I’m not sure what kind of life I’m leading.

During the First Great Blog War I admitted that I saw Sex and the City on opening night. I’ve also read the entirety of the Twilight series, though only because Elizabeth was getting annoyed I was criticizing it without having read it. I’m okay with admitting this sort of thing because self deprecation is pretty fun, but in my defense I really didn’t want to see Sex and the City 2; it was better than the first but that isn’t saying much, and the opening was horrid.

I had thought that the Transit Drive In closed a year or two back, when the drive in on Harlem shut down for good. That’s not the case, though, and so we’ve talked recently about how we should go on a Friday. It won’t be as fun as when we had our wagon and could lay down in the back, but it’s still a good deal.

She doesn’t work this Saturday and so I looked at the movie lineup: there’s Toy Story 3 (the first being one of my favorite movies, but the second not nearly as much) and Grown Ups (meh), or Knight and Day/The A Team/Get Him To the Greek (the last seems promising), or Eclipse/Killers/Kick Ass.

I’ve heard Kick Ass is good. I’ll be seeing Eclipse in theatres eventually anyway, and while Katherine Heigl and Ashton Kutcher are absolutely perfect for each other, white and yellow American cheese food products, I have no desire to see them together.

This would mean, though, that my ‘in-theatre’ run would be New Moon, Sex and the City 2, Eclipse. No. That will not do. A man has to have some sort of standards and sense of self respect, and so I am forced to draw a line.

* ‘theatre’ over ‘theater’ for the same reason as I use single quotes, cross my Zs and 7s and listen to rock operas: I’m pretentious.

I saw the Sex and the City movie tonight. And I was excited for it.

It all started when we had HBO on demand. Elizabeth would watch it while I played my Gameboy (it was a while ago). First I would laugh at Samantha while playing. Then I’d look up every once in a while. Next thing you know I’m scouring eBay and we own every season. So, when Elizabeth insisted on seeing the movie on opening night I couldn’t exactly complain.

As for the movie itself, I’ll say that I liked it. If you didn’t like the show you can skip it, but if you did… it’s Sex and the City. What really surprised me was the ambiance.

The theatre was pretty packed, and I spotted three other guys. Three. Women came with others… they were just other women. As we got up to leave, I was amazed at the homogeneity of the audience. A sea of white women, mostly it their twenties but a few a little older. You don’t notice slight differences in a group until there aren’t any, and then it’s disconcerting.

There was also some sort of hive mind during the movie. The women, as a group, would laugh, clap and sigh. It wasn’t annoying like crowd noise is during a movie: it seemed to fit. At one point a Louis Vuitton box is presented as a gift and I swear three fourths of the women gasped.

This isn’t meant to be an ‘I didn’t belong here’ post, although I didn’t. The setting was something I had never experienced before, and probably never will again. I doubt it would be the same on any other day: the hardcore faithful turned up to see what happens next.

I guess I’m one of them.

Fake Sam Jack summed up my feelings perfectly (seriously):

And look, I’ve been in some bullshit films but this is Indiana motherfucking Jones–you don’t have to bullshit around with that motherfucker. Ain’t no need to turn in no mediocre fucking script  after twenty got-damn years.

I had forgotten how totally awesome the other three were. Rocky and Rambo needed another movie to redeem their series, but Indy? Why, man, why?