<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d10160736\x26blogName\x3dMiss+Hag.\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dTAN\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://misshag.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://misshag.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d546574539864072076', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

7.15.2005

An Ode to Summer . . .

The days of summer are bright, indeed,
But the days because of Summer, are inexplicably sublime.
Splendidly orgiastic.
It humbles this simple Hag to be in her accord.

Yesterday, I received the greatest gift, literally and figuratively, from my friend over there in the Midwest who is, most definitively NOT A HAM SANDWICH. Dear Summer.
Photo of and by Summer.

The beautiful, Miss Summer sent me a box o' wine. And, by that, I do not mean the wine that comes in a box. I mean a box with two bottles of wine made in her neck of the woods, where the deer and the antelope play.

Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Now, I am in the role of pleasure delayer. In addition to the lovely "Three Dog White" and "Drake Port" from Summer, I still have 18 bottles of Bully Hill Wine and 2 bottles of Bully Hill Champagne that sit waiting to be supped by me and my friendly imbibers.


Also, yesterday, Jason and I went to see Tim Burton's, "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." (No spoilers to follow. You know how it ends, anyway, silly goose.)

Tim Burton and Johnny Depp (and Helena Bonham Carter, for that matter) are maniacally fantastic. The pundits yell, "Why? Why remake something so perfect?" "It's like trying to re-do the vodka in a screwdriver! It's impossible!" I say, "Pooh."

Just as the inherent moral degradations of society have taken on a wholly new macabre level of ill, so has this tale of a young boy's innocent optimism obtained greater acumen into our modern shortcomings. Burton and Depp have a deft hand with the seedy underbelly. Theirs is a whole new telling of a wonderful story, with just enough honor to the original to buoy even the most fervent "Charlie" lover into a new galaxy of Wonka wonder.

However, what I would like to discuss is something else entirely.

Recently, Miss Summer, a.k.a. Goddess of Bestowing Wonderful Wine, wrote a particularly resonant post about an annoying experience at the movie theatre with teenagers. She did what most adults would do, she confronted some bratty teens with their annoying behavior because it affected her moviegoing experience. It left her feeling like she had crossed over to the "old fogey" side of the line.

Annoying people are the major reason I hate to see movies in the theatre. Usually, if I go, I sit in the very last row in the middle. I become very anxious with people sitting behind me. However, I also do not like people to sit in front of me, for that matter.

Ideally, I would have a great big movie theatre with about 5 seats for me and a few of my friends. There would also be an open bar. The snacks would be fruit and cheese plates or escargot.

But, I digress.

Jason booked Reserved Seating tickets for the Lowes Cineplex in midtown Manhattan. For those of you not familiar with this phenomenon, you can pay $6.00 extra to have a reserved seat (bringing the ticket price to a whopping $16.00!). The chairs are wider and a little bit cushier and they have their own little table stands between them for extra snack room. You get to have an usher escort you to your assigned seat and one of them takes concession orders while you sit so you don't have to get up and wait in line. It's all very bourgeoisie.

However, these primo seats are located closer to the front, in the center.

Amidst the crowds of teeming people. Completely surrounded by moviegoers.

Not long after we sat down, Jason grabbed my hand and instructed me to do some deep breathing exercises.

Innnhaaaallleeee.

"Let's try not to get into any fisticuffs, okay?" Jason channeled the Zen master.

"I can't make any promises, honey."

Exxxxhhaaaalleee.

"Just breathe. Try to create an aura around you so people will not annoy you."

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

I thought to myself. I can do this. I can make it through a whole movie without fiercely judging the people around me and silently plotting their deaths.

The previews started and people were still chatty around me. This is fine, I thought. It's all part of the fun of it, right? The trailers passed along quickly and I was feeling very proud of myself. I was getting submerged into the experience. I was transcending the clutching talons of my fervent temper.

And then, it began.

The opening credits.

Everyone silenced themselves and settled. Everyone, except the two girls behind me.

"Oh my GAWD! I can NOT believe he, like, SAID that to you and you were all like Oh my GAWD, right?!"

"Right? My GAWD! And THEN, he was like . . ."

And so on.

Inhale. Exhale. Zen Master. I thought to myself, "It's just the credits. They'll shut up when the movie starts.

The movie starts.

They do not stop.

"Are you FUR RE-ALL? No WAY!"

Shhh. SHHHH. SHHH. ssshhhh. ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhh.

The chorus of shushers began around them. I looked back and gave my evil, "Don't start none, won't be none" look. The woman sitting next to the girls spoke sternly to the loudmouths. She gave what I considered to be the warning shots. Depth charges.

The girls acted indignant. They gave each other the, "WHAT-EVERR" affirmations.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Three minutes into the movie. I cannot be the Zen master.

I turn around and firmly tap Girl A. on her bouncing crossed leg.

"Hey! Can you shut up?"

"Ex-ka-yooooze me. WATCH who you are hitting because I wasn't even talking. SHE was talking to ME."

"Well, then can you move so I can hit your friend and make you both shut up?!"

"What?"

"Bitch, I got 20 pounds on you easily, I will break you."

Glare. Glare. Glare.

Pistols at noon.

Fuck the Zen Master, I channel my inner Boricua ghetto bee-yotch (and I'm not even Puerto Rican). She's a lot more fun.

Girl A. looks at Girl B. and shrugs.

"Hmph. Whatever."

The girls were blissfully silent for the rest of the film. Peace was restored to the federation.

Moral to the story: Hooray, Hoorah to women like Summer, who aren't afraid to stand up to the people who need to get shut down and whose generosity knows no bounds.
I raise my glass to you and all the silent movie goers!

***********************************************************************************

What I Spent Today, Thursday, July 14, 2005:

$0.50 -- One Daily News.
$1.00 -- One package of Tylenol PM.
$3.86 -- One wholegrain bagel with scallion tofu cream cheese and sliced tomato.
$13.42 -- One fun pink bra from Daffy's Discount Designer clothing store. (That makes TWO bras that I own...I am on a roll!)
$4.00 -- Two slices.
$9.00 -- One cab ride to work.

TOTAL -- $31.78

What I Spent Today, Friday, July 15, 2005:

$0.50 -- One Daily News.
$8.00 -- One cab ride to the movie theatre. (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! Yippee!)
$3.00 -- One Red Bull.

TOTAL -- $11.50
************************************************************************************
The Homo du Mois in fumante delicto:

link * Miss Marisol posted at 8:17 PM * posted by Miss Marisol @ 8:17 PM   |