Let's just get the most obvious thing out of the way: I cried during Toy Story 3. We're not talking stinging eyes like I experienced with UP, or the chin wobble I experienced at the end of Wall E, but shook off in the shiny happiness of the end. We're talking full blown sobs and an inability to breathe. I'm famous in my family for sitting stony faced through everything and laughing at them, and I'd been teasing my Twitter friends for their emotional Toy Story 3 frailty. So shocking was my outburst of emotion that my mom took a photo and Tweeted it. Friends are still laughing and commiserating with me. I deserve all jeers.
Even days later, I can't get over just how bad I felt. This wasn't cathartic crying. It was guilt, agony and the keen sense of my own mortality. My mom and I were joking about how the kids in line weren't even born when the first Toy Story came out, so that was already on my mind. We can all measure time by franchises like these. I was thirteen in 1995, and I remember wondering if I was just too old to be watching Toy Story. After all, I'd seen Braveheart that year and was crushing on Mel Gibson, so everything else paled. In 1999, I was 17, and had snapped out of I'm-too-old-for-this for Toy Story 2. That year, we also got a pug puppy named Quincy, who my sister nicknamed Bullseye because of his round eyes, and his penchant for licking things as obsessively and happily as Bullseye laps up the Cheeto dust. Fast forward to 2010, and Quincy is now old, and just recently went blind. (PIXAR, thanks for putting an old dog and a crying Bullseye in 3. Why not just rip my heart out and show it to me? Seriously, that would be easier.)
Oh man, here I go. Keep it together, Rappe.