Phoning it in

Dear bleached-blonde woman at Neptune’s Pay-What-You-Can night: Hey, did you enjoy the play? Remember before the show when the theatre director came on stage to ask people to please turn off their cell phones? Maybe you don’t remember, Ms. Stirrup

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Published November 23, 2006.Phoning it in

Dear bleached-blonde woman at Neptune’s Pay-What-You-Can night: Hey, did you enjoy the play? Remember before the show when the theatre director came on stage to ask people to please turn off their cell phones? Maybe you don’t remember, Ms. Stirrup Pants, because if I recall, you answered your phone right in the middle of the play without leaving your seat, and carried on a conversation while the actor on stage continued valiantly with his soliloquy. A few minutes later, you hung up your phone, and then opened it again to make an outgoing call, all without moving an inch. Oh. My. Hell. As if that weren’t enough, when people approached you about your totally reprehensible behaviour after the show was over, you shrieked, “My father’s in the hospital so FUCK OFF!” I’m genuinely sorry to hear about your pop, but let’s face it: You could have put your phone on vibrate; you definitely should have left your seat to answer the call, or, Jesus God, at least when you MADE an outgoing call. Hell, let’s go all-the-way-crazy and suggest that maybe it just wasn’t a good night for you to be at a theatrical performance. Exeunt.

I Hate the World Today

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