A Trip To The Movie Theater Makes Me Bleed From All My Orfices
May 12, 2006

RANT #261: Arts & Entertainment
B $ Crane
Summary: Do you remember the days when you would get soo excited at the thought of going to the movie theater? What and when did everything go to absolute crap? An entertaining breakdown of the disaster that s...
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Do you remember the days when you would get soo excited at the thought of going to the movie theater? It would be a family fun event filled with fluffy popcorn, ice cold fizzy soda and larger than life entertainment. What and when did everything go to absolute shit? Nowadays, theaters across the globe are nothing more than glamourized, overpriced cesspools. I guess the first indication, for me, that theatrical adventures were going downhill, was when a cheerful companion asked if I would like to "catch a flick", and I declined because I found more enjoyment in sewing my cock shaft to my inner thigh with razor wire.

The disaster pretty much starts as soon as you are approaching the entrance. Depressed, skinny, pale white boys, that look like they just stepped off the set of the new "Fall Out Boy" video, are chain smoking their Parliaments as if cancer was "the new black". I can't wait until down the road, at the "Big Mommas House 7" premiere, when I see you breathing through a crusty air hole in your throat like an aborted dolphin fetus.

15 year old floozies dressed in clothing that Madonna would be ashamed of, are standing around like chlamydia infested street walkers on display. They might as well wear a shirt that says, "I Would Make an Excellent Rape Victim". Look, Im sorry that your Uncle fondled you behind the tool shed in 1996, but have some fucking dignity! There are fifty year old men eyeing you up like flank steaks. Doesn't it gross you out that he is going home to bang his wife in the dark thinking about you? Probably not, cause you are such a dirty tramp. If I was a young whore, and I knew that, Id be wearing a snowsuit like the younger brother in a "Christmas Story", and I wouldn't give a shit If I couldn't put my arms down.... beeeelieeve that! **On a side note, if you are one if these girls fathers, and you are letting them wear these clothes out of your house, I am going to laugh hysterically when your wife finds out that you are banging your secretary and shoots you in the dick with a .22**

When you get inside the cinema lobby, the drama continues. The line is absurdly long, every employee can clearly see this, and yet they only have one person at their multi-person ticket sales counter. I HATE YOU! I already know that I have to spend $42.30 on two matinee tickets, but you are just worsening the situation. Its times like this that I wish I was a ninja for the sole purpose of lobbing throwing stars at your trachea. Can you please stop talking about "Lord of the Rings" conspiracies, and lend your poor fellow moron a hand? The stench of the young diseased leg spreaders outside is leaking in through the door cracks and eating away at the inner liner of my nostrils.

As for the people in line, do me a favor. Please decide what fucking movie you want to see before you get in line.... actually preferably before you get to the theater. Usually people attend the cinema because they have some twinkle of a desire to see a certain flick....not everyone. I didn't know that people in the 21st century actually go to the movies, with no prior knowledge of what is showing, on the blind chance that they might find something that interests them. "Hey cunthole! I KNOW that I want to see Brokeback Mountain, and it starts in 2 minutes. If you don't decide between 'Ice Age 2' and "Slither' in the next second, I am going to punch you square in the heart and piss directly in your ear hole.... and if you made me miss a preview, Im coming back to finish you off.

As I walk towards my theater, I can't help but laugh at all the poor suckers standing in line at the concession counter. Is it really necessary to pay 20 dollars on snacks, another 20 on soda and 75 cents for the look of triumph the vested douche behind the counter is giving you? The movie is only 2 hours long, so just save your money! For the amount you are going to spend on nibbles, you can take your girlfriend out for surf and turf at the "Tavern on the Green", and most likely end up with, at least, a handy or a molly flogging. One more quick tidbit on theater refreshments... If you are one of the brain dead customers who falls into the trap of paying $3 for a small bottle of water (which is the most plentiful substance on this effing planet, I remind you) ... as soon as the credits start rolling, stand up, bend at a 90 degree angle and run full speed into the cement wall. With any luck your spinal cord will be severed, therefore ridding the world of a worthless being.

Once you are inside the theater, you might as well just pick any seat and sit. The people that stand in the front of all the rows, looking up at everyone, trying to pick a seat as if they were picking out their new car, make me laugh hysterically. The more time you stand down there looking like idiots, the more everyone is going to look down on you, make fun of you and end up throwing jujubees at your eyeballs. You might as well walk your sorry ass down to the front row and prepare yourself for total discomfort and a stiff neck, cause that is where you are gonna end up anyway. I will also pray that you are flanked by 2 morbidly obese heavy breathers, that ruin any snipit of viewing pleasure you had left, with their over-powering wheezes and amplified chews. Hey don't get upset with me, God is obviously the one who doesn't like you!

Ok, now that the movie has started, take a look at the shit heads around you. I guarantee this is what you see/hear:
1) *A woman constantly asking her husband what is going on*
Hey Bitch, there is 50 foot screen in front of you. Why don't you stop thinking of how you are going to explain to your hubby the warts you got on your cooch from your mid-afternoon romp with the mailman and pay attention to the fucking movie. He paid 10 dollars for your cheating ass to see it, so you might as well at least act interested you ungrateful forest troll!
2) *A gaggle of crying children*
Yooohoooo..... single mother... I know you know that this movie is rated R, so why are you breastfeeding your newborn while your two other 8 year old bastards whine like dying hyenas. You could have been a good mother, and taken your ankle biters to see "Spy Kids 3D", but instead you thought The Devils Rejects would be more soothing. People are getting shot in the face, raped in the ass and using "fuck" in every sentence. Don't go crying to the media when your kid ends up incinerating churches 10 years down the road. If you would have been a good mommy, then the worst thing you'd have to worry about your little ray of sunshine doing in his life, is taking the anal virginity of his girlfriend in your bed while you're on vacation.
3) *Preppy girl with popped collar talking on her magenta Razr phone*
I know you are a stupid, clueless twat but don't pretend you missed the 50 reminders to "silence your cell phone" and the ever popular "refrain from any talking while film is in progress". You just paid money to get in here, and you are doing the same effing thing that you could be doing in the parking lot for free. Believe it or not, I (as well as every other person in the theater) could give a flying fuck that Stacey dumped Joey because he had a dirty panty fetish or that your mom won't let you go to the party this weekend cause shes afraid you'll get gangbanged by a group of Hatian landscapers. Put the contraption on vibrate, and wait until after the movie to peddle your wares. If I hear your "My Humps" ring tone blast one more time, I'm going to saw your head off with your own phone, no matter how long it takes ( I know its a blunt object, but I got time!)..... and I hope your headless spirit gets a clear view of everyone in the theater applauding afterwards. Don't cry, you brought it on yourself!
4) *The Armrest Bandit that is sitting right next to you*
Due to some fuck up in theater seating ergonomics, every patron is only allowed one armrest. I hate that shit! It takes two armrests to put me in a state of euphoria, not one! But, I guess I can make due.... unless the armrest bandit is nestled beside me. He (and yes, its usually a dude) will start off by putting just a smidgen of his forearm flesh onto YOUR armrest, and with every passing minute he pushes your arm further off... until he is left with complete victory like he just conquered me in a rousing game of Risk. "You selfish prick, can't you clearly see that you are not only blocking me from total comfort, but you have also taken up the space where I put my sour gummy worms and my beer (that I smuggled in, contraband style). I hope this movie has a sad ending, causing you to cry, so I can laugh in your face and axe chop you in the gullet." I actually had a good idea (only works if you are a guy). Next time the armrest bandit sits next to you, and over takes your arm space, simply lay your arm on top of his, and hold his hand. Dont worry, you arent gay, THIS IS WAR. You better believe that his arm will come flying off your rest faster than you can say "The Crying Game". If, on an off chance, he starts holding your hand back... abort mission. ABORT!
5) *The Empty Cup Slurper*
This atrocity can come at you from any angle. They are the lazy pricks that insist on slurping through their straws when clearly, their drink is empty. Instead of walking their fat asses back to the refreshment counter for a refill, they insist on trying to suck up an ice cube through the effing straw. Unless you are Helen Keller, you know that the sound is the equivalent to chalkboard fingernails. One time, a slurp strained my brain so much, that blood leaked from all my orifices...and I mean ALL my orfices! The sad thing is, that even though we are all annoyed with this idiot slurping away on his straw phallus, no one says anything including me. I guess we figure that we've all been there at least once in our lives, so we can grant forgiveness.... BULLSHIT! The next slurp I hear out of you gets your face a one-way ticket to the sole of my shoe.... and Im piercing your tear duct with your precious straw... just for show.
6) *The Chunky Chick Narrator*
These women are large and in charge (of their relationship that is) They blabber on and on in their "gangsta vocab" retelling the exact scenes that are unfolding in front of me no matter how many stares and glares I give them and their husband/boyfriend sits there and does NOTHING... you know exactly what Im talking about: "She aint gonna open that door, she aint.. awww shit, she did". "You better start runnin girl, yea thats it, run into the woods, cmon girl dont trip, hes gonna get ya, hes right behind ya." SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! I know whats going on, because I am watching the fucking movie along with everyone else. Please, just keep eating your chicken tenders and nachos so your mouth stays occupied, cause if you squawk in my ear one more time, your narration will go something like this: "Aww shit, the guy in front of me is gettin up, he aint gonna do shit, aww shit yes he is, he is climbing over his seat an commin right for me, I betta get up and run, shhiiit I can't run cause Im so rotund, crazy white boy is now grabbin my weave, now hes wrappin it around ma neck, he aint goanannadasnjdkasjbd grrrr glabkajsbkJAS...gurgle...gasp." Lights out beyotch! What is funny is that your boyfriend just congratulated me on your strangulation and out of gratitude he gave me a high five and promised to "rob a jewelry store and have em make me a grill."

Well the movie is finally over, and you remain sitting in your seat pondering over what exactly made you come to this God forsaken sewage-disposal tank. You fight your way through the sluggish crowd, nearly dislocating your ankle on the sticky ass floor, where apparently, Peter North shot an 8 roper (he's famous porn star in case your an idiot ). Once outside, you turn back to look at the hellish cinematic vestibule that just stole 2 hours of your precious life. You pause in a moment of reflection, and thank the theatrical emperors for charging you $100 to thicken your blossoming suicidal depression.

Till next time, Im out like a fat chicks' gut in a halter top.

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