To the idiots who thought it was a good idea to bring a fussy 2-year-old to the 10pm showing of Logan last night – sleep peacefully knowing that although you were rude, distracting and thoughtless you were NOT the most annoying moviegoers in the auditorium merely because the drunken stoners who loudly stumbled in about 1/3 of the way through (and left just as ninja-like about 20 minutes before the end) edged you out of that dubious honor. Nevertheless, I salute you and your brazen lack moviehouse etiquette and hope some other cinema patron with less of a sense of humor than myself visits you in the night ready, willing and able to shove a large box of popcorn shoved up your backside.
Posts Tagged ‘Rudeness’
Who: Anyone who’s ever completed an independent act from start to finish while on a cell phone.
Why I Hate: These people are a-holes, d-bags, tools in the extreme. You can see them everywhere. They enter a bank or convenience store, complete their transaction and exit, all the while talking on a cell phone, as if the device were glued to their ear (and in the case of bluetooth users, it is). They don’t speak to anyone else; they don’t acknowledge anyone in their presence. The call continues unabated, with a practiced ease of a total jerk. There might be a passing reference to the person on the other end of the line as to the cell phoner’s current whereabouts or motives (“I’m at the store … gettin’ milk.”) but those in the vicinity of what can only be called cell phone minutiae are treated to a running commentary by some inconsiderate boor in a selfish life that would best be cut short by the brain cancer this poophead will no doubt be diagnosed with should the behavior persist – although not soon enough for my tastes.
How I Justify It: I can’t help it. It’s programmed into human DNA to dislike these utter jackasses.
So I’m attending a movie Monday afternoon and the guys sitting in the row in front of me are being rude – talking, texting, you know the drill. Generally just ruining the moviegoing experience for die-hard cine-philes like myself. So what did I do? Nothing. I sat there. I bloody well sat there and took it, every word, every distraction, every obnoxious nuisance. Because there was no way in this world or any other that I, being one of the whitest people on the planet, was going to tell three African-American dudes to “Shhhhhhhh!” during a Martin Luther King, Jr. Day matinée of 12 Years A Slave.