention how hilarious it is when Laura her-hees into a silent, packed theater.
After the movie, we all moved on to IHOP, haven to the night owl and the all-nighter. We placed our orders in a hodgepodge of bad Russian accents, Scottish brogues, rapid-fire French, and scrumptious German. Far from being put off by us, the waiter was the one speaking French. Around 4 AM, after a discussion about laser-mounted polar bears, much quoting of The Princess Bride, and a long round of Two Truths and a Lie, we finally vacated the premises. My abs got quite the workout. I was light-headed from laughter long before we even got our food. By the by, I've decided that anytime I'm at IHOP after midnight, I have to order the Swedish crepes. It's a thing now.
The sky was already lightening as we split off for our cars and headed homeward. Zany me, I decided that I had to go running when I got home. My logic may have been that 4:30 is about the time I want to go running once I start exercising regularly again, and I was already up...
The weather is something else around here at 4 AM. It's also a great time for rocking out to "DJ Got Us Fallin' In Love" on 100.3.
Listening to: "Nice Guys"
Reading: Uglies by Scott Westerfeld