Category: Funny Business

Having two dogs and two cats share my world means that my world is often in a state of chaos.

Steve Rogers, the Chihuahua, spends an inordinate amount of time menacing Thor, our jittery ginger tabby.

Bane, our full-figured, fluffy gray tabby, enjoys dining on anything wicker or leather and violating my personal space whenever possible.

And Charlie, our Sheltie, tries to steer clear of it all because he’s a dog of peace.

A lot of times when Mary and I leave the house for lunch or to run errands we’re exiting what appears to be a petting zoo gone wild, and I admit it’s nice to have just a little bit of “us” time.

Invariably, though, when we get back home all the critters are nice and calm, causing me to wonder what they’ve done – and what they talked about – while we were gone.

A typical weekend day sees us head out for the afternoon, and I kiss them all on their heads and tell them I love them. I also leave one in charge because I like to show I trust them with responsibility.

As I get in the car I glance up at the window and Steve – standing on a stool in the den with his front paws on the window sill – is looking out at me.

Then we drive away, and out of sight.

Here’s what I think happens once we’re gone …

“OK, they just rounded the corner,” says Steve, his tail wagging furiously. “Man, I hope that lady comes back with chicken. I love chicken. Chicken is a thing that I can eat any time and every time. You like chicken don’t you, Charlie, huh? Huh? Huh?

Charlie stretches out on the hardwood floor and sighs.

“Yes,” he says. “I like chicken.”

Steve continues looking out the window and wagging.

“Hey, Bane,” Steve says, “Do you remember that time that lady left the chicken in her purse and you knocked the purse over and all that delicious chicken fell on the floor?”

Bane, chewing on the edge of a wicker trunk, looks up briefly.

“Indeed,” he says.

Steve jumps down and heads toward Bane. He bites the cat’s ear but is swatted half-heartedly.

“Me and Charlie made quick work of that chicken, didn’t we?” Steve says. “I think you got some, too, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Bane says. “Now leave me alone for a while. I’m trying to destroy this trunk.”

Thor then creeps out of the bedroom, looks at Steve and switches his tail.

“I hate you, you little bastard,” says Thor, immediately retreating.

Steve laughs.

“C’mon, T,” Steve says. “You’re a cat, I’m a dog … it’s like the circle of life from that movie.”

“What movie?” Thor asks.

“You know, that circle of life movie,” Steve says. “Escape from New York.”

Bane, who has now completely removed a corner from the wicker trunk, shakes his head.

“The Lion King,” he says.

“What?” Steve asks.

“The circle of life reference is from The Lion King,” Bane explains. “It’s a song by Sir Elton John. Escape From New York is a John Carpenter film set in a dystopian America, circa 1999.”

Steve looks confused.

“Yeah, I don’t know nothing about no circus in 1999,” Steve says. “I’m just trying to explain to my orange friend that fightin’ and feudin’ is what we’re designed to do. We’re like those famous families that fought all the time – I think their names were Cagney and Lacey.”

Bane rolls his eyes.

“The Hatfields and McCoys,” Bane says. “That’s who you’re talking about.”

“Were they in Escape from New York?” Steve asks.

Before Bane could swat him, Steve senses movement outside and retakes his spot on the stool. Once in position, he notices a man and woman walking a small dog on the sidewalk.

“Hey!” he barks. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Get the hell out of here with that vermin. I swear I’ll jump through this window and jack all your asses up. ALL. YOUR. ASSES. UP! “Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Charlie chews his butt briefly, looks up at Steve, and says, “You make me nervous with your noise. Please don’t make any more noise.”

Thor mews slightly as he walks away, muttering, “I hate you, you little bastard,” under his breath.

After the danger passes – meaning after the man, woman and dog pass – Steve starts talking about chicken again.

I figure this goes on for roughly another hour, and then they sleep for, oh, a good two hours.

Steve – now on the futon with Bane and Thor while Charlie continues to snooze on the floor – perks up when he hears our car doors close.

We’re home.

“Be cool, guys,” he says. “They’re back. I just hope that lady has some chicken. Me and you like chicken, don’t we Charlie? Huh? Huh? Huh?”

Recently I wrote about “day dating” and mentioned that one of the perks is going to movies in the mornings or afternoons.

For the most part, you’ll either have the theater to yourselves or be among just a smattering of people who want plenty of elbow room.

However, our last trip to the local Cineplex made me think that perhaps my days of watching movies on the big screen could be coming to a close.

Why?

Assigned seating.

Yep, I had no idea this was a thing (and it wasn’t a thing when we saw “Avengers: Endgame” in April or “Rocketman” last month), but it is now.

We headed to the 9:30 a.m. showing of “Spider-Man: Far From Home,” paid our money, and then were asked to choose our seats.

The ticket-seller pointed to a seating chart that was attached to the glass partition by the transaction window.

“The open seats are in blue,” she said. “Just select whichever two you like.”

Even though I’m eligible for a discount at Denny’s and continually get mail from those killjoys at AARP who want me to feel old, I like to think of myself as young at heart and technologically savvy.

So I decided to press seats 1 and 2 on row O, which is the last row of the theater.

We like the last row because you’re up high and can plop your head back on the wall. You can also see the rest of the movie goers, so it’s easier to mock them.

Anyway, I kept pressing and nothing happened and was finally informed that it was merely a sheet of paper taped to the glass. Me pressing did nothing but provide some pretty prominent fingerprints.

This might’ve embarrassed someone else, but not me. I just told her I was kidding … I knew it was merely paper taped to glass.*

* I wasn’t kidding. I kept waiting for the damn numbers to light up.

Turns out I had to verbally announce my seat selection, so in this game of theater bingo I made my pick and was handed my tickets.

In this instance, it was no big deal.

I think we counted five people in the theater other than us, so even if we’d been seated next to someone who smelled of cigarettes, pickles, Bud Light and damp ass, we could’ve moved to several other desirable locales.

But here’s my worry: Matt Reeves’ “The Batman” premieres on June 25, 2021. That’s a Friday, meaning there will be Thursday night preview showings on June 24.

Obviously I’ll be at one of those (probably the midnight showing) and because he’s Batman, I expect all early screenings to sell out.

So … as soon as tickets go on sale (and they haven’t yet – I checked) I’m going to have to select my back row seats well in advance with no clue who I’ll be sitting next to.

And that’s gonna suck.

For one thing, the back row is the “Flatulence Zone.” I’m admitting nothing here other than to say gas events often take place there.

So if cigarettes, pickles, Bud Light and damp ass guy sits next to me – and recently ate a deviled egg – there’s gonna be a situation.

And even though there are numbers on the tickets you know as well as I do there’ll be some jackass who’ll sit in your seat.

You’ll then have to tell the person they’re in your seat, and things are bound to get uncomfortable.

If it’s a tiny old man – no more than 5-1, 130 and preferably suffering from asthma – I could probably just pick him up and put him in the aisle.

But what if it’s a big kid who could beat me up?

That means I have the option of telling an usher someone is in my seat (and still probably getting beat up) or taking someone else’s seat and continuing the cycle of chaos and potential bloodshed.

Nope, I don’t like this new system at all. Obviously the people who run theaters think it’s a good idea but it just seems to me like it’ll cause more problems than it’s worth.

Regardless, I’m already getting emotionally prepared for June 24, 2021, and dreading who my viewing companions might be.

I do plan on eating plenty of garlic before I go, though.

If I have to deal with cigarettes, pickles, Bud Light and damp ass guy, I want to be able to fight back.

Hear the term “date night” and you might think of couples – probably with children – finally stealing away some time to enjoy an evening on the town.

Perhaps it involves dressing up, having dinner at a fine restaurant, seeing a play like “Hamilton, or going to a movie (there was an actual movie called “Date Night” released in 2010, so you could’ve spent date night watching “Date Night”).

It might even include romance, although you probably want to dial that down a bit – especially if you’re still at Denny’s when the mood strikes.

(Speaking of which, I enjoy role playing games. Sometimes I dress as an agent selling car insurance and Mary pretends to be a customer with a $500 deductible. One time she wore a Geico Gecko costume, but things got weird and I’m not comfortable talking about it).

Anyway, Mary and I do not have traditional date nights. Instead, we have date days.

Sometimes we even have date mornings.

Basically, it consists of brunch and a movie, or a movie and lunch. Either way, it’s extremely casual and fits in much better with our be-in-the-house-before-dark lifestyle.

Now, the main reason we like to go to morning/early afternoon movies is because there are far less people in the theater. It’s not that we don’t like people … it’s really more that we don’t like being around people.

And before you think we’re antisocial we really aren’t – some of our best friends are members of the human race. But neither of us like crowds, especially when you’re packed in tight at the ol’ multiplex.

If we go to the cinema in the morning, we can find a nice spot where we don’t have people near us.

Go at night, and you might wind up with a teenage boy soaked in Axe Body Spray on one side of you and an old woman who smells of mothballs and has an annoying nose whistle on the other.

The only time we do go to a movie at night is if said movie involves Batman. I’m a Grand Gordon in the Dark Knight Temple, so premiere evenings count as holy days of obligation.

As for dressing up on our dates, we don’t do that.

I mean we wear clothes – obviously – just not particularly good ones.

Mary has an impressive rotation of T-shirts. One celebrates the band “Folk Uke” and features a unicorn barfing a rainbow; one has a cat with horns; and another says “Think While It’s Still Legal.”

My shirts are generally of the sportsball or comic book variety and I try to always dress for the occasion.

If we’re at a Marvel movie, I’ll usually wear my Avengers or Captain America tee.

When at a DC film, I always sport a Caped Crusader or Superman shirt.

And you’ll never catch me wearing a DC shirt to a Marvel film or vice versa. That’s a slap in the face to nerds and nerdkind.

The mere thought of someone walking into “Avengers: Endgame” while wearing a “Shazam” tank top makes my blood boil.

As for dining out, we don’t do fancy … never have and probably never will.

Our rotation involves a Mexican restaurant, a hipster-type joint that serves everything from black bean burgers to hummus, and a veggie-style diner.

That’s basically it – rarely do we venture beyond our grub trilogy.

We don’t go to high end places that serve things like wildebeest soufflé and warthog kabobs and feature a member of the wait staff bringing over a bottle of wine and asking me to sniff a cork.

Frankly, I’ve always felt that cork sniffing should be done behind closed doors (but under close supervision).

And plays and concerts just don’t do it for us anymore, mainly because of that whole people issue.

I mentioned “Hamilton” earlier and I have no doubt it’s extraordinarily entertaining, but unless Lin-Manuel Miranda and Phillipa Soo are willing to do a private performance for us – preferably before lunch and in our backyard – we’re probably going to wait until it’s made into a movie and comes to Netflix.

I realize our version of “date night” might not sound very exciting to a lot of people, but it works out just fine for us.

And really, as nice as an early movie and burrito might be, there’s nothing we like more than simply piling up on the futon at home with our two dogs and two cats and binging on “Stranger Things.”

Thing is, if you’re lucky enough to find the person you want to be with, every night can be date night – even if it’s morning.