To The Girl On The Couch Riding Shotgun: Stop Talking And Pay Attention

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To the Girl On The Couch Riding Shotgun- Stop Talking And Pay Attention

Talking during a movie is a lot like opening your eyes before the preacher says “amen.” It makes you an asshole.

So what if the thing only cost me a buck at Redbox? I stood there in the snow for ten minutes reading shitty synopsis after shitty synopsis with my legs crossed like a fucking fairy boy (something about picking out movies in public confuses my bladder into assuming that it’s time to piss) and I finally picked this one with frozen nuts and a bad attitude.

Oh, and hey Redbox: No, I don’t want to give you my email address. Yes, I’m sure. Stop fucking asking. Also, why does it take more than eight seconds to retrieve my movie? You’re a robot. Be perfect.

Whatever, I have the movie, I made it home, I have the surround sound puckered and primed, and I want nothing more than to dive face first into this feature fucking film. I’m stoked. It’s just me, Bane, and…the old lady.

Sigh. I don’t give two shits about what happened to you today, especially if you say, “Guess what happened to me today?!” No. Just tell me what the fuck happened so it can be quick and painful, you know, or don’t, and I won’t have to pretend I give a damn about the free biscuit you got at Hardee’s, because, “Well, I don’t know why they gave it to me for free, but they did!” Thanks for that. My day has changed for the better, no doubt. Before, life was kind of meh, but after hearing that earth-shattering, holy shit story, things are on the up and up.

Alright, I pressed play, which means exactly this: Shut the fuck up. If I wanted to hear your voice, I would have brought home a karaoke machine or a 5,000-piece puzzle. Another thing: Just because your mouth isn’t making words happen, it doesn’t mean you’re not driving me up the fucking wall.

I understand we’re watching a movie, and I understand that you might want to eat; I get it, people do that. Shit, I do that. But did you really have to go with chips? Listen, I’ve got nothing against chips. If you want a chip, eat a goddamn chip. However, don’t try to be all cute and considerate, taking the time to slowly and carefully shove your entire arm into the bag of Spicy Nacho Doritos so that you barely graze the inner sides of the thing as you try to be as “quiet” as possible so that it takes you fifteen seconds to grab one fucking chip. Now, you’re eating at a four chip per minute clip, as if this brilliant approach to being thoughtful is somehow less annoying than pouring the fucking chips into a bowl — and, for the love of God, stop chewing so loud. Tom Hardy is about to say something awe-inspiring, and I’m not going to hear it because you’re a terrible person.

For the love of Christ, don’t look at me to reciprocate your awe every time Tom Hardy does something awesome. He’s Tom motherfuckin’ Hardy — the man does something awesome every time he does anything. If I wanted to look away from the movie — which I chanced pissing my pants to pick out — every ten seconds to instead look at your stupid face, I would have taken a piss at Target and picked up a fifty-five-inch mirror for us to stare at for a couple of hours.

And holy shit, can you get off your fucking iPhone and stop tweeting about how lame your life is? And not to mention, how dumb you are for believing it isn’t? It’s only worth tweeting about if it’s something groundbreaking or something dumb that you can make fun of, and you’re not funny. Unless your followers are looking for yet another reason to hate Justin Bieber, they’re not missing out. I seriously doubt that anyone is checking for your #HotTakes before they tune in to TMZ.

Your life is about as boring as that puzzle I could have bought, and that’s why we’re watching Batman.

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