Last night, Husband and I did something we do very rarely these days: we went to the movies. We saw The Hangover, a film about a terribly ill-fated and ferociously funny bachelor party getaway to Vegas. Now, I was sure this flick would be yet another one of those cliched, more-stupid-than-funny movies about a medley of overgrown frat guys that Hollywood seems to spit out at an alarming pace. But the truth was that I was craving some stupid and superficial entertainment where I could recline and relax. So, off we went.
Guess what? It was HILARIOUS. Husband and I (and the rest of the folks in the packed theater) laughed hysterically throughout the film. And when the movie was over and we walked up Columbus Avenue toward home, my stomach muscles actually ached from my belly laugh binge. And, yes, this probably says something about the dearth of sit-ups and other abdominal exercises in my life these days, but it also says something about this movie. Yes, some of the jokes were in poor taste. Yes, the plot was absolutely far-fetched. There were instances of crude nudity and plenty of profanity. But still. It was good. The writing was good. The acting was good. It's worth seeing, my friends.
And I went to sleep happy and vowed to myself before nodding off that Husband and I would go to the movies more often because movies are lovely little escapes from life. And I woke up this morning, my tummy muscles still slightly sore. And I smiled big.
I had a laughter hangover.
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