Mike and I went and saw "The Hunger Games" last night (beforehand, while we were getting ready for our hot date, I was thinking "glad we're finally biting the bullet and seeing it" and then I was thinking how much I hate the phrase "bite the bullet" because it makes me think of someone biting down on a bullet with their front teeth and then I get sympathy pains in my front teeth for whoever would do that since I have sensitive front teeth myself, and I guess thinking about THAT caused me to make an odd, front teeth grinding face because Mike said I was looking really weird) because we were in desperate need for a night out and we've been dying to go see it. I, however, did not feel like dealing with the crowds surrounding the opening week hub-bub, so that's mostly why we waited.
It was good, real good. One of the best movie adaptations of a book I've ever seen (although I pictured Peeta looking more like Gale does? And I prefer Donald Sutherland as Mr. Bennett than President Snow... But I suppose that's a given).
I have to go ahead and apologize to some people.
They don't know I need to apologize to them, but I do.
I've had some friends go and see the movie, without having read the book, and hated it because it was so disturbing. When I've heard these reactions, I couldn't help but think "What, have you been living under a rock? What were you expecting from this movie?"
I mean, at this point, everyone pretty much knows the gist of the story, right?
Well, as soon as the "games" started in the movie, I was eating my words. It's one thing to read about kids fighting and killing each other over supplies, but it's another thing entirely to watch it happen. Even though I knew what was going to happen, I can't think of any movie that has made my heart pound or my stomach drop so much (mom, you can go ahead and stay away from this one, you'll hate it).
So, to my friends who may or may not ever read this and know that I thought they lived under a rock, I'm sorry.
But this isn't about that. This is about the fact that there was a preview for one of those stupid Twilight movies beforehand (shoot me now, I hate those books and everything about them), and now these kinds of conversations are popping up in my life:
Mike (in a very serious voice): Sandi?
Me: What...?
Mike: We're the same temperature now.
This is usually followed by me making puking noises or throwing things at him.
