I went to the movies tonight in my least favourite shopping precinct on Earth, Highpoint, to see a movie directed by that big chucklehead Ben Affleck. ‘Argo’ is based on the true story of six American diplomats successfully smuggled out of Tehran in the midst of a siege in the American Embassy whereby 52 of their countrymen & women were being held hostage by supporters of the Iranian Revolution. They posed as a Canadian film crew scouting locations for a science fiction movie and successfully escaped directly out the front door of Iran via a commercial flight to Zurich. The film was actually pretty good, in fact, I’d say it was as good as Pearl Harbour was fucking atrocious.

I ordered one of those impossibly huge movie theatre Cokes you can buy that are so large that they pose a legitimate threat of drowning to children under the age of five. Oh, and a boysenberry choc-top. After I’d purchased a choc-top for my mate I didn’t get much change out of a $20. That’s fucking ridiculous. If someone is going to bend me over the candy store counter and fuck me, they should at least have the common decency to take me out to dinner first and tell me that my hair looks pretty…

I felt bad for picturing all of the different ways in which I could end the candy store counter boys’ life for this act of unwarranted fiscal penetration when, moments after my departure from the counter into the cinema, I turned around to him running after me to give me my change. He was all arms and legs, like an octopus in a washing machine on spin.

“Sir, sir, your change! Your change!”

“Oh, thanks kid.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’d just finished visualising choking him within an inch of his life with the bendy cord of the post mix machine…

They deliberately don’t put the prices up on the board behind the counter either, and no one wants to be the guy to ask how much anything costs. Fuckers. Post-mix Coke costs fuck all to produce too. It’s the ubiquitous tooth-decaying diabetes soup!

I remember watching a documentary several years back covering the increasing obesity epidemic in parts of Mexico & South America attributable to the influx of westernised food & beverages. Drought-stricken villagers in Mexico are able to obtain bottles of Coke more cheaply than clean drinking water due to the multinational’s vice-like grip on their water supply and comprehensive supply chain, causing a whole bunch of developing world Mexicans to suffer with the First World problem of obesity.

And it costs me $6.80 when I can drink water out of the fucking tap?

Anyway, I sat down in the theatre and the little fucker behind the counter hadn’t put the lid of the drink on properly. I went to pick the cup up and the fucking thing exploded in my hand like a frag grenade, spilling watered down soft-drink all over me, resulting in laughter from the other cinemagoers and a wet leg for me.

Fucking karma…

/end communication