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Movie-Going Types

Went to the theater last night to see Hangover Part II and realized a big trend in R-comedy blockbuster filmmaking nowadays: showing the flaccid male genitalia. Guess that's cause the flaccid weenie is just funny looking? What are we laughing at here, exactly. Regardless, it gets a laugh, and when you're paying 12 bucks a tickie, ya need the concrete laughs, I guess.

An older guy next to me had his 7 year old son with him. OK, I didn't know exactly how old, but somewhere in the 5, 6, 7, 3 range. Whatta crappy parent that guy is. Bringing your toddler to Hangover 2, a film in which (spoiler alert) a naked woman shows her flaccid penis. Wait, doesn't that dingie make her a man? Yea, but whaddabout the breasts? So, he's a woman again? I was, and still am, confused.

Hey, but that's something I wanna expose my 7 year old innocent son to. A naked woman/man. What happened to bringing your kids to, what were those again? Oh yea. NOT RATED R MOVIES.

But here's the best part, on the way out of the theater I overheard the kid say that he liked this Hangover better than the first Hangover. So that's a feather in the cap if you're the filmmaker, I suppose.

But looking at the various types of people in the theater, I've realized they are exactly that: types. The following list of types may be incomplete, but it's a start:

The CACKLER.
She-devil. This is a banshee of a woman. A shrill, high pitch cackle pierces the dank air of the theater at all of the big laugh and small laugh moments. Hell, even the no-laugh moments. It matters not. She laughs at everything and nothing. She is our worst enemy.

The MUMBLER.
This guy. He can't seem to figure out a damn thing in even the simplest of films. A guy in the movie walks into a bank, this moron mumbles aloud 'Why's he going to the bank? What's he doin' with the blue sweater on? Why the new haircut?' Shuddup, you ninny. It's all a mystery to this jackass. He needs a bag of popcorn jammed down his piehole and I'm just the fed-up d-bag to do it.

The PREDICTOR.
This butt-head is an evolution of the MUMBLER, but this poor-man's Nostradamus mumbles his predictions to any poor soul within 3 rows. 'The car won't start this time,' he sputters into his spouse's unlistening ear. I've actually slapped this guy in the neck with some Twizzlers once, it shut hum up. Try it.

The REPEATER.
We all heard it the first time, from a working, professional actor, and yet here you are, fat, disgusting and repetitive. Just shut the mouth and laugh like everyone else. You're a dumbass.

The PARTICIPATOR.
No matter how loud you yell, the actors can't hear you. They're going to do their thing on-screen regardless of whether or not you think it's a bad idea. 'Oh no, don't go in there,' they guffaw at the screen as the on-screen hero approaches a door.
Geesh. Just sit down, stop pointing, and put a Whopper in it, you make me sick.

The TEXTERS.
In a movie? On a date? You better text someone! Pull out the flip phone on bright mode and text it up, but heed my warning: If you're not tweeting about how you're ruining everyone's movie-going experience, I'm going to rip off your thumbs and stick 'em in your date's popcorn bag. I'm pretty strong.

The GET A ROOM-ERS.
You know these two. Spot 'em from five rows away. The guy's low in his seat, the girl's shorts are nonexistent in the chair. She's nibbling his ear. The guy's hands are in between her legs, sneaky grin, just waiting for the lights to go down, or not waiting, more often than not. I didn't realize I bought a ticket for 'Exhibitionists: The Movie, starring the GET A ROOM-ERS.' Guess it's a double feature. The movie I paid for and this other movie, with the unattractive couple about to make babies.

The ANALYZER.
This one's a dork. This one's me. Wellp, and others like me who worry every time they walk into a theater, fearing that any one of the above mentioned types may pop up and ruin the shit outta their movie-going experience.

We all pay good moolah to sit in a dark room with strangers and watch a screen for two hours. Good money. And I don't like having my good money pooped on by some punks that don't take it seriously.

Sit down. Shut your Milk Dud hole. Drink your coke. Eat the popcorn. Laugh. Smile. Cry. Leave the theater at a leisurely pace.

And if it's an rated-R flick, make sure to bring your 5,6,7 or 3 year-old, cause you need to acclimate them to some filthy language, naked women/men, drugs, alcohol and sexy time boobies.
Immediately.

Don't you dare wait for the second installment, either. Get 'em in on the first one, apparently.

BTW. I've been every one of the types mentioned above at some point in my life. Don't hate. Write what you know.