I saw Batman Begins today.
Whenever I go to movies with my mother, I want to strangle her. She talks through the entire thing.
Not necessarily in that snarky commentary way that can be kind of fun. In that few sandwiches short of a picnic. I get to repeat actors' dialogue for her. If there's a tiny bit of subtlety in a script, I have to explain that to her. (Example - when Christian Bale doesn't kill the dude in the hallway, I had to explain to her that he didn't kill him and that's why he wasn't getting arrested) She'll come up with plot predictions in annoying moments. (Example - in the crazy panickness, she decided the little boy that Katie Holmes is fondling comforting was going to be Robin) She'll psychoanalyze the characters. And all of this means that I miss parts of the movie, so I can't explain to her what's going on because I had to explain what was going on to her five minutes ago.
I'll be watching television and she'll start conversations. And while yeah, I'm always watching television and probably knitting or reading, it's annoying. I'd made a disparaging comment about the acting in Neverwhere, which apparently gave her license to talk to me for 20 minutes while I was attempting to watch it. When I mentioned that I wanted to watch it (I'd gone through the trouble of having my parents get it from Netflix), she was surprised.
Of course, none of this quite beats having to explain to my mother what a bong was after we watched Garden State. That was awkward.
I had a really yummy Indian buffet lunch today and I'm still stuffed.
Apparently, I'm going up to the city tomorrow to hang with kittenlid and look at plants. Caltrain, then Muni! Whee! I'll get some reading done, anyway.
Not necessarily in that snarky commentary way that can be kind of fun. In that few sandwiches short of a picnic. I get to repeat actors' dialogue for her. If there's a tiny bit of subtlety in a script, I have to explain that to her. (Example - when Christian Bale doesn't kill the dude in the hallway, I had to explain to her that he didn't kill him and that's why he wasn't getting arrested) She'll come up with plot predictions in annoying moments. (Example - in the crazy panickness, she decided the little boy that Katie Holmes is fondling comforting was going to be Robin) She'll psychoanalyze the characters. And all of this means that I miss parts of the movie, so I can't explain to her what's going on because I had to explain what was going on to her five minutes ago.
I'll be watching television and she'll start conversations. And while yeah, I'm always watching television and probably knitting or reading, it's annoying. I'd made a disparaging comment about the acting in Neverwhere, which apparently gave her license to talk to me for 20 minutes while I was attempting to watch it. When I mentioned that I wanted to watch it (I'd gone through the trouble of having my parents get it from Netflix), she was surprised.
Of course, none of this quite beats having to explain to my mother what a bong was after we watched Garden State. That was awkward.
I had a really yummy Indian buffet lunch today and I'm still stuffed.
Apparently, I'm going up to the city tomorrow to hang with kittenlid and look at plants. Caltrain, then Muni! Whee! I'll get some reading done, anyway.