Oh, the suffering. →[More:]
It's my mom's birthday this week, and I'm planning to treat her to lunch and a movie. I'm delighted to see my mom, of course (she's turning 93); it's the movie that's giving me pause. A couple of weeks ago, she talked about a movie she wanted to see, but couldn't remember the name of it. I braced myself and offered, "Was it
Mama Mia?" Naturally, it was. Hence, the source of my pain.
I hate
Abba. Meryl Streep and Pierce Brosnan singing, as much as I might like them as actors, is objectionable enough, but oh,
Abba? (My mom, mind you, has no idea who or what
Abba is, but she likes Meryl Streep. Damn you, Meryl Streep.)
Hold me. Tell me it's going to be okay. My mom, sweet lady that she is, will undoubtedly be asleep before the previews are over, and I'll be left there to endure. At least there will be popcorn (with extra butter, dammit).
Maybe after she falls asleep I can sneak into
Dark Knight.