WHAT'S THAT PART IN THE BIBLE ABOUT SEGA GENESIS?

I wish I could tell you that I went to UPS guns blazing, walking past the front desk and into the anus of the enormous distribution facility, personally tracking down my package, leaving a trail of my best farts behind and exiting to the applause of the other disgruntled customers, but I can't. I guess I did just tell you, but sister it ain't true and I'm no bad boy Pinocchio. It was all fairly uneventful. I didn't even have to raise my voice, although every other customer there seemed to be severely pre-menstrual toward the organization and its practices. Did you know that the drivers don't even carry company phones and will never use their personal phones to contact a would-be package recipient? Who do they think they are, 1992?

I consider the UPS saga the end of my worries for at least three weeks as I have a long weekend coming up as well as a lavish Italian vacation in my sights, starring relaxation, stunning vistas, food, and some of the world's most sought after babes. Because of this heightened sense of hakuna matata, any little thing that sucks in the next few weeks is going to be magnified. Take last night for example:

Me and my date went to go see IRON MAN 2, the new superhero movie about a suit and the man who inhabits it. The show was supposed to start at 10:00pm, but for some reason it didn't, which is strange for a movie theatre but common for puppet shows. 10:15 rolled around and we were still waiting, waiting being my number one pet peeve of all time, and Liv's number 8 pet peeve behind things like modern plumbing (she's an old soul), unpicked scabs and the Kenner Corporation out of Cincinnati. Because she was seated closer to the exit, she went to go find an employee to complain to, but realized that the screen beside ours was also playing IRON MAN 2 at 10:00 and was just about through the previews, so we pulled the old "go to the theatre next to the one you're at because the one you're at isn't playing the movie" and began watching.

Right away these buttheads behind us starting talking and wouldn't shut up so Liv gave them one of these:



But they kept talking so she gave a bigger one of those and they stopped for awhile. They talked off and on and it was so damn frustrating because I really needed to hear why the iron man was so sad.

I was too scared to confront these people who I think were South Americans in their early 30s because I don't like confrontation and I assume that most people carry knives.

I had my artist whip up this dramatic re-enactment. He really fucked up the look of the chairs though.

We got home, calmed down and ate some Tostitos Con Queso dip with Tostitos bite sized rounds, one of my favourite snacks and then I went to bed and didn't dream about Iron Man.