I'm not going to ruin the ending!

I have a little tale to tell! A tale in which it becomes publicly known that my brain is made of oatmeal! Henceforth, I am changing my bloggername to stupid-ine, or something. (Gah! That itself was stupid! And enough with the exclamation points.)

So, I decided to watch a Netflix movie last night. It was It, of the Stephen King book. When I put the DVD in, there was movie info printed on both sides, but neither side said anything particularly useful, like, say...oh, I don't know...side one. Or even side two. So I put it in, and the menu came up, and I hit play. It started playing right away, with no credits. But this is pretty standard! A lot of movies jump right into the action and then do a delayed credits thing. Especially horror movies, right? There's a little setup, then someone jumps out at someone and there's a big fright, and THEN the credits start.

So the movie's playing along, and playing along, and honestly it seemed very clear. Each of the main characters were arriving at their childhood town, and as each character was shown in their whatever mode of transportation, they would flashback to themselves as a child, and you would see them having a fright by the clown, and then their adult version would jump as if startled, and the action would be back in the present day. Plus, as they all got together, the dialogue was that crappy type where everything is overexplained and the characters all address each other by name, like, every time they open up their mouths. It was pretty easy to follow.

(I do admit that I was a little confused by the fact that they all kept referring to "that summer we went down into the sewer," but I chalked it up to the fact that it was a crappy 80s horror movie, and thus plotlines were low on the importance scale.)

Anyway, so it ended. Credits. There was one guy whose name I had been going crazy trying to remember, but I watched the credits twice and they never listed the main people. It was ONLY THEN that I got a feeling that I had done something wrong. I checked the DVD mailing slip, and the movie's running time was listed as 180-something minutes. I had not watched anywhere near 180-something minutes.

Yes it's true, and I will be the first to admit it: I watched the second half of the movie first! Total dumbass.

I guess tonight I will "finish it up," so to speak. Kind of like that practice morbid people have of reading the last five pages of a mystery novel first, in case they die before they reach the end. (Somehow, I don't think that at the moment of my death, I will be thinking about that novel I am only halfway through, but that's just me.)

And, um, I am not too proud to admit that I've actually done this exact same thing once before. With Doctor Zhivago. That time, I was actually confused as plot lines and characters and flashbacks were introduced seemingly willy-nilly, but I chalked it up to my ignorance of Russian history.

However I was not watching alone that time, so I'm only going to take 50% of the Stupidity Credit.