For this kind of money the 3D should happen in your lap

I took my family to the movies this weekend. We saw Jack the Giant Slayer. It almost killed me.

How you ask? When did going to the movie become so dire? The whole affair started out innocuously enough. I loaded Sassy and The Bandit into the car with My Honey and my father. My dad and husband were chatting in line and my kids were either fighting or horsing around – who can tell anymore. It changes at the drop of a hat anyway. Once minute happiness knows no end, then BOOM, someone’s crying and the other is tattling.

I approached the box office and requested two adult tickets, one senior and two children. That’s when the horror happened.

“That’ll be $61.00,” the pimple-faced extorntionist told me.

“What!?” I exclaimed. I don’t know that insanity had me in my grip, but I swear I was anticipating a grand total of $29.00. It’s not like I’d already added the total up in my head or anything. Maybe I thought this was 1982, but that $61.00 absolutely caught me off guard.

Then the concessions were another $26.00.

Holy mother of Odin. It’s not like I’ve been living in a cave, but when the hell did this happen?