Finally! I finally got to see The Avengers. It wasn't how I wanted to see it - in 3D, but that hardly matters. Even under less than ideal circumstances - watching it on a six inch screen, while sitting on an airplane next to a sugared up four year old, ultimately taking 5 hours to finish the film - The Avengers still lived up to the hype.
We didn't intend to watch this movie. I was scrolling through the guide one Saturday night, looking for something to watch and I paused on Rubber long enough to read the description. (Killer tire? Seriously?) The picture-in-picture indeed showed a tire rolling through the desert, so I clicked over, curiosity killed the cat...
Piranhaconda may be one of the best portmanteau names for a man-eating creature (the best are Sharktopus, of course, and maybe Mansquito), but it sure as hell is NOT one of the best movies about a man-eating creature.
This movie was soooooooo boring. Michael Madsen is usually an un-boring actor, but his portrayal of a Professor hunting the elusive Hawaiian Piranhaconda was a snorefest. I gave zero fucks about WHY he was hunting for Piranhaconda eggs.
Why does Russell Brand have a career again?
Seriously, I don't get it - he's not all that funny. And when he is funny, it's so far over the line, that he's guilted into apologizing for it later. (His Jonas Brothers jokes, for example...) He should take a page from Ricky Gervais and Sacha Baron Cohen and not apologize for shit.
You may not know this, but my backyard is full of garden gnomes. The pink flamingos are packed away in the garage, as the evil HOA guidelines specifically prohibits plastic lawn ornaments. But there's also a gargoyle on the birdbath and a three foot tall lady statue. Needless to say, if all the statues in my backyard came to life at night, I would shit my pants.
If I had been a boy, my parents would have named me Thor. True story.
I once dressed as Thor for Halloween. Sexy Thor. 1995. Last year, I dressed as Flavor Flav, but I had to buy a new Viking hat, because my old one was hidden in my hoarder piles of shit. True story.
Who hasn't fantasized about the entire cast of The Jersey Shore being eaten by sharks? I know I have. I have never seen a single episode of The Jersey Shore - I watch the Soup, so I get the highlights. Except for the Kardashians, I can't think of a more deserving group of douchebags to be eaten by sharks. Not that I want innocent killer sharks to be infected with whatever variety of sexually transmitted diseases that are rampant among residents of The Shore, but surely the world would be a better place without all that fist-pumping and Ed Hardy?
The good thing about having friends - besides getting into shenanigans - is forcing them to watch movies you love. So after forcing Amy to watch Carrie (They're all gonna laugh at you!), she forced me to watch Grandma's Boy. She'd been after me for probably a year to see it, even lent me the DVD, but I never got around to watching it. (I did, however, get around to watching the Shorty Mac DVD. My response to that horrorshow was a text message that said, "Fuck you.")
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Honestly, that should be the entire body of my review, but after such a lazy review of Æon Flux, I figured I should work a little harder...although it's not like I get paid by the word to entertain my readers. Or get paid AT ALL for that matter...besides, it's going to take a lot of persuading to get the average person to make it past the opening credits of Poolboy. It's not so much the credits that may drive folks away, as Steel Panther's theme song, Donkey Freedom. I've said too much already - I don't want to ruin it.