Le Jerk Offs

Well, it's official. I have terrible, terrible luck at movies/concerts/plays. I AM JINXED. I repeat, do not go see shows with me for I can guarantee beyond a shadow of a doubt that we will have first class, grade-A, jackwads sitting behind us. GUARAAAAANTEE IT.

Remember how I said I wasn't going to go see movies in movie theatres any more? Well I guess I forgot because when Liz asked if I wanted to go see Children of Men on Saturday night I jumped. Then I said yes. Then I asked where and she said, "42nd Street" and I cried a little. But you know how I roll, right guys? It's like that slutty song from Oklahoma. "I caaaain't saaaay no!...To doin' it up the pooper!" Isn't that how it goes?

ANYWAY...

So I'm in NJ at the time spending the day with my pals Kirby and Andrew. I mean the day was spent eating burgers and laughing at YouTube clips. So you know I pretty much could have set up camp there. I go back to New York a happy lady, take a shower at home, take my sweet time getting ready and head up to 42nd. Everything's gonna be FINE. There's no way that I'm going to get assholes behind me during this movie. (I mean, if I was going to see Happy Feet, SURE.)

Again, I was pretty confident this was going to be a great movie-going experience.

PRE. TEE. Confident.

I just... I mean... I just don't understand.

For those who've watched the movie you will appreciate this more, but for those who haven't (and I would tell you to see it HAD I ACTUALLY BEEN ALLOWED TO WATCH THE MOVIE) it is a pretty quiet movie. There are action-packed bits but for the most part it is pretty quiet. Which was great because I didn't miss out on the woman behind me.

THE DUMBEST WOMAN EVER WHO SAT BEHIND ME AT THE MOVIES.
(that was my alternate title for this post)

She was all, "What's that guy doing? What is that? Is he dead? Where'd she go? That's a man? Where's that car going? Who's that baby? Why they cryin? What's my name? Am I THE BIGGEST RETARD EVER?"

YES YOU ARE. YOU WIN THE PRIZE!

She just would not stop! I shushed her. Jeff shushed her. The people down the isle sushed her. WHAT THE FUCK!!!?!

Then let's add this. Let's add the dude sitting directly behind me (her date) bumping my seat throughout. Is that better? I even turned around and said, "can you stop bumping my seat please? Thank you!" And he said, "sorry." And then he bumped it some more.

!!!

But here's my favorite part:

At one point Michael Caine's character says, "Pull my finger" during a sad moment (I realize that makes no sense if you haven't seen it but trust me) and it was kinda funny but more sad than funny and I motherfuckingsweartogod she laughed so hard she spit on my arm and then repeated 5 times over the next 10 minutes "HE SAID PULL MY FINGER! HAR HAR HAR! HE SAID PULL MY FIIIIINGER!!"

At this point I leaned forward and quietly, but audibly, begged for Marcy to kill me.

And here's the kicker... Before the movie started the dude accidentally dropped his box of candy and it fell on me. I gave it back, natch. I shoulda eatin that bitches candy, yo.

HE SAID, "PULL MY FINGER!" HAAAAAAAaaaaaaa... cry.

So, no. I really have no idea if I liked Children of Men. Maybe you can go and tell me if it's good?

But was that the only encounter with Jerk Offs on Saturday night? Was it? WAS IT??

No. No it was not.

After the movie, Marcy and I went out on the town, as we're wont to do on a Saturday (Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday/etceraday...). We ended up at this fun danceteria called Pyramid on the lower east side. Further into the night I'm standing outside with Amanda and I've had a few drinks and when I drink I get talky so these two dudes walk by and I say, "hhhhello Boys" in my best Mae West voice. And the boys stop and talk to us. These particular boys are French. And right off the bat they're humongous douchebags. (SURPRISE SURPRISE!)

ME
I'd love to go to Europe. Where should I go?

FRENCHIE
Denmark, blah blah blah other places.

ME
Denmark sounds amazing. I have a friend living there.

FRENCHIE
The girls there are amazing. Their butts are so hard. Perfect asses. No women are as good as that in America.

(um.)

ME
Yeah but they're boring as shit.

FRENCHIE
So... what do you do for a living?

ME
I'm an actress.

FRENCHIE
Oooh. You have to change a lot.

ME
Excuse me?

FRENCHIE
(looking me up and down)
YOU HAVE A LOT YOU NEED TO CHANGE.

ME
LIKE WHAT. (DICKHEAD.)

FRENCHIE
(realizing he's insulted me YET AGAIN)
Like.. um you're earrings.

(I had large hoops on. So... If I take these off I'm perfect? RIGHT ON.)

ME
Thanks.

FRENCHIE
You know how you can tell an American girl?

ME
How?

FRENCHIE
They are all bitter. (Not sure if this is what he actually said but we'll pretend like it was since what he actually said was probably much douchier.)


ME
Wow. Really? Wow. Well you know how you can tell French boys?

FRENCHIE
How?

ME
AN EENY WEENY TEENY PEENY.

And then I said, "see you assholes later!" and walked into the bar with Amanda cracking up behind me.

I think they really did have teeny peenies because their faces went slack and they walked away. UG. Why? Why live here if you're going to insult America girls when you go out? I wouldn't move to France and tell French dudes they need to put on deodorant and stop being so queeah. Would I? (I totally would.)

So that's my Saturday full of Le Jerk Off Brigade. Hope you didn't encounter too many dbags on your weekend. I'm starting to realize the only way to avoid them is to stay inside. And yet that's a promise I just can't keep to myself. Cuz I like to party. I like, I like to party. THE VENGA BUS IS COMING. (oh jesus)

Have a great day!

Love,

Glennis