Shew.

As you might recall, yesterday was the opening day for a movie that the 17 year old and I have been dying to see. If you don’t recall this (or are a new reader), you’ll want to get the background stories. Click here first, and then here. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

So, we saw it.

The end.

Just kidding! I told you I’d keep you posted. Here’s what happened.

I told the younger boy that he could invite a friend or two and go with us to the theater, but to a different movie (obviously). I would have felt like a mean mom, taking the older one to a movie and leaving the younger one home to be all by himself doing nothing, so we all ended up happy.

The older boy drove the five of us to the theater and dropped me and the three 14 year olds off in front, since their movie was starting very soon. We went to the ticket counter and I said, “I need three tickets for ‘Year One’ and two tickets for ‘the movie that shall not be named in this blog post’, please.”

She looked at me over the top of her glasses and said, “Who’s seeing *insert name of the rated R movie here*?”

I answered, “Oh: I am, with my son who is parking the car.”

She said, “Okay, that’s good. I just wanted to make sure that these younger boys weren’t going in there, because it is GRAPHIC. I sat in on it last night and I truly can’t understand how they got the R rating. It should have been NC-17. It is extremely, um, well, graphic.”

While I was thinking in my head, “Oh, you silly lady. You must not have seen this guy’s last movie. Seriously, how much worse could it be?” what I actually said to her was, “Oh, no no no. They’re not going. Thanks!”

So we hit the snack stand and then the younger boys went to see their movie. The older boy and I made our way to our theater. We picked out seats near the top and he sat down. I put my purse and my popcorn in the seat two away from him and said, “I’ll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom.”

When I returned, my soda was moved to the holder that was connected to the seat that my purse was inhabiting. I pretended not to notice. I sat down next to him and immediately went to my happy place as I scarfed down my yummy popcorn that was covered in tons of yellow chemicals that I always convince myself is really butter.

He said to me, not in a snotty way but in a matter-of-fact way, “Let me know when you’re going to move one seat down.”

I stopped eating extra-yellow popcorn for a second and sighed. I looked at him and said, “Dude, I’m not moving. YOU can move if you want, but here’s the deal. You are an older teenager now. I know that you have seen things and heard language that is out there; teens tend to know about more than their parents think they do when it comes to that kind of stuff. We’re just, at this moment, two buds seeing a movie together. You can laugh at whatever you find funny, and I won’t judge you on it. I won’t reach over and cover your eyes. I will be laughing too, and that’s the way it is.”

He seemed to appreciate that, and we settled in to watch the movie, right next to each other.

And then the movie started. WHOA! It was hilarious, but soooooooooooo graphic and totally inappropriate (I love inappropriate!). I don’t want to spoil it for those of you who might be planning on going, so I won’t give you any plot information, but I do want to make it clear that if you have a teen who is younger than 17, you should NOT allow them to see this movie. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that as soon as word gets out, Child Protective Services agents will be stationed outside the theaters nationwide, busting irresponsible parents for taking their younger children to see it.

In case you don’t believe me, I am going to list a couple of the things that appeared in the movie. If you don’t want to know, just skip this paragraph entirely. Also, because I don’t want certain searches to lead people who are looking for inappropriate things to land them right here at this blog post, I will write the list in Pig Latin. If you are unfamiliar with the language and need help translating, click here. For starters, there was full-on ale-may rontal-fay udity-nay. At one point, his ale-may ivate-pray arts-pay were in a ear-clay ustbuster-day. (Eew.) There were lots of exual-say oys-tay. LOTS. There were oobs-bay (big ones). There was a ingers-sway arty-pay, during which they actually “SHOWED” people aving-hay ex-say, only the rivate-pay arts-pay were “black boxed” out. Basically, had those black boxes not been there, I would have had to tell you that I took my son to see an orno-pay.

At the end of the movie, the credits rolled and we were happy to discover that we made it through the experience unscathed. I am glad I told him what I told him before the movie started, because even I had no idea how dirty it was going to be, and I think my little talk helped him relax about it. Am I sorry I took him to such a dirty movie? Nah. Am I glad that I am a rule follower and took him at 17 but DIDN’T take the younger one just because he might have wanted to go? You bet your sweet bippy.

Summary? Those of you who thought it would be very entertaining to sit in the back of the theater and watch US squirm instead of focusing on the movie would have been disappointed. We both handled it like champs. It sure makes me think about how times (and movie ratings) have changed, though. My first rated R movie in the theater? “Flashdance”. Compared to the movie we saw yesterday, “Flashdance” might as well be rated G. Seriously. What’s this world coming to??

For those of you wondering, I thought orat-Bay was funnier.