I took myself to Harry Potter last night because I like sitting in a movie theater with a bunch of scary-looking single men who wish I was an innocent and highly vulnerable 11 year old.
I like to think I'm pretty quick on the uptake. This, after all, is a movie for children of all ages. Surely, the mysterious witchcraft and wizardry of Hogwarts won't go over this Muggle's head. Alas, I spent 2 and a half hours torn between confusion and a slow realization that most of the film was about Harry Potter being horny.
All of a sudden, the credits rolled and I could barely stop myself from turning to the pedophile nearest me and asking, "That's it? The necklace in the weird water didn't work? What was the story with the bird in the closet? And what happened to those adorable uniforms?"
But the pedophiles were too busy trolling for lost children, eating popcorn off the floor and imagining Hermione in one of those elaborate bondage knot things.
I miss the magical Harry Potter of long ago, when Ron wasn't snogging hos and Neville Longbottom got more screen time. (I love that kid.) But truth be told, fellow virgins, my true love lies with Severus Snape.
With whom, dare I ask, does yours...