Marisol and Reagan were fine roommates. Their sleep schedules were similar, Reagan liked keeping a neat room, and neither young woman was a social butterfly bringing crowds of people into the room. Marisol was unsure if they were friends, but they were at least compatible, and that was enough.

With such an amicable arrangement, one could wonder if Marisol was upset that Reagan was spending more nights away from the dorm with her new boyfriend, William the Technical Theater boy. Wonder no more: Marisol loved having the room to herself. It was quiet when she needed quiet. When she wanted music, she had total control without relegating herself to earbuds. Heck, she could move around some furniture and make enough space to practice dance techniques without risking a stray foot kicking someone in the face.

Yes, an empty room was truly a blessing. With the extra time alone, Marisol got herself ahead in her studies. So ahead in her studies, in fact, she found herself with free time. Yep. Free time in an empty room. All on her own.

So maybe Marisol was kind of bored. She had options. She was a teenage girl with Binge and the internet; it was not like she lacked ways to kill time. In the rare windows where Reagan and Marisol were not busy, they occasionally tossed on a television series to run in the background, or they would find some movie to watch. Reagan’s entertainment tastes were not totally lined up with Marisol, but they were able to find common ground the commentary running throughout the films.

In an empty room, the prospect of watching something alone seemed less appealing. If she made a clever comment, who was going to laugh with her?

Marisol was sitting on her bed with her laptop, but it was off to the side while she was scrolling through an article on her phone sent by none other than her bestie, Celestina De Ward. The girl had a knack for sending thought-provoking articles about everything from events in the world to the unique cultural foods hiding away in lesser-known downtown restaurants.

When she finished the article, she looked back at her laptop and grimaced. She could always start studying the next chapters in her History of Classical Dance digital textbook. Ugh. It was a Saturday night. When was the last time she felt so lame?

Oh right, the previous Saturday night.

Opening the Shuttertext app on her phone, Marisol found the best angle to take a picture of a very disappointed face. She threw on a grey filter and added the caption, “tfw you’re so bored you’re studying for assignments you don’t have yet.” She sent off the picture and sighed deeply, pulling her laptop closer so she could do something so her night was just dull, rather than dull and wasted.

Celeste had finished her shift at the diner earlier in the day. First thing she did was take a shower - she had to get the diner smell off of her. She got snug in some jeans and a green button up shirt. 

She yawned as she messed around at her apartment, primarily cleaning, cooking Norma something to eat for lunch/dinner. She had been messing with her iPhone, mainly browsing news and some new recipes. She nearly tried a new recipe she saw on ViewTube but decided to keep it simple. She was bored. She didn't have any new books to read, the library was closed, and she had no immediate homework or exams coming up that she felt the need to prepare for.

She thought about what she was going to do for the rest of the day - she could bake, but she did not want to spend money. She could study, but she wasn't really in the mood. She could just keep messing on her phone, but she was just getting worked up reading about the depressing news that was coming out day in and out.

So, she decided she was going to go to Marisol's dorm. She had never been there before, but Marisol had mentioned that her roommate is all over a boy toy of hers. Hopefully, she wouldn't be there so they could hang out for a while. Maybe watch some movies. Celeste didn't eat her meal she cooked, but thought about Taco Bell - she had a huge craving for it. 

With some goals in mind, she found a Bails of Tacos nearby & ordered 12 tacos, 2 Mexican pizzas, and 2 shredded chicken quesorito, and she was off. Of course, she expected Marisol to mention how it wasn't real Mexican food and how she had better, but it was super cheap, plus it was great snack food for movies. 

Once on the bus, she decided to send a quick text to let Marisol know she was on her way.

Hey Mari!!! I'm coming over. I'm bringing lots of food for us to snack on! We can have a bad movie night. !

Celeste clicked send and finished the bus ride. After sneaking into Marisol's dorm behind another student, (after all, she didn't have a visitor pass or a key card thing,) she knocked on Marisol's room door with Taco food in hand. 

Marisol was focused on her reading. Well, she was focused for maybe ten minutes. Her curiosity got the best of her and she found more articles related to the last one Celeste sent over. Apparently, a recent study showed that mutants sentenced for crimes, on average, served significantly longer sentences for the same crimes committed by their human counterparts. In response, a bill was proposed to standardize sentencing for mutants, but analysts had doubts about its ability to pass. There were voices on both sides saying crimes using mutations were inherently more severe. Fear was apparently the only bipartisan belief.

The whole story was disgusting to Marisol, who saw no difference between a mugger with a gun and a mugger whose hands caught fire. Celeste sent her the link to a MyFace page trying to organize a rally in support of the bill, and Marisol hoped they could get one together. Sure, the people in question were criminals, but a mutant criminal was not suddenly worse than a human one.

Marisol got so wrapped up in her articles, that between her reading and the song playing loudly through her Bluetooth speaker, she failed to register the buzzing of the phone she left under her pillow. It was not until she heard a knock at her door that she broke free from her own little world of frustration and disappointment.

Getting out of her bed, Marisol gave herself a once-over in the mirror. With no intentions of leaving the dorm, she was wearing comfortable pink cotton shorts and an oversized shirt hanging off one shoulder. She walked over to the wooden door and flipped the switch for the lock. ”What’s up, Reag, did you forget something?”

Except Reagan was not on the other side of the door; Celeste was. Marisol looked at her friend in confusion, trying to piece together what was going on. ”Um, hi Celeste? Did we… we didn’t have plans, right?” She glanced down at the bag in Celeste’s hand emblazoned with the Bails of Tacos logo. ”And did you maybe go to a good Mexican place and put the food in that deceptive bag?”

Celeste was getting more and more involved in the local and national politics of New York and the U.S. There was a lot of injustices that was happening and Celeste was continually getting more upset about it. Things weren't fair, they weren't egalitarian, and that was upsetting to Celeste. While Celeste was generally optimistic, she had some serious doubts over the U.S., at least in its current political climate. New York state might make some good laws & regulations to help mutants and other minorities, but the federal government didn't seem very interested. Hopefully, Mari wouldn't mind going with her to the rally they were trying to set up. It already had a couple hundred committed on the MyFace event. 

Celeste perked a brow, realizing that Marisol didn't know she was coming. Didn't she check her phone? Oh well, too late now.

She shook her head, "Nope, but we do now! I sent you a text like 20 minutes or something." She had a huge grin on her face. She knew Marisol wouldn't be too happy to see a Bails of Tacos logo that was full of cheap, fake Mexican food. "Nope, it's your favorite! Mari, I'm a waitress and that's my only living, I'm a broke joke. This was like a whole 18 bucks and will last us all night. Which, bad movie night!" She beamed, before realizing that maybe Marisol had other plans, "Unless, you know, you're busy. In which case I can probably eat all of this by myself anyways." At least she was honest about it.

Marisol was not unhappy to see Celeste; On the contrary, she had been making every effort to find free time in her schedule to see her friend outside of work. Marisol had not clicked with a friend so quickly… well, ever. She and Jenna were good friends in Los Angeles, but that was only after a very rough rivalry due to Marisol’s adapted aura. Being social felt easier with Celeste because she worried less about saying the wrong thing or being mocked. It was refreshing to have the confidence that someone would treat her well.

As nice as it was to see Celeste, there was a moment of confusion as she tried to piece together how and why she was staring at her friend. According to Celeste, she sent a text forewarning her arrival twenty minutes earlier, which was great, but presented one glaring flaw. ”I must have missed my phone going off, but Celeste, you live at least thirty minutes away. You were already on the way, weren’t you?” She grinned, rolling her eyes at her friend’s plan. ”I had no choice here, did I?” It was not like Celeste was twisting her arm by asking to hang out. It was a surprising change, but Marisol was not in the mood to be left alone.

Celeste defended her taco decision by pointing out how much food she was able to buy with less than twenty bucks. Marisol was ready to point out that Mexican food was not the kind of thing to cheap out on, but her complaints died in her throat when Celeste shared her plan for the night. The actress’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a bad movie night with her bestie. ”You so know the way to my heart. The Bails of Tacos is forgiven. Come in, come in!”

Walking back into the room, Marisol hopped onto her bed stomach first to reach for the phone under her pillow. As she turned off the music going to the speaker, she saw the notification right there in her bar: “New Message.” It was silly of her to get so distracted, but it was not as though things would have changed if she read it.

Marisol reoriented herself to sit with her back to the wall, turning on Reagan’s smart tv with a nearby remote. ”So we don’t exactly have a sofa in here or anything. Is it cool if we sit on my bed?” They were in a dorm room, so space and money for extra furniture were virtually nonexistent.

Celeste had a big grin on her face. She hoped that Marisol wouldn't mind her showing up with food and the hope for some time to hang out. Marisol caught on to Celeste's little guise pretty quickly, 'Wellll... I mean, you can't technically prove it. Also, yes, you're correct. No choice! I'm here and with tons of tacos!" She laughed and gave Marisol a playful nudge. If Marisol didn't want her to be here, she hoped that Marisol would tell her and know that she would head out. 

But, at the news of her plans for them for the night, Marisol seemed super excited and invited her into her dorm. She gave her a big, cheesy grin, "You won't regret it! Promise!" At least, hopefully she wouldn't. It definitely wasn't real, good Mexican food that she was use too. But it was great snack, Americanized, messy and unhealthy, perfect for a night like this. In either case, too late to go back now.

She went and plopped down beside Marisol and gave her a nod, "No worries, I'm actually kinda surprised it's as big as it is. I always thought they were like... Super tiny." She chuckled and then gave her a sheepish grin, "So, I hope you know movies, because I actually don't really watch them. I don't even own a TV. "

She leaned back against the wall, looking over the room. It was a pretty cute dorm, how her and Reagan had decorated it, "You've made the dorm look really homey, too!" 

As expected, Marisol was taking part in a bad movie night, whether she wanted to or not. Of course, she loved the idea, so she conveniently agreed with the choice that was made for her. If she really did not have the time to spend with Celeste, she was well aware the Canadian blonde would leave her to her studying, but they both knew Marisol had nothing pressing to worry about.

As the girls settled in for their movie night, Marisol eyed the bag of food again cautiously. ”You know there’s no way those things fall in line with my diet, right? Not all of us have your unfair super-metabolism,” she reminded Celeste. ”I might have half a salad left in the fridge,” she mused to herself. She was trying to be good, even though the scents of greasy, savory meat made a salad sound unfulfilling.

Celeste took a spot sitting close to Marisol, expressing her surprise at the size and quality of the full-size bed. ”I think it has something to do with the focus on dancing and movement. They want us to get better rest, so they got nice beds. I’m not about to complain.” Fiorello H. LaGuardia was not a cheap school, so the money had to go somewhere. Beds were a good place to start.

Marisol was going to be the one picking out their movie, which was no problem, since she considered herself a connoisseur of terrible films. She was already pulling up Binge to look for one of the classics. Meanwhile, Celeste was taking in the dorm room. ”Reagan deserves a lot of the credit, really.” Her roommate had a vision, and Marisol went along with it. Christmas lights were hanging around the perimeter of the room and gauzy pink drapes tinted the light coming in through the windows. The wall on Marisol’s side of the room had a few posters of Broadway shows, while Regan’s had posters advertising famous ballets. In the space between the windows had two smaller framed posters representing the first shows of the year for the roommates: Anastasia, the ballet for Reagan and Heathers: The Musical for Marisol. Their room screamed “performing arts” almost as much as it screamed “nerds.”

Finally settling on an option, Marisol enjoyed a mischievous giggle. ”Okay, I think I’ve got the perfect choice for us. You better be ready for Aviarypocalypse: Startled and Frightened.”

Celeste began to unpack her goodies from the Bails of Tacos bag. She was really craving that Mexican pizza, so she set one of them aside. All in all, it was a lot of food for the girls. 12 tacos, 2 Mexican pizzas, and 2 quesorito. She also pulled out a couple 24 ounce cokes and some water bottles as well. Presumably, each girl had half of the meal unless one or the other wanted more. Celeste wasn't sure if it was even possible for them to both eat all the food in a few hours. 

She perked a brow and gave her a hard look at her comment about dieting, "Mari! Come onnnnn. A salad isn't god bad movie night food." She waved her hands across all the food, "How do you expect me to eat all this by myself, missy? Plus, it's only one night!" She gave her a fake puppy dog face before she started chuckling a little bit. It was a little extreme begging, but Celeste was wanting them to not worry about figures, and dancing, and school, and the future tonight. It was just going to be a bad movie night bonding for the two of them. They both were already so busy, even at work they haven't had as much time to socialize. 

She nodded, painfully aware that her dorm in January would not be this nice. At all. She was right, though. This definitely wasn't a cheap school. Maybe Celeste should have went to a performing arts school - she could sing, right? That was an art or something. Though, actually art and dancing aren't her strong suites at all. She grinned a little, "So, I kinda sorta snuck in by the way, hopefully they won't throw me out." 

Celeste gave her a warm smile as she gave Reagan the credit for their dorm. It was a pretty dorm - the Christmas lights made it look not too bright. There was a lot of pink, which judgmentally wasn't something she'd expect to come from a person name 'Reagan.' Ballets & Broadway posters dotted the room, which wasn't surprising given that they were in performance arts school and both of them were in the well, performing arts. She made a note that she'd have to get Marisol to fill her in on the details of the arts world one day. 

Her eyes went big at that title, "Wow. That already sounds awful, honestly." She gave her a big, cheesy grin, "It's perfect!"

Once Marisol turned the movie on, she settled in and opened a fork and began to munch on her Mexican pizza. She perked a brow almost immediately as she stared at the movie playing on the T.V. What on God's good earth made someone come up with this? It was the perfect awful movie. 

Celeste unloaded a veritable treasure trove of low-price Mexican fast food on the bed. Marisol knew it would be the best long-term decision to commit to her healthy-eating habits and grab something different to eat, but Celeste was taking it upon herself not to play fair. Her puppy-dog look was so fake she was already breaking into laughter, but it was undeniably effective on Marisol. ”You are such a cheater! You’re using puppy-dog eyes for evil. Fine. You win.” At the very least, she grabbed Marisol bottled water. It was a small healthy gesture. For one night, Marisol could set aside the many responsibilities she stuck to week after week.

Marisol grabbed one of the cylindrical wrapped items, assuming it was some kind of burrito. She was opening it when Celeste confessed she snuck into the dorms. It was Marisol’s logical assumption since she never went to sign Celeste in, but she could still roll her eyes and giggle. ”Such a troublemaker.” She let out a melodramatic sigh. ”I guess I’ll just have to cover for you. This time.” Marisol nudged Celeste’s shoulder with her own and hit the play button on her remote.

The movie started up with a poorly framed shot from within a car driving down a country road. ”Aaand we already have time to kill. This lasts for almost four minutes. Remember, tonight was your idea.”

The long introductory scene gave Marisol time to examine her food. It was definitely a burrito, but when she looked at the wrapper, it called itself a Quesorito. ”The heck even is a Quesorito?” Cautious and curious, she committed to her agreement with Celeste by taking a large bite. There were a lot of flavors all at once, from the beef, melty cheese, sour cream, and some kind of cheaply-made Chipotle sauce. It was, in theory, nothing special and tasted anything but authentic. ”Hm.”

She took another bite. The taste was weirdly addictive like many processed foods tended to be. As she chewed, there was a long pause before she begrudgingly admitted, ”So it’s not terrible. Not completely, I guess.” Feeling the shame of her food elitism weakening, she stifled those concerns with another bite.

Celeste gave Marisol a big grin as she caved to the yummy treats she bought, "Yesssss! It may look and smell like grossness, and it won't be what you're use to, but it is pretty good, cheap, Americanized food. Give it a try." She stuck her tongue out at Mari playfully. 

She gave a mischievous grin to Marisol, "I think you might just want to walk me to the exit, that's all. I think the rest is fine." At least, hopefully. She hoped she didn't cause too much trouble sneaking in - presuming she was caught, of course. She hadn't thought about if Mari might be in trouble, but chances are it wouldn't. Colleges were pretty chill about stuff like this, right? 

She hunkered down, ready to eat and be amazed by the awful movie. Which, apparently, was them driving for 4 minutes. Celeste perked a brow and glanced towards Marisol and just started laughing. What did she get herself into? Celeste shrugged. She wasn't even sure what was in a quesorito, "I think there's cheese in it or something...? I dunno." She shrugged again, "It tastes good." Celeste watched Mari eat the quesorito with probably a little too much intensity. Celeste wanted to see if she'd like it or not. 

And score! She did! She laughed and nudged her playfully, "Yeah, yeah, your secret is safe with me." She looked back towards the movie and jumped a little at the waitresses face with the noise, "Did they not even edit the voices on this? Oh my god..." 

Bails of Tacos definitely was not authentic Mexican cuisine, and if she had to choose, she would never pick them over her Tío’s cooking, but maybe Marisol could see the appeal. Cheap, flavorful, and admittedly, Jorge would not make her a taco if she showed up to his apartment at midnight. It was the kind of food designed for movie nights or sleepovers, and Marisol could get on board, even if it was a slow, stubborn process. ”I think it’s a burrito wrapped in a quesadilla? As far as Frankenstein foods go, I’ll admit this isn’t the worst.”

Celeste seemed proud of her success in luring Marisol to the dark side of junk food, but she could have her smug moment. Marisol was the one leading her friend into the horror of a top-ten worst movie ever. In her experiences indulging in bad films, she watched Aviarypocalypse back in Los Angeles with Jenna, and its absolute failure as a movie made it hard to forget. She had no qualms with watching the movie again, because part of the joy of bad movies was sharing the suffering with a friend.

The main character’s long drive finally came to an end at a small restaurant that totally lacked the charm of the Wallflower Diner. Marisol nearly snorted when Celeste jumped at the waitress’s first line nearly blowing out the audio. ”I’m telling you, cinematic masterpiece.”

Barely a minute of time passed in the restaurant before the man glanced out the window and saw a woman he felt compelled to chase down. The whole scene made Marisol cringe. ”See? Right away, how does this lady not run far from this guy? Who just goes out of their way to accost someone with conversation? How is that endearing?!” Marisol was hopelessly oblivious to the standbys of dating, romance, and flirting, but she sincerely hoped running after someone because they were attractive was frowned upon by more than just herself.

Still, the woman did not run, so the girls got to enjoy a painfully wooden conversation about how they kind of, sort of, maybe knew each other. It was dull and it was a prime example of how terrible the lead actor was, thought it would not be the last. ”I’m sorry, if I was acting with a guy who read his lines like that, I don’t think I could keep a straight face. Heck, if I was talking with a guy who spoke like that, I’m sure I couldn’t take it.”

Celeste shrugged, unsure about whatever a quserito was. She just cared that it tasted good and only remotely cared that she really had no idea what was actually inside it. It tasted good, so the rest didn't matter. Hopefully, anyways. She loved her junk food. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep it up forever, but, while she was still young, she wanted to enjoy it. 

Celeste just couldn't get over the awful audio clip that played. Why hadn't they fixed that? What was happeningin this movie? Why was all th actors and actresses just awful as could be? Celeste was torn between laughing and feeling embarrassed for them. This was what she signed up for though.

She stared at the scene when the man ran after the woman. She nodded as she listened to Marisols thoughts about it, "I mean... That was pretty extreme, to be honest... I mean, like... Creepy. Kinda like cat calling? And she's just like so non-chalant about it. Like he totally didn't just run after you after a creepy waitress just stared you both down or whatever." She shrugged and took a bite of the Mexican pizza, nearly finising it already. She shrugged though, "Some people have some crazy ideas of romance, though. Maybe she felt complimented to be tracked down like a piece of meat."

She leaned forward and stared intently at the movie for a moment, "Wait... Is... He reading his lines? Like, he didn't even remember his script??? Isn't that like the first rule of what not to do as an actor?" She looked towards Marisol with a clearly perplexed face, "Um, why would any actress or actor even want their name in the titles of this movie? I mean, it's amazing for our purposes, but this had to be a career buster."

Both girls were enjoying their junk food now that Marisol set aside her apprehensions toward Bails of Tacos. For the night, at least. She was not going to run to the place on her lunch periods, but she saw the appeal of cheap junk food for a movie night. She was also morbidly curious about the crunchy disk Celeste was eating in slices like a pizza, but she would find out more soon enough since there was one waiting for her after the Quesorito.

Aviarypocalypse was living up to the legacy it earned in the bad movie community, and Celeste was dealing with the struggle of accepting how a movie like that could exist. There had to be people who green lit the project from stage to stage. People okayed the script, approved of the actors, and let the movie itself reach the public. At what point did they have to consider the whole movie might have been an elaborate prank to troll the populace.

The way the protagonist approached his love interest still struck Marisol in a way she found hard to shake. Like Celeste said, the woman seemed content to carry on a conversation with the guy who ran out of a restaurant to pursue her. It was obviously how the interaction was written in the script, but that did not excuse how unnatural it felt. ”If that’s anyone’s idea of romance, maybe it’s really just not meant for me. It just seems so forward and presumptuous. But I guess I think that of all flirting, really.”

Marisol stopped and realized she was treading into cautious territory. Her own problems with romance and attraction were bleeding into her commentary on a terrible “romantic” scene. It was best for her to move onto the wooden acting of the main character. ”Well, I didn’t mean literally ‘reading’ his lines, but at the same time, I’m not sure I want to rule it out. This guy’s like, legendarily bad. To be honest, I don’t think any of these people had promising careers. An acting gig is an acting gig, I guess,” Marisol explained, shrugging as she chewed through her last bite of the Quesorito. ”But really, if I’m ever involved in a clunker like this, please stage an intervention.”

The awkward romantic subplot was put on hold, but it was not going to be replaced with anything better. The movie had an odd obsession with showing the many stages of the main character’s work day to provide some kind of “full experience” of what it was like to be an incredibly boring software salesman. ”Quick rule of thumb if you ever wanted to direct a movie: showing a character stuck in traffic, getting gas, and going back to being stuck in traffic is a bad idea. Don’t.” If only someone told the director of Aviarypocalypse that advice.

Celeste stared at the movie intently. She didn't realize bad movie night was going to be this bad. It was hilarious, but awful. She was kinda surpised Marisol actually took the time to watch it - but then again, that was one of Mari's things. Bad movies. Maybe it was a perofrming arts student thing?

It was a pretty creepy move on the main characters part to just stalk a girl outside and start hitting on her. It wasn't something that would entirely surprise Celeste but it was something that, if it was her, would freak her out to the max. It clearly wasn't landing well with Marisol, who thought it was crazy. Marisol was young, and Celeste was young, so she probably had a while to go before she found the one. Celeste perked a brow towards Marisol's last comment. She really didn't like flirting, so Celeste shrugged, "I mean, this isn't what would happen in real life. No one would stalk you around... Well, rephrase, not a guy or girl you should be interested in, anyways." Celeste didn't want to make any assumptions on Marisol's preferences - they had never really talked about it, after all. 

She eyed the main character as he talked. His eyes looked semi closed half the time, like he was looking towards something. Or maybe that was just Celeste being paranoid now that Marisol had mentioned something? She stared intently at his eyes, "I mean, it looks like he is..." Of course, Celeste would concede she would have no idea how that would even work. She didn't know the set up of the movies. But there was no way she could believe this would have been a good set up, anyways. She nodded, "Yeah, none of them are that good. I mean, the girl might be okay... Um, I won't ever let you get involved in this. Trust me." Marisol was headed to Broadway, not to this crapland.

She sighed as they watched his day go by. And then, of course, his 1 million dollar sale, "I mean, could it have hurt to have some other people celebrating there besides that dude?" She shook her head as the movie moved on. The girl got her modeling gig, "Look at how happy and good their lives are going! But, uh, where are the birds...?" She checked her watch. They had been in the movie for a hot minute now...

Marisol was not always a bad movie lover. When Jenna first proposed the idea the night Marisol moved in, the newcomer gave her a blank stare. She justifiably thought it was crazy to watch movies she knew were going to be terrible. It was only after two movies with Jenna that she realized how funny a truly terrible piece of cinema could be.

Celeste assured Marisol that people were not going to just stalk her to confess their romantic interests, which was reassuring. ”I don’t think you have to worry about me. On the rare occasion that guys take a chance at approaching me, they figure out pretty quick I’m not interested.” If Marisol tried to avoid social situations, she totally shut down romantic ones. She was trying to work on it, like with the guy from her first day at the diner, but her combination of cold, confused, and oblivious usually warded men away, labeling her as “not worth the effort.” She would have done the same thing with women, but it was much rarer for another woman to make a move, while men seemed far too comfortable with the idea.

The movie was progressing at a snail’s pace, and Celeste was already noticing important things like the main cast’s successes and the lack of birds in a movie about birds. ”Oh, please remember you asked for more celebrating people in a few minutes. And the birds. Don’t worry,” she said ominously, ”There will be birds.”

Of course, before birds, they had to see the slow process of a solar panel sale. While Celeste took her time appreciating that such a scene would be allowed in a movie by someone with a working brain, Marisol unwrapped her “Mexican Pizza,” as the wrapper said. She grabbed a slice and enjoyed the crunch filled with melty, cheesy beef, beans, and tomatoes with some kind of sauce. ”Still not sure I’d call this Mexican, but it’s tasty,” she admitting, covering her mouth with her hand as she spoke.

The scene moved onto the main characters on a date, complete with boring conversation and lifeless dancing. Marisol knew romance was not as dull and unfulfilling as the movie made it out to be, but it was not reassuring when the film was clearly showing someone’s idea of dating. ”You know, if this is what dates are like, I’m probably not missing out,” she joked, taking another bite.