Insanity at the Movies

I enjoy going to the movie theater.

Larger than life image of Johnny Depp – meow.

Spending a couple of hours out-smarting the bad guys with Matt Damon – thrilling.

Playing on the beach and swirling martinis with Daniel Craig – yes please.

Spending a few hours at the movie theater is a nice break from reality.  You can be anything you want to be in a movie.

Hot cougar seductress – check.

Alien battling space explorer – check.

Crazed psycho serial killer – check.

Dream chasing hopeful – check.

Joining the minions in their quest to conquer the world – check.

The list goes on and on.  There is something out there for everyone – it doesn’t matter what your interests are in the world – the movies have you covered.

Walking into the theater, the smell of popcorn is almost as tantalizing as smoking after sex.  Of course, I’m not a smoker, except for an occasional cigar to celebrate special events.  Confession: I have one cigar a year – when the last cruise ship for the season sails off into the Alaskan sunset.  A group of us light ’em up and wave farewell from the pier.

Back to the theater…

I’m not a candy type of girl, but that glistening buttered popcorn just makes my mouth water.  It probably comes from the same source as McDonald’s french fries – laced with trace amounts of crack cocaine.  Ridiculous.  People talk about being addicted to drugs or alcohol – I’m thinking french fries and movie popcorn are just as addicting.  Just rub me down with the butter and let me lick myself.  Or, better yet, slather me up with the butter and let Johnny Depp or Daniel Craig lick it off.

I do have one fear inside the movie theater.  Not that I have ever seen one….but a mouse running over my feet scares me.  If I was a mouse, I would live in a theater.  Popcorn.  Milk Duds.  Nachos with fake cheese.  Soft pretzel bits with fake cheese….all things that would make me  one happy little fat, fuzzy mouse.  I’d have to find a little wheel to attach to my belly as I’d be so fat, my little belly would be dragging on the floor.  You’ve felt those floors!  Stand still for too long and you’re not going anywhere.  I am certainly not going to have my underbelly waxed by melted gummy bear sugars.  AND that’s the reason this mouse would be wearing pink ballet slippers….thank you very much.

I’ve sent a note to the FBI, as I’ve discovered a new torture technique.  They have missed the boat without a doubt on one superb method:  noise in movie theaters.

People.

Please.

You’re killing me.

Could it be that I have bat like hearing?  Perhaps.

Could it be a ploy of the psychiatric board of America to annoy the shit out of citizens so they have to spend hundreds of dollars on drugs to calm their nerves?  Possibly.

Could it be everyone else in the rest of the theater is just rude?  Likely.

Oh. My. God.  If you jab your hand into that vat of popcorn and rummage around one more time like some desperate shopaholic at the end of season Nordstrom’s sale, I am going to leap up out of my seat and slap you.

I’ll move so fast, it’ll be like the scene from Kill Bill Vol. 1 when O-Rhen-Ishi (Lucy Lui) leaps up on the boardroom table and severs the head of the crime lord who decided to question her mixed Chinese heritage.  Oops.  One of my most favorite parts in my most favorite movie.

Don’t make me say sorry.

Do you really need to get the VERY LAST KERNEL IN THE VERY BOTTOM OF THE BUCKET?  First off, did you really need that bucket to begin with?  Doubtful.  Then said annoyance SHOVELS the popcorn into their mouth like a CAT Front Loader.  Wow.  Don’t get near that person kids, you’re likely to lose a hand.

Wait.  Let me guess.  Your dining room is carpeted with a beautiful blue plastic tarp or maybe even a soft, painters cloth.  It catches all the food that doesn’t make it to your mouth and it’s then re-purposed into a mix for tomorrow night’s snack.

I don’t think even desperate cannibals are this sloppy.

Then there are the people who chow down on candy, chips, popcorn, hot dogs, pretzels, air….it doesn’t matter….they’re smacking their lips like a herd of hippos going through a mud bath. For cripes sake – get a grip and control yourselves.  If I am 15 rows away and can hear you chewing your cud – you are too fucking loud.

SMACK!

S+M+A+C+K

S*M*a*c*K

SMACK!

Did you think they said “Who wants a planner?” When they really asked, “Who wants manners?”  in school?  Did your parents just unhinge your jaw and shovel the food down your hatch…..like a slippery slide and naked girls?  Dear lord, give me the strength not to UFC that person in the 34th row.

The talking.

Has.

To.

Stop.

Your whispers are as loud as Sister Loretta Ann’s farts in eighth grade.  I can HEAR you….you FREAK!  I’m totally sure Jackie needs to hear how David thought she was the best kisser at the bonfire.  I’m totally sure they make a super cute couple and will get married and have a ton of kids but you know what….we don’t care.  Shut. It.  When I turn around and say: SHUT UP!  That’s a clue….. we STILL don’t care.

I carry duct tape and I’m not afraid to use it.  Continue with your obnoxiously loud conversation and I will go through this theater, ending up standing on the arm rests of your chair faster than you can say, “there’s an alien in my chest.”

Got it?

Good.

Shut it.

Do these people behave just as poorly at home?  Emily Post would be horrified.  Where is the common sense?  The common decency?  Usually most people have enough common sense not to throw used toilet paper on the floor in a rest room…why is it they lose all decency in a movie theater?

Never mind.

I just figured it out.

It’s the lack of lighting.

Darkness = you can’t see me.

If you can’t see me = I can’t see you.

If I can’t see you = I can’t annoy you.

And if you could provide me with the address of the rabbit hole you just fell down, I’m sure Geraldo Rivera would love to do a segment on your cave’s revelations.

Don’t even get me started on the great movie crinklers.  Crinkle the plastic wrap the Snow Caps come in.  Crinkle the bag the gummy bears are encased in.  Crinkle the heavy duty coating the liquorice  is housed inside.   It’s enough to make my ears bleed.  I can’t even discuss it without requiring a dose of tequila.

Note to self: bring ear plugs the next time you go to the theater and a rubber mallet.

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