We’ve all been there. Minding our own business, wolfing down our Raisinets and gulping down our 50 oz. sodas before the previews even begin. Bladders be damned.  Then the  curtains go up, the lights go down, and you’re left alone in hopes of seeing Olga Kurylenko toting a machine gun and posing in front of an explosion.  (You read it in a review somewhere.)

But no, there are vermin afoot in the theater.  And they have plans against you and Olga, plans that involve loudly smacking Sour Patch Kids or forgetting to turn off their cell phone after the umpteenth on-screen reminder.  They come in a wide variety, but there's one thing in common: nothing would be more satisfying than standing up and dumping your soda all over their head (what's left of it, anyway). 

Like the picture says, why not?

Screenjunkies presents... THE 9 MOST OBNOXIOUS MOVIE WATCHERS!


These unfortunate types often have the distinction of always sitting in the middle of the aisle - usually in the seat right next to you - which forces them to inch past you each time they need to take a piss, thus giving you a constant reminder of the size of their bladders.  On top of that, watching someone go to the bathroom doesn’t help you forget your own urges down there, and soon enough, you're exiting the theatre while cursing yourself for probably missing the scene with Olga.


For Steve and Bertha to be especially annoying, they have to be sitting within a couple of rows of you, and if you’re particularly unlucky a tall person and a big haired freak will have somehow found each other, and, heaven forbid, gone to the movies together!  I do not want to sit in theatre with Steve and Bertha and their kids, staring at their monstrous height or the curly-haired, grotesque fake coiffes.  Nobody should have to see that.


These days, tickets are a good ten bucks a pop, and when you factor in the exorbitant concessions, on a date you’re looking at a good thirty bucks if you go easy on the candy, and hey, you don’t wanna look cheap.  And of course, after all that money spent, what would make more sense for the Lovebirds than to completely ignore what’s going on onscreen so they can flap their lips and tongues together loudly enough to drown out the sound of any explosion that might be happening, maybe behind Olga. And if you’re in a crowded theater and these amorous teens decide to sit next to you, God help you.


Good old Larry here can come in two different varieties, both of them annoying.  On the one hand, you could be lucky enough to just be stuck with him laughing at inappropriate times, sniggering with his buddies at Dr. Manhattan’s wang (okay, maybe a lot of us did that), but if it happens to just not be your day, you’ll get the guy who apparently has never heard a joke before and is discovering laughter for the first time. Though you would love to congratulate this barely homo sapien on his discovery, he won’t give you the chance. He laughs at every single joke like it’s changed his life and perspective on humor, and he goes on heartily and frequently, chuckling to himself in between the outbursts.  Let’s go stuff popcorn down his eternally open gullet.


Unfortunately for you, there are a surprisingly large amount of items available to Nancy for her to spoil the movie by adding her own soundtrack. (AMC ® Silence is Golden.) Let’s start with ammo they make you pay for right in the theatre – food and drink.  Nancy’s smacking teeth masticating away on her Junior Mints, the straw that’s always barely sipping away on a drink, slurping into her giggling throat. Which soon proceeds to cough, because, you see, Nancy has a cold, and has brought plenty of tissue – you know, you’ve counted 37 blows so far, 20 of them coughs, 17 sneezes.  And every time a sneeze erupts, she makes sure to squeak her chair extra loud by rocking back on it. You start praying that Nancy is suffering from some terminal form of strep throat.


Craig’s another one of those beasts that can come in two forms. On the one hand, you have the naïve kind who thinks he should probably let everybody in the theater know what’s coming up, because, you know, he’s figured it out before you.  Or at least he thinks he has – but usually he’s wrong, considering his proclamations come mere seconds before an event’s happening. “Aw, that bitch gonna get killed!”  “Someone’s in there!”  Then there’s the haughty Craig, the one who critiques an event after its occurrence.  In Craig’s mind, the entire theatre is his audience, and he has to let everyone know that the massive explosion that blew Tom Cruise thirty feet was in no physical way possible.  “Yeah, right!”  “Are you serious?”  “Like that could happen!”  He seems to forget that if we’re watching Tom Cruise be a secret agent, we don’t care much about believability.


Little is known of exactly how the Echo’s mind works.  Given that the sound presumably reaches everyone in the theatre, it’s questionable why Echo seems to think that those around him need a play-by-play (by which I mean line-for-line) recount of what the characters are saying and what they’re doing.  Does Echo need to repeat everything he hears so that it registers in his mind?  Does he think he’s truly doing the world a service? Has someone lied to Echo since he was a child, telling him that he’s destined for greatness and that the entire world needs him to repeat things to them, for they are dependent upon Echo’s voice? Well, my heart goes out to him, but in the meantime he needs to get the f**k out of the movie.


TT, as he will heretofore be known, is one of the ultimate banes to roam any movie theatre. Aside from the fact that the mother shouldn’t have brought TT to the movie in the first place, TT’s trademark is that he finds each scene of the movie objectionable to every fiber in his being, and his screams of protest evidence this fact, combined with enough tears to put into a large cup to dump on their parents’s inconsiderate heads. If TT happens to be teething, let’s hope you brought your earplugs.


Cell phones have been around a good ten years or so now, so nobody has any excuses anymore for lack of cell phone etiquette in a theatre. Think about it. You’re told, point blank, by a giant screen about fifty times your size, at least twice to turn off your phone. Of course the Bitch manages to miss this large, loud, reminder, so she is obligated to do nothing more than miss the next few dozen reminders consisting of cell phones clickety-clacketing shut all over the theatre. Then the movie starts, and Bitch’s phone goes off to some Britney Barf-Pop, but wait, Bitch forgot her phone deep in her purse, so there goes the rummaging! A click, you sigh in relief, it’s over – but then the little white light comes on letting you know that “OMG! BeckysBFjustdumpedher AGAINomfg!! Srlsy!” For the cell phone Bitch, this news isn’t enough to leave the theatre with, but, then again, she can’t just turn off the phone – what would Becky say?  Simple solution is to twitter her fingers away at texting, finally putting the phone away before it goes off ten minutes later and Bitch realizes this call is too important to let go to voicemail, so she picks up the phone and starts chattering away. At this point usually someone will either a) fetch an usher, b) tell "CB" to shut up, or c) murder her, but more importantly, silence her cell phone. 

aka MOVIEBUZZREVIEWDUDE. Check out his movie/media/pop culture blog here.

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