This week, the film debuted and had a premier right here in our own town. Brad called us up and asked if we wanted to go see his nuts on the big screen with him and Dawn. We did! We did want to see Brad's nuts on the big screen!
I knew this going in. I explained it to Brian, who probably wasn't listening to me. And just as soon as we found our seats and the lights dimmed, Brian was out. I elbowed him.
"Is the blonde on yet?" he whispered. I shook my head no.
He put his arm around me resting his hand on my shoulder, and then his hand went limp, and then his hand slipped from my shoulder to Brad's seat next to me. I elbowed him.
"Who's the priest?" he whispered. I shushed him.
He put his hand back on my shoulder and I rested my head on his chest. And then I felt his head on my head and then I heard his breathing become very, very regular and even ... and then loud. I elbowed him.
"Where'd that dog come from?" he whispered. I put my finger to my lips in the international librarian sign of shut up.
This went on through the entire film. The. Entire. Film.
Brad's nuts were on the screen for about five minutes. Brian missed it.
Our Sonic was on the screen. Brian missed it.
My mother's gas station scene did not make the cut. It wouldn't have mattered anyway; I'm sure Brian would have missed it.
When we left, we thanked Brad and Dawn for a great evening and headed home.
"Was the blonde ever in the movie?" Brian asked. "And where did the dog come from? And why'd he kick the foreign girl out of the car? Also, what house did they live in? And why didn't they have a washing machine at their house?"
"I don't know," I admitted.
Brian looked at me out of the corner of his sleepy eyes, "Did you sleep too?"
"No," I said, "I just didn't get it."
I guess we're more Weekend At Bernie's kind of people.