Hanna...

Tonight Wifey and I managed to pull off date night.  Thanks to our support group (the in-laws), the children were cared for so that we could go out and pretend that we know how to get down.  Despite the fact that we've become super-lame when it comes to date night, we somehow managed to schedule the night, so that we could squeeze in a movie.  We usually show up to the theatre totally clueless and realize that there's not a single movie showing for an other hour and a half.  Our marriage is built to last but one and a half idle hours without a tour guide is like trying to see how many miles you can get out of a single oil change.  You might fold at 9,000 before the engine seizes, but the car is unhappy and severly worn out. I think you catch my drift.

Wifey wanted to go to some movie with the following genre: drama and romance.  Seriously?  I've put up with a lot of chick flicks, (mainly because I possess the ability to become temporarily deaf to all pitches of the Female voice [except for Whoopi unforturnately] and they'll throw in a Vince Vaughn or Owen Wilson and a few laughs), but if you think I'm going to something that is drama (serious) and romantic (logical fallacy) you must be crazy.  Luckily lil' sis was around to ask Wifey: "haven't you already seen that movie?"  That gave me the upper hand, so I put my foot down like a true Man!  I said NO and it felt great.

I had only heard enough about the movie Hanna to know that it was about some little spy-ninja chick and lots of kickin' booty.  So naturally I was inclined to have a looksy.  Besides, there is nothing in the theaters right now.  Seriously, walk up to a theater and read the movie titles; they may as well be written in Farsi or some other extremely foreign language.

So we went to Hanna thinking it was a Bourne type of movie.  What I wasn't prepared for was the acid trip  of a storyline that would make any sober person present (I being one), inspect their snacks and beverages for tampering.  I only slept about an hour last night because I was studying my brains out.  So when I sat in the theater waiting for the movie to not enter the creepy European modern art seen, I could have sworn someone was playing the prank on me.  I was marginally coherent.  The fight scenes were awesome and the story was unique; but the circus characters, disco lights, and techno-freakshow music was a little intense.  When I left the theater I was so disoriented that I had to have an usher walk me to my car.  Then the idea helps me struggle into the driver's seat and tells me, "have a safe drive".  Really?  How safe could this be?

I didn't see it coming...