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22 June 2005


You know them; everyone does. They call you to ask if you want to go see really good movie that just came out; they loved it so much that they’re going again. Why not? You’ve been meaning to go for what seems like ages. So you invite a couple other friends and make an outing of it, popcorn and all.

You sit through the trailers and advertisements and finally it’s time for the feature presentation. You’ve been waiting for this for a while. The first big scene comes up and you’re really getting excited, wondering how the protagonist will ever find his way out of such imminent peril, when your friend leans over and whispers something in your ear.

Your friend blabs, revealing major plot twists long before they happen, and your entire evening is now ruined.

Why would anyone in their right mind spend six dollars to watch a movie (not to mention another three or four for popcorn) when the person sitting next to them is going to reveal everything right before it happens? It’s not good at all, no matter how you slice it.

First of all, if you’re the blabber, your friend is likely angry with you and you have no idea why. A hint: shut up and watch the movie! No one was blabbing in your ear when you went to see it. Maybe that’s why you loved it so much; you actually had to guess what was going to happen next. What makes you think your friend is going to love the movie if you keep ruining everything?

If you’re the blabbee, you now no longer feel like watching the movie because you spent a decent chunk of change to go see it when you could have gotten the Cliffs Notes version for free. Why did you even go with him, anyway? You knew he was a blabber. At least you could’ve sat somewhere else, not next to him. Now you’re kicking yourself because three hours and ten dollars now seem wasted.

It’s not good for Hollywood either. Blabbees will either order the Cliffs Notes version from their friend and end up not seeing the movie or refuse to take the blabbers with them to the theater. Either way, it’s a lost ticket sale (not to mention the lost concessions revenue).

However, I have a solution! You must have at least one non-blabber who has already seen the movie (and wants to see it again). There are plenty of people like this around; if you can’t find one that you know of, grab one off the streets. Now, when sitting down to watch the movie, seat all blabbers to the left and all those who haven’t seen the movie to the right. Pad the middle with the non-blabber veterans. This way, if a blabber leans over to reveal anything major, it won’t be heard by anyone whose day will be ruined if they hear it.

But wait, it gets better!

Have the blabber buy a big bucket of popcorn for the group (after all, he invited you). But because he’s all the way to the left, he won’t get as much as everyone else.

People in the middle get the bucket as it is passed both ways, but those on the end only get it half as much. Sure, you’re on the other end, but think of it as a worthy sacrifice to help you better enjoy the movie. Besides, the blabber bought the popcorn, not you, so what little popcorn you might happen eat would be free! And all popcorn does is make you thirsty. So the blabber will have already purchased his jumbo soda (which he won’t need), but you will be quite satisfied with your small water. This arrangement actually saves you money!

So, enjoy the movie, whatever it may be. And good luck getting this to actually work!

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12 June 2005

A Little Bit of Luck

Well, my last few posts have somehow been related to hamburgers. With concern that I may be giving my readers pangs of hunger at all hours of the night, I will refrain from mentioning hamburgers in this post. Oops; too late.

Anyways, it’s interesting how sometimes what seems like the worst of luck can actually amount to some good, even if it’s not immediately evident, and even if the good doesn’t even begin to outweigh the bad.

Take last week for example. The transmission in my father’s van conked out, and it needed many dollars worth of repairs. We were down to one vehicle for a good part of the week, which my mother took with her to work in the city. Fortunately, my father works within walking distance of our house and the weather was nice, so transportation wasn’t much of a problem.

Except on Thursday 02 June, I had an after-school activity (gasp!). My father had the day off, but without a vehicle, he could not easily travel the two miles to the school as he usually did to pick me up. So, I started walking.

Walking, walking, walking. It was a rather nice day. But I had an urgent problem: it was becoming increasingly necessary for me to promptly locate a lavatory and utilize it. Walking, walking, walking. Where shall I go? Wherever shall I locate a lavatory, let alone utilize one? I had just started walking and was still quite a distance from home. I didn’t want to turn back to the school, as that would be foolish (not to mention a waste of time). I had to find somewhere on the way home, and I had to find it fast.

No sooner had I thought the aforementioned thoughts than I came up to the community library. I went in, set down my book bag, and asked to use their restroom. I was allowed to do so (thank God!), so I did. When I was finished, one of the librarians asked if I wanted a doughnut.

A doughnut? That’s the last thing I expected to hear when I walked into the library. Apparently, they had had a book sale that day, and were getting ready to close for the evening. They had been handing out Krispy Kreme doughnuts to the patrons.

“Why don’t you take four? We’ve got to get rid of these somehow,” said the second librarian. I certainly had no objections to that; there are exactly four in my family. What a perfect number of doughnuts to stumble upon!

So, they handed me the whole box, which had four doughnuts left, and I walked happily along all the way home.

Later, I ate my doughnut, and it was very good. It was the kind with cinnamon in it, and of course, being a Krispy Kreme, it was delectable, especially after I had put it in the microwave. The creamy goodness of the doughnut was oozing all over my hands and I just had to lick my fingers when I was done.

Oh. I probably shouldn’t have gone on like that about the doughnut; now you’re probably craving one. Oh, well. I don’t really care what you’re craving. It’s not my fault you’re hungry!

The moral is: don’t be afraid of librarians. They’re actually quite friendly. And just remember that a couple thousand dollars worth of vehicle repairs might just be along the same road as a couple dollars worth of free doughnuts.


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02 June 2005


Allow me to take you back to last Friday and put you in the shoes of a friend of mine who works at Wendy’s. Then again, maybe that’s not a good idea, because… well, you’ll figure it out.

It was just an ordinary Friday. My friend walked to work, an ordinary occurrence. It was a cloudy day, and it had been sprinkling earlier, but nothing major (yes, even the weather was ordinary). But the mundane, routine ordinariness was about to end.

On this particular day, upon arriving at his site of employment, he was required to fetch something out of the freezer. But it wasn’t just an ordinary freezer, it was a walk-in freezer (insert dramatic music here). So, what did he do? He walked in. And it must have taken him a while to find what he was looking for or to pull it off the shelf.

This is where the story gets a little fuzzy. You see, I don’t know for what he was in there in the first place. Perhaps it was to get more beef patties. Or maybe they were running low on cheese. Whatever it was, they needed to get it out of the freezer. And it’s not like it really matters what it was anyways; I’m just going off on a tangent like I usually do.

I mentioned earlier that it had rained before this. Well, typically when you walk in the rain, your shoes get a little damp (and this is not another tangent). This is what happened; my friend’s shoes had a bit of water on them.

What happens to water on your shoe when you go into a freezer?

It freezes, and you’re stuck. Apparently, he not only stopped long enough to read the label on the package for which he was searching, but also long enough to allow the water on his shoes to freeze to the freezer floor, essentially sticking him in place.

Now, he didn’t initially notice this. I mean, who would notice a little ice on your shoe when you’re in a freezer? But once he had found his desired item and had it in hand, he went to turn and exit the freezer, and his feet didn’t move.

Most likely thinking, “Hey, it’s only ice,” he used a little more force to try and break free. He did, but he quickly lost control of his balance and fell, face first, onto the floor. Now his arm was stuck to the floor, as well!

I’m assuming here that he called for help, because in a situation like this, you don’t just want to wait for someone to stroll into the freezer hours later and find you, frostbitten, hanging on for dear life (not a pretty sight). Someone must have taken the package from wherever it had landed, helped him up, and knew that he should go to the Emergency Room.

So, he went to the Emergency Room, and he was fine (just a little bruised, I’d imagine). He survived to tell the story.

The moral is: Wipe your feet when you enter a building. That’s what they put those little mats there for, anyway.

Now aren’t you glad I didn’t put you in his shoes?


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