So I get to the theater and of course have to get popcorn. I do not care whatever diet one is on, whatever healthy lifestyle one may choose, it is simply not normal to go to the movies and not get a bag of popcorn the size of your head. It’s like going to the stadium and not getting a hot dog or your grandma’s house without making sure her nipples get hard from looking at your bulge after you’ve gone through her hamper. You just have to get some fucking popcorn, right? But I must say. It’s been a long time since I was at a movie theater; I would’ve guessed that by now they’d let you actually choose which single piece of popcorn you wanted them to soak with the 4 gallons of butter. “Here’s you’re buttered kernel, sir…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand your 5 pounds of salt underneath. Enjoy the movie!” And for $6, you'd think I wouldn't have to cut the dick-hole at the bottom of the bag myself for fuckssake. Any kid over 8 years old can tell sloppy work, friend. My point? Don't sit beside any kid in the theater who was born before 1999.
So of course I’m 30 minutes early, I’m sitting there watching the dumb quizzes et al. Which actress was up for Glenn Close’s role in Fatal Attraction, which film was Pacino’s debut, do you think you would get caught if you pulled it out in the back of the theater and started rubbing one out, and…whoops. Guess that one was my own little “quiz.” So finally the lights go out, here we go I’m thinking BUT NO… now we have to sit through the 5 minutes of snack food parading around on the screen “reminding” us that there are refreshments to be had out at the counter. Hmm. Really? Hey thanks for letting me know, just in case I was, you know, either actually born INSIDE the theater itself and have never been on the outside or the second I was handed a ticket I was blindfolded and moved along right by the concessions with a gun in my back. So really, thanks. There I was sitting in the back watching people walk in and thinking “what the…where the FUCK are these people getting all this popcorn and soda??!??!!”
And then, of course, come the previews. We all know how ridiculous these have become. There are so many before every movie now, these things run so long that after a while you start to forget that there’s actually a movie at the end of it all. It’s like being pregnant so long you forget that you’re actually gonna have a baby, or having sex with a girl and pumping away for so long you forget that in the end you’re going to cum all over her eys so her lids crust shut and you can steal all her shit. On and on and on these things go. But I noticed what the green screens actually say for the first time.
See that? "The following preview has been approved for ALL audiences." Why do they bother saying that? Have you ever seen one that said “This preview has been approved for audiences that are into assplay and teenage pig rape”? Do we hafta see this before every fucking trailor? And it’s not even like “come see this movie next week!” it’s “come see this movie starring Brangelina’s unborn child in 2017!!!”
So finally the previews are over and the movie starts. It is now 3:20, which I guess in Movie-Land means 3:00. Hmm. So I settle in and about 4 minutes in I realize wait…THIS ISN’T EVEN THE FUCKING MOVIE YET!!!! It’s some “short”!!!! To be honest it was kinda funny, but I didn’t fucking pay to see it, certainly not 20 minutes after the movie I did pay to see was SUPPOSED to start. Just like the tap you give a girl's head to let her know you're satisfied with the rim job, these fucking places really have to have someone who shows up in front of the screen with a bullhorn to announce that the actual movie you paid $11 to see is, in fact, beginning.
As for the movie itself, must say…great. Not a good movie, a great one. 2 thumbs up, 4 stars, whatever. Laugh out loud funny, touching at times but not too over the top, and within about 5 minutes you actually find yourself giving two shits about the main character, which is rare these days. Yes, it’s Disney so you know everything will end up okay in the end, but that’s alright. My only complaint is that there were a few too many hectic, panicking rat-almost-getting-run over-by-cars/people/Neil Diamond’s prostate scenes. But that’s the only ding.
Tell you what though…I am creeped out whenever I’m watching anything that’s animated and find myself thinking “man…she’s hot…” Chick in this one, reminded me of Gina Gershon. Well, if she wasn’t, you know, human. Always weirds me out, maybe my generation has Jessica Rabbit to blame for this. Or maybe I could speak to an actual woman more than once every 11 years.
If you must go see a movie, see “Ratatoille”!
SOME POST-FLICK SIDE NOTES
I was walking past some fancy-schmancy joint off Union Square with outdoor seating and I couldn’t help but notice as I walked by that some chick was sitting there eating…spaghetti. Plain, no meat, spaghetti. What? On a hunch I walked up to the window and looked at the menu. $28. For spaghetti. This seem weird to you? I mean, I’ve had some fine spaghetti in my life, but is it what you think of when you’re hitting a $28/plate joint? I’m spending that much, I’m prolly buying something that’s not already stuck all over the inside of my microwave. I don’t go to a double-jointed Mexican she-male hooker to sit there and jerk off to “King of Queens”, do I? Hell no. And by "hell no" of course I mean "not until Leah Remini loses her baby weight."
Also. If you are wearing a skimpy t-shirt that says “Fuck Me I’m a Slut”, I should by rights be able to bend you over the next taxi and fuck the living shit out of you. No jury would convict me – we have an oral t-shirt agreement, plus you’re an idiot. Seriously, these 23 year-old fresh out of private school white girls who parade around with these “I’m a Whore” or “Slut” shirts, enough already. We get it, you’re trying to be ironically bad. For fuck's sake can I ogle your fake tits without having to be pissed off at what your stuppid tee says? I don't thinik we're gonna be done with these things until some 85-lb over-tanned US Weekly addict wears one that says "Chop My Beef Curtains into Pieces and Dip in Tempura, You Fucking N---er." MAYBE then we'll decide enuff's enuff, let's knock off these stupid ironic shirts.
No comments:
Post a Comment