This Is Not A Movie Review

...this is a review of the people I am forced to share space with whenever I go to the movies. On Friday I went to see "Marie Antoinnette" at the movie theater. Yes, I was taking a chance by going to a late show in Times Square, but I thought to myself, " No kind of nutjob would possibly go see a period piece on a Friday night unless they really wanted to see the film." Wrong.

Let me start off with the guy who jumped over two rows to get the only empty seats left within reasonable viewing distance from the screen, even though I had already courteously asked if those seats were taken and was walking down the aisle politely saying excuse me, along with my roomie, the way civilized people do in order to get to "said" seats.

Hey asshole, you stole our seats! I know I don't own them, but you jumped over two rows to get to them when you clearly saw I was making my way down the aisle to reach them after I had asked if they were taken. Yes, people booed you and started yelling at you, but that didn't faze you. All you could hear was the annoying sound of your girlfriend yelling at you in Russian, "Who cares about those girls. Just sit. " (I had my roomie translate. Shockingly, you two nit wits aren't the only people who speak Russian in New York!) Apparently when the "Iron Curtain" fell, it landed on your stupid head forcing you to forget any sense of politeness. Even when the sweet gentleman with the baggy pants offered to " kick your fuckin' ass yo", I asked him to refrain because the last thing I would want, is for you to have a poor opinion of Americans. Because I, my well mannered comrade, am an advocate of peace.

Next, was the possibly homeless gentleman sitting behind us in the movie loudly clearing his sinuses while simultaneously looking through plastic bags.

Sir, how many plastic bags can one man carry into a theater? Yes, Soffia Coppola does direct exceptionally long films, but were you expecting to camp out? I don't know if I or you will ever have the answer, but what were you looking for in those bags? For the love of God, the movie was so long and you never found what was in those plastic grocery bags! At some point didn't it occur to you that maybe the object you were searching for was simply gone? And what, pray tell, was lodged in your throat so deeply that the only soundtrack that was heard during the film was the sound of your throat being cleared and the snot being sucked back into your already stuffed head? Do you think that perhaps whatever you were looking for in the bags was actually lodged in your throat? You should see a doctor. If coverage is a problem, just go to the ER. Sooner rather than later...and leave behind the plastic bags. Nobody wants to hear the incessant "crunching" sound of plastic if they are already waiting to see a doctor.

And then there were the dirty college kids sitting next to me, who chose to forgo the individual seat option, and lift the armrest so that they could lay on each other as if they were in their dorm room about to get their "dry hump" on.

Ewwwwww. Why must you be so grimey? When you started picking through one another's hair and giving each other scalp massages it got weird. You ended up looking like orangutans on the Discovery Channel trying to give each other tongue baths. And boyfriend of the "hippie" girl you met in your feminist literature class... are you really that stupid? Were you really shocked to find out that Austria and France were "like so far away", and that they could only get there in a "horse and buggy"? Horse and buggy? Did they look fucking Amish to you? Idiot. I bet you're a history major. May I also recommend in the future that you stay away from carbonated drinks? I realize that the soda was giving you gas and causing you to burp, but did you have to blow it in my direction just so she wouldn't notice? Trust me, she noticed. Every time you expelled, your belly ballooned like a fraternity boy who took in too much air during a keg stand. But I wouldn't want to offend you by comparing such a cool dude like yourself with greasy skin and muttonchops to a fraternity guy, because after all, those guys take showers.