wow
As anyone reading this livejournal might have been able to tell from my previous posts, I've had a LOT of stress lately, to say the least...
So tonight I took advantage of the reduced rate for MSU students at the Cheri Theater and saw a movie...The Break-Up, the new flick starring Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughan.
Wow. I am pretty much at a loss for words.
That movie was incredibly, aggressively just plain...bad.
See on the continium of dramatic works that I have seen and hated passionately, there's the previous to tonight worst movie that I've ever seen, which would be Magnolia. Magnolia kinda had held an especially bad place in my heart, because of the combination of the length and the level of painful suckitude. I walked away feeling that I could have spent the 4+ hours that I had just spent watching Magnolia in less pain, less nails on chalkboard kind of agony had I spent the same amount being repeatedly kicked in the groin by David Beckham. So there's the Magnolia level of awfulness.
The worst overall dramatic work, a range that includes every play, movie, and TV show that I have ever watched is the taped copy of Beckett's Waiting For Godot that I was subjected to as an MSU theater newby. Watching that asinine play should be outlawed by the Geneva Convention as a form of torture; as a matter I would rather have my genitals burned off with a blowtorch than to watch that again.
The Break-Up drops onto the scale between Magnolia and Waiting For Godot; it makes me think of this guy that I've had social interactions with twice in my life, and I can not remember his name, so for the narrative purpose, he will be "Bob".
The first time I met "Bob" was when I was dropping by a married couple's apt. that I was friends with who needed to borrow $$$ from me. When I knocked on their door, they said just a minute and then I heard a flurry of activity from inside the door. Amy opened the door wearing her underwear...ok, well the top half of her underwear, with a pair of tighty whitey's that I assumed to be Ken's. Ken, meanwhile was wearing the shower curtain, rod and all. Then "Bob" stepped out from the kitchen in what I assumed to be his tighty whitey's and he extended his hand as he introduced himself, as did "Bob"'s girlfriend who was standing up against the wall holding Ken and Amy's kitchen trash can in front of her since without it, she was nekkid.
Now I am not judgemental, and whatever they were doing, I really don't want to know. I did politely decline to shake "Bob"'s hand noting his being in his underwear.
That was when it was explained to me that well, the tighty whitey's he was wearing wasn't his. He was wearing Ken's. I would like to try and pretend that he was wearing his own tighty whitey's when he met me, but alas, I am too painfully honest with myself.
That was my first interaction with "Bob". My second interaction with "Bob" came at a motel room party when he and I were making a beer run. Somehow, some way "Bob" spoke briefly with this quite tipsy and well just plain nuts 50 something yr old biker chick. Somehow, some way in her crazy booze soaked brain, she became convinced that "Bob" and I were undercover cops, and somehow some way in her crazy booze soaked brain she thought that the best way for her to react to suspected undercover cops would be to...
Moon them!!!
I have never been mooned by a female prior to that, or since. But having been subjected to that, if there's going to be a next time for my being mooned by a female in my life, and it's anything like what the first time was like, I'll just pass.
Now don't get me wrong-"Bob" is a nice, polite guy who seems to be a fairly decent guy overall. But I never want to be around "Bob" again, because well, I see a lot of things that I never ever wanted to see whenever "Bob" is around. As a matter of fact, until the movie tonight made me think of him, I try very hard to not think about "Bob" and my two notably traumatic interactions with him. But tonight, The Break-Up was so awful that it was my movie equivalent of Bob.
So tonight I took advantage of the reduced rate for MSU students at the Cheri Theater and saw a movie...The Break-Up, the new flick starring Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughan.
Wow. I am pretty much at a loss for words.
That movie was incredibly, aggressively just plain...bad.
See on the continium of dramatic works that I have seen and hated passionately, there's the previous to tonight worst movie that I've ever seen, which would be Magnolia. Magnolia kinda had held an especially bad place in my heart, because of the combination of the length and the level of painful suckitude. I walked away feeling that I could have spent the 4+ hours that I had just spent watching Magnolia in less pain, less nails on chalkboard kind of agony had I spent the same amount being repeatedly kicked in the groin by David Beckham. So there's the Magnolia level of awfulness.
The worst overall dramatic work, a range that includes every play, movie, and TV show that I have ever watched is the taped copy of Beckett's Waiting For Godot that I was subjected to as an MSU theater newby. Watching that asinine play should be outlawed by the Geneva Convention as a form of torture; as a matter I would rather have my genitals burned off with a blowtorch than to watch that again.
The Break-Up drops onto the scale between Magnolia and Waiting For Godot; it makes me think of this guy that I've had social interactions with twice in my life, and I can not remember his name, so for the narrative purpose, he will be "Bob".
The first time I met "Bob" was when I was dropping by a married couple's apt. that I was friends with who needed to borrow $$$ from me. When I knocked on their door, they said just a minute and then I heard a flurry of activity from inside the door. Amy opened the door wearing her underwear...ok, well the top half of her underwear, with a pair of tighty whitey's that I assumed to be Ken's. Ken, meanwhile was wearing the shower curtain, rod and all. Then "Bob" stepped out from the kitchen in what I assumed to be his tighty whitey's and he extended his hand as he introduced himself, as did "Bob"'s girlfriend who was standing up against the wall holding Ken and Amy's kitchen trash can in front of her since without it, she was nekkid.
Now I am not judgemental, and whatever they were doing, I really don't want to know. I did politely decline to shake "Bob"'s hand noting his being in his underwear.
That was when it was explained to me that well, the tighty whitey's he was wearing wasn't his. He was wearing Ken's. I would like to try and pretend that he was wearing his own tighty whitey's when he met me, but alas, I am too painfully honest with myself.
That was my first interaction with "Bob". My second interaction with "Bob" came at a motel room party when he and I were making a beer run. Somehow, some way "Bob" spoke briefly with this quite tipsy and well just plain nuts 50 something yr old biker chick. Somehow, some way in her crazy booze soaked brain, she became convinced that "Bob" and I were undercover cops, and somehow some way in her crazy booze soaked brain she thought that the best way for her to react to suspected undercover cops would be to...
Moon them!!!
I have never been mooned by a female prior to that, or since. But having been subjected to that, if there's going to be a next time for my being mooned by a female in my life, and it's anything like what the first time was like, I'll just pass.
Now don't get me wrong-"Bob" is a nice, polite guy who seems to be a fairly decent guy overall. But I never want to be around "Bob" again, because well, I see a lot of things that I never ever wanted to see whenever "Bob" is around. As a matter of fact, until the movie tonight made me think of him, I try very hard to not think about "Bob" and my two notably traumatic interactions with him. But tonight, The Break-Up was so awful that it was my movie equivalent of Bob.