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The Nappy Diatribe

One man's throat-chopping reportage.

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"At the Movies" with HumanityCritic

Posted 05/21/2007 at 7:10 PM | 2 comment/s

Just because I happen to alphabetize my pornography and know the government names of my favorite adult actresses, that in no way reflects on my knowledge of regular movies - I always tell people that if "Jeopardy" only had Hip Hop and movie questions to offer, I'd win so frequently that Alex Trebek would fully understand that me calling him a "Canuck fuck" was a term of endearment. It's true, I know the sexual strengths and weaknesses of many of my favorite stars of hardcore smut as if I was a deviant version of a talent scout - I can't tell you how many times I've looked at an erotic DVD cover and said things like: "That girl doesn't have a gag reflex!!," "I can't buy this one because she has a trick knee that gives out whenever she gets fucked against a wall," and "I have to buy this one, I saw her please four guys at the same time - neither orifice nor hand went unused!!" But don't let that sway you. Besides sexual gratification following the exchange of American currency and my ritual of ruining my liver most nights - the only time I venture outside of my house is to catch the latest MPAA-certified movie, usually of the Independent variety just so I can feel superior to everyone else on a topic besides Hip Hop. So yeah, I'm addicted to porn, so much in fact that I can't achieve a proper erection unless my lover takes on a suitable stage name and cheap '70s funk music plays in the background - believe it or not, my love for regular flicks is much greater than the variety where a women is getting a fist or a horse penis shoved inside her.

Ever since I was a kid sitting next to my old man as he got some well deserved sleep, one of my favorite things in the world was seeing a movie in the theater - for a chubby kid with a stutter and midget levels of low self-esteem, being engrossed at a gigantic movie screen was the best kind of escapism imaginable. But over the last 30 years, now that my self-esteem is through the roof based on me accepting my inner asshole and my stutter is only noticeable when I'm excited or during ejaculation - I still have the same love of going to the theaters that I always have. The one thing that has changed though, is how I tend to deal with the rude behavior of others at said theater. Back when I was a kid I'd simply ignore it and desperately hope that the unwanted disturbance would stop - now I take a completely different approach.

Shut up or I'll shut you up!: Call me old fashioned, but if the words coming out of your soup-coolers aren't "Pass the popcorn" or "That usher just walked by and stabbed me with a prison-style shiv!!" - shut your dumb ass up while I'm watching the movie. I'm not talking about brief verbiage either, I'm talking about that couple who always finds a seat right behind yours - and has a conversation so in-depth that you could swear that they were reciting lines from a fucking Woody Allen script. I've never been married, and I haven't had a legitimate relationship since the days when Clinton was soiling Monica's dress in the confines of the Oval Office - but I'd imagine that mundane shit like grocery lists and the children's piano lessons could be put on pause of at least for an hour and a half. Whenever some couple can't seem to control their mid-movie blabbering, I've done one of the following things: 1. Angrily turned around and said, "Could the both of you be quiet, talking while other's are trying to watch a movie - bloody fucking savages!!" or 2. Very calmly turned around and said, "Lady, if you two don't stop yapping - I'm going to kick the living shit out of your breadwinner there and make you watch. Fucking him will never be the same again!!"

Dude, there are a million other seats available: I guess I wouldn't mind it so much if the person happened to be a lovely young lady who planned to go down on me as if my penis had that Cocoon fountain-of-youth pool water inside of it - but usually, when there are plenty of seats available, it's always some dude who tends to sit right beside me. Because I'm naturally paranoid, and the fact that I have fractured as many eye sockets as I've penetrated peoples' wives - immediately, I feel as if the person sitting beside me is a hitman posing as a inconsiderate moviegoer. As time goes on and I realize that it isn't an assassination plot, just some jackass that ignored the hundreds of open seats just to sit by yours truly - I immediately go into complete asshole mode to get that schmuck away from me. You'd be surprised what works: flatulence, specifically telling the person what animal's vagina feels the closest to a woman's, lovingly placing your hand on theirs. But what always works for me is grabbing them by their clothes and physically moving them to another seat.

Kick my chair again, see what happens: What people don't understand, because of the way that all the chairs in the row are connected, that kicking any seat within a three seat radius of mine is still kicking my fucking seat. I know that accidents happen, so the first few times I let it slide - even though its one of the most irritating occurrences outside of someone tapping you on the shoulder continuously or a fuck-buddy who suddenly feels compelled to cuddle. I guess most sane people would calmly turn around and politely ask the person to stop kicking their chair. Not me - I've made it my business to discipline them in a way where they will never kick another persons chair as long as they live. I've thrown full buckets of popcorn on people, drinks, nachos - even moving directly behind them, rhythmically kicking their chair to the point that they think Savion Glover is sitting behind them.

Jackass, you're watching the same movie I am: I hate to be rude to dates. I get my penis looked at so infrequently nowadays that I can't afford to talk my way out of some woman's colorful Lane Bryant's - but I can't stand when a person asks you questions about a flick that the both of you are watching. Jesus man, whenever some chick asks me repeatedly throughout the movie "What did he just say? What did she say?" I sternly discipline them with a, "What's wrong with your hearing, Children of a Lesser God?" But worse than that is when a date asks you what just happened, on a screen that she was watching just like you were - such overt acts of irritation provoke me to talk my way out of post-movie sex by saying: "Listen, I could have saved money on a movie ticket and simply called you when it was over - if you wanted me to dictate the fucking movie to you!!!"

I know that we're home. Still, shut the fuck up (DVD edition): Just because you are in the confines of your living arrangement, sitting on the same couch where you introduced a string of beads into the miscellaneous orifice of your lover the night before - that doesn't make it all right for her to talk your ear off while you are watching a DVD. I mean, if there's an intruder, then talking is alright. Same thing with fires, a neighbor getting his ass beaten, and offers of spontaneous sex that result in her rolling her eyes and weighing the pros and cons of lesbianism in her head. But for Christ's sake, while I'm watching a DVD I don't want to hear about her co-workers, her cackling-ass mother, or her disease-ridden sister who makes men's genitalia feel as if they had just masturbated with Icy-hot. But it never fails, I always seem to date women who don't care about me needing silence while I watch a movie - so what I do is I'll kick in the door one morning while they are defecating, or I'll stop reciprocating oral before she climaxes and start talking about sports scores. Each time, when she angrily asks "What gives?" I simply say, "See, it sucks doesn't it? Stop talking while I'm watching movies, goddammit!!"

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