Hey, you single middle-aged guys, when I went to see SITC2 I was one of three guys in the theatre; it was full of honeys of all ages shapes and sizes. These ladies were dressed up all nice and pretty, smelling fine, with nowhere to go. And most of them were drunk-yup; if you're a single middle-aged guy looking for love and you can't find it in the lobby after SITC 2, well buddy, you are one unappealing son of a gun.
The lobby was overflowing with women before the second show-just after the first show let out-and you would of thought I was Antonio Bandares the way some of the drunkard 40 and 50-somethings were trying to dial me in. There's an amount of naked man in the movie which had the first show watchers worked up into such a lusty lather that they were needing to blow off some steam; at that point in the lobby, I was the one and only male around they could blow off onto. I felt like a three-legged cat with a cold surrounded by a den of rabid foxes. I could tell if I didn't hurry and get my peanut M-and-Ms and Dr. Pepper and go hide in the bathroom, a passel of those women were going to try and bat me around if they could.
So, I hid in the bathroom, not so much cause I was scared, but because the lobby was loud. Some louds I like. Loud purring from a cozily curled up cat, or loud rumble from ramblin' stock cars at the local oval, just to name two. But loud shrieks by middle-aged women who don't get out away from the kids and husband nearly enough, is loud I don't like. I could have hushed them all to dead silence by walking to the middle of the room and shouting, "Sarah Palin rules!"- but nobody wants to be a party pooper.