On movies that suck and boys who don’t

So I’m 1hr and 9min into Know1ng and, guess what, it sucks worse than the toothless whore who charges a buck with dentures and ten without.  I don’t understand why these big movie studios expect me to spend my hard-earned money on their poo when I can simply walk into the restroom at work and have plenty of it for free, all the while getting paid to deal with it and not having to wonder if the floor is sticky because somebody had a little too much fun or (hopefully) it’s just soda nobody mopped up yet.

Take Paranormal Activity, for example.  Why is it even classified as horror?  Is it simply because the word “demon” is mention 64 times?  Or is it because at some point in the movie a some character dies?  Does that mean that Old Yeller is a horror classic?

No.  Why?

Could you even imagine it?  “Here boy!  Here boy!  Good boy! ” *chuckle* “You like to lick my throat boy?  Givin’ me kisses?” *chomp, gurgle, totally fantastically fake blood spray*

Yeah, I can’t either.  So just because you have plane crashes, endless scenes of Nicholas Cage running, and some really bad special effects, doesn’t make it an action movie, either (take note, Proyas).

The only thing that would make this movie worthy of my time would be a super hot 20-something drug and disease free guy giving me the perfect blow job while I suffer through the last half of this movie.  Considering I don’t hang out with those boys and seeing Nicholas Cage makes me limp faster than a call from Gramma, that’s not going to help.  No, the only thing that’s going to get me through this movie is my horrific compulsion to not leave things unfinished.

Stupid OCD is going to kill me, not from starvation in the shower because I absolutely must follow the directions and “wash, rinse, repeat” until the shampoo bottle says, “It’s okay, honey, you can stop now, I really only meant to wash your hair twice despite specifically not saying so on my bottle which was merely done to make a horrible blonde joke”, but from bleeding to death after gouging my eyes out with a gravy spoon from watching the horrid movies they release from Hollywood that cost more money to film a single scene than I will likely make in my entire lifetime because I’m constantly afraid others will find me utterly un-interesting if I don’t see the latest biggest releases from Hollywood whacking off to porn every night gets a little old.

So, come on, guys, learn how to tell a good story and actually make it worth the $352.75 I have to spend on stale popcorn and the 90min+ I have to spend in the theatre next to the fat guy who keeps trying to cuddle with me, has no teeth, and smells like pee because, you know, sometimes it just feels good to escape from reality.

*Disclaimer: I have seen Old Yeller maybe once when I was 7 and all I remember is he didn’t like the puppy because it had garlic breath or something after his other dog died and he looked into the puppy’s mouth while he was lying in bed recovering from an attack by the zombie Italian security guard mafia…or something*