Old People Episode III: Revenge of the Codgers

I don't know what it is about me and stadiums but I always seem to end up sitting in front of the biggest douche bag in the whole place. A few weeks ago I was at a Badger football game and the crusty britched old codger behind me kept shoving her foot in my ass. Maybe she was spastic or maybe she was really getting into the ass play; she even had a twitch to her foot like a vibrator.

She could have been playing grandma cougar and thought she was doing me a favor - but I'm not really into getting my back door prodded. I've never really been into feet either for that matter. One time at a party in college, a girl tried to give me a foot job mid-conversation while we were sitting on my front porch. It just ended up being awkward, like being groped by a blind person wearing boxing gloves. And what does a guy do to return the favor? How about I prod at your boobs with my elbows? Would that be analogous to you jamming your feet into my crotch?Anyway, one of my roommates ended up walking out onto the porch and did a classic double-take. It was like he had just accidentally seen his favorite child hood dog licking peanut butter off of the nether regions of his creepy uncle. After that he just kind of awkwardly backed his way back through the door. He never mentioned it to me and also never sat in any of the chairs on the front porch again. Luckily that also put a stop to the foot job and I was able to walk away confused and feeling slightly dirty.

Back to the Badger game. I wanted to break the ankle of this geriatric, boney, old Golden Girl like it was her hip at a limbo contest. Problem was, I couldn't tell if she was being extremely rude or if she was just senile and you do not want to get into an argument with someone that is a little 'tardy if you know what I'm saying. Now I know what you're thinking, I could have been the bigger man and just turned around and asked her to remove her metatarsals from my colon but what if she was trying to be a bitch? Then I would have had a totally awkward rest of the game with her behind me.

So that's it, anticlimactic story. I never talked to She-Wilford Brimley and found out what her deal was. Was she looking to have a stroke inducing three-way with my friend and I? Was she just plain off of her meds or bat-shit crazy? (By the way you get 25 extra Mac's Rants points if you can comment back with the etymology of bat-shit crazy.) Or maybe she was just a plain old mean person that thought I looked like the gay salesman that used to back-door her late husband. There's also the chance that she read my other two posts which chronicle my hatred for old people.

Maybe some game I'll get those seats again. You win this time gristly she-demon, but mark my words, I'll be watching for you.

The Scariest Movie Ever

I know my last post was about a movie but I just had to put this down on paper, I just watched the most scary movie I have ever seen in my life. Any of the classics like Nightmare on Elmstreet, Friday the 13th, Hellraiser, even the newer ones like Hostel and all fourteen Saw movies don't hold a candle to this. They are like the Care Bears go to Candy Land riding a kitten compared to Where the Wild Things Are.

It starts out with this hyper little fucker named Max who apparently gets fed pixie sticks and crack for breakfast every morning. In the first five minutes of the movie, he rapes the family dog, trashes his sister's room like a hair band in a hotel, bites his own mother, and then runs away from home. Right now I'm thinking that things are going to get interesting; maybe one of his disturbed but good-natured neighbors will find him and go Black Snake Moan on his ass. After all, this kid obviously needs some Adderall and a good beating.

Instead, the little prick ends up jacking a skiff and he suddenly becomes an eight-year-old Jacques Cousteau in a dinghy. Eventually his luck runs out and he ends up capsizing and washing up on shore like John Denver.
Somehow he ends up on the Island of Misfit 'Tards with a dysfunctional family of huge Muppets. I'll mention here that I never read the book on which this movie is based, so I'm not sure what the tone of that was. But the remainder of the movie is what I would expect a bad acid trip would be.

I mean look at these freaks - they're like friggen homicidal rejects from The Island of Doctor Moreau. These creatures are not something that you would want your kid to play with. One of them, Carol, seems to be all roided up and is domestically abusing all of the other furries. I shit you not, he's even hiding the bodies of the previous visitors to the island.

The others include a manic-depressive goat, a bird-like creature who literally ends up getting one of his arms ripped off by James Gandolfini, some bull-dike bitch who keeps threatening to eat Max, and K.W. who is the roaming cock-tease of the island.

Carol would probably be much cooler if K.W. would stick around more and at least give him a handy, but instead Max shows up and introduces all kinds of sexual tension. Yeah, this movie goes there. Not only does this movie look like it was directed by some dude who had dead animals and severed limbs hanging above his crib as a kid, it also has an eight-year-old "inside" of one of the creatures. Thats right, beastiality and child porn all in a movie that's rated PG.

I won't ruin the ending for you suffice to say it really pissed me off. It made me long for the simpler times when you could beat the living hell out of kids without them being able to escape by using their imagination.