wig flipping and teeth gnashing.

At any given moment, if someone were to ask me how I was feeling emotionally I would most likely respond: mad. It's not a big deal, though, because ever since I can remember, I have been furious about something. That doesn't mean I'm always flying off the handle—the fury ranges from mild (1) to righteous (10). I stub my toe: mild. I'm trying to assemble a piece of furniture purchased from IKEA: righteous. However, on rare occasions, I reach a peak of rage unbeknownst to most mortals. A violent orgasm of fury. At first I can feel the acid in my stomach begin to moil like the magical magma of Mount Doom; then I start to sweat for no other reason than my body has reached its red alert stage and is attempting to expel rage through my pores; my body then begins to seize, as if it has become host to a dark parasite that has latched onto my brain stem, controlling me like a marionette suffering from Parkinson's; finally, my jaw cracks and comes loose, a bouquet of the nine reptilian heads of a hydra emerge like a hideous flower blooming out of my throat, the skin of my mortal husk falls in a puddle where my feet used to be; I devour all. This only happens when people don't display proper etiquette at the movie theater.

As a professional moviegoer, I've had time to hone my craft (e.g. creating optimal seating charts, making a best guess as to where the talkative douches will be sitting, etc.), and create a 'code,' if you will, that dictates what is and what isn't appropriate to do at the movies. I would like to outline some of these rules and relate to you some of the more harrowing and infuriating moments I've experienced at the theater in my young, angry life.

For teh lulz

Everyone likes to think that they are funny, but, to be honest, many people aren't. Some people are born funny and some aren't, that's just how it goes. When I hear people trying to crack jokes during movies, I get really pissed off. Not only are they talking during the movie but they are making bad jokes. I don't know about everyone else, but I didn't get the memo that said, "Hey, instead of shutting the fuck up and watching the movie, use every lull in the action of a movie to work on your stand-up routine!" There are very, very few cases where someone has told a joke in the theater and got more than a noncommittal chuckle from an annoyed friend. An example that perfectly illustrates my point was when I went to go see Drag Me to Hell. This douche nozzle behind me would not shut the fuck up with his biting social commentary and what I'm sure he felt were top-notch jokes and when a fly flew into Alison Lohman's mouth, he delivered his comedic payload with, "I hear flies are full of protein. Yum." It was then that I popped open the lid of my friend's giant cup of diet Coke and drowned myself in it. I'm going to the movies tonight, and if I even catch a whisper of some cocksucker saying, "What's the deal with airline food?" during the movie, I'm going to cut his dick off with a spork and shove it in his goddamn mouth.

A new and terrifying phenomenon I've been witnessing over the past year or so are people yelling "OWNED" or "PWNT" (which when spoken aloud sounds less like a hilarious internet saying and more like a verbal tic) or, and this one is getting archaic now—"SERVED". I recently had the opportunity to witness someone saying, "OWNED!" at a movie. It was during Star Trek and this throwaway redshirt is sucked into the engine of a giant drill and you could tell this guy was just waiting for the opportunity to go for the cheese because the very second this character died, the wretch yelled, "OWNED!" No one laughed. His friends shifted their bodies away from him and the offender scratched his neck nervously. It was a beautiful sight to see even this bastard's friend's turn on him. Sadly, this rarely happens. It's the Haley's Comet of social situations.

Malodorous motherfuckers

I smell good because I wash daily and wear deodorant. Do people think that dousing themselves in obnoxiously pungent chemicals makes them more, I don't know, desirable. I'm here to tell you that it does not. Perfumes and colognes remind me of a few things: guid's that use so much of this shit that their sweat actually begins to smell like it, stoners trying to disguise the fact that they are stoners, and old people. My grandparents reek of the most caustic scents known to man. It doesn't matter how much of that shit you spray on yourself, grandma, I still know your life is eroding! There is nothing worse than having to mouth-breathe the entire night because the woman sitting beside you smells as if she has just crawled out of Coco Chanel's rotting vagina.

Despite my aversion to ungodly stink, there are a number of scents I expect to smell at the theater. For example, I expect to smell are anything you can buy at the concession and the one guy who hasn't showered lately, but what I don't expect to smell are KFC (sure, they sell that shit at the theater but nobody buys it) and enchiladas and sushi. I went to the movies with a friend the other night and, since she was running a little late, she hadn't had time to eat dinner. I didn't really pay it any mind until she whispered, "I brought sushi!" and proceeded to take the lid off her vat of spicy sauce and dip her sushi in it. I was mortified. The spicy sauce was toxic and when it opened, a mushroom cloud of gas that singed nose hairs was released into the atmosphere. Shadows of bodies that had been incinerated in the blast radius were etched into now empty, scorched seats. I forgave her, sure, but I think I will always be subconsciously mad about it.

Didn't you hear, four is the new fourteen

In my final guideline, the blame is divided between the people who work at the theater and the people viewing the movie.

My worst movie experience would have to be seeing Eagle Eye (love you, Shia) in September of 2008. I knew it was going to be trouble when a young boy of around nine or ten asked if the three seats beside me were taken. I said they weren't, thinking that maybe his parents were coming. NOT THE CASE. He had, against the wishes of his parents--who had no doubt instructed him to take his brothers to see a kid-friendly film-- I'm sure, brought his six-year-old brother and four-year-old brother with him. I was willing to give them a shot. I thought maybe instead of teaching their children about Feng Shui and how to really appreciate good sushi, his parents had taught him how to behave in a movie theater. NOT THE CASE. Throughout the entire movie, the older brother was explaining what was happening in the story to his overwhelmed brothers who acted as if they had never been in public before. The youngest one was slurping at a drink that was long gone, his lips puckered, eyes bulging in vain. Pretty bad, right? It gets worse. They had kinder eggs. If you have ever had a kinder egg, you know it is not about the chocolate, it is about the toy. You might be wondering how one assembles microscopic toy in the dark? Well, you don't. You flip open your cell phone and use the LCD that looks as if it's being powered by a nuclear generator, a radiant beacon of assholery in the dark, and attempt to construct all three at once. I kept looking over at these kids with a WTF look on my face, but that shit don't faze a 4 year old. The icing on the infuriated cake was during the climax of the movie when Shia is shot (SPOILER ALERT!), the littlest fuckwad whispers to his brother, "Did that boy just get shot?" It's probably a good thing I keep being denied a firearms licence or four boys would have been shot that night instead of just Shia. And I would be blogging this from prison.

I don't mind if you let a thirteen-year-old into a 14A movie or a sixteen or seventeen-year-old into an 18A movie, but I think four years old is pushing it, guys.

I'd like to thank all the people who follow these rules because, really, this shit is common sense. And for the villainous creatures that refuse to act like humans, there's a special spot in hell for you mofo's.

damaging sterotypes, or why fox news is filled to the brim with ignorant c-words.

Normally I'm not one of those people that are like, "Oh, Fox News, what are you doing?" in an exasperated tone. I'm one of the people that views Fox News as, in essence, the Duke brothers. Every week they get themselves into some sort of bucket of syrup and it'll be entertaining to watch them wiggle their way out of it. I know they've been a bad steward of the news for the slack jawed American public and I don't mind that because I think if I put a dish of excrement in front of you and you eat it, it's your own goddamn fault. However, I was on Yahoo! of all places a couple nights ago when I saw one of their front page stories "WHICH PROFESSION MAKES THE BEST LOVERS!" Naturally, my interest was piqued. When I clicked the link, instead of being taken to a page of text as I had hoped would be the case (honestly, for a question like this I only need one word, or two if it was dental hygenist or something), I was taken to a video for Fox News instead. I was immediately assaulted by this smug-looking chubby guy who looks like he's trying to age gracefully. He has his hair gelled up into spikes, which I always take as a phallic compensation, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone to indicate that he's cool and that he's into partying on nights when Matlock isn't on. He looks like the kind of person that, in apropos of nothing, says INTERNET! or SKATEBOARD! during normal conversation just to show how 'in touch' he is. He probably describes himself as controversial and unapologetic and 'real'. In short, he's a real douche.

To give you an idea of how stupid this person is, his first line is "Do the geeks inherit the skirts?" At this point, I calmly retrieved the pistol I keep in my desk drawer, put it into my mouth, pulled the hammer back and painted the wall behind me with my beautiful, beautiful brain. Obviously, unfortunately, that wasn't the case, though, I wish it were. The next thing he says--this time to his co-host--some bleach blonde woman with this thoroughly-fucked glazed over look in her eyes-- is, "according to this study, 81% of IT professionals said that their pleasure was secondary to their partner's pleasure. Why do you think that?" The fact that he posed this woman a question is hilarious because it becomes evident that, clearly, this woman doesn't think. At all. Ever. Her reasoning is that IT professionals are just so excited to have sex that they want ensure a repeat performance by making sure everyone's needs are fulfilled. There are a number of problems with this statement. First, I think it's just good manners to make sure everyone is having fun during sex. I assume she isn't fucking the IT department (in fact, they probably all revile her wretched soul), so then is it also safe to assume that she's never been pleased during sex? She's probably a cadaverous lay and the husband that she married for money no doubt drapes himself over her like a wet pile of laundry and shoots a load of dust into her. Secondly, I was hoping that we'd moved past this whole nerds don't mesh well with women, etc. bullshit. Sure, we're a socially awkward bunch. Some more than others, but the fundamental nature of people is that they'll have sex with whoever they want to have sex with. It's sort of antediluvian to say or think, "oh, man I'm only going to have sex with people that are confined to a certain group of individuals..."

I tried to convince my friend that this was racist, but she wasn't buying it and I guess I can understand the reasoning behind her decision, because nerds aren't a race. But it's still a form of prejudice based on spurious stereotypes.

Then he asks this other guy, who looks like a chubby tanned baby with a receding hairline, why he thinks 'nerds' make the best lovers and not gym rats that have so much energy and are so awesome, etc. I'm surprised the word sex is even in this munchkin's lexicon. The repugnant munchkin says he doesn't know why nerds make the best lovers and instead does this impression of a nerd asking if they should get down at his mother's basement or her mother's basement. He should spend less time mocking the question no nerd would ever ask and ponder the only question he ever has to ask in a sexual relationship - "How much for the night?"

The host appears to ask his only semi-intelligent question during the last minute of the segment by asking this 'author' named Ron, who, again, is a chubby grey-haired babyman in glasses, if he thinks that narcissism ruins all forms of human interaction. A valid question... UNTIL he says that it's about people with smaller egos thinking they have to perform better in bed. Sigh. So close. Anyway, the guy answers with this stupid story about how he's slept with the ugliest women on earth that he had to bring in through the fire escape, yet, it was these women that gave themselves wholly over in a bid to pleasure this terrestrial porpoise.

One of the people, and I use that term loosely, says that it was like Ron was helping these women by having sex with them. If anything, sir, I would consider having sex with Ron a disservice to women.

The woman then comes in with a zinger: "But could she set up your wi-fi?" Oh! Glad to see the vapid bitch brought her A-game tonight!

If you thought this segment couldn't get any dumber or offensive, you were wrong! Because in the last 15 seconds, they crank this shit to eleven. They cut to a talking...newspaper? The newspaper says that the study showed that people who frequented the gym were less likely to use sex toys. The reason for this, according to the newspaper? Because they don't need to. Because people who go the gym have stamina and don't get tired after 'the first thrust' and that maybe nerds should frequent the gym.

I'm foaming at the mouth now, gnashing at anything that moves. I'm a human old yeller. Waiting for someone to shoot me behind the barn so I never have to witness what stupid shit people will get up to when they have an audience ever again.

Hit the link if you want to experience it for yourself:

Frustrating Bullshit

hell on earth.

Every couple months I venture out into the vast expanse to go shopping. Sometimes it's for small things like underoos or sockies, but yesterday it was for "summer wear." And my definition of summer wear is not shorts with radical floral prints on them. My definition is "i don't want pants that make me feel sorry to have testicles." I live with that shit for 9 out of 12 months of the year, but the combination of summer and my signature dark denim nut crunchers just does not mesh. I wanted khakis. I went to H&M and instead of finding khakis I found the largest panic attack I'd ever had.

As soon as you cross the threshold into this nega-realm, it's like you've pried open the hellmouth only to find that dwelling inside is, instead of demons dwelling and the sounds of the damned howling in eternal pain, trendy asians and white people trying to be trendy and techno music that sounds like it is pumping inside your fucking skull like a live organism writhing in time with the repetetive beat. I know that sounds hyperbolic, but it is true! The place could not be any more fucking packed. The place is essentially two lines. One line for people waiting to pay and one line waiting to try shit on. And there are two or three people actually shopping in between. Picture a really popular store, like a Future Shop or something, on boxing day. It's all lineup and screaming and grabbing hands and the sound of money. Every day is like this at H&M. In fact, I heard a woman, a woman who didn't belong in H&M say to a flustered employee (who is ALWAYS flustered), "Is it always this busy?" The flustered employee smiled grimly and said "Yes."

That said, the shit there is nice and relatively inexpensive, which is, I'm sure, why it's so goddamn popular. If I can get an electric blue polo, 2 (TWO!) sweater vests and short-sleeved button down plaid shirt for under $75 then that's it. There's nothing more. They have me. The polo is really great. Too great, in fact. I think i may have to go back in for a couple more. They're designed in a really cool way in that the armpit of the shirt doesn't really fit snugly in your armpit, so you can't see it if you're sweating. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm sweating all the time, just when it's really hot or when i'm panicking. I guess it would be a nice gesture to wear the polo next time I go to H&M so you can't see that i'm shedding pounds in panicked sweat. Though, I guess you'll still be able to see the bulging veins glistening with fear standing out on my forehead.

a shimmering beacon of light in the dark, or, why i won't be firebombing jeff zucker's house anymore.

There are a couple of these faint points of light in the stygian world we share. I am one. The television series "Chuck" is the other. Ever since I saw Chuck's first episode air I knew it would become one of my favorite shows on the entire planet in the history of the galaxy, just because I could self-identify with the eponymous character. Chuck is an awkward man-boy that plays video games and hasn't rebounded from his first heartbreak...years ago. I almost always identify with a character if he or she is awkward and he or she plays video games. I honestly wonder how all these fucking procedural cop shows are getting any viewers because I view television as a twisted sort of alchemy where my feelings are combined with the character's feelings, etc. how many people are like, oh, man, I can totally relate to a detective on the mean streets of New York strong arming "perps" into confessing several murders/rapes. NO ONE. There's very fucking little character development in a show like that, which means people are turning off their minds and lookin at all dem pretty pitchas on the gotdamn screen. Chuck, the television show (and the character), is smart, funny, and dripping with pop culture references. Those are all great things but they are the entire fucking opposite of what the American public craves.

The creator behind Chuck is the prolific Josh Schwartz who has made shows The O.C. and Gossip Girl. I've liked both of those shows until they became utterly convoluted and bad (hey, OC season 3! and to a lesser extent Gossip Girl season 2!) I think JS is like the JJ Abrams of the sexy teen dramedy. He's just gold. But he's never been stronger than he is with Chuck.

As I said before, when I saw Chuck's first episode, I was hooked. Literally counting off the fucking days until Mondays at 8, but I knew that since I loved it so much, someone was going to try and take it from me sooner or later. Now, anyone who watches television knows that Monday's at 8 is the most volatile slot on network television. You're stepping to American Fucking Idol, (and later in the year, HOUSE) and the CBS comedies Big Bang Theory (great show, btw) and How I Met Your Mother (it's okay. love you NPH). American Idol eats competition alive while the general American public applauds, their palms greasy from barefisting hungry man dinners into their perpetually opened maws. Because of the writers strike that happened, Chuck's first season was only 13 or 14 episodes. All good. There were whispers that it would be canceled but thankfully it came back for a full second season. And they took it to the fucking hoop! Every episode was good. I often read the AV club for the television reviews, just to see what they thought, and Chuck episodes rarely fell below an A- or B+. That's an incredible feat. With the show getting rave reviews from everywhere and being featured on critics favorites lists and "top 10 shows you aren't watching" lists (1-10: CHUCK), it would be reasonable to assume the show was going to get picked up for a third season. I mean, it leveled off at about 6.2 million viewers a night, whereas Heroes (a show that used to be good in season 1, not too horrible in season 2 and WTF?! in season 3) only averaged around 6.7 million and had already been renewed. But nooooooo. I'm probably the only person on the face of the earth that was like "FUCK YEAAAAAH MAY 4TH NBC UPFRONTS!!!" Come May 4th and there had been no news on Chuck. The internet had been whipped into a fury about a month before when it became clear that Chuck was on the bubble and even television critics were beseeching NBC as well as fans sending in NERDS candy to NBC HQ and purchasing 5 dollar footlongs from Subway (one of Chuck's main sponsors)

Waiting.........

There was no news until a couple days ago. Chuck has been renewed!!!! Before you start whooping and cheering about a victory for the little guy, let me tell you the caveat. Only a 13 episode season with an option for NBC to order a back 9, cut two staff writers, cut the budget, lose one minor-ish actor (though, if you watch Chuck you know they're all indispensible) and that's it. OH WAIT, THEY'RE NOT PUTTING IT ON THE SCHEDULE UNTIL AFTER THE 2010 OLYMPICS (TEN MONTHS FROM NOW). It's some bullshit, but I want Chuck bad enough to put up with some shit and if this is their final season I will be sad, but I will have seen it coming. Who goes from a 13 episode order to a full order the next season? who even gets a next season? (other than dullhouse).

What I find hard to stomach is that Chuck is so much better than Heroes, yet NBC picks up Heroes BEFORE upfronts. I know why they did it, because NBC owns Heroes whereas Chuck is owned by the WB, but still if Heroes is bad television with ever-slipping ratings, why the shit would you even bother?

Oh, and the reason Chuck and all these other shows on NBC were on the bubble? Fucking Jay Leno. He has a 10 o'clock slot now. Give it a rest, Leno. I thought you were funny when I was 14, but now your giggling and repetition of jokes makes me want to drive a rusty nail into my urethra so my anguished screams will drown out your bullshit monologues. What a dick.

I want to finish by telling, not asking, you all to watch Chuck and you won't be disappointed. Maybe if you cut out on of the three episodes of CSI (CSI, CSI MIAMI, CSI: NY) you're watching, you'll give this show a chance.

Oh, and you're safe for this season, Zucker. I'll review your case again next year.