We saw the John Travolta cartoon-killorama, "From Paris, With Love," this evening. He kills fourteen spurious Chinese restaurant employees, equal to the number of miles I ran today, within three minutes of appearing on screen. Until we saw that, I thought I'd really done something with my morning.
We had been allowed to select our seats when we bought our tickets. There was already one space, but only one, highlighted in red. One seat taken-out of about fifty. With 98% of available seating, where did I put us? Well, my wife's seat was right behind the guy, mine was next to hers. The only decision more curious would have been to sit on either side of Patron #1. I'll tell you, however, two more people did show up just before the movie started, so if we had moved to another row, we could have been REALLY busted.
Let that be a lesson to you row-hopping hotheads out there in the blogosphere.
Thanks for reading.
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