“Her” “Really Changed Me” Says Friend Who Won’t Shut Up about “Her”

EVANSTON, IL – At 6:50 PM Saturday, your friend saw the film Her, and, since his time of viewing the movie, has, quite literally, not stopped talking to you about how you need to see it.

(via zukuheler.sourceforge.net)

“No, dude, you don’t understand, it’s very powerful,” your friend remarked to you late Saturday evening. “It’s honestly the most intimate love story I think I’ve ever seen.  Like, maybe more so than Eternal Sunshine.  No, I’m serious.”

Her, written and directed by the same guy who co-created a show where coke addicts willingly got kicked in the crotch for your entertainment, is, as far as you can tell, about a guy who falls in love with his iPhone.  You also noticed that the chick who played Mark Wahlberg’s wife in The Fighter is in it, and, you postulate, she’s probably pretty good in whatever role she’s playing.

The film has received acclaim critically, commercially, and from your friend, who just this morning texted you, reminding you to, if you have the chance, see it as soon as you possibly can.

“It changed me dude you won’t regret it,” your friend said over text message. “I know you like deep movies so I don’t see why you wouldn’t like this one.”

This marks the third year in a row your friend has incessantly pestered you to see a film he really really likes around Oscar season.  Last year, at his unrelenting behest, you saw Les Misérables, a movie that is approximately 8 hours long and features musical numbers sang by the guy from Gladiator; and the year before last year, he obsessively bothered you about Midnight in Paris, a movie directed by a 78-year old man who is married to his stepdaughter.

The Shoulder Thing

As a member of society with an available soapbox, I feel that it is necessary to warn you of a disgusting phenomenon in our society. This little-known gesture of disdain and douchiness has plagued middle schools for ages, but seeing its use among the heinously classy students of Northwestern brings me to my knees.

It is commonly known as “The Shoulder Thing.”

Imagine, for example, a group of friends have formed a circle. They are having a very deep and intimate conversation in which minds are being enlightened and lives are being changed.

A friend or acquaintance overhears snippet of said conversation and wishes to contribute.

However, the shoulders of persons A and B are too close together, and the new member cannot contribute to the conversation.

This is known as “The Shoulder Thing.”

Persons A and B are Motherfuckers because they can hear their friend knocking on the conversation’s door, politely requesting entry with his presence, and don’t move. Person C is also Motherfucker because he is physically looking into the face of the shunned and doesn’t say anything.

So much douchery is implied, and the Motherfuckers don’t even have the decency to outright shun the outsider. They strand him on the outside, disappointed and confused, like a freshmen girl calling Saferide at 3:27 AM when she finally thinks the line won’t be busy only to find that she’s too late and they’re no longer open, and now she’s either got to ask a frat bro she barely knows to walk her all the way south, go alone and risk running into the Smartphone Pirates, or hook up with a guy to get a place for the night.

Typically, circles of Motherfuckers will simply ignore the presence of the outsider, interrupting his stuttered attempts at contribution as if to say, “You are not worth the time it takes me to listen to your comment. You are not worth a momentary pity nod. However, my comment is incredibly important and significantly more valuable than whatever you are going to say.” Seriously, even Kanye, the most narcissistic of disruptive douchebags, was gonna let Taylor finish. Hell, Kanye even let Taylor start.

Here is an illustration of how to properly do The Shoulder Thing. As demonstrated, Persons A and B angle their shoulders so as to be enlightened by the insightful remark about to be made by their acquaintance.

You and your friends are tight. You are tighter than a hipster’s pants, tighter than a nun’s poontang, tighter than Kate Upton in an A-cup. We get it. The inside jokes are enough to make potential newcomers awkwardly excuse themselves from a conversation with a comment like, “I’ll be over there jerking off in your Apple Jacks, because it’s more visibly appreciative of my input.” You probably don’t like the outsider, or you’d welcome them. But you don’t have to be such a Motherfucker about it.

You must be the heinous you wish to see in the world.