I hate hard candies at the theatre

I haven't had a hard candy in...years? Who eats them? Old people? What is is about going to the theatre that makes so many HUNDREDS of people need a damn hard candy. And of course it's not the consumption of the candy that is so annoying, although the knock-slurp of a candy rolling around in an elderly mouth IS one of the most disgusting noises ever. Far more irritating is the unwrapping of the candy. Just as inexplicable as the mass compulsion to consume hard candies at the theatre is the apparent inability to open them efficiently. It's like some spell is cast upon public performance spaces that prevents someone from fumbling with a wrapper for less than sixty seconds.

It's funny because I haven't been to the theatre in ages. I think I've only seen two live shows now since I've lived in Atlanta. I forgot how annoying audiences were! I have to say they weren't quite this bad in New York, either, though they certainly were in Baltimore. I'm not sure why, since so much of a New York audience is tourists anyway. But it may have to do with the antiquated facilities and limited size of most New York theatres, which might prevent them from offering a full-service concession stand. Of course none of this prevents the hard-candy phenomenon, but my eyes were opened a an astounding array of other annoyances at the Fox this weekend that were new to me.

Popcorn. People freely carried popcorn and beverages back to their seats. Like in a movie theatre. Or at the circus. The Fox is an extraordinary treasure, and the thought of these suburbanite oxen and (worse) their children spilling sticky beverages all over the auditorium seems at odds with the extensive efforts of restoration and preservation that have been undertaken at the Fox. These didn't surprise me too much, though, since beverages and candy bars at least have been sold in theatres as long as I remember, even the enjoyment of these items was traditionally confined to the lobby and lounges.

A completely new and frankly heartbreaking site was when, about 2/3 of the way into act one, someone came back to their seat carrying a tray of food - sandwich, chips, soda. During a fucking play. Is there any possible way to eat a meal inside a theatre without annoying other people? The obvious answer is no, but the most frustrating part of it was unlikely enough the smell. From two rows and about six feet away, I distinctly identified a ham, swiss, and mustard sandwich by scent alone. For about twenty minutes. I could only hope the chandelier would drop on her as she gorged herself, but unfortunately it did not.

All's not lost, though. There was no annoying talking during the performance - you know it, that "old person" whisper you hear at the theatre between two people who think they're being quiet.
"What'd she say?"
"She said she loves him."
"What?"
"She loves him."
"Oh. I can't hear."
No shit?
There were also no phones ringing, no bright iPhones glaring as people text during a performance. Just the food, really. The scents and sounds of people getting fatter by the second in their seats.

I hate foot gloves.

Emergency alert! This entry is a special bulletin. I missed the public service message, but apparently there was one because in the past week approximately ¼ of the population is now wearing foot gloves instead of those lame shoes. And guess what? I hate them. I really, really hate them.

Idiotically stupid looking and childish, these “shoes” are officially known as Vibram FiveFingers. According to Vibram’s website, we can reclaim the child-like wonder of going barefoot now in many activities, including hiking, yoga, and kayaking. Wouldn’t you rather do these things barefoot? Now you can…sort of. With Vibram FiveFingers, it’s really supposed to feel like you’re walking around barefoot, at one with nature, with just the patented protective Vibram sole to keep your feet safe. But hold on a minute, I’d just as soon wear shoes doing most of this crap anyway. Arch support, anyone? Beyond that, how about a little decorum and self-respect. With their ballet-slipper design, made more asinine by those absurd little toe-sleeves, this footwear just makes people look like idiots. Especially since, in addition to those woodsier, hippy pleasures, people seem most often compelled to don them for more mundane tasks, like shopping at Trader Joe’s, or walking the dog. Yes please, make sure you show off your trendy new purchase as often as possible. Really, I want to see people doing more exciting things in their new foot gloves, like falling off buildings, getting hit by cars, and stepping on nails.

To me foot gloves have all the appeal of those silly socks my college roommate used to have, which had articulated toes, each a different color. I hate the little connector on flip-flops that goes between your big and second toe. The idea of having a sock or shoe crammed up between each toe doesn’t sound like bliss, it sounds irritating. Please keep your colorful footwear fads. If you own foot gloves, please shove them up your ass along with the (no doubt brightly-colored) croc’s you bought five years ago and don’t wear anymore.

I hate raping the classics: Disney edition.

I hate these stupid direct-to-DVD Disney sequels that they have been churning out like frothy diarrhea since 1994's Return of Jafar. I can't really critique these abominations on content, since I've never seen a single one, but the very idea of them represents the worst of consumer excess. The direct-to-DVD nature right away warns "Inferior Quality! We don't care!," which is only backed up by such high-profile disappointments as a non-Robin-Williams-voiced Genie. The sales pitch was obvious: Here is a low-cost product with brand- (via character-) recognition that parents will buy up in the millions to stuff into DVD-players instead of raising their kids. The titles do nothing to disguise the lack of inspiration:

• The Return of Jafar - Jafar returns! Chaos ensues.

• Cinderella II: Dreams Come True - Guess what!? Cinderella and the prince do live happily ever after, tying up that cliffhanger fifty years later.

• Return to Neverland - Hey, Peter Pan goes back!? Never saw that coming...not even when it was called Hook.

A quick review of some other titles out reveals the bottom-of-the-barrel depths to which the catalog has sunk: The Fox and the Hound 2, Atlantis: Milo's Return, Stitch! The Movie. And no classic property is sacred, as evidenced by decades-late shit-bombs bearing the inspired names Cinderella II (and III), Bambi 2, The Jungle Book 2, and Lady and the Tramp 2. Maybe it's just me, but something about this makes it even more insulting than the crappy Star Wars prequels. At least George Lucas cared, and spend a lot of time, money, and energy on a (horribly misguided) labor of love. Disney is just cashing in. (Yes, I realize this particular blog entry doesn't exactly have it's finger on the pulse of pop culture. Whining about Disney as the worst of Capitalism isn't new stuff, but you know what, I just started this blog so let me play a little catch-up! After all, I'm suffering through the endless commercials for new classics like Tinkerbell now more than ever as I live in a Nick-friendly household.)

Finally, in addition to insulting its customers with inferior animation, writing, and voice work, it's really just the general lack of inspiration that I do find so hateful. The sheer point of a classic fairy tale like Cinderella is to achieve the conventional happy ending. Was there ever a story that demanded a sequel less, much less two of them? (Even Into the Woods drags after intermission!) Say what you want (and I want) about Disney, I still have a cherished reverence for their classic films. On and off, they have created some of the best children's movies ever, from Snow White through, well the last classic was probably The Lion King. But I've even got colorful childhood memories of The Aristocats and The Rescuers. If Atlantis: Milo's Return is the fodder for the fond memories of tomorrow's adults, that just depresses me.

I hate celery.

I used to hate celery. I've grown oddly fond of it in certain situations, say, trench-stuffed with peanut butter or tahini. Celery, however, is at its best - or at least most bearable - when bland and kind of tasteless. Under those circumstances, crisp, cold celery is almost refreshing. On the other hand, there's celery the rest of the time, in all it's green bitterness.

Not quite an onion, not quite, er, anything else, celery often has a bitter, overpowering flavor. It's crispiness, while appreciated by many for it's toothiness, to me conjures a raw onion. Something that hasn't been cooked properly. Fill a salad with little crescent slices of the vegetable, and what you wind up with at the end is a bowl full of hard little green boomerangs that never quite managed to stick to anything or wind up on your fork. Worse yet, when they do wind up on your fork, they fill your mouth with a bitterness that makes you feel like you're being poisoned. I imagine if I sprayed Raid on my salad instead of dressing, it would taste something like celery. And in it's stalk form, celery is famously annoying. Even full of delicious peanut butter, I'm often inclined to cut my little celery-boats into bite sized chunks with a steak-knife. Yeah, I would feel a little like Rainman, but in the end when I try to break a bite off and cut through those ropes with my teeth, I feel just as foolish.

I will allow that celery can add excellent dimension to the flavor of a dish, but only when properly cooked. I make an excellent Chinese dish that is essentially half chicken, half chopped celery, and nothing else. But the celery is small and soft, and the flavor is tamed by rice wine and brown sugar. The flavor of celery seed, however, can be more of a challenge, with it's potent bitterness. Yes, it's essential in some circumstances, like on a Chicago hot dog, but it's also easily overdone. I've had pasta salad prepared by some overenthusiastic cooks that are just drenched in celery seed, and those little buggers get stuck in your teeth, just like poppy seeds.

Celery seed is so potent, its extract makes a powerful flavoring in itself. Take, for example, Dr. Brown's Cel-Ray, the infamous celery-flavored soda. Oh, why didn't Fanta think of this one? Open the can and one whiff smells like one of those overbearing pasta salads. A sip offers a surprisingly less disgusting experience, somewhat like ginger ale poured into a glass that had been used to hold pasta salad. (In a recent office taste-test, most responses hovered around "weird.") Distinctly celery, though, and distinctly infused with the flavor of that little seed.

I hate Zooey Deschanel

Fellow haters, you've been waiting for it: I hate Zooey Deschanel. Look at her. She's cute. Her big doe eyes are visually appealing. Her dry delivery encapsulates her hipster generation's feigned apathy. Then watch her in another movie, then another, and realize a bitch can't act. She really can't act, no more than fellow indie icon Catherine Keener (who I somehow still liked until I found out she was in Where the Wild Things Are). Zooey Deschanel refuses to find a character in any script. She simply says things. I don't get it. After one or two movies, you realize those doe eyes are no pools of emotion - they might as well be drawn on. Scratch that - Spongebob's drawn eyes say a lot more than ZD's ever will. ZD has buttons, like Coraline. Notice I can't even type her name anymore. Has there ever been a more pretentious name than Zooey?

To pile on the pretentious hipsterism, a few more facts. ZD is married to the lead singer of such over-glorified sissy hipster bands as Death Cab for Cutie and The Postal Service, Ben Gibbard, a person so grotesquely unattractive, hip and sensitive that he can only wear black nerd glasses. They're like the Brangelina of their own pathetic genre - "Zen?" Another fact, this girl is so full of her self she actually has her own band, too! She's like a, well, double threat! (Threat to no one.) Her band is called She & Him - such profound simplicity. And to top that, their first album was called Volume One; the second one, Volume Two. They're way too cool for something as commercial as a title! One day I'll have to check this band out. I can't even bear to play a clip on You Tube to research this post.

I hate when a classic food product becomes a bastardized franchise.

I hate when a classic is bastardized into something ridiculous and hardly related. But lets leave George Lucas out of this, because here I'm talking about food - specifically thinly-related food items that bear little likeness to their namesake.

If you go to Nabisco's website and look at their Oreo products page, there are 51 results. Yes, many of these are different size packages of Oreos, or even the less offensive direct variations (Mini Oreos, Golden Oreos, etc.). But it's the real unrelated cash-ins that perplex me. In the photo above, I would hazard a guess that a taste test of Oreo Ice Cream Sandwiches, Oreo Cereal, and least of all Oreo Wafer Rolls wouldn't offer an experience anything like that of eating an Oreo.

Oreo does seem to be the worst offender among a list that includes:

Cocoa Krispies Cereal Straws - how does something that's not small and crunchy bear any relation to a "Krispie?" I give you that a straw may "snap" and "crackle," but how can it pop? Notice the forced smile on poor Pop's face, like a has-been It Girl forced to do porn. I must say the whole cereal straw phenomenon is beyond me.







Pringles Stix - I have to admit, these are pretty darn tasty. Like Pocky without the frosting, but then again I've always enjoyed bland crackers. Still, their existence baffles me. It is a cracker-ish crispy stick, in no way related to potatoes or any sort of chip. Why, then, the Pringles name? What is next? Pringles Breadcrumbs? Pringles Popsicles? Pringles Personal Lubricant?





Starburst Fruit Twists - These are essentially Starburst flavored Twizzlers. Now I've gotta hand it to Starburst - they do jellybeans right! Their jellybeans have a great taste that truly evokes the original Starburst tang. These Twists? Waxy and flavorless. Another gimmick gone horribly awry, though the results are less disgusting and more of just a blah "why?"

Moral of the story - stick to what you know. Even if you succeed in your own brand-rape and manage to produce something tasty, I still secretly hate you.

I hate painful roller coasters.

I hate roller coasters that cause you physical pain, especially when it's non stop from beginning to end! And this one hits home especially hard because I love roller coasters!

Honestly, let me rewind a bit because this is really one branch of a larger "I hate Six Flags parks" sentiment. I won't spend too much time on it, because this surely won't be the last time it comes up, but I do hate Six Flags parks. They are corporate monsters, poorly run, poorly maintained, anemic in customer satisfaction skills, and both lacking the family/traditional appeal of a park like Hersheypark or Cedar Point or the sheer wow factor of a Disneyland or Busch Gardens. Six Flags parks exist, for me, simply as a place to ride some rides. Me visiting a Six Flags park is like a vampire who drinks rat blood to sustain - a necessity, but not satisfying.

More to the point of this post: I hate poorly maintained rides. You can cram in coaster after coaster to wow people and inflate statistics, but if the coasters suck, the equation comes up short. Some rides are uncomfortable neck-breakers just because they seem designed to kill - Sidewinder at Hersheypark; Batman at Great Adventure; the defunct Drachen Fire at Busch Gardens. However, I offer The Great American Scream Machine (pictured) at Six Flags Over Georgia as an example of a coaster where something just went wrong along the way. A classic 70's-era out-and-back woodie, GASM was designed to evoke the simple pleasures of the woodies from the 20's-40's - big drops and fast bunny hills. As I ascended the lift hill of neighboring Ninja yesterday at Six Flags, nervous about the impending neck-breaking loops and corkscrews, I looked at GASM with restful longing. It looks massive but tame; classic. Minutes later I was ascending the lift hill of GASM, arms already up for a thrilling drop. The moment we began to descend, I regretted it. The rest of the ride became a horrible gamble - will I suffer less damage by bracing myself or by letting go altogether? I can't remember which I did, but it didn't work. Foot after endless foot of the damn wooden beast was shuttering, sending pain down my spine, and inflicting an instant headache upon me. Yes, I'm getting older. Proof positive: One ride on the tame Rodeo, a carnival type ride at Hersheypark, practically did me in a few years back. But my brother and I agreed that GASM was hands down the worst coaster we'd ever been on. It was as if the cars didn't have wheels and were somehow "rolling" on square blocks, or just sliding along.

The sad conclusion we came to is that it couldn't have always been this way, and that proper TLC probably could have made it the best ride in the park (unfortunately, not a lofty goal, since we were disappointed by coaster after coaster throughout the day). Happily, I don't think I need a chiropractic appointment after all. But that was another nail in the coffin of my fondness for Six Flags.

I hate Jake Gyllenhaal's ugly face.

There will probably be a lot of posts about ugly faces here. But seeing Jake Gyllenhaal so much lately in promotion for the woefully miscast Prince of Persia just has his ugliness on my brain a lot recently. The interesting thing is he's not nearly as ugly as I think of him being...not, say, Gary Oldman ugly. In fact, it was difficult to find a picture that I thought adequately conveyed Gyllenhaal's ugliness. I think the key is in the looks he gives. When he's trying to look brooding or thoughtful, he just looks like a retarded child that no one wants to play with. His eyes are too big, but not nearly expressive enough, only really mastering that annoying and frequent puppy-dog look (See photo, which - true story! - is actually of a girl dog nursing puppy-dogs. I'm just sayin'.). His nose is long, like a cartoon character (or, say, a collie). He has no upper lip. And, as is often the case, my distaste for his face is only exacerbated by the unanimous gushing about how cute he is, especially among the homos. (Sorry, playing gay in a mainstream movie may be admirable, but it's only as sexy as the guy playing it.)

His casting in Prince of Persia only annoys me further. First of all, I hate it when dorky boy-next-door types get buff for big roles (Part two of this might be on Tobey McGuire, eh? - not ugly, but I might hate him.). People think it's sexy - dork turned stud. I think it's weird and kind of gross. I'd cast the guy that played Aladdin in the Disney movie instead of Jake Gyllenhaal, except Aladdin wasn't live action and he wasn't really an actor. He was cute, and he was a cartoon...not just cartoonish, like Jake. He also happened to be ethnically relevant, since Aladdin was Persian, or at least close enough to play Persian. I guess Jake looks ethnic next to Gemma Arterton, though, since the only thing whiter than American is British...with freckles, no less. And I suppose the long hair is supposed to be hot and edgy in an vaguely ethnic sort of way...or like a collie.

I hate blogs.

Blogs are for self-important people who think anyone should care what they have to say. The only useful blogs are porn blogs, and that's only if there's a lot of pictures. GOOD pictures.