I confess, it was me, not you nor your slobbery smoochy kissing partner. You two sat down in front of me during previews at the Roseway some years ago and immediately demonstrated your reason for being there - to go at it with abandon. I regret what happened, but not the look on your faces as the predictable result of my consuming one too many Taco Bell bean concoctions was silently released and the unexpected, hugely nasty odor wafted past your saliva-smeared faces and met your nostrils, your erotic moment ruined. I'm sorry, but thanks for the often replayed memory of comedic relief. If you could've only seen your faces. One thing I will say to make up for being a party pooper: Never trust Mercury movie reviews. They must hold their farts uncomfortably too long as their reviews often reflect a gaseous judgment.