… Happened, to say the most.

Granted, I don’t care for horror movies of any description, and in the grand spirit of procrastination, arrived at the theater a solid half-hour late. I buckled down in my seat, Diet Coke in hand, finding a stressed-out Zoe Deschanel arguing with her man in packed train station.

The laughs soon ensued. This quasi-apocalyptic thriller seemed more like a tounge-in-cheek spoof on modern society, namely our cell phone fixation. As Julian clutches his daughter in his arms on the train (fleeing this happening-thing, I guess, I missed the beginning), he frantically phones his wife. Bad reception interferes with this life-alterting conversation, and he shouts into the reciever, “TEXT ME!”

… “Text me?” The world’s quite possibly ending, so… text me? “Text me” is the kind of thing I shout out my car window to a friend I bumped into at Walmart. You know, we should make plans, but I’m too lazy to verbally converse with you, so text me. I understand the merits of texting in stressful situations — texting usually requires fewer signal bars, it doesn’t matter how noisy things are, multi-tasking is much easier, you can be clear and concise… Okay, I get it. But it still made me laugh.

A bit later, another character (or maybe it was Julian again, I’m bad at this movie thing), starts freaking out. He hasn’t heard from somebody in two hours — no emails, no texts, no voicemails. Two entire hours have elapsed without an email from somebody? She didn’t stop fleeing death long enough to text you? She must be seeing somebody else.

I won’t give away all the cell phone incidents, there was another memorable one involving a gory iPhone video (“Who bothers to send something like that to somebody?” my friend Kate whispered as the camera zoomed in on the phones crystal clear, 3.5 inch widescreen. I don’t know, Kate.)

Although a few scenes forced a sharp intake of breath or two, I derived more amusement out of M. Night Shyamalan’s first R-rated flick than I did terror.

And, courtesy of a funny little military policeman who died at the happening’s whim, I have a new substitute-swear-phrase: “Cheese and crackers!”

Altogether, not exactly worth nine bucks. But if you catch it on Starz or Netflix and approach it with a cynical-enough mindset, it might pep you up a bit.