Dy-No-Mite!

Yesterday, I drove down to Oceanside to go see a pre-release screening of Napoleon Dynamite with a friend of mine. He had heard that there was a free screening thing in San Diego so we left his house at like 5:00 figuring it would probably take a half an hour to get there or so. Apparently everybody on the goddamn road didn't know we had a movie to make because they were DRIVING SO FUCKING SLOW! Long story short, we got there at like 6:15, waited in line, only to be told, with about 250 other people, that there wasn't anymore room in the theater. It was weird, though. After this tiny girl came out and told all of us that, nobody moved. It was strange to see 250 people all experience denial at once. They were all kind of looking around, waiting. I think everybody thought that everybody else will leave and then, when there's only like 4 of them left, there will definitely be spots in there for them to see the movie. But, when 250 people share this idea, it doesn't exactly work out as planned. So, my friend and I headed back to his truck.

See, he had a good parking spot at the mall. It was the very first spot in like the third closest row to the mall. This is prime real estate for this mall since the way that the parking is set up sucks. So, he and I stand outside of his car for a while, sitting on the tailgate so people don't think that we're leaving and get excited and pause their car in the middle of the isle. Then, he decides it's better if we go inside his truck and sit down. We had to go when no cars were around so they wouldn't think we were leaving. He's weird. Anyway, so we're sitting there, trying to figure out what to do since it's about 6:30 and traffic will surely suck right now if we try to head out. Then, all of a sudden, he decides that it's the perfect time to straighten out a problem he was having with his cell phone. He calls the cell phone company, talking to them, being put on hold for like 10 minutes while I'm sitting there watching some dorky guy with a way-too-hot-for-him girlfriend frolic inside the mall all excited probably to go wait in line to buy tickets for White Chicks because it looks so hilarious. I fucking hate Marlon Wayans. He's as funny as a baby with cancer.

Anyway, so he's sitting there on his cell phone in the mall parking lot, with me sitting in the passenger seat, a hostage. By the way, he's a big Mexican guy --this comes into play. We've been there for like 15 minutes when a Mall Security Guard rides by on his bicycle. Nothing says authority like Ring! Ring! "Pull Over!" So, we got pulled over going 0. The guy says, "What's going on, guys?" My friend answers while on hold, "Nothing! You?" It's not a good move to backtalk a guy who's already so starved for some sort of power that he's taken to riding a bicycle, wearing a uniform, to exert some sort of authority. My friend starts talking into his phone again, but, apparently, the Security Guard wasn't satisfied with my friend's answer. I decide, so as not to bother my friend by talking across him, I'll get out of the truck and talk to the faux-cop. As I step out, I see that there's another Mall Security bicycle cop on my side of the car. The original cop yells out, "He's getting out of the truck" to his buddy on my side, like I'm some sort of a threat. I think that they're taught in Mall Security Guard school that they have to state the obvious at all times. So, I get out of the truck and explain to the now two guys that we're sitting there because we came to see a movie that we couldn't get into and now we're trying to figure out what to do. Thank God I'm white. They totally bought it and the kids we kidnapped lying in the backseat of his truck wouldn't be saved.

So, all because my friend had to fix his phone at that exact point in time, I had to almost murder two mall cops. We ended up having a romantic dinner at IHOP, getting some Coldstone ice cream, and making sweet-ass love (or sweet ass-love, whatever) back at his house.

Also, yesterday, before I went down there, I decided to get an oil change for the first time in like 8,000 miles. The people at Jiffy Lube didn't like that. When I was paying for it, the guy behind the counter actually lectured me and made me feel guilty. Fuck that guy. Now I'm going 10,000 miles between the next one. Making me feel guilty for ruining my own stuff.

That's a long entry. I applaud anybody who made it through it; I barely did.

Interesting thought of the day:
Shakespeare wrote all of his plays while on ye olde toilet. He had Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

Comment below or, if you're a big ole fraidy cat, you an email me.