Thursday, August 14, 2008


As some of you are probably aware, I tend to go to the movies by myself relatively often. The reason for this is that for one, watching a movie is not really a social activity. I'm watching something on a screen in the dark; aside from getting a handjob (hasn't happened yet, but I can dream), there's not much interacting that would be worthwhile. The second is that I tend to decide that I want to see a movie at random times and that usually means I can't get people organized to go see it, so I just go.

However, earlier this week, I veered away from my usual movie-going procedure and decided to go with some friends to see Pineapple Express. We made an evening out of it, starting off by going to Austin's Grille in Rockville. This seemed like a good idea, as we got some drinks before the movie as well, but what I didn't plan for was the effect alcohol would have on my friend Amber.

Before I go on, let me just say that Amber is actually one of my closest female friends, and the craziness that she gets into on a regular basis rivals even some of my best stories...which is one reason why I like hanging out with her. And here's a taste:

Amber is about 5'1" and weighs about 85 lbs. She also hasn't drank alcohol in almost 9 months, after she developed a liver problem or something like that. I had been to the movies with Amber once before, when she, Jon, Jaclyn and I saw 300. It was crowded that day, so we actually sat in two separate rows. We also didn't have drinks beforehand and it was not a comedy...a comedy that Amber had already seen.

And this is where I learned the tragic flaw of going to the movies with Amber. While I'm trying to watch the movie (which is hilarious BTW...Rosie Perez gets punched with a flying uppercut...need I say more), Amber is randomly talking about other stuff that we all should do, she informs me when "a really funny part" is coming up, she places her bottle cap (she smuggled in beer in a juice bottle) on my head and calls it a kippot (in response to John Franco referring to his grandma as Bubbi, and my being jewish) and yells at me when I take it off my head. Then she places it on my crotch and calls it a "pee pee kippot." Oh, yes, she did.

On the positive side, I would imagine over half of the people in the theater are high, so they're not disturbed by all her talking, but Eric is sitting at the end of the row, trying to distance himself as much as possible while I endure the play-by-play. I swear it was like being at a theater in Landover.

Thankfully, Amber gets up at one point (and by one point, I mean three times) and when she comes back, she decides to sit next to Eric's co-worker instead.

When the movie is finally over and we all exit the theater, she suggests we sneak into another theater to watch something else. Thankfully, everyone else is opposed to this, so we head out. However, Amber doesn't want to walk to the car...she wants a piggy back ride!? Yeah, you can't make this stuff up.

Despite the great humor that this story provided, I think I'll stick to going to the movies by myself.

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