Friday night, as some of you may know, was the premiere of "The Simpsons" in theaters across the nation and I, for one, was in line - alone. Now before ya'all put a price on the larger than average head of my husband he was in line at AT&T (the place formerly known as Cingular formerly known as AT&T) getting me a new phone. Funny how when one drops their hot pink Slvr phone on concrete once, dislodging the memory card, and then, soon after, drops the same phone (slippery little cellular, it is!) on the same bit of concrete and knocking out the sim card rendering the phone useless before so artfully wrapping a pony tail holder around the middle, that it is quite necessary to get a new phone. So Harry went to get me a new phone (yippeee) and I stood in line to get primo seats for the first family of cartoon's feature film.
Harry rushes to my side as the line starts to file into the theater and we pick our middle row, middle aisle seats- the perfect place to watch a coveted flick. We settled in and began to watch the previews for the upcoming movies, tv shows, products, the Marines and for the important knowledge of knowing where our projector came from. Twenty minutes later the previews still ran when three kids forced their way down the aisle and plopped next to Harry. I could tell they were nary a day over fourteen and reeked of cigarette smoke.
I saw something out of the corner of my eye. One kid, greasey haired and skinny beyond reason, was flailing his arms and rolling his hands in time to the images that flashed on the screen. Harry looked at me and in the dark I could see the whites of his eyes. He was scared and more than a little pissed.
"Wanna switch me seats?" I offered, knowing that this movie starring Marge, Homer, Lisa, Maggie and Bart was his Holy Grail of flicks. After many chivalrous turndowns, Harry finally hopped over me and sat in the empty seat to my right.
I stared at the kid as he continued to play a game of bad pattycake with himself as Ralph toooted his own horn from the Twentieth Century Fox intro on the big screen. Making hand motions that of a newbie flightdeck hand trying to land a 747, he continued to writhe and I continued to stare, wishing and pleading inwardly with this stinky kid to stop his self-imposed convulsions or be forced to feel the wrath of me and my popcorn weilding left hand.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH THIS KID NEXT TO ME?!" I stagewhispered in a psuedo yell to Harry. "SO WEIRD!" So I'm not the Queen of Tact but c'mon - how in the world was I supposed to watch Homer save Springfield with Marlboro Boy sitting next to me having fits of artistic representation?
Anyway, the movie was great, stinky kid aside!
Well phooey. I tried, AGAIN, to Simpsonize myself and - nothing.
You try: www.simpsonizeme.com and see you if you can get it to work!