This is where happiness goes to die.

Of all the days in my life, there are few that I can recall every minute of. On that short list, perhaps even at the top, is the day my son was born. Now heading into that day, I thought I was ready. Not ready ready, but movie ready. According to Hollywood, this is how the day was going to go:

1. My wife's water was going to break in a very public place. She would scream, and I would drop everything (literally, 'cause my hands were full of items).
2. The day-of plan, which we would have meticulously planned and rehearsed, would go to shit in fantastic fashion.
3. I would drive like a maniac, almost getting in seventeen accidents. I wouldn't hit anyone, but numerous cars would have to swerve out of the way and lean on their horns. Likely, someone would yell Asshole! To which I would have one of two replies, Sorry! or (while pointing at wife's stomach) She's having a baby!
4. When parking at the hospital, I would hit something small, like a sign or a tree. I might even just miss an old person using a walker. Phew. Close one.
5. Upon entering the hospital, I would scream at the black lady at the desk, interrupting her phone call. She would make a face that I wouldn't notice or care about.
6. The doctor we had planned on delivering our perfect baby? That guy is nowhere to be found. Instead, we get a real screwball! He's either weird, foreign, scary or nineteen and a half. If we're incredibly unfortunate, he's some combination of the four.
7. Instantly, my wife would be in the throes of labor, screaming and cursing at me, the bumbling doofus. And while I meekly tell her to breathe, breeeeeeathe, she would grab me and shout You did this to me! She might even land a punch. That would be the funniest form of domestic violence ever. Oh, and this is the moment she demands drugs.
8. The labor would be intense, but it would last only about three to five minutes. Assuming they gave us the right baby, it would be a beautiful 3 month-old, spotless giant. With a perfectly shaped head, too.
9. We would cry together. We would say that he's perfect. We would then kiss, not even realizing the odd truth that every person in the room immediately went on break.
10. Despite being the most chaotic day in our lives, everything would turn out just fine.

Turns out the last one was true. Everything else? Well, let's just say it wasn't what I expected.

What to Expect When You're Expecting is awful, almost impressively so. Coming from the school of let's put a lot of famous people in a movie and have the terrible stories barely connect that has somehow been deemed acceptable, this flick is a disaster from start to finish. Terribly cast, woefully uneven and utterly stupid, add this flick to the list of things that pregnant women should avoid (along with tanning beds and roller coasters).

Don't think I was expecting much going in, because trust me, I wasn't. As my pregnant wife and I fired this up, I was literally hoping for not terrible. But as each ridiculous character was introduced, and their subsequent groan-inducing story unfolded, I knew we were both doomed. Suddenly, I wished we'd opted for something a little less terrifying. Something like Rosemary's Baby, perhaps?

The six stories try to cover each possible angle an expectant family could face. Unfortunately, as I've um, belabored, they're all painful to sit through. Maybe one of these could have been fleshed out into something watchable, but instead are mashed together in an orgy of misguided whimsy.
Speaking of misguided, I once worked with a woman who actually smoked cigarettes -at work (not in a remote corner somewhere)!- while pregnant. I guess my face couldn't hide its disgust, so she emphatically explained to me that it was okay, as long as she just had one. On that infuriating note, let's cheer things up with identical twins, the Yays and Boos.

Usually guys who work in a food truck look like this, right?

Yaaaay!

• I didn't know/remember that Anna Kendrick was in this. And she brought the girls, as clearly mandated by her contract.
• Supposedly, Facts of Life fans, we have a confirmed Tootie sighting. When I pressed my wife for confirmation of this, she said she's 130% sure. Technically, she does have two brains, so I guess it's possible.
• J.Lo promises her husband a Bossman Junior, which is a Yay, all day, every day. But cutting away from said fantastic gesture? Oh, that's a Boo.
• And finally, despite being a heartless prick, there was one moment at the end, that actually made me not furious. I might've even got choked up for a second, okay? Whatever. I can't control it, dammit. I'm with child.

It takes a lot to make me hate Dennis Quaid.

 Boooooooo!

• As pretty and famous as most of the ladies are, the guys are pretty lame. Quaid's passable, but Mr. Schuester doesn't cut it.
• The worst of the worst? That honor belongs to Dudes Club. It's like Fight Club, just terrible and full of pussies.
• What the f--k, Product Placement? For whatever reason, by the end of this, I was craving some California Pizza Kitchen while flying Delta Airlines. Hmm. That's odd.
• Emotional inconsistencies. We literally go from the awfulness of a miscarriage to a heated conversation about circumcision over bananas and donuts. What the shit?
• Throwing your baby to someone is so stupid and unfunny, I honestly want to fight the person who allowed that into the final cut. Editor? Director? Writer? Screw it. I'll take all three of those pricks.
• Same goes for the final gag of hitting a kid in the head with a can of beer. That's only funny in the same place this movie is routinely watched: Hell.
• And the McLovin' award goes to...Fat Amy. Sorry, lady, but that is your name in every movie you will ever be in. Even if you put on the worst accent ever.
• And finally, you would think that in a movie with five or six stories, the odds are that you'd give a shit about one of them. Again, you would think...

Late this summer, after our second child is born, I'm sure there will be one dreary night, when we'll look at each other and whisper remember when we used to stay up this late, watching movies? And being that neither one of us will feel like we have slept in days, and be stressed beyond belief, the answer will likely be a defeated no, I can't even remember the last movie we watched together.

Sounds good to me.