Almost lost my tofu burrito in the theater bathroom though. Always grace in motion, I lost my balance as I squatted over the toilet, my pants fell to the floor and the hem of my capris landed in a puddle of urine. Stranger urine. I didn't know whether to vomit or faint when I realized that my hem was SOAKED with someone else's bodily waste. Someone who was not me or a former resident of my uterus. Back in the kidless day, I would have been home in a flash, burning my contaminated pants and marinating my leg in bleach. Time out without my preschool posse is rare though so I swallowed my germophobia (along with the dinner that kept rising up in my throat), rolled up my pants until the wet part wasn't against my skin and headed for my seat.
The movie was interesting. I mostly liked it. I mean, it's not Oscar-worthy or life-changing but it is absolutely good, campy fun. Meryl Streep really committed to her role and she did a great job although I could have done without the dance scenes where she was caressing her crotch a la Madonna circa 1987. Oy. The only disconnect was Colin Firth as a homosexual. I just couldn't accept Mr. Darcy batting for the other team. Anyway, it was definitely worth seeing if you love ABBA, musicals or gorgeous Greek scenery. I'd suggest leaving the menfolk at home though unless you want to punish them really, really badly.
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