No! No! Don’t skip the previews!
I recently endured the trauma of watching a movie with a group of people who couldn’t shut the hell up. I suppose this happens because movie-watching is classified as a “social experience.” But that doesn’t clear you to crack wise, offer advice to the characters, or loudly wonder what’s going to happen next (which will be apparent within 30 seconds anyway) while the rest of us are straining to (a) suss out the dialogue or (b) figure out why Bruce Willis didn’t just shave his head 15 years earlier.
So, in the spirit of promoting good manners, envision this situation: we’ve rented a movie, you and I, and have settled into our comfy barcaloungers with our dark & stormies. Here are the 5 reasons you may talk to me during the movie.
1. We’ve both already seen it.
2. You need me to pause the movie so you can visit the restroom, get a fresh beer, or bring me cookies.
3. You are an attractive woman offering me sexual favors.
4. You spot a knife-wielding murderer who, unbeknownst to me, is closing in on me for the kill.
5. You spot a palmetto bug that, unbeknownst to me, is crawling up my shirt. (This has actually happened. Gotta love Georgia in the summer.)
That’s all I can come up with. But I’m willing to consider other reasons, though I find the likelihood of their existence spurious at best. Ideas, anyone?
A Billy Zane sighting is always a permissible cinematic outburst. Did you know that he’s in “Back to the Future”?? He’s one of Biff’s cronies….not the one who sports 3-D glasses at all times.
ok . . . as long as you keep it to a simple, shocked, “ZANE!”
. . . and then there’d better be cookies.
Ed, Wait! The attractive female from circumstance number 3 is actually a TRANNY! With a palmetto bug up his skirt! Double whammy. Don’t do it!
Aye-aye, pointed right at you.
first off: she is NOT a tranny! she’s beautiful! and that’s not a palmetto bug! that’s . . . love.
second off: there’s a producer credit coming your way, jenny. hey, did you know your comment sounds like that 90s song? jenny saaaaays . . . who was that? eagle eye cherry? deadeye dick?
Cowboy Mouth… why do I know this? Because they just wrote a song called “Kelly Rippa” (now, why do I know that?)
/she’s a mommy with the body of a strippa/
the national evil knows why you know that . . .