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Saw Terminator 3 last night.

Having worked in several movie theatres back in the 1980's I'm familiar with the "gouge the customers on snacks" business approach but do cinema owners seriously expect people to happily fork over twenty dollars for three bucks worth of popcorn and sody-pop? I guess so, since they're doing it...

I remember when they first started putting non-movie related commercials on the big screen. People used to boo and walk out. Now it's just accepted along with the seven dollar licorice whips. As a species, we have no business mocking the complacency of sheep and cattle.

On a wholly unrelated topic...

It occured to me the other day that I've been living in British Columbia for fifteen years now and in all that time I haven't met anyone I'd consider a close friend.

That has to be some sort of record.

I've never thought of myself as 'unsocial' but perhaps it's time I stopped deluding myself. The trouble is that I always feel somewhat disassociated from the people I'm interacting with. I watch myself (in a third-party kind of way) nodding my head while some chuggalug drones on about his or her day/life/spouse/pet and I wonder what the hell I'm wasting my time with this person for.

When someone asks "How are you today?" I almost always respond with "How are you?" whereupon they proceed to tell me exactly how they are. This reinforces my suspicion that people don't really want to know how you are, they just want an opportunity to talk about themselves. Much like this blog.

How are you? Really.

So if I am saddled with all of these antisocial tendencies, why do I feel so isolated and alone? It seems to me that a genuine Grinch would be satisfied with my social situation (rather than whine about it like I'm doing). Anyone with penetrating insight is welcome to clear this up via email.

Question: When you're driving along and see some physically unappealing person trudging along the sidewalk or waiting for a bus, do you ever wonder about how lonely that person is? If they spend each and every night in front of the idiot box, clutching their little bag of microwave popcorn in their clammy, homely hands?


The other week I was stuck with the other cars waiting for a green light when I happened to glance over at the driver in the car next to me. The driver was a young woman, sobbing and crying. I wanted to get out of my car and give her a hug...comfort her and let her know that whatever it was, it would be okay in the end. God only knows what was wrong, perhaps she was just rehearsing for a play.

I thought seeing another driver pick his/her nose was disturbing but this was much worse.