Two weirdly theatre-related things happend to me recently: a dream and a regret.

The Dream:

I am sitting in a large theatre just left of the screen with Sharkboy. The theatre is filling up and suddenly there’s a cartoon short playing before the main feature. I love these. I wish they’d bring them back or at least make trailers more like them. Would you not remember a clever short film about a movie better than your usual cookie cutter trailer that starts with “In a world…”? I use the hard-done-by sabertoothed squirrel from Ice Age and Ice Age 2 as an example. Recently Apple Trailers have been releasing the first 5 minutes of certain movies as teasers, which totally rock.

Anyway. In my dream, during the short, people are still milling about and talking in the theatre, ignoring the film. I yell “Get down!” and “SHHH!” a few times but to no avail. I’m getting pissed. Sharkboy is getting pissed. Out of the blue a woman sits next to Sharkboy and hogs his arm rest. With a flourish, he gets up out of his seat and says “If we get seperated, I’ll meet you by the entrance.”

He makes his way through the people wandering in the isles, up the incline to the back of the theatre. Pause. “BLAAAT! BLAAAT! BLAAAT!” The fire alarm has been pulled.

Brilliant. If he can’t see the movie, nobody can. I wake up smiling.

The Regret

During The 40 Year Old Virgin, there was a young couple down and to our right who insisted on talking through the movie. That was sort of ok because they were too far from us to actually bother us. It was the phone call she made during the midway point in the show that got a crowd of people yelling at her. Me included. “Shaddap!” “Sssshhhh!” “Do you mind?!” etc.

She finishes the call and looks over at the couple sitting directly in front of us. “What are you looking at?” she whines, like a 5 year old school yard bully.

“A rather stupid young girl,” the man says.

She remains silent until near the end when she opens her phone again close to the climax (ha!) of the movie and makes like she’s going to make another call. She doesn’t but her blue glow made me miss a couple lines. Damn her.

Now here’s the regret: I worked out in my head that I was going to get up early and run down to management and tell them that there was a couple in the theatre recording the movie, give her description and sit back and watch the fun. “We could clearly see the blue glow from their camcorder!” Given the current sketchiness of theatre managers these days, they would have stopped her on her way out, detained her and checked her purse and *precious* phone. But she left before the movie ended. Dang!

I ate a bug this morning while walking Sharkboy to work.

It flew into my mouth before I knew what was going on and bypassed my tounge and went right into my throat. I could feel it bounce off the back of my epiglottis and instantly I swallowed out of habit. Wiggle. Cough. Swallow. Gone. Over in seconds.

Yeah. Slow blogging day.

The Beeb has announced an “adult, sexy” spinoff of Dr Who to be aired late night after the boozers come back from the pub. Called Torchwood (an anagram of “Doctor Who”), it will showcase Captain Jack, the omnisexual character who gave The Doctor, Rose and The Tardis a big wet kiss last season. The Beeb reports it will take place unabashedly in Cardiff. Just near the moors. And Stonehenge.

(from Slashdot)

At $49,999 it’s a steal! Who cares if it’s a copy!?

Me ‘n the boys decided to check out Hooters before the movie last night. Before you go all Camille Paglia on me, we were vindicated for our bad judgement in restaurant choices by the bill at the end: $35 for two orders of wings, onion rings and pop. I guess we were paying for the view, which was totally lost on us.

When we arrived, I had to use the loo pretty bad. I dump my coat and head over to the mens, avoiding the waitresses doing their best “Windowlicker” poses at me. I do my biz in a stall and as I am zipping up, I turn to find this scrawled in fairly fresh marker:

“TED HEELY SUCKS DICKS IN HELL”

Not the exact spelling of my name, but unsettling none the less. Since I was the first of our group to venture to the john and none in our group were the tagging types and I had not ever set foot in a Hooters before, I sussed that the author probably meant some other Ted.

Briefly I thought maybe my old boss might had done it, since Rogers iMedia old offices were close by but no, that was nearly 4 years ago. I went through my list of paranoid suspects and came up with nothing.

Still that was pretty close.

I go back to the table and the guys are picking out gay people in the bar, including bisexual women dragged to the restaurant by their boyfriends.

Steve Buzcek’s Onyx Ball was, as usual, a bearful place to be for hirsuit and the affectionate who love them. While there was your slightly less than average twink population, the crowd was still diverse and the music wasn’t offensive (MLT contest was still better). A good mix of leather and denim, shirtless and thankfully clothed. The staff at the Opera House genuinely seemed to be happy to be serving you, not like the Government where the droids you hand your money over to don’t thank you for your tip or crack their perfect faces with a smile.

It was your usual decor of balloons and dollar store streamers. The drag show rumoured to start at 1am never happened by the time we left closer to 2am. Will I get a discount on the next ball?

In all, I’d give it a 3 out of 5. Not super, not bad, just familiar. It was satisfying but not a “Ball” in any sense of the word.

I’m skivving off work at the moment. Looking for two-man hammocks (is that homoerotic?) and I find this on the Costco site.

Does the US Army shop there, post-Iraq, end-of-aggressions?

I had to perform the second least favorite part of any manager’s job today: hand out a letter of reprimand. He had it coming though and I was tired of everyone making excuses for his behaviour: “Oh is he working tonight? Glasses will be backed up…better get prepared.” or “Is he on tonight? We’ll be here longer to clean up.” or even the classic comment from the other manager: “You know if he ever calls in sick or wants to change from when I manage, I have no arguement.” Why are we making excuses for this dick? Today he didnt even show up for his shift. He was partying too hard the night before and he knew he had to open the bar at noon. He wound up calling at 2:15pm to apologize. I informed him that he was written up and that we needed to talk face to face, could he come in and see me within the hour? Sure. He swans in at 7pm. Im about to explode. He looks like a hounddog with a thorn in his foot. “There’s nothing I can say!” he says (after he said ‘Im sorry’ of course). I handed him the letter, bitched him out and made him sign it. Bitching him out was threatening him with immediate dismissal if he ever shows up to the bar drunk or stoned like he was last week and that he better consider what his job means to him if he’s going to jeapordize it for himself and the rest of us (he had left out some bottles from the night before as well as skivving off from his shift–effectively putting the bar’s licence on the line if we were ever spot inspected). I could feel my anger rising and I was getting scared. Like Bruce Banner scared. Like “holy shit Im gonna lose it in front of this guy”. The other manager could hear it in my voice. I finished the converstaion with “Get the fuck out of my face.” I think I was harsh but the other manager said I was far too nice. After, a second employee asked if I was ok, to which I said “Im ok. Not too sure about him, though,” meaning the slacker employee. “Oh well then, do you want some mushrooms?” he asked. I nearly lost it. I said calmly, “I have to work tomorrow,” and I walked away. Christ. I dont condone drug use…I condone stupidity and poor choices.

And so it was passed that new images of stupidity and bored fire play were uploaded to this site.

Enjoy!

I’m standing on the subway escalator going up when I’m passed by a 16 yr old school girl: 5’4″, 120, shoulder-blade length blonde hair, white dress shirt playfully not tucked into her ultra-mini plaid skirt.

Ultra mini being an understatement.

When she gets 5 steps ahead of me on the escalator, *woofp* a wind comes along and flips up her skirt.

I see thong. Buried deep within very visible girl parts and ass cheeks.

Not once, but three times her skirt flipped up. Yes. It is a red-pink thong. Yes. She shaves.

I look back to see if anyone else on the escalator can see this. A woman about ten steps behind is not paying attention.

I know now that I am truly gay because it did nothing for me other than make me laugh.