The Occasions When It May Be Inappropriate To Blast Lady Gaga’s Just Dance, OR When It Would Be Inappropriate For Lady Gaga To Bust Into The Room And Perform Just Dance
1. At a funeral.
2. At a small child’s funeral.
3. During a movie. I paid my money.
4. In the waiting room of an abortion clinic.
5. At the scene of a terrible traffic accident. Brains on the ground and stuff.
6. At the scene of a terrible traffic accident involving two vans full of teenage Vacation Bible School students. Brains on the ground and stuff.
7. Outside the Holocaust Museum.
8. Next to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.
9. In an AIDS clinic.
10. In the hospital, JUST after the doctor tells you you’ve got tit cancer.
Just dance! Dadadee doo doo!
Today I told a huge lie! But it was only because I wanted something, which makes it okay.
I went to see that shitwad movie The Hangover because Andy Bernard from The Office, or, well, the guy who plays him, was in it. Total waste of my time and money, of course, because, as it turns out, I’m a little over bachelor party hijinks stories. Stripper jokes, drug jokes, bare dude butts, drinking jokes, masturbation jokes. Then the whole dude-your-life-is-over joke. And all of the girlfriends in these movies are mean assholes anyway.
Wait, but, first…I was handing my ticket to the ticket-ripper girl when I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask what they’re going to do with their giant Harry Potter character posters hanging from the ceiling. I mean, if they’re just going to throw them out…
So I asked the ticket-ripper girl, who had to summon another girl, who waved over another guy, and pretty soon I was swarmed with Kerasotes employees, who each had a different story for what they do with the movie promo shit when they’re done with it. The running theme seemed to be that the staff got first dibs, and whatever was left was trashed. So I tried to appeal to them first. “Well, see, I work in this…children’s library, see? In um, Humboldt Park? And well, we’re a really poor library, and uh, we’re always looking for stuff to put on the walls, to sort of, you know, brighten the kids’ days.”
One girl nodded in sympathy, two girls shuffled away, disinterested once they had been unable to give me a stock answer and get me out of their faces, and one boy whose eyes were looking in two different directions stood next to me and explained that the first girl was going to get the manager, who would be able to tell me exactly what they would be doing with the posters. That’s when the manager, a tall black man in a green suit, giant black walkie in hand, strode across the spangled carpet to meet me. “How you doin, ma’am? My name’s Shelby. How can I help you?”
I told him about the poor children at the library (which I relocated to the South side), and talked about how it would really just make them so excited about life if they had those posters in their library. I don’t know if he bought it, but he told me that with any Harry Potter related promotional materials, the theaters were always bound by contract to pack them up and send them back to the movie studio when they were done with them. “Well, you know how it is with the big movies, Harry Potter and Transformers,” (which I don’t even consider being in the same league or on the same level, but okay) “and people be sellin’ that stuff on eBay and all.”
And here I put my hand on my chest, a bit melodromatically, maybe, but I wasn’t faking, “On eBay?? Really?”
“Oh yeah, oh yeah,” said Shelby. “People will do that.”
I felt like reassuring Shelby that if any one of these posters was in my possession, I would never, ever, EVER sell it on eBay, or in any other way. I want them because I want to HAVE them. So I just said, “Well, that’s too bad…”
That’s when Shelby seemed to soften a little. “Ay, ay, aaight. I’ma tell you what you need to do. Here’s wassup,” he said, coming closer, lowering his voice. “Everybody be leaving their name and number and stuff, that gets too crazy, you know, so girl, you just come on back and check in every once in a while. You know, just come on over here after the movie come out, and if they down, ask for me, I’ll see if we can’t do something for you, girl…aaight? Ay. My name Shelby. You ask for me.”
So I smiled an enormous smile, and thanked Shelby for offering to help, and shook his hand. Then I sat through that stupid 90 minute fart joke they called a movie, and all I could think about the whole time was that giant Snape poster, and how good it was going to look on my bedroom wall.
And what I might have to do to get Shelby to give it to me.
Probably some of the stuff they did in that movie.