Last night, Wayne and I watched the new Vacation movie. It wasn’t out on our usual cheapskate go-to, Redbox, but it was available on Amazon for $4.99. There was literally nothing else that looked remotely good. We were in the mood for a goofy, funny, lighthearted night, so we thought $5 was worth it. Well, I am seriously considering contacting Amazon for a refund. What a waste of time.
Except for Chris Hemsworth’s unfortunate underwear overshare, the movie had no redeeming qualities whatsoever (and anyone with half a brain, knows it was a prop, so really, just another disappointment).
The jokes were so lame, I felt embarrassed for the actors. The whole time I was cringing, covering my eyes, and praying it was just a lame warm up, and the funny parts would make an appearance.
No, that wasn’t funny. Not remotely.
Barf is not funny. Who is the targeted demographic? 10 year-old boys??
The joke is dead. It’s effing dead, already.
Just give it up.
Wow, my cuticles look awful.
Chevy Chase and Beverly D’Angelo’s cameo was completely overshadowed by D’Angelo’s frighteningly plastic face and Chase’s drunk zombie imitation. I know aging is a bitch, but I find that 70-year-olds with plastic surgery look like they are wearing masks. It’s creepy as fuck, and straight from my darkest nightmares. There is nothing wrong with wrinkles, Beverly. Rock your natural self, girl! And Chevy, I…I don’t have words…
I don’t usually like to poke fun at other people, but they weren’t funny, it wasn’t nice to see them, and I’m mad that they didn’t try harder.
What really bothered me (you’re probably all, “There’s more? Damn girl. Alright, let it all out) was the younger brother and his mouth.
That little shit needed a swift kick in the ass, a mouthful of perfumey soap, and reform school. Please tell me people don’t find 8-year-olds with mouths that rival the scurviest of sailors funny. Please.
For the sake of humanity, please tell me this wasn’t funny to the masses. I’m literally begging over here.
I have a pretty sour mouth, but I’m 30-fucking-2, and I know when and where it’s appropriate to drop f-bombs. My third graders haven’t even heard me use the word, ‘heck’, and when I find out they curse, it hurts my heart. I have a standard of behavior I demonstrate and expect in my classroom. I’m classy as fuck in my slacks and chambray.
In all seriousness, we (everyone inhabiting this Earth) are allowing things that shouldn’t be OK in media and entertainment. I know more parents than I want to even comprehend, let their children-far too young-watch that movie. Now, it’s funny to be a little, inappropriate fucker.
And, the parents in the movie did nothing about their criminal son’s behavior. Nothing. Had that been my kid, I would have washed his mouth out with the nastiest soap I could find, removed every single belonging from his room, and threatened boot camp so fast he wouldn’t have known what hit him.
Kids, it’s not funny, attractive, or intelligent to use curse words like that kid in the movie. When you drop F bombs every other word in the grocery store, in the park, or at school, you look ignorant. You look stupid. You look like trash. You are our future, you have the potential to be something great. So, do better. Be better.
To the parents who monitor their children’s TV and movie options, and don’t allow disrespectful language, I applaud you. Unfortunately, your children will soon be the minority among a world of people who can’t tell the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’, but know every curse word in 3 different languages.
Impressive. Unthinkable. Terrifying.
Next movie I see featuring an 8-year-old with a nastier mouth than me, I’m boycotting. I will seriously go to Michael’s and Home Depot to buy sign-making materials, and you will see my crazy ass boycotting being trash.
Pray for our future, it’s gonna need it.
Tag: future
My Future Life
One of my all-time favorite bloggers, babysteps22 nominated me for the Future Challenge. I feel I must take a moment to profess my adoration for this fabulous fellow woman and writer. She was the first person I connected with on WordPress. I instantly fell in love with her wit and spunk. I saw a little of myself in her words, and I was intrigued by the stories of her life in India. When I realized how effortless it was to connect and relate to someone from a different country and culture, I knew my decision to blog and network with other writers from all over the world was the right one. I feel honored to be able to write from my heart, and that expression of who I am is felt in someone else, thousands of miles away. Really, honored is putting it mildly. Thank you, beautiful human, for being the catalyst and my inspiration to write and touch so many lives. Also, sorry it took me so long to complete this challenge *sheepishly, shamefully hoping for your forgiveness*
So, now that I’ve been thoroughly creepy and sickly sweet, I will move on to the actual challenge.
The rules:
Thank the blogger who nominated you. I think I over-thanked *check*. Next, link back to the original creator of the challenge, Dreams and Movie Screens, so they can see how far their challenge has spread *check*.
Then, share 5 things about your future, because obviously you’re a fortune-teller. Actually, in all seriousness, it’s like a dream board. The concept is, anyway. It’s pretty much a known fact that if you write down your goals, you’re like 90% more likely to accomplish them (or something like that).
Finally, nominate 5 bloggers to share their own future. My nominees are:
- Cat in the Cactus
- Carrots in My Carryon
- A Funny Thing Happened When I Was Learning Myself
- Island Smile
- Spiked Cupcake
I guess it’s now time to Windex my crystal ball, it gets pretty smudged with all the peering into the future that I do. I swear, I spend more time looking into the future than I do living in the present. It’s a problem, I know.
Also, I’ll have you all know, I’ve had to knock on my coffee table, end table, entry table, and every kitchen cabinet because OCD. One does not simply tell their own future without superstitions rearing their ugly heads. So, with that I’ll jinx it all and tell my future:
- I will finally have a damn dog. At the ripe-old-age of 32, I’ve never had to care for more than a ficus (and I promptly killed it). I know I’m ready to keep something other than myself alive. It’s time.
- I will break down and buy a new car. I’ve spent my entire driving life not having to pay an expensive car payment each month. I also drive a car that has no emergency brake, has a cardboard sun visor, a broken, disintegrating seat, and has to go through major repairs just to pass smog each year. It’s more than time I finally drive a car that doesn’t have parts falling off it as it speeds down the freeway. For everyone’s safety.
- I’ll be living in England. Somewhere lush, green, and homely. I’ll be so engrained in the British culture, I’ll be wearing wool sweaters, which I’ll properly refer to as jumpers, in July. I’ll not be able to go a day without my afternoon cuppa, and I’ll go on holiday to Italy, like it’s no big deal. I can already see myself walking along an old cobblestoned street in the drizzling rain, wearing plaid wellies.
- I will be a published writer. Maybe I’ll write a lighthearted, fictional chick lit story about a lovable heroine, or maybe my big break will come in the form of a gritty, controversial autobiography that shocks my loved ones and friends. It’s a crapshoot.
- I’ll finally be able to wear those expensive size 12 jeans that are collecting dust in the back of my closet. They’re circa 2009, and they have rinestones on the ass, in the shape of a fleur de lis, but they will fit like a second skin without leaving permanent indentations in my gut. A girl can dream.
So, what do you see in your future? Play along, so I’m not the only one who has horribly jinxed myself. It won’t feel quite so lonely if I’m not the only one who actually ends up being the crazy cat lady whose only trip to real life is my weekly cat food and Popov vodka run. Please play. Please.