My husband Bruno and I don’t have children, but we go and see each and every Pixar movie anyway. They’re good, and in LA, you never know when you’re going to run into John Ratzenberger socially.

Bruno liked “Cars.” It was zippy, and all the cars were actual cars, he tells me, each a cunning reference of some kind, plus he also enjoyed the fact that at no point did the disembodied voice of Sarah McLachlan start singing something by Randy Newman.

Me, I was weirded out.

“The Incredibles” made you believe that yes, if there were Superheroes, this is what their life would be like. “Finding Nemo,” the same: if there were varied, brightly colored fish swimming in the ocean, rather than the mutated krill that keeps washing up on our beaches, well, yes, I guess at least one of them would sound very much like Ellen DeGeneres.

But what the hell? These are the questions I kept asking my husband as the credits rolled and he looked to see if any of his C-list actor friends got to do a crowd voice:

If the cars “drink” gas and oil, just like real cars, why do they have mouths? And even weirder, a tongue? If my car stuck out a tongue, I’d ruin its upholstery.

Every car make and model seemed to reflect its position in the world. So, for example, the Bonnie Hunt Porsche was a LA Lawyer, making the big bucks. Which it would need to, in some weird logic, to be able to afford itself, right? But how does that work? Each car is made, and then takes its place in the world according to its sticker price? The Porsche gets to be a lawyer, the Ford Escort an insurance broker, the Mercedes S-Class an Iranian expat now running a falafel stand in Westwood? This is pre-destination that would make a Calvinist feel short-sticked.

Plus, what’s death for a car? The movie suggest it’s rust, but that’s ridiculous, my cars don’t rust. I sell them and buy new ones. So what happens in “Cars 2,” when Lightning McQueen confronts its own mortality: all of a sudden he’s in a CarMax lot, being looked over by a 17 year-old from Santa Clarita who’s got big ideas about “Korn” decals?

And that’s another thing, I said to Bruno, as we got into our Lexus, which seemed to have even less of a personality than it usually does, what exactly is the moral of this movie? When you’re a hot shot big star, be nice to the little people? I’m sure that’s a useful lesson for the tots of America… don’t screw with the lunch lady, kids. ‘Cause, she serves you lunch. Of course, this only applies to the ones among you who were born special, painted bright red, destined for the glamour.

The rest of you: I’d like my lunch, now, please.