Watchmen
Rorschach's Journal: March Sixth Two Thousand and Nine.
So in anticipation of a packed house my buddy and I show up like an hour early only to find that only about a half dozen others had the same idea. Sweet.
We slip in, get the drinks, get the kickass seats, get comfortable and prepare for what we hope is the greatest piece of cinema ever. And then it begins.
Oh no, not the movie. Oh snap you thought this was a spoiler. Fuck no, I wouldn't want to ruin it for anyone. Besides what kind of asshole would I be if I finally broke my silence only to spoil a movie for people. Not the good kind of asshole I tell ya that and lets be honest, I've always aspired to be in the good asshole category.
No I'm talking about the moron marathon of people who showed up to see the movie. Now granted I give you this is something for all kinds but dude.... what the fuck is up with the purple hair. Really? On a girl maybe, then you get the whole cute little anime chick thing happening and we guys get to imagine what it's like to fuck the shit out of you over the popcorn counter with that purple mop just flopping back and forth while we spurt out some sort of crazy shit like "Yeah baby, you like that don't you, Ling Ling ain't got shit on me honey." No. This was a dude. You know that skinny lead singer from All American Rejects? Take him, make him drop like ... oh 60 pounds, have him smoke about 4 pounds of weed, dye his hair neon fuckin purple, and make him look like he hasn't worked a day in his life and is only able to go out of the house because momma and dadda can't bring themselves to chain his stupid ass in the basement anymore and instead decide to let society deal with thier failure. Yeah, that was this dude. Not only did he look like an anus on a post mexican food binge day but he had that attitude where he thought he was not only the smartest mothertrucker in the house but the coolest too. By ten minutes in of him being in the theatre I was wondering how many times he'd tumble down the stairs if I gave him a nice hefty push. By fifteen, I was having vivid fantasies of shoving my straw through his fucking eye just to get him to shut the fuck up. Alas, before I had to worry about any of those fun activities a whole brood of fucktards wandered in. Allow me to elaborate. We had:
- The Dancer. You know that ass who always tries way too fucking hard to fit in with people he really should care about anyway? Always has this fucked up hairdo and just play sucky taste in clothing? And then, when you thought it couldn't get worse the testicle decides he's a dancing queen and jumps out of his seat to try and entertain everyone (that's right skipper, we know it's of no benefit for you're little group of sucklings, you just want to see if we're looking at you. I can see your eyes keep drifting across those already there to see who's paying attention). By the way, it's come to my attention that all of these donkey lickers either have no fucking rhythm at all or just try way to hard at not being able to dance. Show some actual skills Johnny boy, maybe you'll impress me.
- The Contestant. This is the jackhole who decides he needs to let the entire theatre know that he and his buddies about about to have some sort of contest. Last nights lovely display was whether or not he could drink an extra large Icee in two minutes. And wouldn't you know it, it was just our luck that the Dancer and the Contestant happened to be the same afro wearing white boy last night. Shocker.
- The Jumper. Real simple, this is the fucktard who feels it's so much cooler for all involved for him to leap over the seat rows should he decide he isn't satisfied with his seat choice. Congrats momo, you can jump down a row of stadium seating, good for you. You wanna impress me, just down ten and land on your feet. That might get you some respect. You're at a midnight showing dude, who the fuck are you trying to impress? The Dancer. Don't worry, he's too busy trying to perfect his Robot/Hip Hop sway dance combo to worry about you trying to re-enact something you saw in a movie.
- The Moocher. Another simple one. Whenever you have a big crowd of people traveling together there's always one. It's that one guy, and I hate to say it but it always seems to be a guy, who never has any money. You have to either buy him stuff at the concession stand or at the very least share it with him. And honestly, most of the time people just buy it for them because then maybe they'll shut the fuck up. Oh but not last nights. Not only was he demanding his movie mates buy him a large soda and popcorn because he was in need of some nutrition (his word, not mine) but he proceeded to beg until they also got nachos and candy for him. Personally I'd have told him to fuck off and get a job but apparently he's got something, I don't know maybe some really good weed or he can really suck that dick like nobodies business. They didn't even seem to mind when he started complaining that they cheaped out and only got him one bag of candy instead of the five he asked for. Nice.
- The Slut. Now calling her a slut is probably harsh but if you know me you know I don't care. You're going to a dark movie theatre where nobody can see you. Why in the fuck would you bother dressing like a tramp. I can see if you and your s/o are going to have some kinky theatre fun you know, toss on a skirt with no panties and go to town. When you get into the hole ass out, tits out, make up so thick you could patch the fucking road with it ordeal it's a bit much honey. A nice pair of jeans and a clean shirt are more than suffice to catch a flick. Especially at fucking midnight.
- The Homesteader. This is the dumbass who feels he's at home, might as well be comfy. Stretches out as much as possible, takes off the shoes, acts however he wants whether it be yelling at the top of his lungs over some retarded thing like which cow burped in what movie or throwing his trash at whoever he pleases. Times like that make me wish I was a security guy at a place like that. I wanted to be the security guy at the theatre last night, I'd have dumped my cup of coffee on sock boys fuckin feet and shoved my coffee mug in his mouth, tied it in thier good and tight with my belt to muffle the screams and showed him what a good old fashioned beating was supposed to feel like.
- The Whiner/Knowitall. They know everything about the movie process, about the actors in it and in all the previews, as well as everything about the theatre you're at and all thier staff. And it seems like if they offer thier self professed Yoda worthy advice and it's scoffed at they have the right to whine like a little bitch, make a big scene about something nobody cares about, and stomp off to see if anyone will follow suit. Last night it was about the theatre. The group of losers she was with, yes sorry ladies but it was a she, had chosen to pick seats up in the back and that just wasn't right in her eyes. She went through her whole pitch about how the sound progression was better down front and in the top you had to worry about light from the projector interupting the flow of the visual as well as the sounds from the projector room during the movie interupting the sound flow through your ear cavities. Eventually after her ten minute rant about how it would all ruin thier movie experience someone in her pack told her to go sit somewhere else if she didn't want it ruined so she and a couple others in the flock moved off on thier own.
- The Fidgeter/Seat Saver. These are paired becasue they normally come hand in hand. They always have to stand up right until the moment the previews start rolling because for some reason they feel they have to make sure nobody is going to take the seats they're saving. Now normal people could do this sitting and gently telling the people they've saved the seats and all is well. These cave dwellers feel it's more appropriate to stand so they can spot potential seat stealers from a mile away. But they never say anything to those headed toward them do they? They always find it more forceful to say nonchalantly to one of the people they came with how they're saving like eight seats and nobody better even think of fucking stealing them. So for ten minutes they stand on guard like minutemen at the borderlines brother. Then boredom hits. So they take whatever they have with them, normally coats and sweaters, and proceed to drape them out across the chosen seats they've decided will provide them with the best movie experience possible. Once they feel they've laid out an adequate front of protection they begin the fidgeting. They don't seem to stay around the seats very long after that point. They have to make like 95 trips to the snack bar because they always forget something, or there's not enough butter on the popcorn, not enough salt, three too many ice cubes in thier soda, that sort of shit. Then when they finally get thier pantry full of food and sit the fuck down, nobody else ever seems to show up so thier left with the crew they showed up with so they jump around and make comments that are way too loud about how much of a loser thier friends are for now showing up. Hmmmm. You're sitting in a theatre whining about friends who had to work instead of skipping out to come to a movie with you. And they're the losers?
Ok I think that's all. As for the movie I will only say this. Mr. Moore. You're a fucking moron for having your name taken off of this movie. Maybe next time, take a step down from that self imposed pedastal you're up on and take a look at something before you brand it a failed attempt because guess what ......................
So in anticipation of a packed house my buddy and I show up like an hour early only to find that only about a half dozen others had the same idea. Sweet.
We slip in, get the drinks, get the kickass seats, get comfortable and prepare for what we hope is the greatest piece of cinema ever. And then it begins.
Oh no, not the movie. Oh snap you thought this was a spoiler. Fuck no, I wouldn't want to ruin it for anyone. Besides what kind of asshole would I be if I finally broke my silence only to spoil a movie for people. Not the good kind of asshole I tell ya that and lets be honest, I've always aspired to be in the good asshole category.
No I'm talking about the moron marathon of people who showed up to see the movie. Now granted I give you this is something for all kinds but dude.... what the fuck is up with the purple hair. Really? On a girl maybe, then you get the whole cute little anime chick thing happening and we guys get to imagine what it's like to fuck the shit out of you over the popcorn counter with that purple mop just flopping back and forth while we spurt out some sort of crazy shit like "Yeah baby, you like that don't you, Ling Ling ain't got shit on me honey." No. This was a dude. You know that skinny lead singer from All American Rejects? Take him, make him drop like ... oh 60 pounds, have him smoke about 4 pounds of weed, dye his hair neon fuckin purple, and make him look like he hasn't worked a day in his life and is only able to go out of the house because momma and dadda can't bring themselves to chain his stupid ass in the basement anymore and instead decide to let society deal with thier failure. Yeah, that was this dude. Not only did he look like an anus on a post mexican food binge day but he had that attitude where he thought he was not only the smartest mothertrucker in the house but the coolest too. By ten minutes in of him being in the theatre I was wondering how many times he'd tumble down the stairs if I gave him a nice hefty push. By fifteen, I was having vivid fantasies of shoving my straw through his fucking eye just to get him to shut the fuck up. Alas, before I had to worry about any of those fun activities a whole brood of fucktards wandered in. Allow me to elaborate. We had:
- The Dancer. You know that ass who always tries way too fucking hard to fit in with people he really should care about anyway? Always has this fucked up hairdo and just play sucky taste in clothing? And then, when you thought it couldn't get worse the testicle decides he's a dancing queen and jumps out of his seat to try and entertain everyone (that's right skipper, we know it's of no benefit for you're little group of sucklings, you just want to see if we're looking at you. I can see your eyes keep drifting across those already there to see who's paying attention). By the way, it's come to my attention that all of these donkey lickers either have no fucking rhythm at all or just try way to hard at not being able to dance. Show some actual skills Johnny boy, maybe you'll impress me.
- The Contestant. This is the jackhole who decides he needs to let the entire theatre know that he and his buddies about about to have some sort of contest. Last nights lovely display was whether or not he could drink an extra large Icee in two minutes. And wouldn't you know it, it was just our luck that the Dancer and the Contestant happened to be the same afro wearing white boy last night. Shocker.
- The Jumper. Real simple, this is the fucktard who feels it's so much cooler for all involved for him to leap over the seat rows should he decide he isn't satisfied with his seat choice. Congrats momo, you can jump down a row of stadium seating, good for you. You wanna impress me, just down ten and land on your feet. That might get you some respect. You're at a midnight showing dude, who the fuck are you trying to impress? The Dancer. Don't worry, he's too busy trying to perfect his Robot/Hip Hop sway dance combo to worry about you trying to re-enact something you saw in a movie.
- The Moocher. Another simple one. Whenever you have a big crowd of people traveling together there's always one. It's that one guy, and I hate to say it but it always seems to be a guy, who never has any money. You have to either buy him stuff at the concession stand or at the very least share it with him. And honestly, most of the time people just buy it for them because then maybe they'll shut the fuck up. Oh but not last nights. Not only was he demanding his movie mates buy him a large soda and popcorn because he was in need of some nutrition (his word, not mine) but he proceeded to beg until they also got nachos and candy for him. Personally I'd have told him to fuck off and get a job but apparently he's got something, I don't know maybe some really good weed or he can really suck that dick like nobodies business. They didn't even seem to mind when he started complaining that they cheaped out and only got him one bag of candy instead of the five he asked for. Nice.
- The Slut. Now calling her a slut is probably harsh but if you know me you know I don't care. You're going to a dark movie theatre where nobody can see you. Why in the fuck would you bother dressing like a tramp. I can see if you and your s/o are going to have some kinky theatre fun you know, toss on a skirt with no panties and go to town. When you get into the hole ass out, tits out, make up so thick you could patch the fucking road with it ordeal it's a bit much honey. A nice pair of jeans and a clean shirt are more than suffice to catch a flick. Especially at fucking midnight.
- The Homesteader. This is the dumbass who feels he's at home, might as well be comfy. Stretches out as much as possible, takes off the shoes, acts however he wants whether it be yelling at the top of his lungs over some retarded thing like which cow burped in what movie or throwing his trash at whoever he pleases. Times like that make me wish I was a security guy at a place like that. I wanted to be the security guy at the theatre last night, I'd have dumped my cup of coffee on sock boys fuckin feet and shoved my coffee mug in his mouth, tied it in thier good and tight with my belt to muffle the screams and showed him what a good old fashioned beating was supposed to feel like.
- The Whiner/Knowitall. They know everything about the movie process, about the actors in it and in all the previews, as well as everything about the theatre you're at and all thier staff. And it seems like if they offer thier self professed Yoda worthy advice and it's scoffed at they have the right to whine like a little bitch, make a big scene about something nobody cares about, and stomp off to see if anyone will follow suit. Last night it was about the theatre. The group of losers she was with, yes sorry ladies but it was a she, had chosen to pick seats up in the back and that just wasn't right in her eyes. She went through her whole pitch about how the sound progression was better down front and in the top you had to worry about light from the projector interupting the flow of the visual as well as the sounds from the projector room during the movie interupting the sound flow through your ear cavities. Eventually after her ten minute rant about how it would all ruin thier movie experience someone in her pack told her to go sit somewhere else if she didn't want it ruined so she and a couple others in the flock moved off on thier own.
- The Fidgeter/Seat Saver. These are paired becasue they normally come hand in hand. They always have to stand up right until the moment the previews start rolling because for some reason they feel they have to make sure nobody is going to take the seats they're saving. Now normal people could do this sitting and gently telling the people they've saved the seats and all is well. These cave dwellers feel it's more appropriate to stand so they can spot potential seat stealers from a mile away. But they never say anything to those headed toward them do they? They always find it more forceful to say nonchalantly to one of the people they came with how they're saving like eight seats and nobody better even think of fucking stealing them. So for ten minutes they stand on guard like minutemen at the borderlines brother. Then boredom hits. So they take whatever they have with them, normally coats and sweaters, and proceed to drape them out across the chosen seats they've decided will provide them with the best movie experience possible. Once they feel they've laid out an adequate front of protection they begin the fidgeting. They don't seem to stay around the seats very long after that point. They have to make like 95 trips to the snack bar because they always forget something, or there's not enough butter on the popcorn, not enough salt, three too many ice cubes in thier soda, that sort of shit. Then when they finally get thier pantry full of food and sit the fuck down, nobody else ever seems to show up so thier left with the crew they showed up with so they jump around and make comments that are way too loud about how much of a loser thier friends are for now showing up. Hmmmm. You're sitting in a theatre whining about friends who had to work instead of skipping out to come to a movie with you. And they're the losers?
Ok I think that's all. As for the movie I will only say this. Mr. Moore. You're a fucking moron for having your name taken off of this movie. Maybe next time, take a step down from that self imposed pedastal you're up on and take a look at something before you brand it a failed attempt because guess what ......................