Reviews of Movies About Problems!
by: Katie BruggemanListen up, you guys: I sure have some problems! If it's not money problems, then it's problems with my stupid love life, or that my friends get pissed at me for calling them fat, or how my boss keeps threatening to fire me for throwing staplers at him, or when I accidentally burn my cat's good eye with cigarettes, or all of the times that I get caught shoplifting cough syrup, or how all of my attempts at blackmail and extortion fail miserably, like everything else in my pathetic, disgusting life.
Want more? My dentist's office is in a van near Port Authority Bus Terminal. My fingers turned black due to frostbite last week. I have sudden and uncontrollable fits of rage. My life savings, aka Beanie Baby collection, burst into flames in a freak grease fire yesterday. (I shouldn't display them so close to the deep fryer, obviously) I got crabs from a rental costume. Three of my cousins beat me up every Christmas Eve. I found a nest of scorpions in the hallway of my apartment building. Oprah Winfrey filed a restraining order against me last year. When I was little, a horse kicked me in the face. I have ADD, Rheumatoid arthritis, dog jaw, restless leg syndrome, Type E diabetes, trenchmouth, Legionnaire's disease, and gout, all of which requires my consumption of thousands of dollars in prescription medicine every month. I have a crippling phobia of Chinese men. Various violent acid flashbacks prevent me from listening to songs that feature saxophone solos. I constantly puke on myself. People push me down the stairs. I haven't had sex since I was 13. All of my teeth fell out recently, for no reason. I drink hair spray.
Anyway. Here are some movie reviews!
Tyler Perry MoviesIf you’re not familiar with Tyler Perry movies, chances are you’ve recently spent your free time hiding in a spider hole like Saddam Hussein. Over the past two years, Tyler Perry has made five million movies, including: Why Did I Get Married?; Daddy's Little Girls; Madea Goes to Jail; Madea's Family Reunion; Madea's Class Reunion; Madea's Family Reunion; Diary of a Mad Black Woman; Medea Eats Some Shrimp; Medea Gets Food Poisoning; Jailbird Reunion At Medea’s House; Medea Kills That Salamander in the Garden; Medea and Her Friends Play Scrabble and Drink Pepsi; and Big Fat Black Ladies At Spring Break, For Some Reason. He also has a syndicated sitcom on TBS, a soul food cooking show on the Food Network, and 13 productions that are currently on Broadway. Mysteriously, he is somehow able to star in every single one of his projects as every character, both men and women, and also is the director, writer, and producer. How can this be???
The only answer is that he has used stem-cell research to clone himself and now there are like 300 Tyler Perrys running around, hellbent on complete domination of film, television, and Broadway. This is a major problem, as Tyler Perry is an unfunny, talentless hack, and if we continue to let him survive he will multiply over and over and over again, and pretty soon you won’t be able to walk out of your house without being bombarded by countless Medeas and her big fat bosoms heaving at you, the smeared-lipstick mouths hurling insults and sass at you until you just curl up in an alley and wait for the sweet reprieve of death. And that, my friends, is no way to live.
The only solution is that someone needs to kill the ORIGINAL Tyler Perry tonight, at his compound in Bel Air, California. Legend has it that if you kill the Alpha Perry, aka Patient Zero (as they call him at the Tyler Perry Research Institute), the rest of the clones will slowly rot away, liquefy, and seep into the gutters, where they belong.
Bratz What more can I say about a toy franchise that urges young girls to pursue careers in the sex trade? According to Bratz designers, unless you're seven years old and already displaying your cleavage like it's laid out under a sneeze guard at the Old Country Buffet, you're a disgusting reject that isn't worthy of love or acceptance. You may as well just banish yourself to the woods, drinking dirty water out of puddles, totally alone save for the birds of prey that will become your only companions.
In the film adaptation of Bratz, tiny candy-colored prostitutes prance through this cautionary tale of bulimia and materialism, and junior high has never looked so much like the back of the Village Voice classifieds. Ten dollars and they'll make you holler, skipping geometry class because OMG it's so boring!! :) LOL, they also accept gift cards from Old Navy or California Tans.
The producers of this film are visionaries, to say the least. I think it's finally time that we start encouraging fourth graders to grease themselves up with bronzer, empty their brains of cognizant thought, put glitter on their buttholes, and wear skirts so short that we have visual evidence of when they get their first periods. In the words of guys from my high school's varsity hockey team, "If there's grass on the field, play ball. And if the grass hasn't sprouted yet, even better, because they’re so young and dumb that they might even find us somewhat interesting. Grunt grunt, me want pussy!"
The only problem with this movie is that the prepubescent actresses speak at all. Only if they were completely mute and shed all pretense of a plot could Bratz accomplish what it sets out to be: thinly-veiled softcore child pornography that's readily available at Walmart. And that's something that could get our rocks off during all of those dark, lonely moments, when rubbing a plastic doll across our privates doesn't quite get the job done.
Grumpier Old MenWhy are these old men so grumpy? The elderly are such drama queens, bitching and crying all of the time. And really, they have it made: they don’t have to work anymore; most of them own their own houses; they can take an unlimited amount of naps every day; and, because it’s socially permissible that they wear diapers, they don’t even have to get up to go to the bathroom. I can’t wait until I’m an old lady. I’ll just sit around all day, drinking sherry in my Jazzy scooter, crapping in my pants and watching “my stories” on television, and waiting for my free money (Social Security benefits) to come in the mail. Honestly, it sounds like a great way to live.
Anyway, this movie is basically a couple of withered old dudes sitting around in a fishing boat complaining about their problems. Just get your hips replaced and shut up, grandpa. No one cares about you anymore.
Larry the Cable Guy: Health InspectorThe problem here is that Larry obviously doesn't own a shirt that still has sleeves, which is due to the fact that he suffers from an ailment called Scalding Arms Syndrome. His arms reach temperatures on the upwards of 150 degrees Fahrenheit, and it forces him to sleep in a special bed made out of tin foil and asbestos. If anyone accidentally brushes against him, they'll get third degree burns and will have to go to the emergency room. Better have health insurance if you hang out with this guy! He also has to drive with his arms sticking out of the sunroof, which seems fun at first but is actually quite dangerous.
The plus side is that he can cook hot dogs in his armpits and warm up canned chili in the crooks of his elbows. Chili dogs for everyone!!
Visit Katie's blog, Dancing at Gunpoint, here: www.gstringsfororphans.blogspot.com