(no subject)
Hah, I dug up my old deadjournal last night. What a huge mistake. I realized too much from my past. My wealth of contradictions, my obnoxious and ignorant opinions, my use of adjectives to pad my writing and make myself sound smarter than I was. It's all more obvious to me now than a hole in the throat. I sort of feel older, looking back at all of my ridiculous entries and seeing them now for what they really were.
For a laff though, I think I'll post the entry I'm most fond of. Sure, I wrote it years ago, but the memory makes me laugh. Go ahead and ignore this if you feel like it.
"A calm summer night. The van is loaded up. My dad is behind the wheel, seated next to me. Keith, Matt Mallory, and Moco are in the back. We're on our way to Terminator 3. Okay, so it's rated R. But that's not a big deal. We'll try getting in, and if we can't my dad will come buy the tickets for us. Simple! So we walk into the lobby, the four of us. The girl greets us with a warm smile. I say "one for Terminator 3, please." I see that look of hesitance in her eye.
"Are you 17?" she asks me.
"No," I reply, "I'm 16, but my dad's in the car and he can come in and buy our tickets, if you want him to."
That statement is said with confidence. I know that she cannot stop me now. I came in fully prepared to be challenged by the ticket lady. I was ready to have my dad buy my tickets, if she were to deem me too young to see a rated R movie. Hah. I got her. Nothing could kill the night now.
Nope.
Wrong.
"I'm sorry, but you cannot see an R-rated movie unless you are ACCOMPANIED by an adult into the theater," she says.
What the hell is this? My own dad buying me a ticket isn't good enough? He has to hold my hand into the theater to see the friggin' movie? This isn't a Raffi concert, people. Desperate, I begin to think of ideas. Anything. Something to get me in. The only other movie playing was Charlie's Angels 2. So it was T3 or nothing. I bowed my head, said thank you to the lady, and walked out the door with my friends, feeling alone and disappointed. That single female had clouded my movie loving world. I didn't know what to do. My father couldn't stay and watch the movie. So, what? That's it? We leave? Keith offers to rent a movie and have us over for a while. It was too late to drive to another theater. And we were out of options.
Defeated, we climbed back into the van, and began to drive away. But then, we stopped. My dad rolled down the window and stopped two guys approaching the theater. They both looked at least 45. He asks them if they mind "accompanying" us into the theater. They didn't. Happy as ever, we plowed out of the van. We walked back inside, beaming. Sure lady. This is my dad. And his friend. Thanks for my ticket. Have a good night.
I felt like I had robbed a bank. That was not only hilarious, but it also carried a guilty connotation with it. But frankly I don't give a damn. Movie theaters need to lighten up. If your dad buys your ticket, that should be fine.
I'm glad we got in, because Terminator 3 was incredibly cool. It pales in comparison to our epic story of getting into the theater, but it was definitely a great movie. Effects were fantastic, story was as good as ever, and it had some of the funniest moments out of the whole series. In other words, it was the perfect summer sequel. I loved it.
To make the night even better, I purposefully kept spilling my coke on my pants. Khaki stain defenders. Boo yah."
Yep, still a dork.
For a laff though, I think I'll post the entry I'm most fond of. Sure, I wrote it years ago, but the memory makes me laugh. Go ahead and ignore this if you feel like it.
"A calm summer night. The van is loaded up. My dad is behind the wheel, seated next to me. Keith, Matt Mallory, and Moco are in the back. We're on our way to Terminator 3. Okay, so it's rated R. But that's not a big deal. We'll try getting in, and if we can't my dad will come buy the tickets for us. Simple! So we walk into the lobby, the four of us. The girl greets us with a warm smile. I say "one for Terminator 3, please." I see that look of hesitance in her eye.
"Are you 17?" she asks me.
"No," I reply, "I'm 16, but my dad's in the car and he can come in and buy our tickets, if you want him to."
That statement is said with confidence. I know that she cannot stop me now. I came in fully prepared to be challenged by the ticket lady. I was ready to have my dad buy my tickets, if she were to deem me too young to see a rated R movie. Hah. I got her. Nothing could kill the night now.
Nope.
Wrong.
"I'm sorry, but you cannot see an R-rated movie unless you are ACCOMPANIED by an adult into the theater," she says.
What the hell is this? My own dad buying me a ticket isn't good enough? He has to hold my hand into the theater to see the friggin' movie? This isn't a Raffi concert, people. Desperate, I begin to think of ideas. Anything. Something to get me in. The only other movie playing was Charlie's Angels 2. So it was T3 or nothing. I bowed my head, said thank you to the lady, and walked out the door with my friends, feeling alone and disappointed. That single female had clouded my movie loving world. I didn't know what to do. My father couldn't stay and watch the movie. So, what? That's it? We leave? Keith offers to rent a movie and have us over for a while. It was too late to drive to another theater. And we were out of options.
Defeated, we climbed back into the van, and began to drive away. But then, we stopped. My dad rolled down the window and stopped two guys approaching the theater. They both looked at least 45. He asks them if they mind "accompanying" us into the theater. They didn't. Happy as ever, we plowed out of the van. We walked back inside, beaming. Sure lady. This is my dad. And his friend. Thanks for my ticket. Have a good night.
I felt like I had robbed a bank. That was not only hilarious, but it also carried a guilty connotation with it. But frankly I don't give a damn. Movie theaters need to lighten up. If your dad buys your ticket, that should be fine.
I'm glad we got in, because Terminator 3 was incredibly cool. It pales in comparison to our epic story of getting into the theater, but it was definitely a great movie. Effects were fantastic, story was as good as ever, and it had some of the funniest moments out of the whole series. In other words, it was the perfect summer sequel. I loved it.
To make the night even better, I purposefully kept spilling my coke on my pants. Khaki stain defenders. Boo yah."
Yep, still a dork.