ScarletIndigo
Certified Sweetpea
- Joined
- May 8, 2003
- Messages
- 349
WARNING! This is a long post, and I am in a ranty mood. I don't know if that's a real word, but it sure is the right way to describe it. I AM RANTY! And lemme just tell you why ...
*******
Once upon a Sunday night, DF asks me if I'd like to go see a movie.
"How about 2 Fast 2 Furious?" he asks. I shut my eyes so he can't see them rolling skyward.
"No thanks, babe," I say. "Vin Diesel is like a big, scary ape that's lost all of its hair in a freak shaving accident."
"But Vin Diesel isn't in the sequel!" he complains.
"I know," I reply. "But that big, scary, hairless ape-boy was the best part!"
We peruse the movie listings a bit more. "The Matrix"? Been there, experienced that. "Bruce Almighty"? Nah. If I want to see Jim Carey acting like a moron, I'll just turn on re-runs of "In Living Color". So DF decides that we need to go see "Finding Nemo". And this makes me happy for two reasons:
1) Stealing kisses between previews and playing rounds of "Is That Your Knee, Or Is It Mine?" is always a good way to pass the time.
2) DF's willingness to see a Disney movie is a grand step forward in his attempts to come to terms with my Disney addiction. [Cue the ominous music here.] He will become one of us! Oh yes! [/End music.]
So off we went to the theater down the street. Normally we tend to avoid this theater in deference to the big, shiny multiplexes in the mall that charge you $10 for a soda and show 30 minutes of previews, but it was late (9:30PM on a Sunday night) and the theater was just so temptingly close by, and we figured we'd just zip in, enjoy the show, and get home before the stroke o' midnight. This is an important feat, mind you, as our downstairs neighbor is someone you might kindlly refer to as a "Grumbly Gus", and should our footfalls on the stairs wake up the old man and his "poor frail missus" there gon' be hell to pay, goshdurnit! Yeah, I'm not a big fan of our neighbors.
So off to the theater we went ... But wouldn't you know it? The parking lot was jammed! No matter, I thought -- it must be the local miscreants converging in large, unwashed crowds to see "2 Fast 2 Furious" or "The Matrix Reloaded" for the 18th time. "Yo, that action is TIGHT, man! That was the shizzit!" (See? I'm down with my generation!)
But I digress. We bought our tickets, and made our way inside. And there, emerging from "Theater 3" with the light-sensitive squints and post-movie disorientation that only action films can properly create, were about a THOUSAND men, women, teenagers, and crumbsnatchers (i.e., children), all swarming around like ants and converging on the snack bar with rasping jaws and jangling pocket change. Oh, it was a frightening sight! I grasped onto DF in consternation and we proceeded to ride the great human wave to "Theater 2". But wait! Like hunters after their prey, the crowds were all turning! They were ... Wait no, it couldn't be! ... They were FOLLOWING US INTO THE MOVIE! Oh, this was not going to be a good night.
The previews were beginning ... Where to run to? Where to hide? We secured a couple of the few remaining seats, and DF presented me with a big bag of Reese's Pieces that he'd skillfully sneaked in from the car. Oooh, candy! Finally, a shining ray of hope ...
All at once, the theater began to vibrate -- not from the fourteen minute car chase that was inevitably awing the crowd in all its CGI wonder from "The Matrix" next door -- but from the pure VOLUME inside of the theater. Somehow, Mr. Intelligent Projectionist got the grand idea to turn up the volume by about 3 times the normal level. Grrrrreat! All of a sudden, folks closer to the screen and the super surround-sound speakers started migrating back to our domain. Invaders! Quick, make indignant hand motions and mutter incoherently about "personal space!" Ahhh, but it was of no use -- we were surrounded.
And so it began ... The movie? Oh yes, the main entertainment had finally taken to screen. But I was more concerned with the un-advertised side show that DF and I were being so "thoughtfully" treated to. First lil' "Junior" in the row behind us decided that popcorn would be a lot more fun if dumped to the floor like a shower of buttery snow. Aww, precious. But then Junior didn't seem to like the fact that his snack was quickly becoming sodden with the residue of bubble gum and Raisinettes, so he started crying. And crying. And CRYING. And since one is the loneliest number, little "Jane" two rows ahead of us decided that two whines were better than one, and SHE added her voice to the plaintive wailing. Pretty soon, a veritable chorus of Juniors and Janes was serenading us in dischordant melody that actually managed to drown out the dialogue that was blaring out of the speakers at no less than concert-level decibals. Like the finale of a fine opera, their voices raised a cacophonic crescendo so loud, I was holding my ears in pain and plotting murderous revenge on DF for ever even THINKING of bringing me to a Disney movie!
Finally, one by one, some of the parents began removing their precious little crumbsnatchers from the theater. Ahhhh, relief! But wait, the movie was still playing at an excruciating volume, and I'd missed at least fifteen minutes of the beginning action. Great googley moogley, I thought! Someone needs to invent a child muzzle.
[A few minutes later ...]
Awww look! There's a cute blue fish on the screen. Isn't that sweet ... Wait. Oh no. Oh good lord, no -- I KNOW that voice!
That's ELLEN DEGENERES!
[Cue the thunder and lightning!]
Alright see, I'm not a big fan of Ellen Degeneres. I just don't think the gal is very funny, and that voice just goes through my head like nails on a chalkboard. But this was a character she was playing, right? Maybe the annoying Ellen-isms would be replaced with some witty dialogue and actual humor! Yeah, why not!
... And then I could be wrong. Banter, banter, banter ... Yada, yada, yada ... See, last time I checked, Ellen Degeneres just wasn't very funny. Oh wait! ... Nope, still not funny.
Then the whale sounds began. And I'm sorry, Disney executives, script writers, and movie producers -- but whomever came up with the idea that whale sounds (as provided by Miss Ellen) would be amusing to listen to at super-high volume should be strapped into the "It's a Small World" attraction and made to ride until they gnaw their own arms off out of desperation to escape! Drastic, I know! But I was at a desperate point!
Still, the best was yet to come ... For some reason, little Junior's mother decided that IMMITATING Ellen's whale sounds would be REALLY SUPER FUNNY! So for the next five minutes, she proceeded to echo each whale sound directly into my ear, and then when I turned around and gave her my best "don't mess with this redhead, honey" look, she laughingly disguised it as a yawn. Oh you're funny, lady! Just wait until the last ten minutes of the movie, when lil' Junior proceeds to spill his drink all over your pants, and all you can do is grumble curses while you make a dash to the ladies' room to clean up! HA HA! Junior is my new best friend!
And so it went for the rest of the movie ... Momentary bursts of choral crying, punctuated with angry parents grumbling and the occasional rustling of a shower of popcorn meeting its floor-bound demise. I just kept popping those Reese's Pieces like pills and waiting desperately for it all to end. Meanwhile, DF's valliant attempts at "Is That Your Knee, Or Is It Mine?" only got him some sharp knuckle slaps and moody glares. I was in no mood for his advances when my DIS-recommended Teva sandals were sticking to the floor like they were superglued there, and the air around us smelled suspiciously like Eau de Wet Diaper. I just wanted out!
Finally it was all over. I made for the exit like a marathon runner (once I'd disengaged my sandals from their gummy trap), and sprinted to the parking lot, leaving DF in my dust. Of course, my dramatic exit was somewhat thwarted by the fact that I couldn't seem to find our car, but after DF patiently rescued me from the sea of beat-up Buicks, all was proper in the world again. We returned home, I promptly swallowed half a bottle of Tylenol (or at least it felt like it!) and I gratefully crawled into bed, pushing my "Unofficial Guide to WDW" to the floor in mock revenge.
Thanks, Nemo. The movies will never be the same again.
*******
Once upon a Sunday night, DF asks me if I'd like to go see a movie.
"How about 2 Fast 2 Furious?" he asks. I shut my eyes so he can't see them rolling skyward.
"No thanks, babe," I say. "Vin Diesel is like a big, scary ape that's lost all of its hair in a freak shaving accident."
"But Vin Diesel isn't in the sequel!" he complains.
"I know," I reply. "But that big, scary, hairless ape-boy was the best part!"
We peruse the movie listings a bit more. "The Matrix"? Been there, experienced that. "Bruce Almighty"? Nah. If I want to see Jim Carey acting like a moron, I'll just turn on re-runs of "In Living Color". So DF decides that we need to go see "Finding Nemo". And this makes me happy for two reasons:
1) Stealing kisses between previews and playing rounds of "Is That Your Knee, Or Is It Mine?" is always a good way to pass the time.
2) DF's willingness to see a Disney movie is a grand step forward in his attempts to come to terms with my Disney addiction. [Cue the ominous music here.] He will become one of us! Oh yes! [/End music.]
So off we went to the theater down the street. Normally we tend to avoid this theater in deference to the big, shiny multiplexes in the mall that charge you $10 for a soda and show 30 minutes of previews, but it was late (9:30PM on a Sunday night) and the theater was just so temptingly close by, and we figured we'd just zip in, enjoy the show, and get home before the stroke o' midnight. This is an important feat, mind you, as our downstairs neighbor is someone you might kindlly refer to as a "Grumbly Gus", and should our footfalls on the stairs wake up the old man and his "poor frail missus" there gon' be hell to pay, goshdurnit! Yeah, I'm not a big fan of our neighbors.
So off to the theater we went ... But wouldn't you know it? The parking lot was jammed! No matter, I thought -- it must be the local miscreants converging in large, unwashed crowds to see "2 Fast 2 Furious" or "The Matrix Reloaded" for the 18th time. "Yo, that action is TIGHT, man! That was the shizzit!" (See? I'm down with my generation!)
But I digress. We bought our tickets, and made our way inside. And there, emerging from "Theater 3" with the light-sensitive squints and post-movie disorientation that only action films can properly create, were about a THOUSAND men, women, teenagers, and crumbsnatchers (i.e., children), all swarming around like ants and converging on the snack bar with rasping jaws and jangling pocket change. Oh, it was a frightening sight! I grasped onto DF in consternation and we proceeded to ride the great human wave to "Theater 2". But wait! Like hunters after their prey, the crowds were all turning! They were ... Wait no, it couldn't be! ... They were FOLLOWING US INTO THE MOVIE! Oh, this was not going to be a good night.
The previews were beginning ... Where to run to? Where to hide? We secured a couple of the few remaining seats, and DF presented me with a big bag of Reese's Pieces that he'd skillfully sneaked in from the car. Oooh, candy! Finally, a shining ray of hope ...
All at once, the theater began to vibrate -- not from the fourteen minute car chase that was inevitably awing the crowd in all its CGI wonder from "The Matrix" next door -- but from the pure VOLUME inside of the theater. Somehow, Mr. Intelligent Projectionist got the grand idea to turn up the volume by about 3 times the normal level. Grrrrreat! All of a sudden, folks closer to the screen and the super surround-sound speakers started migrating back to our domain. Invaders! Quick, make indignant hand motions and mutter incoherently about "personal space!" Ahhh, but it was of no use -- we were surrounded.
And so it began ... The movie? Oh yes, the main entertainment had finally taken to screen. But I was more concerned with the un-advertised side show that DF and I were being so "thoughtfully" treated to. First lil' "Junior" in the row behind us decided that popcorn would be a lot more fun if dumped to the floor like a shower of buttery snow. Aww, precious. But then Junior didn't seem to like the fact that his snack was quickly becoming sodden with the residue of bubble gum and Raisinettes, so he started crying. And crying. And CRYING. And since one is the loneliest number, little "Jane" two rows ahead of us decided that two whines were better than one, and SHE added her voice to the plaintive wailing. Pretty soon, a veritable chorus of Juniors and Janes was serenading us in dischordant melody that actually managed to drown out the dialogue that was blaring out of the speakers at no less than concert-level decibals. Like the finale of a fine opera, their voices raised a cacophonic crescendo so loud, I was holding my ears in pain and plotting murderous revenge on DF for ever even THINKING of bringing me to a Disney movie!
Finally, one by one, some of the parents began removing their precious little crumbsnatchers from the theater. Ahhhh, relief! But wait, the movie was still playing at an excruciating volume, and I'd missed at least fifteen minutes of the beginning action. Great googley moogley, I thought! Someone needs to invent a child muzzle.
[A few minutes later ...]
Awww look! There's a cute blue fish on the screen. Isn't that sweet ... Wait. Oh no. Oh good lord, no -- I KNOW that voice!
That's ELLEN DEGENERES!
[Cue the thunder and lightning!]
Alright see, I'm not a big fan of Ellen Degeneres. I just don't think the gal is very funny, and that voice just goes through my head like nails on a chalkboard. But this was a character she was playing, right? Maybe the annoying Ellen-isms would be replaced with some witty dialogue and actual humor! Yeah, why not!
... And then I could be wrong. Banter, banter, banter ... Yada, yada, yada ... See, last time I checked, Ellen Degeneres just wasn't very funny. Oh wait! ... Nope, still not funny.
Then the whale sounds began. And I'm sorry, Disney executives, script writers, and movie producers -- but whomever came up with the idea that whale sounds (as provided by Miss Ellen) would be amusing to listen to at super-high volume should be strapped into the "It's a Small World" attraction and made to ride until they gnaw their own arms off out of desperation to escape! Drastic, I know! But I was at a desperate point!
Still, the best was yet to come ... For some reason, little Junior's mother decided that IMMITATING Ellen's whale sounds would be REALLY SUPER FUNNY! So for the next five minutes, she proceeded to echo each whale sound directly into my ear, and then when I turned around and gave her my best "don't mess with this redhead, honey" look, she laughingly disguised it as a yawn. Oh you're funny, lady! Just wait until the last ten minutes of the movie, when lil' Junior proceeds to spill his drink all over your pants, and all you can do is grumble curses while you make a dash to the ladies' room to clean up! HA HA! Junior is my new best friend!
And so it went for the rest of the movie ... Momentary bursts of choral crying, punctuated with angry parents grumbling and the occasional rustling of a shower of popcorn meeting its floor-bound demise. I just kept popping those Reese's Pieces like pills and waiting desperately for it all to end. Meanwhile, DF's valliant attempts at "Is That Your Knee, Or Is It Mine?" only got him some sharp knuckle slaps and moody glares. I was in no mood for his advances when my DIS-recommended Teva sandals were sticking to the floor like they were superglued there, and the air around us smelled suspiciously like Eau de Wet Diaper. I just wanted out!
Finally it was all over. I made for the exit like a marathon runner (once I'd disengaged my sandals from their gummy trap), and sprinted to the parking lot, leaving DF in my dust. Of course, my dramatic exit was somewhat thwarted by the fact that I couldn't seem to find our car, but after DF patiently rescued me from the sea of beat-up Buicks, all was proper in the world again. We returned home, I promptly swallowed half a bottle of Tylenol (or at least it felt like it!) and I gratefully crawled into bed, pushing my "Unofficial Guide to WDW" to the floor in mock revenge.
Thanks, Nemo. The movies will never be the same again.
