Movie Review: Paranormal Activity 2

Here's my entire review of Paranormal Activity 2, which I saw (for the chart purposes, below) at time period six.

Tale from the Front: Misspeaking to a Miss

This weekend was a "Gone Dancin'" type of one.

To recap, at a high level, my thinking about dance clubs and my presence therein:

1. I am a bad dancer. I know that.
2. I enjoy dancing with women, but I don't go there to dance with women.
3. I am simultaneously sickened and amused by how lots of guys seem to disagree with the first two points.

So, with those general concepts in mind, I will relate another key opinion that was critical to me making a fool of myself this weekend: I really don't like it when married chicks try to dance with me. At best, they are trying to have fun and are being inconsiderate of my appreciation of women. At worst, they don't take their vows seriously and are trying to make me a pawn in their dysfunction.

(Actually, at worst I guess they are aliens that have been sent to destroy the world but only after eating my cats in front of me...)

Here's a basic decision-making matrix that happens when I'm on the dancefloor and I'm approached by a woman:

Given how much I tend to drink when I dance, "basic decision-making" is pretty much all I'm capable of.

So this weekend, I was moving on the dance floor when a woman started dancing REALLY close to me... too close for it to be accidental. I noticed she had a wedding ring (or at least an engagement ring, or a big ol' "I'm SERIOUSLY pure, bitches!" ring) so I vacated the area and went. For another drink, naturally.

A bit later I saw the same woman, prompted by her friends, backing up towards me. "Backing up" sounds like she was doing some sort of crazy dance move, when in fact she was merely edging back into my space... it was deliberate enough, thought, that I felt she was doing it on purpose, so I left again. I think I might have grumbled something as I did so, to let her know that she should stop making me feel like she wanted me to cuckold her hubby.

About 90 seconds later, I noticed it wasn't the same woman. She was wearing a similar black top but she had no wedding ring on. She was just some other chick who'd wanted to dance with me. Oops.

About 90 seconds laterer, I decided to relieve her of the burden of rejection at my hands and so I approached her and started talking to her.

(In the text I've typed since the graph, above, I've outlined at least three errors I made that night. "Started to talk to her" might have been the biggest one.)

Me: Hey.
Not Married Chick: Hi.
Me: So... I wanted to let you know something.
NMC: What's that?
Me: I didn't avoid you because of--
NMC: What? "Avoid me"?
Me: --yeah, it was because I thought you were married, and--
NMC: I'm not married.
Me: --I know, but I thought you were another chick and I don't like it when married chicks dance on me.
NMC: ...
Me: ...
NMC: OK. Have a good night.

Oh, man. "Have a good night." The perfect end to a truly embarrassing conversation.

I'm used to doing embarrassing things in clubs, but most of them are dance-related. This did NOT help me have a good night.