Hello, Hello Again

When we last left you, I had given you a slightly in depth of a few...well several drunken escapades during the fall. Let's pick back up around the Arkansas at Ole Miss game weekend. Remember our friend who had her 21st birthday and kept spilling her drinks during the Ole Miss v Bama weekend? Well she was a little more coherent and able to use my camera to take pictures for me this weekend. The problem is she thought every other picture needed to include her. I'll spare you the constant barrage of "look at me!!!" pictures, but I have to offer you the first one:
Look at me!!!!!

Anyhoo, we did get our pick together. Here's a few pics of tent regulars.

For some reason that weekend, the music at the tent began to change from a let's party to a more let's dance. And next thing you know we are all dancing. I mean everyone, from my sister and her college friends to my grandmother. We danced for an hour or so. You doubt it? Look even Scottie Too Hottie got down with people.

I did feel a slight bit of apprehension when I looked over and saw Scottie Too Hottie dancing with the sister. That's always a scary sight. We almost need to put up signs around saying "Beware folks, Scottie Too Hottie's on the loose."

Here's a pic of the sister taking a pic of S2H and a dance partner. Mailbox Mike tried to include himself in the best way he could. He gave bunny ears. Nice.

That was a wild weekend.

The next weekend I drove to Little Rock to catch a plane for a wedding in Houston. An old pledge brother who is from Houston was getting hitched to a very sweet girl. I had to be there. For the purpose of this post, we'll call him Bearcat. I've known Bearcat since I was a freshman in college around age 18. It was a blast. I tried to take pictures along the trip. Most of them are crap, but I have several worthwhile ones that I have to share with you.

I took off work Friday of that weekend. Problem was that I had started a few good nights of drinking Wednesday night with some friends. Of course that continued through Thursday night which was Halloween night. I never got any pics because I got all the way to the Lord T and Eloise show at Newby's before I realized the camera was at home. I will say I had a great time and didn't get home until well after 3am. What was my costume? The 40 year old virgin, post-wax. So you can tell how little sleep I had before I had to drive all the way to Little Rock to catch a plane. I did pass several tanks being hauled across the country. Here's a pic:

That weekend Steve Spurrier and his Fighting Cocks of the University of South Carolina were playing at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville (pronounced "Fa-yaeatte-ve-yille"). The Gamecocks are known for having a fan base who travels in large groups.

Apparently they know puns in South Carolina.

Anyhoo, I caught the plane to Houston and hung out for a few hours until it was time for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. I wasn't in the wedding party, but I was invited because Bearcat and I are good friends. Plus I'm sure they needed some sort of entertainment at dinner. We dined at a nice little Italian restaurant in the midtown area of Houston. There was cocktail hour on the patio beforehand. We had assigned seating at the tables and someone screwed it up...I think. Another friend of ours, TR, was seated at the table on the right side of the room while his wife had a seat on the left side of the room. There was a blank card next to TR which I found out was for me. I'm not going to let a man and his wife sit across the room from each other. She sat with TR, and I jumped down at a table where I didn't know anyone. I sat with several friends of the bride (whom I didn't know before dinner) and the cousin of the groom (also whom I didn't know). After a few moments of awkwardness we began to discuss...well, mostly the kind of BS you discuss with strangers at a rehearsal dinner. We started telling wedding stories. During this time, I noticed a slight variation in the group at our table. The majority of them (friends of the bride) were fresh out of college around the ages of 23 and 24. They had switched from their beers at the bar to the wine at the table (I took a sip and chose not to partake in the wine). The rest of the table, i.e. the groom's cousin and me, were older. I am 28, and she is...I'll be polite and say in her 40's. She stuck with her steady flow of Dewars and ice. I had a nice stream of vodka tonics in front of me. The funny thing was the "younger" crowd at the table was getting drunker faster than we were. Overall I don't think I could have had more fun at any other table. I told stories. I laughed at other's stories and jokes. Had an absolute blast.

At one point during the meal I see out of the corner of my eye, the bride's family looking at our table. They were pointing at me. You see, the bride met me once before this weekend at an Ole Miss football game at my tent. It was after the game and late in the afternoon so I knew she probably couldn't pick me out in a crowd. Her family was obviously asking her who was this guy that they didn't know. Which one of her husband-to-be's friends was this? Was he one of the wild ones they heard horror stories about? I turned to the groom's cousin and did a mock impression of the bride's family. I covered my mouth as if I were whispering to her and began pointing at each of them. They quickly showed their collective embarassment and tried to hide the fact they had been pointing in my direction. The groom's cousin and I got a big kick out of it.

After dinner and dessert, the party returned outside to hear toasts and then a slideshow of the bride and groom throughout their lives. It was really cool. After all that, the younger generation divided up to head out into the Houston area to continue our intake of libations. One group consisting of most of the guys (with a few of their wives) and the groom were heading to one bar. A second group consisting of the bride and all her college girlfriends were going to a bar called the Armadillo Palace. Guess where I went? Yeah, a few of the bridesmaids from my table grabbed me and said "you're coming with us to the Armadillo Palace!" So I piled with too many others into the back of a Toyota Four Runner. So here here I am in a suit and tie climbing into the back of an SUV like a drunken college freshman. Amazing how much I had regressed in one night. Or some might say I didn't regress that far. Anyhoo, as always, I had the camera ready for your viewing enjoyment:

At least I wasn't alone when I was crammed into the back of the 4Runner. My question is, do you think we could get a little more smile out of these two? There's too many teeth in that pic.

Bringing the shocker to Texas. I rock the shocker; they rock the horns and show gang signs.

When we pull up to the Armadillo Palace, there is a giant metal armadillo statue out front. Giant as in over one story tall. There was a damn good band playing real country music, not that fake shit that Nashville puts out. Sorry I didn't get a better pic of them.One thing I learned in college is that Texans are a proud people. They love their state. The rest of us love our regions. Texans have way too much pride. Need examples? Glad to help:

A lone star bathroom sink (notice the stars in the bowl)

The bar had Texas shit all over it. Here's a flag celebrating the different countries that have claimed Texas.The only disappointment about this bar was they didn't have a mechanical bull.

One of the things I learned while I was at this bar (besides the fact I can drink most of these folks under the table) was how to two step. Of course I have since forgotten it, but one of the bridesmaids was really enthusiastic in showing me how. Here she is.After a few of the folks were carried out of the bar to cabs, I hung out with bride and maid of honor. I'm not sure exactly what I was trying to get them to do, but they definitely were there to entertain.

After the bar finally kicked us out, I caught a ride back to the hotel with the bride and maid of honor. Of course I had to visit Taco Cabana on the way to the hotel. If you ever go to Texas, there are two fast food places I recommend: Taco Cabana and Whataburger. Both are open 24/7 and serve better food than you can ever imagine. Taco Cabana is what Taco Bell would be if they actually served real food.

We get back to the hotel with our TC and plop down in the lobby bar to eat it. For some reason the hotel's bar closed at 11PM while the real bars in town closed at 3AM. So we had all this food to eat but no libations. I went into the hotel shop behind the front desk to get some waters. What did I find but beer in the fridge. I politely convinced the girl at the front desk that we drink these beers before they go bad. She was kind enough to let us. We opened our beers, finished our TC, and said good night. Honestly, I think I had maybe a sip or two from the beer. I was so done drinking that I didn't need anymore.

The next morning I awoke with a wonderful hangover. I couldn't find a way to cure it in my room. I didn't have any aspirin or anything. I just slowly drank water until I got a call from one of the groomsmen. The groom's family was taking all the guys (and some of their wives) to Armadillo Palace for food, beer, and some pool. Like I always say, "the best detox is retox." We returned to the scene of most of the crimes from the night before and force fed greasy hamburgers to ourselves. After a few bloody maries and beers, the general mood of the group lifted as our collective hangovers drifted away. We watched some college football games while playing pool and shuffle board. The restaurant finally kicked us out just before 4 that afternoon because they had a private party coming in for the evening. As we walked out, I saw the party planners setting up this mechanical bull. I exclaimed how disappointed I was; I had been in Texas for just over 24 hours and I was finally seeing my first mechanical bull. I said I was unhappy because I was probably going home without the opportunity to ride the mechanical bull. The rest of my group really started to laugh when I said that coming to Texas and not riding a mechanical bull is like going to Hollywood and not sleeping with Paris Hilton.

That night we went to the wedding, and it was beautiful. The reception was at the Petroleum Club at the top of the Exxon Building in downtown Houston. Here's a view of the skyline including the Toyota Center where the Rockets were playing a game:

I had a great time at the reception. The food was great except for the weird purple mashed potatoes. What was up with that? We danced and drank and laughed. Here's a pic of the single girls reaching for the bouquet:

There were only two girls who really were after it. It seemed like the rest were shying away from the bouquet. My kind of crowd. Of the two girls who were hunting for the bouquet, there was the first girl who actualy caught it. We'll call her the friendly bridesmaid. The other girls obviously didn't catch it. We'll call her the drunken, angry bitch bridesmaid (that's a fitting title for that night). When the friendly bridesmaid caught the bouquet, the drunken, angry bitch bridesmaid snatched it from her, stumbled a few steps backwards, and threw the damn thing back in the friendly bridesmaid's face. Hey! Here's a pic of her not long after that:

She passed out in the chair. It was probably a gift from heaven because after her stunt on the dancefloor, she was shunned the rest of the night. When she did try to be conscious, she would make futile attempts to speak to anyone in the vicinity. Of course her tone had a viscious, angst ridden bite and her words were so slurred that all you could decipher was "hey you." It almost made me want to say "honey, grab a cup of coffee and some guy or girl to help you work out this pinned up frustration. Are those words too big for you right now? Ok, then go get some." But I didn't know her or really care. So I walked away shaking my head.

For the final two hours of the reception, the younger generation had an ongoing debate over where we were going for the afterparty. Like I said this was a two hour discussion. Half the crowd wanted to go to bar A. Then it was bar B. Then some people wanted to go to a club. You know what kind of people you find at a club? Watch the new haircut video again. More than half us were against that idea. So this fuster-cluck continued. After the first hour, I hit a wall. I mean bad. I was tired and I really didn't want to deal with a bunch of ADD drunks who wanted to do this, then 30 seconds later wanted to do this. Now before we left one of the guys from Mississippi showed his dance moves to prove that we didn't need to go to a club, but to a bar:

Imagine Chris Farley dancing by himself and that's what it was like. We all went down to the bottom of the building and after we concluded that we were going to a certain bar, this one girl said she wanted to go somewhere else. So it continued. It was at this point that I lost my patience. I said goodnight to the group and explained that I had sobered up too much in the last two hours to start all over again at a bar. Despite their whining I headed back to the hotel which was only a few blocks away.

I'll spare you the whole story, but the walk to the hotel was interesting. If you've never been to Houston, it's a warm town almost year round. And seeing as there is a good climate, they have a large homeless and bum population. It is not nice. On my way to the hotel, there was this woman about a hundred feet behind me stumbling down the sidewalk. She was rambling out loud, obviously high. All of a sudden I heard certain words coming through clearer than others. Now I'm going to shorten the curse words, but you can get the idea: "GD white boy in his GD MFing tuxedo. Thinks he's hot shit. Yeah F you..." Then she trailed off again into incoherent words. For the record she also was white. I looked over my shoulder to make sure she wasn't right behind me or anything and saw some of the folks from the wedding party driving towards me. They slowed down and drove me the rest of the way to the hotel. I don't think the bum woman was going to do anything to me, but I was thankful I didn't have to walk the rest of the way looking over my shoulders.

The next morning I packed and caught a cab to the airport. I really wouldn't mention this, but I did capture a pic of the greatest mullet of all time:

How awesome is that?

Well that's all I've got for now. I'll try and get another post up soon to bring us to the holiday party season. I have a great video that I may just put up out of chronological order. Actually I think I'll just let that be a teaser for it.

Have a good one and don't get none on ya.

And Now Back To Our Regularly Scheduled Programming...

So I've been MIA for a while. I know it. I don't really take all the blame because Blogger just wasn't cooperating. I got frustrated and just stopped trying. But I had an early dinner tonight and while watching TV started working on this "Best Of" post. So here are a few highlights of things that I've meant to get to.

We'll start with the Florida at Ole Miss football weekend. SEC football fans tend to back their teams. We back our teams through thick and thin. Hell, I'm an Ole Miss fan who has put up with a lot this season. But I think this guy may back the Florida Gators even more than anyone ever: What do you think? I probably shouldn't have led off with that but it's first in chronological order. Plus it's damn funny and I hope I don't have to explain the pun attached to this.

Next is a pic of one of our tent regulars who came by on her 21st birthday weekend. I'll give you one guess as to which person in the pic spilled their drink four times in a row after refilling it.

No, you jackass. It was her. No matter how overserved I've been at the tent, I've never spilled my drink...more than once.

Next is a pic from when I went dove hunting one afternoon in September down in Tunica, MS. Isn't that beautiful?

Yeah, the scenery was beautiful. But my shooting was abismal. I went through five boxes of shells and shot 3 doves. I found one. Do the math. That's 125 shots for one dove. The other two were weird. The second dove fell into the sunflower plants a few dozen rows away. I never could find it. That really makes me mad. I hate waste. I searched up and down the rows for 10 minutes but couldn't find him. The third landed at the top of a crest in a tilled field. For those of you who've never left the urban area of your respective cities, a tilled field is one which has only dirt on top. The ground has been churned over. In other words the bird landed at the top of a slight rise in the dirt. I saw it fall and another man saw it fall. When I walked to where it was supposed to be, it wasn't there. The other hunter came over and we walked around on top of the exposed dirt to find...nothing. I've never seen or heard anything like this. Weird, right?

This next pic is from the Ptolemy Fall Party (Old School Party) at Ernestine and Hazel's. It was a blast. On the right is Amy "The Fun Sister." I'm not sure who the girl on the left is.

Here are those two again with Beth and her unseparable tiara.

After that party, I packed to head up to Minneapolis for a work seminar. It was a whole lot of classes and a whole lot of partying. You know who were some of the coolest folks I met? The ones from Canada. Not only can they drink but they would say "Eh" and "aboot" all the time. I'd laugh and say "Yall are hilarious. I love your accents." They would in turn reply "Oh my God, it's my first 'yall'." That went on for one long night at the bar.

The last night in Minneapolis I went with a group to the Mall of America. It was awesome. They actually have roller coasters inside. But if my town was frozen for 9 months out of the year, I'd probably build a mall with roller coasters inside. Seriously, how can you justify living somewhere that requires you, due to the severe climate, to PLUG YOUR CAR INTO THE OUTLET IN YOUR GARAGE OVER NIGHT SO IT STARTS IN THE MORNING? Human beings aren't meant to live like this. Is this supposed to be a test of a communal strength? Or are these people so bat-shit crazy that they think the rest of the world is like this? Do they think Jamaicans live on the beach in the sun from June to August before hibernating the rest of the year? Of course they couldn't! Their dreads would snap off sometime around December 27 from being frozen for 4 months straight! That is of course if they didn't snap their owner's neck from the increased weight over that time.

Anyhoo, one thing they do that I thought was cool is a Promotion called "Disco is Dead." That's pretty cool. These posters were up everywhere in the mall.

By the way, people in Minnesota have no sense of humor. They are very dry and not overly sociable. At least the ones I ran into. Maybe I'm spoiled from living down South. But if you made a witty quip, they'd just stare at you until you gave them a straight answer. Before you automatically say 'well maybe you just weren't funny, Philip' this is an conversation between a waitress at lunch and one of the other seminar attendees from Jackson, MS.

Lady: "Are you finished with your plate?"
Guy: "Well, I was contemplating finishing the rest of my corn off the cob, but maybe I'll opt for the dessert plate instead. I think I can lick that clean.

Lady: "..."

Guy: "Um, yes ma'am. You can take it."

Oh yeah, they don't have any hot sauce at restaurants. The only type of sauce they have is A1. And that won't help the bland food.

Ok that's enough bashing of the Minneapolis. They were nice people, but just different from what I'm used to.

A week or so later was the Alabama at Ole Miss weekend. I went down Friday night for a bachelor party. By the time I got to Oxford they were so drunk that they had left the bar, taken the bachelor of honor to Old Venice, and were shoving pizza at him to sober him up. So I left and went elsewhere on the Square. I ran into one of my old friends, Brandon (aka WB). He was the one who called me at 2PM that afternoon when I was still at work to inform me he opened the first bar on the Square and had already had one Jack and Coke. I ran into him with a group of folks at the Rib Cage (a BBQ restaurant and bar). He was good and drunk. I said hey and met the rest of the group. This was around 10:30ish. When I excused myself to grab a drink from the bar. He said "get me a Jack and Coke, bitch!" I said "excuse me" to which he responded "you heard me!" I walked over to the bar and ordered to drinks. I had a vodka tonic and set his drink in front of him. He was in the middle of an animated conversation and stopped midsentence to exclaim "WHAT THE F**K IS THAT?!?" I said "It's your Shirley Temple...bitch."

He stares at the drink, then at me, and then back at the drink. Everyone else starts cracking up. He's silent for about a minute before he says "you know what? I'm going to drink this. And I'm going to enjoy it. Watch!" So I had to take a pic of him "enjoying" his shirley temple with his Muppet haircut.

We were there for a little while longer before going to another bar, one of my favorites from college: Pearl Street Pasta. Of course it was my favorite in college because I knew all the bartenders and would get quick service/small tabs. Apparently that doesn't happen anymore.

Part of the rest of the night is a blur due to double vodka tonics and a whole lot of really fun conversations that I can't remember so many weeks later. Oh yeah, the Jager shots didn't help. Need proof of the evil effects of Jager? Here you go from my sister's camera:

Yeah, it's the return of the shocker to drunk pics.

After they closed the bar/kicked everyone out, there was a lot of drama going on in the street outside. In fact there were three "incidents" that we were involved in/witnessed. Of course the memory is hazy in parts due to the excessive alcohol consumption over several hours (I can't remember the second incident but it had nothing to do with us). But here's the first one (sorry for hazy pics):

This guy who we'll call Napoleon (short man's complex joke!) stumbled out of the bar just in front of us. He was walking near our group obviously agitated about something. He made it vocal at that time. Now I don't remember what the exact issue was, but I decided it was my job to encourage him to find the source of his frustration. I think I contributed by giving him a lot of "Yeah you're right, man!" "I do think whitey is keeping you down!" and other such comments. He (thank God) wasn't catching onto the large amounts of sarcasm I was throwing out there. After a few minutes of entertaining my group with this drunken buffoon (pot calling kettle black!) by channelling what I call Tucker Max drunk, I told him we were leaving and he needed to head the other direction so he wouldn't hit me with his car when he drove home. He stumbles across the street and walks PAST (that is key) this random girl and her friends (she's in the pic below). He turns to start berating her. For the record none of us approved/sanctioned/applauded this behavior. She was just an innocent bystander who happened to walk past young Napoleon Bonaparte. He berated her in string of explatives that lasted for about thirty seconds straight. Almost everyone on the street stopped to watch this idiot. This poor girl stopped dead in her tracks, turned to walk back to him, shoved him backwards (he did in fact stumble because this is all clear to me), and said "What did you call me, you little bitch?" Her friend (also a girl) had to walk this little guy away until the girl he insulted decided she had enough and was about to beat his ass. At that time her friend let go of Napoleon and walked her friend back to their car. Literally forced her to their car. This little bastard stood their while the crowd erupted into a din of shouts directed at him. Most involved one of two things. They either questioned his manhood or told him to go away before they came and whooped his ass.

After he finally stumbled away we stood there laughing. The next incident is kinda hazy, but it involved someone completely not related to the previous incident trying to start something in the same general location as the previous incident but leaving. All I know is that when that person turned to leave, my friend Laura shouted "Run Rudolph Run." Don't know where that came from or why it's funny, but we thought it was hilarious.

The last incident was all me. Well, me channelling the inspiration of Tucker Max (yeah, I think I read some of his stories the week before going down there). This is a group of Bama fans on the bench in front of the Rib Cage:

From left to right, you have guy in Bama hat, drunk guy passed out on bench with Bama "A" on his shirt (can't see it in the pic, but it was there which is what caused me to do what you're about to read), and girl in pink shirt. As we were walking to our vehicles to head home for the night, we walked past this group on the bench. I believe someone said "is he going to be alright?" It was directed at me or my group, but I immediately decided to give my medical opinion. Well, not so much a medical opinion but more of an opinion inspired by Jim Carrey from Ace Ventura. As I walked past this group in the pic, I turned and replied "I can tell you what's wrong with him! He has been possessed by the spirit of Bear Bryant! I need an old priest and a young priest and A HOUNDSTOOTH CAP so I can EXERCIIIISE THE DEMON!!!" We all laughed, but apparently the girl in the pink shirt didn't find it too damn funny. She didn't vocally express her lack of appreciation for the humor I had bestowed on the situation. She physically expressed it in the form of a slap to my face. I paused. My group went silent. I started laughing again and kept walking to our cars.

That's pretty much all the shenanigans from that night. I will say I felt like ass the whole next day. My face didn't hurt but the rest of my head did from all the damn Jager shots. And it was Oktoberfest at the tent but I never really took any pics I think. What I did get a pic of is when the Alabama graduate who was working the replay for the referees royally screwed us out of a great come back win. By the way the rumor that I've heard is that he has been reprimanded so many times over the years for biased calls that he can't even be a ref on the field during the game anymore. Hmm... But again that is the rumor I heard...from a Southern Miss fan. Much more credible than coming from an Ole Miss fan who is biased against them. Anyhoo here's the pic.

Now that's a short "Best of" post covering part of the fall. I still need to get pics from my trip to Houston and...I have no idea what else. I'll try to come up with more stuff but I have been swamped with work and all. I guess I spoiled everyone when I was unemployed for so many months. I had so much free time that I could post whenever something came to me.

Anyhoo, have a great one and don't get none on ya!

The Brother Punks His Company

A few weeks back, the brother's company did an "employee appreciation" week with a theme of Enjoy Life. All employees were encouraged to submit a dessert with that theme at the end of the week. Everyone in his department asked if he was going to do a jello mold. He said he wasn't.

Now there's a bit of back story here that I need to share with you. It is my understanding that a ton of folks in his department are what you would call "Office nuts." I don't mean the stereotypical people you work with that drive you crazy. No, I mean people who love the show "The Office." Within his first six months of employment, the brother made a jello mold with a stapler in it similar to what the character Jim did to Dwight in the show. The jello mold made it from desk drawer to desk drawer as the brother and his victims continued the joke in good humor from one person to the next. Everyone got a ton of laughs from it.

So the brother didn't want to do a jello mold with a stapler or anything else. He was discussing the issue with me a few days before and had decided he was going to do something simple. Over the course of the discussion, he decided to do an elaborate prank on the entire office: he was going to put icing on a box or two of cake mix and call it a "cake." I suggested that he bake some cookies as backup just in case they actually wanted him to contribute to potluck table of deserts after the contest. He got the cake boxes prepared and did an elaborate job with putting a logo and the "Enjoy Life" theme on the icing.

When it came time for judging, he won his floor, and his cake was put into the running for the best overall. The whole time that this was taking place, he was emailing me saying how he couldn't believe they thought he actually baked a cake. He was having trouble containing his laughter while people kept coming to his desk to tell him how impressed they were with his originality and design. By this point he had told only one person the truth at the office.

Just before they were going to pick the overall winner, he realized that there was a good chance he was going to beat someone who ACTUALLY made a dessert. He fessed up for the prank and explained the situation. So he didn't win first prize overall because he "didn't actually make a dessert." The winning duo got coupons to Starbucks; woohoo! great prize! But he did win most creative which included a prize of free pizza and soft drinks. Hmm...I wonder who got the better prize. Here's a pic of the brother with his "cake."

I'm very proud of him. He did bring the cookies he baked out of hiding to share with the rest of the desserts that everyone could eat. It's my understanding that his dessert was the talk of the office. Way to go, man!

Adventure in Suburbia (movie theater drama)

I'll talk about Friday in another post. It'll be long, I promise.

Tonight I went to catch a movie and almost witnessed a hate crime. Let me explain:

I have already met my quota for going out this week (Lent: can't drink more than 2 days a week). So I could play DD for drunk friends or I could go catch Black Snake Moan. I chose the latter. I picked the7:30 showing at the Collierville movieplex, because I figured that it wouldn't be too busy on Saturday night. After all, no one goes out or does anything worth mentioning in the suburbs, right. It'll be pretty empty, right? Obviously I was wrong.

I get my ticket for the flick after waiting in line. When I think of the type of people who would move to Collierville, I imagine nice, polite families and retirees. Of course the families might have the rebelling teenager, but so what? It's a suburb of Memphis, and a supposedly nice one at that.

Well imagine my surprise when I arrive in the ticket line and realize that the bowels of Frayser, Byhalia, and Selmer opened up over the Collierville Cinema-Plex to release all of their worst elements. Every demographic's lowest common denominator was present. People were bumping into each other without apologizing and cutting in line. Of course there were a lot of nice folks who wouldn't ever be any trouble. And I'm sure a lot of great people. But apparently everyone there had stolen my idea of an easy night away from drama to catch a movie.

So I get my ticket and head in the front door. There's a guy there with the ticket box to tear my ticket. Apparently he has two responsibilities: model his pimple farm for all to enjoy and direct you to the appropriate next ticket box on the left or right depending on your film's theater location.

Have we as a society become so stupid we can't read a sign that tells you which movies are in which theaters? I know that we have to have the Nutritional Facts on our bottles of water, but are we now that much dumber?

So I get my Cherry Coke and head to my appropriate theater. I pick a seat in the middle of the row. I sit down and start to lean back, only to find that the seats here don't lean back as much as the Paradiso theater in East Memphis. I repeat the promise to myself that I'm going to get a damn good job and move from the vanilla suburbs back into the city, dammit!

The theater's filling up and the previews are starting. I notice in my peripherals a group of four bodies sitting at the end of my row to the right. The preview sucks so I just glance over. It's a family coming to watch Black Snake Moan. I notice that it's a Momma, a Daddy, and two kids. Not necessarily a big deal until I realize that the older of the two kids is shorter than I am...and I'm sitting low in my chair with my feet on the one in front of me. I think these two little girls couldn't have been older than 11 at the most. Probably more like 8 or 9. Still don't think it's a bad thing? Black Snake Moan is about a (basic plot spoiler!) bluesman in a rural town in Tennessee who tries to help this nymphomaniac overcome her sickness. And they provide plenty of examples of her nymphomania.

Just a little inappropriate for little girls. But I'm not their father.

So the movie starts, and I really enjoyed it. But about halfway through it, someone's phone rings. I've had this happen with my friends before at movies. We always feel a little embarassed that we were too stupid to turn off our ringers. But I realize that this ring is coming from the little family group to my right. (Cue bad but now proven stereotype!) That daddy answers the phone: "Hullo? Yea ******, I'm watchin da movie... Naw, it pretty good... Naw, I can taulk... Fo' real? Shiiiiiiiit."

About that moment I (and everyone else around) hear a real loud thud from that direction. Turns out an old man from another demographic kicked the back of Phone Guy's seat. Phone Guy said this before finally hanging up the phone: "...You know what? I'ma halfta call you back. Some dead fool just kicked my m*****-f***ing seat." He hung up the phone and stood up. I finally got a good look at him as well as the guy behind him. Phone Guy was about five foot four and looked like a basketball with arms and legs. He turned to face the guy behind him who was older and grey headed but kinda skinny. Phone Guy said "you gonna kick my seat, huh? You gonna back it up?"

His old lady made him sit down before Seat Kicker could respond. Then she went to get a manager. The whole time she was gone, I could hear Phone Guy: "M*****-f***er kicked my g-d seat. I'ma whoop his ass." She finally came back with a manager and pointed it out. I couldn't hear them, but I imagine that when she said the part about her man being on the phone and the manager noticed the 11 year old girls in the R movie, she probably mentioned that it was in everyone's best interest that they leave. The only evidence that I have to this is that the woman walked back to the seat, grabber her drink, and dragged her family out of there. The whole way out Phone Guy kept saying "I oughta shoot that damn m*****-f***er!"

We were able to watch the rest of Black Snake Moan in peace. It is a pretty damn good film. And Phone Guy never came back with a gun to shoot anyone. I kept waiting to see if I was going to witness to a hate crime or not, but nothing happened. Needless to say no one was quick to be the first out of the theater.

So what did I learn? That most of society's winners do not go to movie theaters in suburbia. And if someone answers their cell phone in front of you, kick their chair if you want to get shot.

Have a good one and don't get none on ya