Express Ride to Drunkville Guy

Someone's throwing a party, whether it's a close acquaintance or a friend of a friend of a friend. Regardless of who it is, it's a party, and there will be booze and women and fun times to be had. So you meet up with a friend or two and head over there to partake in the festivities. But within 5 minutes of walking through the doorway and saying hi to everyone there, you turn to see your friend has already chugged a beer and is hard at work on his second. Ladies and gentlemen, this man is on an express ride to drunkville.

Everyone has that friend. Whoever it was that passed on the laws of manhood decided it was a good idea to tell him to get as drunk as possible, as quickly as possible. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not some sort of anti-liquor nazi, demanding that everyone stick to Zimas and Mike's Hard Lemonades with a side of castration. It's a well known fact that I like to get drunk and there are countless embarrassing stories that prove this. But the fact is that there's a time and a place to get completely fucked up, and that's the only time it should happen.

Let's say there's about 10-15 of you meeting up to watch football, either college or pro. You're basically in it for the long haul, as games usually run from 1pm to about 11pm, and that's with no overtime. Now, if Drunkville Guy immediately starts throwing back everything with a warning label for pregnant women, he's gonna find himself cradling the toilet bowl and heaving up those nachos(or pine-sol) he ate.

Normally, if someone is making an ass of themselves, then they're on their own. You take photos, crack jokes, then carry on about your business. But if said person came to the party with you, then you two are linked. To anyone there that doesn't know you, you will be known as "the guy that brought the drunk asshole". And if you were planning on talking to any women or getting some numbers? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's not gonna happen. It's like having a good wingman. You know that there might be times when he needs to drink to take one for the team, but he still knows that control is key. If he's not sober and coherent enough to keep up his end of the bargain, then neither of you will be making some lucky woman swear off drinking the next morning. You'd probably make less of a negative impression if you took a shit in the host's fish tank.

While it's unfair that you should be held responsible for the actions of others, the sad truth of it is that those are the rules. Women travel in packs, and trying to pull one away is like taking a grizzly cub from its mother. They'll do and say anything to keep that one girl from going off with you, and having Drunky McBoozenstein on his knees proposing to a bar stool is just the ammunition they need. Teach the lesser ones amongst you, because you both will benefit from a well executed gameplan. Not that there aren't times where drinking yourself into oblivion is the right call to make.

That indecisive fast food guy

Ah yes, another guy who I'm sure all of us are familiar with. I'm sure in our moments of weakness, hunger, self loathing, boredom or other motivation to dine at one of the many wonderful fast food restaurants. They're not hard to find, they dot our landscape like monoliths of diabetes and obesity, promising supreme value over caloric intake. In these troubling times of economic instability, it is nice to know that we can all retreat into our fast food hovel of choice and satiate that masochistic desire to swallow a deep fried something, covered in other greasy somethings all topped off with a sauce biologically designed to clog our arteries. But we all have our favorite sandwiches be it the triple bypass burger, the McFried special or a Jr. Lardo soft serve shake. Either way, we all know what we want. Even further still, we know what all of the items are on that colorful, greasy menu. They're all variations on the same basic thing, simple yes? That is why that guy's existence boggles my mind.

That guy is the one who stands in line in front of you. He does not let us experienced artery cloggers walk past him, he holds his position firmly, staring up at the vertical menu, studying it with all the intricacies of a lost and priceless manuscript. He stands there, unmoving, mesmerized by the combos, enticed by the wonderful looking cyclopean mounds of meat and rendered animal fats, immobile. No one shall pass him, no one must receive their ambrosia before he sups on the delicious flavors served on his wax paper in its magnificent paper bag presentation.

Listen that guy, you have clearly been in this place before. You and your several chins look like a row of giant slugs hanging upside down from a big sack of fat. And judging by his slight gravitational pull, that guy is most certainly familiar if not eerily intimate with the foods at this wonderful establishment. Yet despite his corpulence and being the embodiment of every single "Yo mamma so fat..." joke, he still can't make up his mind.

The time it should take one to decide as to what unhealthy dessicated disgusting dirty delicacies should be half a second. By the time you walk in those doors and that horrid scent of fried souls hits you, you should already know what you want (and already salivating in line). You don't saunter in to a fast food place and read the menu like A Tale of Two Cities. There are no best or worst of times. There is a fucking burger and fries. Pick one and let the rest of us get on with our descent into diabetic obesity. This is not a fancy restaurant, there is no maitre'd, no table cloths, hell there isn't a bathroom half the time. The menu is not hard illegible and you don't even have to be literate. Just point to your mountain of calories and get on with it.

That guy slows me down and should die a horrible painful death involving the deep fat fryer and his genitals. Every second he takes to choose between the ultra mega deluxe combo platter or the chicken mcdiahrrea is another second that makes me reconsider my actions. He is the person who wants to skydive but is too scared to jump himself. Perhaps next time he should bring with him a starving Ethiopian child so they can order in tandem. Make up your mind that guy, before I supersize the foot that I am going to plant in the fold on your backside that I think is your ass.

Out Of His Element Guy

"Shut the fuck up Donny, you're out of your element!"

Out Of His Element Guy. Unlike some of the other guys we've featured on this blog, this dude isn't nearly as specific and can be found almost anywhere. The simple definition is Out Of His Element Guy is in his name; he's out of his element. I'm not talking about someone similar to the Out Of Place Guy from concerts, he just sticks out from the crowd visually. No, this is the guy who believes he's the authority of everything, even if he's been doing _____ for 4 weeks and you've been doing _____ for 7 years. It never fails, whenever you find yourself hanging out with friends discussing any topic, whether it's sports, books, politics, gardening, or the tangiest mustard, he's always going to politely share his opinion. And by that I mean obnoxiously interrupt someone and open with some line like "Well my father was a legendary cat shaver..." which he thinks gives him more knowledge than anyone else.

There are two breeds of this guy, one is the how-to, and the other is the critic. The how-to shows his face whenever there's something to be done, or a problem to be solved. Hear a rattling sound in your dashboard? How-To used to pay an ex-mechanic to buy him booze, so he knows the problem and solution. Trying to think of a way to makeup with your girlfriend after a fight? How-To's read all 40 volumes of the manual on dating, despite the fact that he's been single for as long as you've known him. From setting up your HDTV to time travel, he's got the answer you seek, and it's a shame that such a powerful mind isn't being put to work by science. If the world ever comes to an end, I'm certain that somewhere in his room there lies a napkin with a formula that could have prevented it, if only we had listened.

The Critic is the guy I find myself dealing with(and as a result, completely loathing) most of all. He is an authority on all things, and his judgement is not to be questioned. Say for example you're discussing sports, and The Critic expresses his dislike of football, which is just "a bunch of guys hitting each other, something that requires no intelligence or strategy at all". Of course The Critic doesn't even follow sports, and if he truly believes that, I know a few coaches with some 600-page playbooks they'd like to show him.

My favorite one of all is the music critic. As I've stated before, I listen to alot of heavy metal, leaning towards the more extreme stuff. I understand that to most people, it's simply too abrasive, and that's fine. But along comes the Critic, who states that the reason he dislikes metal is because "it doesn't take any talent, it's just playing random notes as fast as you can and gurgling into a microphone". Meanwhile, he loves U2 and Fallout Boy and thinks that Kurt Cobain is the world's greatest guitarist. Oh, and he's also never touched a musical instrument in his life. There are many generalizations made about heavy metal music(it's all satanic, it's all noise, etc), but for someone to actually state that it's a talentless genre is one of the most ridiculous statements a person can make. Obviously, if he's around people that don't know any better, they'll simply take his word for it. But saying such things in the presence of a person that actually knows what they're talking about is one of the fastest ways to have yourself branded a moron.

Now, I don't know why this guy exists. I don't know what the reason is that makes him feel he's justified in pretending to be an expert in things he knows nothing about. But in the end, absolutely no good can come from it. I don't care what your college roommate's dealer's cousin's friend said about upgrading a computer, if I want advice I'll ask someone that actually knows what they're talking about. So until a question is posed directly at you, shut the fuck up Donny; you're out of your element.

That Stationary Escalator Guy

Today's that guy is someone near and dear to my heart. And by that I mean, choking him so I could feel his last breath leave his body as he slowly turns blue still unaware of his idiotic actions. No, this update's that guy is a plague on society, you too may be that guy. Who is it? It's the Stationary Escalator Guy.

I'm sure you've seen this guy around, hell you might even be this guy. They might travel in herds or stalk the streets alone. Either way, they need to be wedged between the wheel and axle of a tractor trailer driving over a highway made of broken glass. On fire. That guy pisses me off for many reasons... and so I'll list them.

First and foremost, that guy never just walks somewhere. He powerwalks. I'm sure you have all noticed this. His pace is just a little faster than his pace should be given his size. So this obviously means he's in a rush somewhere. In some occasions that guy is even running somewhere. However like everyone else of his tribe, as soon as he gets to this magical moving staircase he stops. He plants both feet firmly on the step, sometimes if he feels adventurous, he puts one foot up on the next step or the one after that, perhaps to give the illusion of movement. Hmm, perhaps the people walking by on the stairs are thinking he is an amazing human being for walking so smoothly up those metal stairs with rubber handrails. His rush and speed are gone as he has become a mannequin; immobile and useless. However as soon as he gets to the end of his little stationary thrill ride, he runs off like a man with an imminent bowel explosion looming over him.

Another thing that I notice about that guy is how much of a trance he gets when he steps up to the escalator. As soon as his feet are planted on those winding stairs, he suddenly stops anything and everything he is doing and looks up, mesmerized by the coming horizon of the next level, be it lower or higher to his relative position. However if this person is on the phone, they either talk 90 degrees to their left, their right or if going upstairs, directly into the ass of the person above them. I'm sorry that guy, but if you think an escalator is magical, then I have a magic disease for you called cancer, why don't you get mesmerized by a tumor slowly growing inside you until you die and GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY.

You see, the fact that guy seems to forget with escalators are that they are still fucking stairs. If an escalator breaks, do you try to find another working one? No! You walk right up them, and even slightly stumble awkwardly over those first few midget steps. Despite there usually being a staircase in the middle of escalators, we all go up the escalator regardless. We walk up them, like a normal staircase. Is there something that tells us that if we're making progress, we shouldn't make any MORE progress? Thank you that guy, for striving for mediocrity.

What pisses me off the most about that guy on the escalator however, is how he gets in my way. Listen that guy, you may have hoards of followers and annoying evil creatures that do your bidding, like a lazy unmoving non charismatic cult leader, but I am not one of your kind. If on an escalator, I use them for their purpose. As an intermediary between points A and B. An escalator is not a means of conveyance, it is a moving staircase, but that does NOT excuse you from not moving. Have we as a society progressed to the point where if we are getting too much done, we feel bad? God forbid we make more progress than what the almighty escalator dictates, but it shouldn't have to hamper me! I am not one of your kin, give me the choice! I'm sure you have been an unfortunate victim of their initiation rituals. Normal you, walking up the stairs, going side to side, ignoring that guy, continuing on our path up the stairs. Then it happens, your path to the left is blocked by that guy and the path around him is blocked by his friend/family/fellow cultist that guy 2. Therefore you are trapped, unable to move, blocked by that guy, forced to take part in their ridiculous sedentary lifestyle for those agonizing few seconds. Just when you feel your humanity drain away, you finally reach the end, but not before needing a shower and a genocide on their kind.

The solution to this problem is simple. Next time someone stands in our way at an escalator, let us kick them behind their kneecaps. This will cause them to tumble down the stairs, cutting themselves on the jagged ridges of an escalator as they topple people over and impale more and more of their kin, like bloody lemmings trapped in a cage on a treadmill. And with some luck, some of them will be paralyzed. If you want to get from point A to point B not moving, then so be it. I will make your legs not work so you won't be able to ever again. And then escalators shall be free for us, the ones that WALK on stairs, not stand on them.

Special Edition: That Concert Guy

Last Friday I went to Worcester to catch the almighty Carcass on their reunion tour(amazing, amazing show). The lineup was surprisingly solid, since most shows in this area consist of one or two good metal bands, and then some crappy hardcore or metalcore support. But as awesome as a concert might be, there are always those certain people in the crowd that seem to exist for no purpose but to drive your blood pressure up the wall. So today I'm gonna spotlight the various people that you do not want to be at a concert.


1. Personal Mosh Pit Guy
Now if you've ever been to a concert at a decent sized venue, you know that crowds can vary in size. Early on, while the opening band is playing, the audience is just walking around, passing time, and most people aren't even there yet. But by the time the headliner is performing, practically everyone is on the floor, pushing towards the stage, and people are packed in tighter than a japanese subway. It's uncomfortable, but that's just the way it goes at concerts, so you deal with it. Well, most deal with it. Personal Mosh Pit Guy is apparently unable to contain his enthusiasm, and decides that right then and there, shoulder to shoulder with everyone around him, he has to mosh. Not headbang, not pump his fist and throw the horns, but full on, pushing everyone in all directions mosh. And it's not some claustrophobic freakout, as if he's trying to make some space. He'll just keep going and pushing and shoving, rocking out to the music, completely oblivious to the increasingly pissed off crowd around him. Why he feels this need, no one knows. But I'd be lying if I said metalheads weren't prone to aggression and violence, and guys like this are just throwing gas on the fire.

2. The Bill Withers Fan
Why Bill Withers? Because this guy always seems to lean on me. I'm just standing around, watching the band perform and getting into it, when I feel someone push into my back. It's fine, I have my back to the mosh pit, it's to be expected. People bump you, and then go off in some other random direction, nothing new. Except this guy doesn't go off in another direction. I turn around, wondering if he lost his balance or something, but no. He's merely using me as a wall to lean on while he plays the sickest air guitar solo ever. Nevermind the fact that playing air guitar in the pit is retarded, but he apparently looks at me and sees "post to lean on". I guess when there's that much metal coming out of your air Les Paul, you don't have the energy to stand on your own. So of course I elbowed him off of me. Did he fall or something? Damned if I know, I'm just a wall.

3. The Eager Student
My friend Bob pointed this one out to me, it's a variation on the traditional spin-kick, punch-the-floor hardcore kid. Seeing as how flailing around like a kung fu student having a seizure doesn't seem to show people how much of a failure you are, these guys decide to wear a backpack at the same time. Filled with textbooks. I understand, the show was earlier than usual(5pm), maybe you didn't have time to drop your bag off at home. But if you have a bag full of textbooks, please, there is no fucking reason for you to go into the pit. It's already hazardous enough with the spin kicks, the last thing someone needs is to have your Calculus textbook break their nose. If you've got a bag, stay out of the pit.

4. Out of Place Guy(idea by Paulina)
You know the out of place guy, he's a hard dude to miss. No matter whether it's a metal show, some frat-boy soft rock, or what. I'm not saying that concerts should have dress codes, but come on. If someone is attending a Nile concert(brutal death metal for those that don't know), and you've got all the usual suspects there(guy wearing all black, guy wearing all black and a denim vest, guy wearing black nazi shirt, etc), and then you see him. Big dude, long hair, moshing in the pit with everyone else.....wearing a tie-dye shirt. Nothin against the guy personally, because he seems to be into the music as much as everyone else...but he just looks out of place. Like maybe he took a wrong turn somewhere, but he's a really laid back dude. So he just said "Fuck it, I'll stay here". It's like being arrested by a cop in bicycle shorts and a hawaiian shirt, it just makes for a very confusing situation.

5. The Classic: Sweaty, Shirtless Fat Guy
One of the most common, but worst guys to ever have to encounter. There isn't much to say about him, the name pretty much sums him up. I understand it gets hot at concerts, especially as more and more people pile into the venue. But once you lose the shirt, you're crossing a line. You think Personal Mosh Pit Guy and The Bill Withers Fan are annoying as is? Imagine them both as fat sweaty shirtless guys. My friend Liz was surrounded by sweaty clothed guys, and her vest was completely and utterly covered in sweat. Imagine what it would have been like if they had been shirtless, with no added protection between flesh and you. It's cruel, and all it takes is one guy to lose his balance moshing, and slam his sweaty manboob into the side of your face to completely ruin the concert experience.

I hope this guide can help you during your concert experiences. With hard work, we can eliminate these guys from all venues and make them all safer places for you and me.

That jinxing guy

Back in the day, Bro-ses went up to the mountain to seek guidance, and ask what was the path that men should follow in the world. He came down with a list of commandments, hastily scrawled on a taco bell napkin. Few know it, but this napkin has outlined basic tasks that all men are responsible for. For example, Commandment IV states that "Ye Shall Never Let Thy Friend Forget That He Hath Plowed A Fatty", and Commandment IX is "If Thine Drinking Is Ever Questioned, Thou Must Engage In A Drink-Off, Or Thy Manhood Will Be Revoked". The simplest and most basic one merely states that "Thou Must Always, always, ALWAYS Giveth Shit To Thine Friends, Without Fail". And this is the one that usually separates the men from the boys. If your friend manages to utterly annihilate you with a burn, will you get pissed and demand he apologizes? Or will you counter him with such force that his entire family loses consciousness? It's your duty to never surrender, even if it means reminding him about when he pissed his pants in the second grade. No mercy, guys.

There are countless methods of shit-talking employed between friends. There's the classic "Your mom/aunt/sister/grandma/other female relative", the questioning of one's sexuality, and of course the implication that one likes to get fucked by wild horses. But one that few use is the power of the jinx. The jinx is unpopular because it's not an every-situation response, but if used in the proper setting, it can devastate like nothing else. One scenario is as follows: You and your friend are out somewhere, when he sees a girl he wants to ask out. He's just blabbing on and on about her positives. So you throw out a casual "Haha, I bet she used to be a man. Look at those hands, they're huge." And of course, you look at her, and she looks like a woman, because she is one. But those hands are kinda big. So now your infatuation has turned into hesitation and doubt. The entire time you're talking to her, you're staring at her tits, but only to see if they're implants. Practically boring a hole in her neck with your eyes, looking for the slightest hint of an adam's apple. Basically, there's no way to save the situation. Either your friend is right, and the jinx has come to pass, or he's wrong, but the seed of doubt has become planted to far in your head to salvage this.

Playing poker? "You're totally gonna lose all your money tonight". Going to a party? "You're gonna puke tonight and make an ass of yourself". The jinx can and will show up anywhere. Of course, 9 times out of 10, it doesn't come to pass. But the one time that it does can be the deadliest of all. Say for example, someone that shall go unnamed(but writes for this blog and isn't named OD) spends the entire NFL offseason reminding you about 18-1 at every opportunity possible, and says something along the lines of "They've been good for too long, you know it's gotta end now. Watch, he's(referring to Tom Brady) gonna get injured in his first game". And I tell him to shut the fuck up of course, because the guy's never missed a game. But in the back of my head, I know that the jinx has been summoned. The wheel of fate is turning, deciding if this one shall come to pass, or be left to die. I'd all but forgotten about this jinx, and was enjoying the Patriots home opener at a bar when tragedy struck.

Yea, fucking with your friends and giving them shit is fun. But if there's any lesson you take away from this blog, DON'T BE THAT JINXING GUY. All it takes is one motherfucker going in low after your quarterback to teach you that the jinxing gods do not fuck around. If you keep calling them out, making jinx after jinx, eventually one of them will come to pass. Not to mention, if you jinx me, and it comes true, I will devote my life to jinxing the ever loving hell out of your life. I'm getting voodoo dolls and everything. So for your own safety, to avoid the wrath of the jinxed, don't be that guy.

That loud annoying cell phone guy

Just in case you guys didn't know, That Guy is an interactive blog. If you have anyone you would like for us to rant about, by all means send it forth. We are a bunch of lazy writers who miss deadlines and we are more than happy to make your grievances our own. That Guy is universal and chances are if he annoys you, he annoys the rest of us.

This week's That Guy is that loud annoying cell phone guy. I'm sure you've seen him around. He is the person that doesn't quite understand how a cell phone works. Oh sure he knows what all the buttons do and texts like a hyper 14 year old talking about boys or pregnancy pacts, but he does not seem to know how to use this piece of mobile technology.

First off, that guy doesn't seem to understand that a cell phone is a phone, not a deaf retarded child. I have seen that guy with bluetooth headsets or a phone shoved up against their face, screaming into the mic. No matter how frantically you scream into the mic, they are not there next to you. What is the point of you yelling at someone. I know you're trying to add emphasis to your conversation, but listen that guy, the only emphasis you're adding is to my thoughts of how big of a douchebag you are. And so far you get a C, which is impressive because it is on a scale from 1-10. He traversered the known numbers and ended up 3 past the end of infinity. I don't care how "Dat bitch was totally suckin [my] dick the other night and how 'tits'" it was. No amount of titosity can merit you screaming into your cell phone like a Howler monkey in heat.

The next thing that bugs the fuck out of me about that guy is the fact that he gestures when he is on the phone. I'm not sure they told you this at the store, but this isn't the Jetsons that guy. We do not have videophones yet. Therefore you pointing to the left and right when giving directions does absolutely nothing. You are not talking to a deaf child next to you, but you can assume they're blind. They flail their arms, point and gesture like a disco dancer doused in gasoline and set on fire. The only thing your arm flails are doing is pissing me and the rest of humanity off.

And then we have these cell braggers. You know the ones. This version of that guy is fairly hard to find, but when you do, watch out. His douche levels are critical. Being around him is a health hazard, it's like being in Chernobyl with no Russians but twice the radiation. That guy uses his phone to brag to no one in particular, to impress the people around him by talking about his newly found accomplishments, money, cars or just how overly awesome he is. Congratulations that guy, you have proved that mid 1990s comedians have said about you. In the mid 1990s, observational humor was at its infancy with jokes such as "Black people walk like this, but white people walk like this deedeedeedeedee." The humor was funny at the time but had no sense of reality. Now in this dark age of comedy, they said people who used cell phones were full of themselves, talking to no one and was using it as a way to differentiate and elevate themselves above the rest of the social strata. Thank you for proving the stereotype that guy. Why don't you go eat some watermelons, be greedy and fly planes into tall buildings. No, in fact why don't you just do the last thing. Except change fly planes into kill, and into tall buildings into yourself. Do it with a potato peeler, and just keep peeling flesh off your forearm until you die. Do us all a favor and do it. Your phone does not make you more or less liked.

We all use cell phones, we all talk to our friends, and yes sometimes we are loud. But that guy takes it to a whole other level. He transcends levels of rage to the point where putting him in a gaint washing machine with half of South Africa and a million razor blades then running him down a cheesegrater slide into a kiddie pool of lemon juice isn't enough. Technology brings us all one step forward, but in the case of that guy, it's one giant leap for pissing me the fuck off.

That lonely socially awkward coworker guy

To those of you who have ever worked at an office, retail or food service establishment, you are most likely familiar with this guy. This creature brings forth feelings of pity rather than hatred. But in a way you feel when a starving, skinny Boston Terrier tries to attack your leg in hopes of getting some sustenance from it. It's annoying and painful, but you can't help feel sorry for this poor misshapen beast.

What is that guy like? That guy is the very quiet person at his desk who doesn't quite know how to talk to people. That guy can never start a conversation but when you have to talk to that guy, either work related or out of sheer soul-crushing mind numbing boredom and need some distraction, he pounces on your company like a mountain lion on a rabbit.

That guy never has anything interesting to say, nor does he go anywhere with the conversation. However every word that comes out of his mouth is spoken with such zeal in hopes to keep you around for a while that it's almost mesmerizing in a way. You don't care about that guy or what he has to say at all, but to see someone so desperate for human companionship that they would stoop to this inhuman level of fake conversation is just mind boggling. It's like watching a car crash in slow motion while you're eyes are locked with the driver. You can see the car crumple like a soda can and see the force travel through his body, snapping his bones yet just can't look away.

That guy also can't take a hint of how disinterested or bored you are. No matter how you stand, look down the hall, hint at going back to your desk or something else to keep you away from this gravitational well of depressing social monstrosity, he continues to ramble on and on. That guy will either talk about a show and at the end of his rant that would put a movie pitch to shame, he'll say something along the lines of "but it's not that good" or "it's just ok". That sure is one hell of a mixed message that guy, for verbally lashing me in place as you ranted about a magnet engine you saw at youtube and how hydrogen is now obsolete, that it all ends up being not all that interesting.

I believe that guy feeds off of attention and body warmth. My theory is that guy's family hates him. Therefore he needs to suck the attention from someone, as a surrogate mother of sorts. Listen that guy, just because I work with you, does not mean I am going to allow you to suckle on my attention giving teat. Leave me alone.

Yet in all of my dealings and interactions with that guy, I can't quite bring myself to say anything to him. He really is just like a lost, hungry, sad little puppy who is talking to you out of sheer, desperate, crippling desperation. This will be his last chance to see a human close up before he retreats to his studio apartment, sits on the couch and waits another boring, slow, miserable night for Death to come by so he finally has a house guest. I can't hurt him... until I think of the best way to do it. Then I'll have me a laugh. I hate you that guy, shut up about your godamn magnets.

That obnoxious overenthusiastic movie guy

I like to go to the movies. And I'm sure as the previews end you get your own theater's annoying way of telling you "Silence is Golden" or shut off your cell phone, or in a polite and nice way to shut the fuck up. I'm sure this all slightly annoys you because in these ads the treble is just a bit high and the pitch of the cell phone playing or child crying is just at the right frequency to turn on the rage centers of your brain and makes you want to make something suffer. Therefore that guy annoys me greatly.

In case you are not familiar with that guy, he is the one that decides every tense, funny, scary, suspenseful, romantic, buildup; climaxing moment is the height of cinematic achievement and behaves in turn. It's like the writers of the movie have a gun pulled to his head and unless he shows as much possible emotion for every single plot point, joke etc, they will shoot him and disembowel his children with melonballers.

If you are lucky that guy is only going to be obnoxious when the entire theater laughs or gasps. However that guy will continue to react at every small minor moment or continue to discuss and rave about the moment that has passed several minutes ago. Perhaps that guy is a mental invalid who continually finds things as interesting and novel as when they are first perceived. Similar to watching Roseanne for the first time. It only mildly sucks the first time you see it, but with each subsequent time it’s on TV you dive for the remote and change the channel faster than a Kenyan Marathon runner being chased by a hungry lion. What exactly is the point to that guy’s reaction? Was it really that funny that he is still laughing at some guy being kicked in the balls for 5 minutes? News flash that guy, it is all movie magic. I have seen my friends and real people get kicked in the balls, it is funny for 15, maybe 30 seconds tops. A minute (and that’s the upper limit) if you really despise the person. Anything more and you’re bordering on finding shiny objects amusing.

Another thing I’ve noticed about that guy is that he seems to add little quips and jokes or worse still, one liners to the movie. I have analyzed this behavior and realize it benefits no one except that guy. It is his way of saying “Hey, I am so clever I have made an astute observation to make your enjoyment of the movie better.” No you haven’t that guy, no you haven’t. I know for a fact no one else in the theater is enjoying his golden nuggets of comedic or observational genius. The rest of us are in a movie theater to watch a movie. Even the people/person who accompanies that guy look annoyed and scowls as they try to block out his voice from their ears. Unlike us, that guy’s cohorts have learned to put up a vocal filter so as to tune him out. They can just act like he’s not there, like parents do when a child cries in a restaurant. The rest of us want to introduce this child’s mind to the front and back of its skull several dozen times in a minute, while the parents calmly look at each other and talk, ignoring this vile spawn which screamed its way out of its mothers now useless orifice.

When the movie starts to darken and the end credits start to roll, he stands up and gives a standing ovation in a loud and obnoxious manner. Now some of you may do this, but what bugs me about that guy is that he doesn’t just do it at opening week; he doesn’t just do it at a premiere. He does it all the time. It could be him with 3 of his acquaintances (I don’t like humanizing that guy by saying it has friends) and he’ll still be up there, clapping, sometimes hollering, like a hungry seal trying to get a fish. The writers, producers or anyone in the movie isn’t there to appreciate you’re clapping you waste of resources, stop clapping.

However, despite his obvious love and enthusiasm for the movie, he has to be the first one out of the theater. As soon as the lights even start to get brighter, he jumps up from his seat and runs for the exit, shoving other people over in a mad dash towards freedom. He runs out of the theater like a bat out of hell, and not unlike the Meatloaf CDs, annoying as all fucking hell.

So in summation, that guy ruins my movie experience. I don’t expect a quiet audience; I don’t expect you to be calm. You’re out with your friends, it’s a movie, it's funny. You can laugh, you can talk with your friends and yes, sometimes it’s even acceptable to clap. But when you do these things in excess, you become that guy, and trust me; you don’t want to be that guy.