This evening I went to the movies with Meaghan, her brother, and his posse [ha! I used posse!] to see The Village.

After quickly slapping on my face and finishing the dishes, she arrived at my doorstep with beat up old Vanny and newly contact-ed eyeballs.

We had originally planned on going to Wal-Mart for some pre-movie shopping, but it apparently closed early because of the civic holiday. With that plan out the window we decided on Blockbuster, which is always open, and Tim Horton's, which is also always open. But partway there, Meaghan got an idea and we headed off towards Harrison Park.

But then, she turned and asked if I wanted to go to the cemetary. Why not? I thought to myself. Having long been afraid of cemetaries from all the creepy old cemetaries my mother took me to when I was a child, I decided to get over my fear.

So we walked around, looking at all the old gravestones from the previous centuries. Most heartbreaking were the stones for children, with lambs atop the stone and ages such as "2 years 5 months".

After a good hour wandering around and discussing how we'd like our remains handled, we headed off to Blockbuster.

From there we went to the theatre, got our tickets and jugs of soda/tub of popcorn and found seats. As we waited for the movie to begin, we sat discussing how much we wanted to go back to Ottawa, the cute guy at the end of our row, and a naked Viggo Mortensen covered in paint.

The movie was pretty decent. I saw the twist coming, and there wasn't enough Joaquin Phoenix, but I'd recommend it.