First of all, let me begin this post by mentioning that I do not even remember the movie the editors at NewsCorp went to this weekend. Something with Wolverine in it, I think. Anyway, the movie was not the coolest thing in the movies. As is frequently the case, the main attraction at "Blah Blah Blah" starring Wolverine without any steel claws extruding from the backs of his hands, was not the film itself, but the depth of weirdness that one can experience in a typical BQ theater.
We bought our tickets--after some line-cutting hy-jinks by the locals--and went to get some seats. I bought the Popcorn while LaFlaca went to save the seats, a move which wasn't necessary as we were two of literally five people in the joint, and I came in after the trailers had already begun.
So, fifteen minutes into the movie, two more people came in, and sat right in front of us, exactly, boom, bing, bang, right in front of us, in a fully empty theater. Ok, stadium seating, good angle, no hats, no turbans. No problem.
So, fifteen minutes later, Ewan McGregor is having sex or something--on screen--and a small family comes in and sits, I shit you not, immediately behind us, immediately, boosh, bish, bash, right behind us. Ok, no problem. Not too loud let, but here they are.
So, I'm watching the sex scenes in my little Hollywood blockbuster. Then, once there is no more nudity, I turn to my beautiful wife to whisper something dramatic and romantic, and POW, PING PANG the filthy sonofabitch sitting behind us has his grimey Goddamn naked feet on the top of her seat-back, touching her miscellaneous hairs. UGH. I don't know the correct word to type here. Fucking Disgusting.
So, I move my little family to other seats (telling the guy how disgusting he is during the move, to which he was completely disinterested)
Luckily for me, the movie wasn't Cassablanca, as I spent the rest of it staring daggers at this disgusting pig. That's when I noticed that he didn't have an arm, at least not an arm facing us. Then I felt bad. Wow, maybe this dude has no arms, And I just called him an uneducated, disgusting pig for putting his stinking feet on my wife's head. Maybe that's all he could do to keep the digits he eats with off the movie theater floor. Hmmmmm, Bad Fpp.
Then his phone rings. And he answers it. With a hand. Ha! OK! Good! So he has at least one hand and no excuse for putting his stinking fucking feet on my wife. I no longer felt bad. I wanted to throw stuff at him while he was on on the phone for two reasons 1. 'cause he was on his phone in a movie theater and 2. 'cause, with his one arm busy, he would have a real hard time dodging the thrown missiles.
Anyway, lesson learned. One arm is not a good enough excuse to put your gnarly feet anywhere near me or my wife's heads.
Oh, by the way, he took another call during the movie and MADE one himself, cementing his status as cool-ass dude.
1 comment:
I think not getting in someone's space must be considered rude. Amber says it's how they show us they like us.
Post a Comment