No one will sit next to me and that is probably for the best.

Have I ever told you about the other film reviewers I see at Press Screenings? They are…gah…they WON’T TALK TO ME. We’re all a little socially awkward and I’m shy but still, I can’t understand why they won’t even make eye contact with me. Is it because I have no soul? CAN THEY SEE THAT?

Yesterday, I got to the screening pretty early and decided I wanted a pretzel from the concession stand because I like to pay a lot of money for stupid things. Then I accidentally walked into the movie that was showing before the one I was seeing and was politely escorted over to the concession area again. I really don’t know why Dane allows me to go out in public without first pinning a note to my chest that says, “My name is Kiala and I have difficulty with logic and reason. Please don’t let me touch anyone with my sticky, salty hands.”

So I was sort of awkwardly shuffling around the lobby with my giant pretzel and a whole group of reviewers was gathering around another reviewer sitting at a table. He had a ponytail. I can only guess this is what distinguished him as the pack leader although I also spotted a squatty woman with orange hair and a guy with a beard who were both radiating moderate middle aged power. I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t the ponytail at all. Maybe it was just the sang-froid manner with which he ate his nachos.

I stood in the lobby and watched them for a minute or two and they watched me watching them and I don’t even know why I cared if these people noticed me or not. I didn’t know what to say to them anyway. I probably would have panicked and offered the bearded guy some of my pretzel or I might’ve stammered something completely inappropriate like, “I hear Cristina Ricci gets sodomized in this. I’m really looking forward to that. More pretzel?”