Idiots at the movie theatre, and how they should be dealt with

"Shut the fuck up!"

“Shut the fuck up!”

We’ve all been there at the theatre: a seat kicker behind you, someone in front of you fiddling with their brightly lit phone, or a commentator or ‘pssst’-er to the people with they’re with. They can ruin a movie-going experience.

It’s incredibly annoying, but it’s been my observation that people don’t put their foot down immediately, but instead spend waaay too much time bitching to everyone BUT the offenders, or they try passive-aggressive tactics such as a side-eye look or a loud ‘ahem.’

No, those won’t work.

What usually works is a stern “shut up” in a voice loud enough to embarrass the person yakking in from of a large part of the audience, making sure to turn and face the offender, making eye contact and putting on your best ‘don’t fuck with me’ face.

Any time I’ve done this, it’s worked—except that one time, which is an amusing story, in retrospect.

We were seeing Transformers at Westhills in Calgary—yes, even I was suckered into seeing that pile of shit—and during the matinee, some douchebag was commenting about EVERYTHING. We were only still on the previews and advertisements, when I turned and said, “there’ll be no talking during the movie, right?” The guy just looked at me, which I took to mean he heard me.

About five minutes into the movie, the commentary began again, and a few minutes later I turned and said, “shut up, already!”

His girlfriend replied, “don’t you dare speak to us like that. Don’t you fucking dare,” complete with the ‘hand in yo’ face’ gesture, hand on hip, and the whole side-to-side head-bob thing.

Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm-Flailing Tubeman,

Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm-Flailing Tubeman,

Then the guy chimed-in in a somewhat pouty voice “you shut the fuck up.” Then I heard a bunch of muttering under his breath and flailing arm sounds—like one of those Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm-Flailing Tubemen you see at auto dealerships—but all I could make out were a couple of “fucks” and a few “assholes.” I understand it is difficult for certain breeds of blockhead to string together coherent sentences on the fly like that, but his overreaction did surprise me a bit.

Immediately following the cursing and arm-flailing, the couple erupted into a pushy-fight with lots of loud talking and swearing, before the guy stormed out of the theatre. The lady he was with left a few minutes later before whispering “asshole…” in my ear and slapping me in the back of my head.

They really were such a charming couple.

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Filed under Calgary, Humour

Broken

Setter-offer of metal detectors
Heir to the throne of wheels
Wielder of the mystical cane sword

Dylan Debilitatam will return . . .

*      *      *      *      *

Anatomy lumbar spine 1Tomorrow morning I’m having back surgery to help with pain, numbness, and weakness in my legs that have resulted from a tobogganing accident I suffered in 2003.

On the one hand, I’m kind of excited at the possibility of moving past this particular stage of my life, but I know this surgery won’t give me back anything I’ve lost: loss of feeling from damaged spinal nerves, which reveal themselves in the sides of my legs, top and bottom of my feet, my left thigh, both my shins, etc..) My lack of balance isn’t likely to improve, either, but I’ve learned to live with this annoyance. Nor is this surgery to help with back pain.

Anyway, for the next few weeks, I’ll likely be around less.

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Filed under I'm falling apart, Me stuff

The hotel and the hooker (or was she?)

barIt was 11 p.m. at the hotel lounge along Chicago’s Magnificent Mile. A woman robed in silky blacks, accented with a refulgent orange scarf approaches the bar a few seats down from where I’m sitting, and asks for a glass of pinot grigio. As the bartender fixes her drink, she turns and smiles at me, says ‘hi,’ and I reply, “you’re a prostitute aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, but a testament to my own social retardation. She lets out an incredulous gasp and storms off, drink in hand. The bartender says I’ve had enough.

Yup. Dying alone.

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Filed under Humour, Travel

Grief

Oh for fuck's sake, Charlie Brown. Aren't you over your grief yet?!

Oh for fuck’s sake, Charlie Brown. Get a grip!

Losing someone or something important is both painful and emotionally tumultuous. It might feel like the pain and sadness being experienced will never surpass, but it probably will. The shortness of breath, or the inability to focus; the loss of appetite, the tiredness and weakness, and the sense of despair that lingers in the air . . . these are normal reactions to a loss; these feelings are colloquially referred to as grief.

Often times, grief is associated with the death of a loved one, but any loss can precipitate it, including moving or the selling of a home, the death of a family pet, or the loss of a job. Or maybe it’s something less tangible or quantifiable, such as the ending of a storied friendship, the loss of a dream, or the loss of hope.

Grieving is a highly individual and personal experience. How one grieves depends on many factors, including their personality, life experience, or maybe their faith. How one grieves should not be judged or dictated by others, nor should it be interfered with unless asked. Continue reading

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New Year’s delusions

New Year’s resolutions: hollow, empty lies we promise ourselves at the beginning of the year, which are all but forgotten by Groundhog Day.

Usually I don’t buy into this kind of nonsense, but this year I played along while attending a New Year’s Day dinner; everybody listed his or her New Year’s resolution while sitting around a dinner table, and I thought it would be impolite if I told everybody to fuck off.

Thus, the idea was put forth from my very lips that perhaps I should work on getting a life this year:

“My New Year’s resolution is to cut back on the reading/movies/solitude and engage in more social ventures.” Continue reading

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Filed under Feature, Humour

The homeless perception

Imagine you had no place to go during the day—everyday. You spend your time wandering the streets, with a lack of expediency or purpose, waiting for the day’s clock to run out and for the sun to set, until such time you are allowed to sleep in a bed, if there’s one available. The next day a repeat of the last. And every day after.

On the streets you’re a shadow, a ghost. Passersby ignore you. They avoid eye contact, or display disdain at your situation. They call you lazy or useless, tell you to get a job. Others are disgusted at your situation: begging for money, digging through trash for bottles—‘how can someone live like that?

What would you do all day? You make friends with people in similar situations; you develop a route to walk every day, the familiarity and comfort of your route giving you some kind of warped solace.

A mental illness, physical disability, substance abuse or family violence situation has left you on your own. You have nowhere to go, are unable or unknowing how to reach out for help.

You have fallen between the cracks. Continue reading

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Filed under Alberta, Calgary

Walls

This is a wall. I did not build this wall.

This is a wall. I did not build this wall.

This week seemed particularly crazy.

First the bombing in Boston, then ricin being sent to a US Senator, then the explosion of a fertilizer plant in Texas, and finally the shooting of a cop at MIT and the ensuing manhunt for the shooters who were alleged to be connected to the bombing earlier in the week.

While I kind of feel like I should be marking my door with lamb’s blood or something–you know, just in case–these events haven’t really struck a chord with me emotionally. Continue reading

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Filed under Alberta, Calgary, Me stuff