Seeing as you've still got almost 36 hours to cobble together your taxes, feel free to blow off those forms and join us in crunching some numbers that really matter: This weekend's box office returns:
Second guess your Monday morning instinct to feed that neckware noose into the office paper shredder with the knowledge that there really is something to live for: the box office numbers:
You wake up cold and confused, naked except for the half-singed bonnet on your head, and surrounded by hundreds of empty Peeps boxes and decapitated chocolate bunnies. Damn it: You've surrendered to another Easter weekend bender. Enjoy the last pulses of glucose shooting through your veins as you peruse the box office numbers:
In honor of St. Patrick's day, we invite you to revisit the Crichton Leprechaun, peruse the screensavers and wallpapers available for download at colinfarrell.org, and dive into that bowl of cornflakes before the green beer turns them soggy. And while you're at it, have some box office numbers for good luck:
As you recover from one of the more jarring daylight savings shifts in recent memory, try as hard as you can to avoid the stares of co-workers who can't help but notice you sporting your stubbornly punctual morning priapism. Perhaps the box office numbers will ease the transition:
Tend to the wounds of your ill-advised weekend bear-wrestling adventures with the box office numbers:
Ease the bitterness of having to work on President's Day with the knowledge that 1) Grover Cleveland always made his first and second assistants roll calls on Washington's birthday, and 2) the names Roscoe Jenkins, Hanna Montana, and Juno appear nowhere in the weekend box office numbers:
As the fuzzy memories of drunkenly shaving MAMA into the back of your head following Kanye West's moving Grammy tributes to his mother slowly come into focus, have a look at the weekend box office numbers:
As you and your loved one attempt to pry off the beer helmet that became glued to your head by a combination of sweat and Coors Light runoff, enjoy the weekend box office numbers:
As you try to wash off the last of the oil you liberally applied to your torso for your unselfconsciously shirtless Rambo outing, have a look at the weekend's box office numbers:
You know, Hollywood has a dream, too: Seeing summer box office numbers in the dead of January. This weekend, that dream has finally come to pass, bringing movie executives of all stripes and luxury-car-driving-categories out of their offices and into the streets, to stand together and toss bushels of warm money into the air in a stirring showing of producerly love. The numbers:
As you shake off the morning-after effects of your rollicking Golden Globes party—which consisted entirely of pounding cans of PBR and shouting obscenities at clueless NBC presenter Billy Bush every time he opened his mouth—take a look at the weekend's box office numbers:
Hollywood's refusal to toss any new-release chum (with the exception of a single horror offering) into the waters of America's multilplexes just seemed to intensify the public's appetite for the stale Nic Cage/Will Smith/Chipmunk-flavored morsels already floating there. Your Monday morning romp through this weekend's box office results:
With Father Time currently in lockdown after being picked up over the weekend for a parole-violating DUI, and the tragic discovery of the New Year's baby in a dumpster behind Bar Lubitsch (besides a crushed top hat and filthy sash, doing just fine), it seems as if the countdown to 2008 comes under less than ideal circumstances. Still, you can't stop the march of progress, and nowhere is that more apparent than in the weekend box office numbers:
On these final few hours before the sugarplum-gorging orgy that begins at dawn, we dutifully tabulate for you, like a trembling Bob Cratchit scratching figures with a quill pen into the margins of the Scrooge & Marley ledger, the weekend's box office numbers:
1. National Treasure: Book of Secrets - $45.5 million
Frankly, we don't know what took infallible superproducer Jerry Bruckheimer and supermuse Nicolas Cage this long to bring us another Treasure chapter: With Secrets conquering this weekend's box office (and bringing in $10 mil more than the original), the American-history-corrupting adventure serial has now graduated to official franchise&trade status. We're eagerly anticipating all future installments, including National Treasure: Three Dollar Bill, in which Cage and his ragtag band of bookish fortune-hunters discover that the Lincoln Memorial's head spins to the left when a Sacagawea and Susan B. Anthony dollar are placed in its orbital sockets, revealing a secret tunnel to J. Edgar Hoover's fabled lingerie closet.
We knew that Hollywood wouldn't allow itself to limp out of 2007 on the back of a crippled, armored polar bear—celebrate the studios' late-year resurrection with a quick perusal of the weekend's box office numbers:
As Hollywood tries to shake off another lackluster set of box office performances and limps towards a more promising frame, praying that some animated chipmunks and Will Smith will save the studios from this malaise before Christmas arrives, have a look at the weekend's disappointing numbers:
In another one of those post-Thanksgiving weekends at the box office in which Hollywood serves up the cinematic equivalent of mold-encrusted stuffing and rancid cranberry sauce, the moviegoing public largely chose to stay home and avoid a grudging feast on studio leftovers. Have a look at the anemic numbers from a slow three days at the multiplex, which Box Office Mojo says was "the least attended in a decade":
As you slowly awaken from your tryptophan-induced comas, only vaguely remembering the pounds of turkey and glasses of scotch consumed over the previous four days, stare bleary-eyed at the weekend box office numbers:
