I paid to see a movie. Not a Coke commercial.

First off, go see Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I don't care if you hate Angelina Jolie or if you love Jennifer Aniston. The fact of the matter is that, on screen, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are awesome. Also, the actual writers of this movie are brilliant. Totally original AND funny AND action packed. Now, after that shameless plug, the real reason I'm writing.

I get to the theatre and pay my months wages to see a movie that I've wanted to see since I first saw the trailer. I'm not even going to mention the outlandish prices for snacks (yes, I understand that I said I wasn't going to mention it, then did. So what?). I'm gonna be honest. When I get into a theatre, I'm excited to see the previews for various other movies that I might want to watch. One of these movies, for example, is War of the Worlds. Another is The Wedding Crashers. But instead of sitting down in my seat, putting my pop in the armrest, gleeking on the nerd infront of me, and settling in for a nice night of mindless entertainment, I have to sit through 3 or four TERRIBLE COMMERCIALS. News Flash: I DIDN'T JUST GIVE YOU THE LIFE OF MY FIRSTBORN TO WATCH SOME BLONDE HOE DRINK SOME COKE AND SKATE ON ROLLERSKATES. Yes, I said rollerSKATES, not rollerBLADES (which are lame enough as it is). I especially didn't want to see the gay "husband" of those awful Canadian Tire commercials. You know, the one who brings his "friend" over to show him his "pressure washer".

All I'm asking is that the theatre leave me with some shred of dignity. You already pulled my pants down, bent me over and ravaged me with a scuba tank with the cost of admission. Please don't make me watch commercials, too. It's like curb-stomping somebody then pissing on their dead body. Overkill.

Oh yeah, and if you own a cell phone, TURN THE DAMN RINGER OFF, ASS. I hope you die.