Last Night I Did Something Terrible To My Husband

I dragged him to go see Pitch Perfect. In my defense, I didn't really know what it was. I saw part of a commercial in which an actress I like referred to herself as "Fat Amy" and I thought it was funny. Then, I saw a minute of her rapping a Salt-n-Pepa song with Ellen Degeneres and I do love Salt-n-Pepa. I'll never trust the television again. I should have known better since I woke up Saturday morning and for the first time in maybe a year, turned on the television to watch cable. I watched a show called "Nazi Scrapbooking From Hell" on the National Geographic channel. It was about a lampshade that some scavenger found while looting in New Orleans after Katrina that he thought was made of human skin. Who trusts looters? His interview was the best part of the show, I have to admit. It was purchased by an idiot who claimed it could be a human skin lampshade made at the Buchenwald concentration camp in Germany where they would skin victims and make various pieces of painted "art." For an hour, I watched as this lampshade was first tested in a DNA lab to see if the shade was, in fact, human skin. Initial testing showed that yes, it was human skin. The journey from laboratory to laboratory to test the metal and nylon for fibers and materials available in WWII-era Germany was interspersed with Nazi fun-facts about atrocities that occurred in Buchenwald and who was responsible. At the very end, the third DNA lab called to say it was actually cow, and then the show ended. Cable is playing with my emotions.

The theater for Pitch Perfect was full of 20-year-old theater kids, which should have been my first clue that we didn't belong. Their stupid conversations about "Hermione" made me want to stand up and yell "You don't know anything about life!" while pointing accusingly at all of them. How out of touch am I that I didn't know what this film was? I talked my husband into adding a teen angst film to our Saturday night date. The first trailer was for a movie remake of a famous musical. Eiww. The second trailer was for a Twilight movie. Someone cheered. We left after forty-five minutes of bad puns on the word "accapella" ("Listen up, Accabitches!") and I asked the manager for a refund. He said they didn't do that, but that I could take it up with the distributor. They gave us a dollar off of parking.