MISS MANNERS' MOVIE ETIQUETTE

I went to an Academy Awards party tonight, not because I cared who won or lost or cared that Sarah Jessica Parker resembled a very scary version Glinda the Good Witch of the North. No, I only went because I wanted to catch up with friends, delight in our collective cattiness, and indulge in sugar cookies.

Of all the movies nominated this year, the only one I saw was Slumdog Millionaire. And I'd have to say, the one thing that I would change about the movie was the hype. There was way too much. Other than that, it was enjoyable in that incredible-circumstances-of-Forrest-Gump sort of way.

Actually, come to think of it, the truly remarkable thing about that flick was my movie going experience. I saw it in a little neighborhood theater about a month ago. The place was pretty full so I wasn't surprised when two women sat down right next to me. I was surprised, however, when the woman closest to me decided to remove her shoes from a pair of sneakers right after the lights dimmed. They were sweaty old plastic sneakers and she wasn't wearing any socks. That shit was noisome!!! Since I'm such a good passive-aggressive mid-westerner, I decided to simply cover my nose and fan my face as a subtle way of telling her to, please, for the love of God, return her motherfucking shoes to her petri dish feet.

She didn't take the hint. Instead, she crossed her legs pretzel style in the movie seat until her wet, sweaty tootsies, more specifically, her Frito Lay toe nails came into contact with my winter hat. Noooooooooo! I grabbed my bag of Skittles and hissed, "You stink!" and moved away.