Paul needs a Pepper Potts. Or a secretary. He just needs someone to keep him on time or to distract him from the Food Network and Dr. Who. When Paul and I had placement in school together, one of my jobs was to make sure Paul arrived on time for writing meetings.
Picking him up was always a gamble. Either he’d be asleep or would argue that I was too early because “John and Kate Plus Eight” wasn’t over yet.



He also had this uncanny ability to make us exactly twenty minutes late for everything.

Recently, Paul and I were given the opportunity to see a film that had been shrouded in controversy ever since the film’s title, Young People Fucking, made itself public.



Unfortunately, we were so late for the movie that we didn’t even manage to see the title actually fade up on screen. (In my mind the title doesn’t fade up, cum squirts up over black into the shape of the letters, even dotting the I’s – now THAT’S a title card I can respect!) The reason we were late is not only because of Paul’s inability to judge time and distance (and my willingness to go along with anything) but because of a lost GPS device. It meant that I’d have to hear about said device and the mystery of its whereabouts the entire length of the drive. When Paul is upset about something, he can’t let it go. It pretty much ruined his entire night. Poor little guy.

When we arrived at the theater (both us were out of breath from a two minute run) we had to stand in the back until we could spot a couple of seats to take.
“Just wait for a daytime scene” Paul said. As it turns out, young people don’t fuck during the day.



So, we watched half an hour of the movie standing up, until a couple left the theater in disgust (you’d think if you were sensitive to sexual situations/dialogue you wouldn’t go see a movie about some young people fucking), we were able to swipe their seats.

Ten minutes after our smooth transition from aisles to seat (trying not to shove my ass into the people sitting down), the overweight gentleman next to me fell asleep. You wouldn’t think I’d be able to notice casually glancing over, trying to avoid eye contact with a perfect stranger, but the thing is, Fat Person Sleeping was snoring. Right in my ear.

“He’s probably from the Globe and Mail” Paul whispered.

The best part about it was this guy slept through all the female nudity, but managed to wake up and laugh is ass off at any homo erotic jokes or male butt shots.

He was definitely from the Globe and Mail.

All that really needs to be said about the film is that it delivered what the title promised. There was in fact Young People Fucking in the film. But the beauty in the film is that it’s so easy to come in late and fully understand what’s going on. It would be good for them because all the movie makes you want to do is have sex with the person next to you (you know, if they weren’t some sleeping fat guy or Paul), so you could take off to the handicapped stall or the back seat of your car, shoot one off, and be back for more of the movie and feel like you’ve only missed a couple of blow job jokes.



What Ryan's listening to: "Secret Identity" by the Jealous Girlfriends