Saturday, February 7, 2009

Jeremy Feist Versus The Prostitots

So, today is the day that I've been waiting for since sometime in November: I saw Coraline. Bitchin'! What was not so bitching was that, much like adventure to see Wall-E, I've come out of it feeling pretty stabby towards the film-going public.

I probably should have seen this coming at the box office line. I was standing behind two girls, who, just when they got to the front, were immediately joined by a seven-pack trollop of skanklets. A bit harsh, but when you're wearing a skirt that looks like it could be used as a belt in February, all I can say is, get the cash up front. While I didn't so much mind the fact that they seemed to shop exclusively in the jailbait section of American Apparel, they then proceeded to take a full five minutes to count how many of them were in their group.

Once I found my seat for Coraline, and after buying a Diet Pepsi roughly the size of a Volkswagen Beetle, the Roving Hoard of Mini-Hoes set up shop behind me (in the middle of an empty theatre), and began furiously texting and giggling at frequencies that set off dogs and car alarms within a five-mile radius.

It was half-way through the previews that the bitch behind me decided to kick up her heels, planting the size 8 sole of an Aldo boot into the back of my head. I refuse to be donkey punched when some guy is ramming me from behind, so you can imagine how I took get donkey kicked by a hooker with a grade 9 education and braces.

I took ten seconds to calm myself down, remind myself that they were still kids, and that a dignified person would not stoop to screaming obscenities in the middle of a theater.

Then I remembered that I had no dignity.

It was at the point that I got up, turned around, and screamed "FUCK YOU, YA MISERABLE LITTLE BITCH!". I then hauled ass ten rows down, and resumed my viewing experience. The group of Lolita wannabes didn't say a thing for the rest of the movie (Which, by the way, WAS FUCKING INCREDIBLE).

Afterward, I ran across the street to work, which was rather quiet for a Saturday, but who am I to bitch here? It's been pretty quiet thanks to all the snow. On Friday, I actually counted how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, which is approximately 560, give or take a few licks. Sure, some owls may say it's three, but who are you going to believe: Me, or some fucking cartoon bird?

To stave off the boredom, I brought along a couple books from my current pile. Today's reading consisted of Diablo Cody's Candy Girl, and the swimsuit issue of Out Magazine (the latter of which I really do read for the articles; the speedo-clad models are just a very sexy bonus). As you can see, not exactly family friendly.

While I was off in the kitchen, packing assorted pieces of roasted livestock, a group of eight year-olds from a party wandered behind the take-out counter and began rummaging through my book bag. When I got back, I was treated to a verbal tirade from a very angry mother whose son had wandered into my PG-13 selection. I retaliated with the fact that it wasn't exactly my fault that she didn't teach her precious little klepto-kid not rummage through other people's belongings. Her rebuttal consisted of her squawking like a highly-insulted chicken. Fact of the matter is, if you don't teach your kids not to go through other people's personal shit, they deserve an eyeful of Lycra-bound cock.



Matt the Great! said...

What a day. OK, first, I have been in the same situation countless times in a movie theater. Only once did I punch the guy behind me (oops). And second, maybe the kid taking your OUT magazine was trying to give his mom a hint that he was coming out of the closet a little early. Whatever the reason, kids (and often adults) have no respect for the property and boundaries of others. As for the squawking mom, why do you think the kids turned out so to be so rotten? I'm sure she is the same way.

Aaaaaaaaaaand, this is the longest comment I have ever left for you. I guess I'm not as tired as I thought, LOL.

Robert said...

If these people don't leave you alone I will come over there and personally destroy them!
x Robert
PS Sadly 76 people are dead and counting and more than 800 homes have been destroyed by bush fires in my home state after record breaking high temperatures on Saturday when the fires first started.

Marra Alane said...

I fucking love you! How often have I dreamed of beating the shit out of tweenies? Very often, let me tell you. But I never do anything about it. You're my hero!

meaux said...

Holy obnoxious children, batman! What the hell, were they raised by wolves? That bitch of a mother was seriously letting her 8-year-old wander behind the counter at a restaurant, and she had the nerve to give you grief?! Dude. Seriously.

Hey Robert, keep safe! I've been reading about the fires down there, didn't realize it was in your state. Scary stuff.

Jeremy Feist said...

Matt: Nah, the kid was pretty horrified, all things considered. Although I'm really quite serious. Bitch squawked like a fucking bird.

Robert: Oh God, I'm sorry Rob, that sounds terrible! Anyways, I wish you all the best, and be safe!

Marra: Thanks! I didn't physically beat them, but I did verbally beat them, so there's that.

Marra: Yup, totally my fault that she couldn't raise her kids right. Oh well. Thanks for the good wished for Rob!

dammitjanet said...

You. Are. My. Fucking. Hero.

I have kids, and would beat the living shit out of them for this behavior. That being said, my kids are not obnoxious teeny twats, precisely BECAUSE they have been threatened with death nearly every day of their lives.

You. Rock. Enough said.