Where it's always commercials and the feature never begins, and the line for the bathroom never progresses ...
Imagine the wife. For the rest of her life she’s going to look at the scar from the bullet that passed through her hand and made her a widow. The little girl will grow up looking at the scar on her momma’s hand because that’s all she has to remember her father.
If the wife decides to carry, I want to contribute.
The one reserved for child molesters and people who talk in the theater.
Though I’m not entirely sure texting during previews should be counted.