I'm glad you enjoyed The Kitchen.
Despite being seated seven rows behind you -- and on the far right of the theater, while you were on the far left -- I overheard you talking to each other about how much you loved the flick. You loved the soundtrack. You loved the violence. You loved watching the women grow from milquetoasts to badass gangsters.
I know you loved it because you talked about how much you loved it. From start to finish. From opening to closing credits.
Between several really loud burps you loved it.
Between your inappropriate knee-slaps and laughter -- it's wasn't a comedy, after all -- you loved it.
Between the dozens of loud, Marlboro-influenced coughs you loved it.
Me?
It was OK?
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