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Rob Zombie's

Saturday, Nov. 02, 2002
I wanted to write a separate entry for everyday this week. It seems that happy days since are picking up; there is something to say about everyday. That's a very good thing. Then again, every time something happens it leaves less time to write about it. And so, my thoughts fade away with every passing day. But let me catch up anyway, and maybe new and interesting ideas will come to me along the way. I brewed a cup of coffee dorm-style, pouring a pan of boiling water through grounds held in a strainer over a cup, just 'cause I wanted the extra kick but didn't want to wait for it. okay...

Last Friday, Oct 25 Sean, Erin and I went out to catch the premiere of Jackass. We picked what was likely to be the least crowded theater downtown, then arrived to find a line around the block. The studios and radio stations were also thinking about the least crowded theater, also one of the smallest, and booked the local premiere party at that very one. The rental car from Knoxville's "Rent-a-Car Crash Durby" was parked out front. Some dirty eight-year-old climbed inside and was in a world of crash durby make-believe. One of the cast is from Portland, Ehren, I think his name is. He was there. DJs from the local alterna-crap radio station were there; some guy named Marconi (clever, eh?) and his afternoon sidekick "Tiny." Guess how much Tiny weighs? Remember those Garbage Pail Kids trading cards? Tiny's face, from his eyebrows to his chin is about the size of my fist. The rest of his head wouldn't fit in a Tie-D-Bowl. But, and don't we know everyone has a big but, he had a really hot chick on his arm. I was wearing sandals. I'll leave the guy alone.

I have a real big problem with paying $8 for a movie in a cineplex. If I go out to catch a movie I go to one of the brew pubs. Laurelhurst moreso than anywhere else. You get the same movie with a pitcher of beer!! And I ain't talkin' bout no plastic kitchen cup. I'm talkin' bout a full pitcher. Three f'ing pints, Chachie! Now that is worth $8 to me. Needless to say, I was less than thrilled about seeing Jackass for full price.

...so I didn't.

Sean went to speak to the manager about allowing us in as a favor. The underground server's network carries heavy advantages with membership. Just in case, I stood in line on the sidewalk. I would eat the ticket for dinner if necessary. Inching forward every few minutes, I watched as the pick-up trucks and beat-up Hondas arrived from the white trash suburbs east of town. As opposed to the white class suburbs west of town. The closer I got to the box office, the less interested I was in watching this movie. Sean finally emerged from the lobby and waived me in. Schweet! Unbeknownst to me, Sean hadn't actually spoken to the manager as we arrived at the ticket checker's position. Erin and I stood around while he darted through the crowd. Everyone around us was wearing backstage badges around their necks. We were obviously not apart of the crowd, although each of us was wearing black. I in my half-trench, Sean in his P-coat and Erin in...something. The trick to sneaking into exclusive events, whether given permission or not, is to look like you belong there. I checked out the staff on the sly. The ticket checker had better things to do with her life. The popcorn girl blushed and giggled when I smiled at her.

Sean returned with no luck. The manager of the theater was no where to be found. Erin was about to begin whining about her boyfriend's perceived lack of determination. "All he does is stand around and wait to be noticed when he should just tap the guy on the shoulder and ask to get in." Erin has never been a member of the underground server's network, although she enjoys many benefits by association. I think her severe lack of subtlety would get her barred from membership.

There were little clusters of "invited guests" and VIPs milling about, each with a "jackass" T-shirt, black knit cap or backstage badge. Couples and trios floated freely in and out of the auditorium. Erin, Sean and I made ourselves one of those trios.

"Hey, do you guys know where the after party is?" Some kid in a black shirt, black knit cap and combat boots. Sean said, "No, I don't think we're going," as if he were too coo- uh, busy to make it that night. I wanted to get in the kid's face and yell, Party time!! Excellent!! I suppose that would have dated me, and gotten us kicked out.

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