Some might call this snow in
So when I wandered out onto the quiet
On to the questions.
I know that there is a general consensus that talking during a movie (especially at theater) is a major no no, and all that partake in this action deserve whatever cruel punishment is given to them, but I have an all-new problem. How should one handle a person who chooses to dance in their seat, through the entire movie, because the soundtrack is "rockin’?" Not only is one disturbed by any noises but also ones eyes must be disgustingly drawn to the figure in the theater that gets a groove on during every action seen where the music is upbeat. I would like advice on how to be politely insistent on stopping one from conducting this disturbing behavior and also, a non-polite way incase the person is “non-English” understanding. Thanks!
Just so you know, I’m really behind on my Q&A Friday questions. This is from like July. Luckily, it’s a timeless problem. Rumor has it that even during Shakespeare’s times, audiences were constantly disturbed by uncontrollable dancing. And the music in Shakespeare’s plays sucked! Imagine then how hard it must be for a man imbued with rhythm and groove to resist Flo Rida dropping the beat in Step Up 2 the Streets.
Personally, I’ve never been great with confrontation. I once waited an extra month to break up with a girl because I wanted to do it over the phone while she was in
For a movie-seat dancer, it’s a bit more difficult because they may not understand that what they are doing is wrong. “But dancing makes me feel so good!” they’ll say innocently. So what you need is a good excuse for why they can’t dance – something way better than “It bothers me.” I would try this: Lean over to the person and say, “Excuse me, but could you please stop dancing in your seat? My friend here is deaf, and she can’t hear the film through all your movement.” It has all the qualities a great lie possesses: it’s confusing, it’s sympathetic and it can’t be proved wrong.
Oh Dan, Dan, Dan,
Please help me! My boyfriend of 7 1/2 years broke up with me without any explanation besides he was "unhappy". A month prior the our breaking up. he told me he had purchased an engagement ring (for me) and was going to propose to me at any moment. Then, all of a sudden, he's gone. Now he's dating a "friend" of his from work. I can't get over it!!! All I think about is the jackass and the new whore (Not that I'm implying I was the old whore). How do I get past the breakup? Help me, Dan Murphy, you're my only hope.
Thanks for your attention,
Wow, I feel pretty bad. This one’s from the beginning of December. It pains me to think that poor Brenda has been relying on me for guidance, and every day she has sat down in front of her computer and refreshed my blog and instead of answers she’s gotten self-indulgent rants and semi-coherent observational humor. (I fear I just got a glimpse into fatherhood.)
Anyway, let’s get down to business. First of all, you need to start spending more money on your boyfriends. Like fine scotch glasses and cashmere sweaters, you can’t get your boyfriends at Target. 7½ years and then one day he’s “unhappy” – actually, I can accept that. Not that it’s right, but let’s face it: People need to make themselves happy. Would you really want to be with him if he was miserable? Like that aptly titled movie, “Misery”? Of course not. And if he’s too immature to realize that one doesn’t find true happiness in the shaved vagina of one’s slutty co-worker, well that’s a lesson you need to learn with your doctor and a penis swab.
What I have a problem with is that he told you that he was going to propose to you. I mean, Huh? Who says, “I’m going to propose to you”? Isn’t that like saying, “I’m going to throw you a surprise party”? Why not just say, “I’m going to break up with you”? Regardless, he’s what Brooke would call “an asshole” (Brooke uses the same words as everyone else). And the only way to get over relationships with assholes is to sleep with a bunch of black guys.
(Brenda, Facebook me in times of need. I’m a good listener, and I have some black friends, too.)
I recently found myself at a party in a hotel room with about 45 women, including my girlfriend (who is hot) – I was the only man there.
We did not hook up with any of them for our first threesome. Does this mean that it’s never going to happen?
Because economics and sex go hand in hand (and I know so little about both), let me try to explain it thusly:
When the supply vastly outweighs the demand, you have what is called a surplus. A surplus is the ideal market for buyers, because when all the demand has been satisfied, there is still a supply left which needs to be sold. This overstock can then be had at a steep discount.
So basically that night in the hotel room was the perfect storm of economic surplus. It would be like if Christmas was canceled on December 20th, and every tree salesman was left with a lot full of Douglass Firs and you were the only one on the lot with him, and it just so happens that you’re a hobbyist wood-sculptor. Right place, right time, right everything. All you’d need to do is back up a flatbed and load them on, one by one, and count yourself blessed.
The problem is, there’s also something called “The Law of Diminishing Returns,” which states that if one factor of production is increased while the others remain unchanged, the overall returns will decrease after a certain point. So up until this point, you’ve been widdling away on one stump at a time. Carving raccoons, gnomes, bird houses, what have you. Suddenly, you’ve got 30 yards of lumber in your back yard and a stack of purchase orders to match. But it’s still just you sitting on your back porch widdling away while listening to Willie Nelson tunes. So while you’re footing the bill for the lumber and the flatbed truck and the extra lot you had to rent to store all the Douglas Firs, the fact remains you simply can’t widdle any faster than you could when it was just that one log.
The point being, just put on some Willie Nelson and fuck your girlfriend and consider yourself blessed, because you’re not a businessman, Simon. You’re a hobbyist. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
(Think you’ve got what it takes to have a question? Email me at