If there were eleven commandments in the bible, the eleventh would most certainly be:

Thou shalt not talk in movie theatres.

I am not saying that people should refrain from that pre-screening banter, you know, the kind that distracts you from the steady stream of unwanted ads assaulting your eyes. Nor even from making amusing jokes at the often painfully bad trailers that precede the feature. I am talking about, specifically, those ignorant fucks that think there is absolutely nothing wrong with sitting in a crowded movie theatre and chatting through the entire film. Listen up folks, if I wanted a running narrative of opinions, I would buy the DVD and watch the director's commentary.

I went to a Tuesday cheap night screening this week. For the record we saw Secret Window, an ultimately forgettable film but still a film I paid money to view nonetheless. That said, you can only imagine my ire when I discover that sitting directly behind me are two hens. Now I am not the type of woman who goes around calling other women hens, but seriously if I had to sum up these two insipid birds in one word, it would be and still remains: hens. I got the feeling we were in trouble when their dialogue started just three shots into the film, soon they were aww'ing every time there was a shot of the dog and gasping over every single thing any character in the film did no matter how insubstantial. My head began to ache and we weren't even ten minutes into the picture. If the aww'ing and gasping wasn't enough, we also were treated to several wonderfully enlightening discussions like "oh I knew that was going to happen and look at Johnny Depp's hair it's a mess! He really should brush it." Never mind brush it, he needs to cut, wash and brush it. ARRRRRGGGG!!! Feel me seethe in quiet rage. Like my companion for the evening said during our walk home: The character is a writer. Not just a writer but a writer whose wife cheated on him, who's going through a messy divorce and is slowly descending into insanity. It's not like he is going to be giving half a shit about his hair. Geez, ladies, ever heard of acting?

Since I personally believe in the commandment:

Thou shalt not bitch-slap the annoying people sitting behind you in the movie theatre.

It was time to take action, albeit a lower key kind of action, I turned around in my seat and did that "SHHHH!" thing. I mean seriously, enough is enough, I paid to see a movie, not listen to your fucking useless conversation.

The noisy woman looks at me with disgust and says, "I can whisper quietly if I want. If you don‚t like it, change seats!"

I reply in my best don't-fuck-with-me-bitch tone, "It isn't whispering quietly‚ if I can make out EVERY word of your conversation!"

Seriously, some people's children - it's as if there is an entire cultural demographic out there that was raised in barns and filthy cardboard boxes. No manners for miles to be seen, completely ignorant to any sort of behaviour that could even remotely be considered polite.

I didn't take this any further with her. I am not a violent person and I don't believe in using violence to solve disputes but I do have a temper on me and blatant fucking disrespect and rudeness is one of the few things that can cause it to erupt without warning. Thus, I whipped back around in my seat, seething so bad it hurt and attempted to "suspend my disbelief" enough to watch the rest of the flick, leaning forward, as far away from their incessant audible noises as possible.

You see, you are wrong by insinuating that your whispering is my problem. Very very wrong. I will not change seats because you insist on acting like a spoiled brat who wasn't spanked enough as a child. I will not change seats because no one bothered to teach you proper etiquette. And I will certainly not change seats and give you the pleasure of thinking that acting like an asshole and disturbing people in a public place is the least bit acceptable. You see, I don't have the problem. You have the problem. The problem is you, lady. The problem is you're sitting there carrying on a conversation in the middle of a movie as if you were having coffee with your girlfriend at the local Starbucks. And it just isn't acceptable.

I bit my lip very hard for the rest of the film and made a mantra of: Thou shalt not bitch-slap the annoying people sitting behind you in the movie theatre. Seriously though, mantras aside, some people do deserve to be bitch-slapped. Hell, I'll go one step further; some people NEED to be bitch-slapped. Particularly people who break that very sacred eleventh commandment:

Thou shalt not talk in movie theatres.

Understood? Good, because I am petitioning to have punishable by raining brimstone.

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