Saturday, February 23, 2013

Wet and Juicy


I went and saw the most recent Jason Statham movie, "Parker" tonight.  I thought it was a decent flick.  It had great special effects and was filled to the nines with a shit load of blood and violence.  Everything that makes this boy laugh out heartily.  The movie co-starred Michael Chiklis (Vegas, The Shield), who was a fantastic villain and a formidable foe against Statham's character.  Jennifer Lopez also starred and for once, the sound of her voice didn't make me pray for deafness, nor did she make me want to gouge my f*cking eyes out.  (I don't find the whole 'ghetto booty' thing as attractive as so many others seem to.)  

The movie, itself, was fairly decent.  A formulated storyline, bad guy with a set of ethics, who's been wronged and he's out to get back at those who double-crossed him.  It's a story that's been told a million and one times, yet we, the movie going audience, still buy up that shit up.  The only real drawback that I found, was the company that were seated around me.

I like to see movies on my own sometimes.  After all, when the lights go out, nobody should be conversing anyway, so I don't see any big deal about it.  I like to find a nice seat that is centralized to the screen, but secluded enough that people won't sit near me.  I go early enough to find my place, but not so much that I'm sitting there like a f*cking idiot for too long.  This strategy usually works well enough, but was thwarted tonight.  I had a couple of guys sit directly in front of me, despite the entire row being open and free.  Thankfully the guy right in front of me was no taller than a garden gnome, but the other motherf*cker was freakishly big.  A great big dark fella who filled the space around him with a thick stench of smoke and buckskin.  Not cigarette smoke, but "throw another log on the..."  It was thick but I mustered through the pain. 

The next audience members to join the vicinity were a special couple.  They sat directly behind me, which is fine, as my view wouldn't be obscured any more than it already was.  However, they were chattery.  Actually the female of the two, was well-behaved and never muttered more than a couple of sentences before the previews began.  Her companion, on the other hand, wouldn't shut his f*cking mouth up during the previews and the first few scenes of the movie.  As each character appeared into frame, he'd announce to his row, practically, who was who and what was what.  I think someone finally shushed him into silence, but what followed was worse than the talking.

He'd cough, then clear his throat and if you thought the smoky buckskin clad fella in front of me stank, you clearly have never experienced someone with shit breath.  I kid you not!  He smelled like he not only ate a shit-sandwich for supper, but consumed an entire shit buffet.  When I was a kid growing up on the farm, there was a work horse there named JIM.  He was a nice enough horse, as horses go, I guess.  A gentle and kind demeanor that made him very approachable by us kids.  I mention Jim, only because he had a small problem with flatulence.  You'd be patting him down or running a comb over his back and I don't know if it relaxed him or what, but he'd let loose with a lengthy and very smelly fart that practically wrinkled his skin as it vacated his body.  The guy's breath who was seated behind me, smelled just like Jim's wet and juicy farts.

By the time the movie had begun, the small theater had filled to enough capacity that I was unable to find another seat that wouldn't put me practically on top of some one else, and even then it's a crap shoot (pardon the pun), as in the past, I've jumped from the frying pan into the fire and found myself in worse shape.  Kinda like that fella in front of me who smelled like he fell into a fire too.  Probably drunk... 

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