Just got back from seeing Pineapple Express.
I know, it doesn’t come out for another week, but us glamorous press types get all of the awesome previews. Not really, they were giving out advanced screen tickets to everyone who lived in Jacksonville or something.
Since it was a screener, the security was tight at the theatre entrance. No, really, they had bouncers and shit. And one gremlin lady who was checking for cell phones. “Gotta cell phone with video?” she gurffed. Of course I had my phone, and Diana had hers, and I was kinda pissed to have to take ours back to the car, even though my phone can’t do anything for two hours, let alone record video.
Check it – once I get back from dropping the cells off in the car and we grab our seats, there’s a goddamned pudgy 12-year-old sitting in the seat in front of me. So my cell phone isn’t allowed in to this R rated movie, but some Buncha Crunch-addled 12-year-old is?
Thank you, troll bouncer, for keeping me from taking grainy pictures of Seth Rogan’s ass, but for allowing a child to enjoy the endless penis and dope jokes that are Pineapple Express.
Seth Rogan – if you read this, I thought your Jew-fro was pretty sweet.