Sux and the Mikey, Too

Although the Fox Theatre marquee publicized the wrong film, we played "Sex and the City 2" recently to an appreciative, mostly female audience.

The afternoon before, the hostage me, the all-by-myself all-male audience, sat alone in the immense auditorium to observe the feature's Digital Cinema print during a technical run-through. Someone had to do it and that someone was Projector Boy.

I rue the day I mentioned I had liked a chick flick. Word got out and here I was, against my will, force-fed widescreen botox and wall-to-wall twatters (which are below-the-belt titters).

Not even slightly assuaged by my presence on the company payroll, I persevered, borderline horrified from the first frame of the picture until the final fade, trapped within an 146-minute "Eek!"

"Ohmigod, it's Liza Minnelli."

"Ohmigod, it's Liza Minnelli impersonators.

"Ohmigod, it's only the first reel."

"Ohmigod, they're being Beyoncé."

"Ohmigod, 'Single Ladies.'"

"Ohmigod, put a ring on it."

"Ohmigod, if you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it."

"Ohmigod, oh oh oh."

"Ohmigod, put a bazooka on it."

"Ohmigod, I'm thinking of doilies."

"Oh! My! God!"

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