Monday, October 10, 2005

You're Siskel and I'M Ebert


Friday, October 7, 2005

Me: "Maybe I shouldn't have been so mean to him."
Her: "Maybe you shouldn't be so mean to anyone."

I have taken this advice to heart.

So wouldn't you know that the very next day, I encountered a total stranger that would test me?

Kenrick Theater. In Her Shoes (which I would recommend to anyone with a sister or gay brother) --

While watching those blurry-ass slides that advertise everything from real estate to (ironically) eyewear, my sister and I received bumps on the head from a woman's purse as she was taking her seat behind us. Quietly, calmly, I said, "You just hit us with your purse."

Woman with purse (sarcastically): "Oh, I am SO sorry."
Woman's friend: "What happened?"
Woman with purse: "Well, apparently, I hit these people with my purse, and this man is pointing it out to me, which is RUDE."


Call me crazy, but in some circles, isn't hitting someone on the head with your purse considered rude?

And who really knows if I would've said something back to her if I hadn't vowed to be nicer 24 hours earlier. We'll never know.

As for the movie -- based on the audience that attended the 4:30 showing, it seems to be attracting an older audience than the studio probably expected. I'm guessing it has to do with the appearance of Shirley Maclaine, as her lines received the biggest laughs throughout the movie. The studio behind the upcoming Rumor Has It should take notice of this.

Perhaps Bewitched should've done some advertising on 60 Minutes and in the pages of Parade or Reader's Digest.

2 Comments:

Blogger Blood Ray said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

11:43 PM  
Blogger Blood Ray said...

I sincerely doubt you'd have said something if you hadn't made your edict 24 hours before. That's just you, though.

I, however, would have told the woman where she could have stuck her purse (and it wouldn't have been under her chair). Or not. I really hate getting into it with people at the movies, because even when I'm in the right, it puts me on edge for the remainder of my time there.

Case in point. I went to see The Matrix and I'd just (accidentally) bleached my hair. My hair was sticking up and out all over (sort of like now, but less faux-hawky and more just messy). I sat down in my seat and for every few minutes I felt something touch my head. After about the third time, I turned around and this woman (who wasn't that much younger than me) said, "Oh, I just had to see what it felt like."

I replied (also quietly and calmly), "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

But, seriously, what the fuck was wrong with her? No strange west county bitch needs to be touching my hair. Word.

11:43 PM  

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