As a lot of you fellow bloggers know, on this wonderful platform that is WordPress, there is a beautiful place where the barcodes of certain bloggers are read by the WordPress gods and they are elevated to a blog world that is up on high.  Now, I know the powers that be are trying to teach me not to covet things, but in the interest of full disclosure there is a small part of me way back in the dark recess of my heart – near the area that would like to win the Publisher’s Clearing House Sweepstakes – yes, right there, lives a small cubic centimeter of me who would like to go to this blogger heaven.

I am working on a better way of dealing with this.  I am working out a better emotional management strategy, as opposed to my current one, which consists of trolling through the “bloggers so anointed” section and screaming, “Why? Why? Why?”  That is childish and not working, so it will be stopped.  My new coping mechanism will be revealed at the bottom of this post.

So, as I skip through the “section of the anointed” certain patterns have leapt out at me.  WordPress seems to like a lot of recipes, and posts that happen around events, and television opinions, and relationship thingies (sheesh, I’ve got that one covered), and reviews!  Movie reviews.  I am not a movie reviewer.  In fact, I have tried to be in the past, but I always ended up feeling like those grandpas from the Muppet show.

Disgruntled and crotchety with very little reason for being so.  This is not a state that I like to live in.  So, instead I’ve decided to review the people who have sat around me, while I’ve TRIED to enjoy the movies.

Review of the Woman Who Sat Behind Me During The Descendants
This woman was old, but not so old that she had lost her fighting spirit.  In fact, just to be certain that her sparring skills were still in order she decided to fight with me.  Now, her offense – a very common one at communal performances – TALKING.  Let’s understand, I am not some sort of “talking police”.  I don’t run around the movie theater like some kind of frigid librarian jutting my face within inches of the innocent movie goer and screeching, “Sssssshhhhhhhhh!”  I am not that person.  However, this particular old lady decided to speak – LOUDLY – during the most emotionally gripping part of the film.  I know because I had tears running down my eyes as I reprimanded her.  (Spoiler Alert – skip ahead a few lines, if knowing one iota of a movie makes you never want to see it.)  It was that part in the movie right before George Clooney and his two girls send his dead wife’s spirit off into the oceans.  Our fight lasted almost through the entire leis-afloat scene.  Here’s what happened.

Wifesy and I sat silently sniffling, feeling transported inside someone else’s drama for one, tiny, moment.  We grabbed for each other’s hands.  We squeezed, both of us quietly signaling our resolve to live each day to its fullest when a voice outside the surround sound screeched…

Old Lady:  “Mario, do you remember where you parked the car?  We don’t want to lose the car.  Remember what happened last time!”

Silence

Old Lady:  “I don’t think you remember where it is, Mario.  I don’t want to have to call Eileen, Mario.”

Me:  “Um, Ma’am, can you please be quiet.”

Pause

Old Lady:  “You could’ve asked a little nicer.”

Me:  (now furious, wasn’t before, am now)  “Ma’am!  I did ask you nicely.  It’s the most emotional part of the movie, please!”

Silence.

Old Lady:  “Oh, Mario, I think we parked in the green lot.”

At which point, Wifesy slapped her leg with her hand and turned around to give Old Lady a glare that she normally reserves for pedophiles.  All was quiet after that.

You see, I’m from New York, so I’m VERY used to people chatting, talking, screaming, and yelling during the movies.  However, this was California – a more civil place in my mind – and it was the middle of the day.  You would think the time alone would’ve spared us.  But, alas, it didn’t.  Instead, we were slightly irritated.  This wonderfully human irritation reminded me of all the past irritations I have suffered.  I’d like to share them with you.

Review of the Drag Queen Who Talked to the Screen During Planet of the Apes
While living in New York, I often went to the movies alone.  Going to the movies alone is a strange practice anywhere else, but in New York it is quite common.  New Yorkers don’t have backyards or even their own apartments (since having a roommate up into your 40’s is a common practice) – therefore, alone time is paramount.  In the dark, at the movies, you can be alone with your thoughts and the screen and escape.  That’s what I wanted to do the day I sat down to watch the just released, Planet of the Apes.

I sat in the front section because no one ever does and I wanted some space.  At first, it was bliss, just me and a super-sized Coke.  Quickly, my reverie was broken by a tiny, high pitched voice.  It was talking to the previews.  I turned to see a latino queen in a mini-skirt and big, dangly, earrings having a full-on conversation with the previews.  This, of course, was not a good sign.  But, I thought or hoped that it would stop once the movie began.  I thought hoped that maybe he just had to get his ya-yas out.  The movie began.

An Ape enters the screen running.

Drag queen:  “Run, monkey, run!!”

I turned and gave him a look.  The look slid off him like a runny egg meeting teflon.

Some humans and some apes ran from some more apes.

Drag queen:  “Run, lady, monkey, man, lady, monkey, man, RUUUUN!!”

It was obvious this was going to continue.  So, I changed my seat to the upper section where I slumped down next to some gang members gently groping one another with their guns exposed.  It felt much more relaxing.

Review of the Maybe-Nurse Who Sat Behind Me During Sphere
Sphere was released a LONG time ago.  It was a science fiction thriller that happened 20,000 leagues under the sea and it starred Sharon Stone, Dustin Hoffman, and Sam Jackson.  I don’t remember much of Sphere.  What I do remember is the woman who sat behind me.

A crew member from their under-the-sea-spaceship has encountered something that has rendered them unconscious.  The leads of the movie are in trauma mode.  They are doctors and scientists.  The only people who can save this crew member (it may have been Queen Latifah) from meeting her maker.

Sharon Stone:  “Oh my god.  We’re going to lose her.  Give her 20 ccs of metzayokophil.  It’s the only drug we’ve seen work down here.”

Woman behind me:  “20 CCS!!!”  (And then a huge gasp.)

This was by far the strangest heckle, call-out, I have ever heard in my adult life.  The woman was quiet after that, but it left me with a host of questions.  Was she a nurse?  Was she a doctor?  Had she ever worked with metzayokophil – the drug in question that I made up?  And of course, the most obvious, why wasn’t she a script consultant on this film?

In all, I give these fellow, movie goers 45 thumbs up.  For that is the amount of thumbs tortured during these movie going experiences.  Yet, in a world where everyone is watching their movies at home or on their phones, I’m sheepishly grateful for Old Lady, Drag Queen, and Maybe-Nurse because they make me feel alive.  They make me feel not so alone like I’m having a communal experience and at the same time, slightly angry.  That’s how human beings love one another with anger and annoyance.  So, the next time someone destroys your movie, thank them.  I do.

Now, about that little coping thing…

This article has been “Decently Ironed”.  Any article that is sarcastic, funny, or important about the world of blogging, the awards given thereof, or anything elevated to a level of superior-blogger status as fodder for comedy or commentary is eligible for a “Decently Ironed” award.  If you receive this award, you will be blessed with the honor of having to do NOTHING.  You only have to display the icon in your sidebar with a link back to me, which in the end will only benefit me.  (It’s only fair, I badly photoshopped the thing.)

This is the “Decently Ironed” icon.

If you would like to be considered for a D.I., simply mention your piece in my comments section and say, “I wonder if Princess D.I. would mind wandering over to my blog today and checking out my post.”  Princess D.I. will do so and chances are, you will find yourself “Decently Ironed”.

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If you liked this piece, you might also like, My Suze Orman-ish Guide to Helping Gayby with His or Her Money.

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Photo creds:  muppets, iron

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