Seven Pounds.
I was horny and the movie wasn't going anywhere anyway.
Some Miscellaneous Art Movie I saw at the MoMA.
Shit sucked, I had to get out after 5 minutes.
I was also dangerously close to walking out of "The Informers," some shit I saw at the Angelica Film Center - a theatre that mostly shows independent films or documentaries that couldn't get wide releases. That movie didn't have shits worth a plot, and followed the unconnected, unrelated lives of a mess of people, who couldn't act. I would have left . . . had I not stayed . . . (I can't think of a real reason).