The Covenant
Oh, yeah.
Yeah. Yeah, yeah, hells yeah. Oooooh. Do that.
No, no, don't do tha--aah! That's it, that's i--aaaaah!!!
Oh, fuck. Jesus. FUCK.
FUCK!
Ah! God in heaven fuck a monkey Christ Jesus FUCK!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!
. . .
That was me watching this movie.
That sniffling you hear is me trying to snort my liquefying brains back into my skull. The Egyptian mummificators used little hooky things to extract brains, and later, naphtha. Thankfully, in this day and age, we have Steven Strait naked and sweaty in bed. It at least saves us from having holes poked in our heads.
No, it's not a good movie. Please remember that I said it was not a good movie.
But it has Steve extremely shirtless and extremely cut, looking like he's put on about 15 pounds from Sky High. Oh, fine, they cut his hair so now he looks like a fuzzy little 10th grader with overdeveloped deltoids, but I can't complain when the movie features a scene tailor-made just for me. He appears in dark pants and a tight white shirt, and then he gets into a fight. Furthering the journey to Wrongsville, he then appears in tight lowrider swim-trunks, exposing most of his trim and manly flanks.
Thank god the only other person in the theater left halfway through and I was able to moan throatily, pull at my hair and clothing, and twitch to my heart's content without disturbing anyone else's moviegoing experience.
I'm serious. He's utterly beautiful. I've been a woman for almost 30 years, and I don't have an upper lip that kissable. No, I'm dead serious. Do not even try to argue with me. His mouth gives Scarlett Johansson's blowjob pout a run for its money.
Now that I'm done fangirling, I can tell you that the movie had a very cool premise, it looked great, and it just didn't quite hang together. It couldn't decide what kind of movie it wanted to be, and didn't quite kick enough ass to create its own thing in spite of that. The dialogue was uninspired and in places bad enough to distract me from naked boyflesh. The plot was predictable. Everything was dampish and wet, to the point that I started to feel really chilly.
That said, the effects were really neat, the music kicked ass (yay Collide!), there was copious gratuitous male nudity and assorted eye candy, and it was generally a fun ride. The big final dustup lacked subtlety, originality, and decent snappy patter, but it was still entertaining.
It wasn't a waste of $4.50, and I'll damn sure buy it on DVD for the white shirt scene alone, but it wasn't a watershed movie and I doubt it'll make anyone's career. Which is too bad, as I want to see a lot more of Steve. As in porn-movie "more."
Hey. You guys are allowed to have your bubbleheaded actresses you lust after even though they cannot freaking act. I can have my salty goodness. Guilty pleasure is the best kind.
Ah, I've missed having a new crush.
Yeah. Yeah, yeah, hells yeah. Oooooh. Do that.
No, no, don't do tha--aah! That's it, that's i--aaaaah!!!
Oh, fuck. Jesus. FUCK.
FUCK!
Ah! God in heaven fuck a monkey Christ Jesus FUCK!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!
. . .
That was me watching this movie.
That sniffling you hear is me trying to snort my liquefying brains back into my skull. The Egyptian mummificators used little hooky things to extract brains, and later, naphtha. Thankfully, in this day and age, we have Steven Strait naked and sweaty in bed. It at least saves us from having holes poked in our heads.
No, it's not a good movie. Please remember that I said it was not a good movie.
But it has Steve extremely shirtless and extremely cut, looking like he's put on about 15 pounds from Sky High. Oh, fine, they cut his hair so now he looks like a fuzzy little 10th grader with overdeveloped deltoids, but I can't complain when the movie features a scene tailor-made just for me. He appears in dark pants and a tight white shirt, and then he gets into a fight. Furthering the journey to Wrongsville, he then appears in tight lowrider swim-trunks, exposing most of his trim and manly flanks.
Thank god the only other person in the theater left halfway through and I was able to moan throatily, pull at my hair and clothing, and twitch to my heart's content without disturbing anyone else's moviegoing experience.
I'm serious. He's utterly beautiful. I've been a woman for almost 30 years, and I don't have an upper lip that kissable. No, I'm dead serious. Do not even try to argue with me. His mouth gives Scarlett Johansson's blowjob pout a run for its money.
Now that I'm done fangirling, I can tell you that the movie had a very cool premise, it looked great, and it just didn't quite hang together. It couldn't decide what kind of movie it wanted to be, and didn't quite kick enough ass to create its own thing in spite of that. The dialogue was uninspired and in places bad enough to distract me from naked boyflesh. The plot was predictable. Everything was dampish and wet, to the point that I started to feel really chilly.
That said, the effects were really neat, the music kicked ass (yay Collide!), there was copious gratuitous male nudity and assorted eye candy, and it was generally a fun ride. The big final dustup lacked subtlety, originality, and decent snappy patter, but it was still entertaining.
It wasn't a waste of $4.50, and I'll damn sure buy it on DVD for the white shirt scene alone, but it wasn't a watershed movie and I doubt it'll make anyone's career. Which is too bad, as I want to see a lot more of Steve. As in porn-movie "more."
Hey. You guys are allowed to have your bubbleheaded actresses you lust after even though they cannot freaking act. I can have my salty goodness. Guilty pleasure is the best kind.
Ah, I've missed having a new crush.