I didn't ask for it. And I don't want it.

Sometimes, the only thing better than a great movie is a shitty one. If the stars align, and it's the right kind of awful, a really bad movie can be a really good time. Even better, is when you realize that the person sitting next to you feels the exact same way about the flick. Especially when it's someone close. As my wife and I settled into our latest (and last?) Redbox offering, there was magic in the room. No one was secretly gutting one out, nobody took one for the team. We loved this movie. Wait, let me clarify. We loved hating this movie.

You know shit when you find shit, too.

I actually think I loved Safe Haven. Really, no bullshit. It lets you know how bad it is probably thirty seconds in, and it doesn't ever let up. It remains laughably absurd the entire time and actually ends with a record-setting level of ridiculousness. Our son wasn't home, so I was able to immediately burst into the out-loud version of the Are you f--king kidding me? routine I usually just keep hidden behind my rolling eyes. And shockingly, and perfectly, Mrs. Two Dollar Cinema was right there with me.

Domestic violence. Losing a spouse to cancer. Children in peril. Alcoholism. Murder. None of these topics should be hilarious, but in the deft hands of director Lasse Hallstrom and this silly script, even life's most gut-wrenching moments translate to comedic gold. The melodrama is so thick, the acting so forced, and each allegedly tender moment so incredibly contrived, Safe Haven is remarkably terrible. It's as if M. Night Shyamalan directed the longest tampon commercial ever. That description is so good, they probably should have put it on the poster. Just sayin...

Not that you care, or should, but Safe Haven tells the supposedly compelling story of a young woman fleeing a desperate situation. She heads to the bus station (of course), and ends up in some sleepy coastal town where she can start her life over. Oh, and one more thing: she's f--king hot (of course). And there, she quickly meets a cute kid and her sexy father, who, and I hate to ruin it for you, has recently lost his wife to cancer. I literally had no idea what would happen next, but you're smarter than I am, and you can probably put two and two together. My best guess? I figured that she would be reluctant to open up, finally do so, and end up passionately giving up that ass after a romantic, rain-soaked kiss. Life would be perfect, and she'd finally be able to drop her guard and exhale. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the tragic events of her past would show up and destroy everything. But remember, that's just my guess. A total shot in the dark.

Let's forgo all this predictability and wrap this post up with the Yays and Boos. Shocking, right? Well, I don't want to overwhelm you with any unnecessary twists completely out of f--king nowhere, so let me tell you right now: it might get a little sarcastic.

Nice bikini, Reserved Private Lady. Was your G dirty?

Yaaaaaaay!

• Maybe it's because I'm days away to having a daughter, but the little girl who plays Lexie is adorable. She actually remains not that annoying til the end, too. I've never loved seeing a kid lie their ass off more than this little girl.
• Oh, Fergie's Husband. You so nice. Seriously though, as bad as everything is, Josh Duhamel does everything he can to salvage this one. Commendable.
• Speaking of commendable, put your hands together for Mrs. Feldman. You can't rattle this old bitch.
• Hough is hot. Yep.
• There's this scene when Hough tells her neighbor rather pointedly to Walk safe.  Or as the look on her face suggested, Don't hurt yourself, you know, f--king off.
• Random Customer Guy. I actually laughed. You know, when I was supposed to.
• And finally, while clearly I have a shriveled, black heart, I actually was a little touched by the stack of letters the mom wrote when she was dying. That touch of sentimentality didn't infuriate me. Initially. 

Boooooooooooo!

• Her getaway outfit? She's pretty much dressed like the Unabomber's kid sister. Nothing suspicious there.
• So, she's on the run and she buys a house? Apparently realtors in NC don't ask you to fill out any paperwork.
• Jo, her neighbor. First, I was pretty sure Jo was a hardcore lesbian, which was fine. But then she kept yammering on, like an actual character. I kept thinking, Jo. Shut the f--k up. No one cares about you.
• It's actually kind of impressive that in the most melodramatic movie ever that there are actually parts even more hilariously intense than the rest. We'll call those flashbacks.
• Piss poor acting notwithstanding, the scene where Hough loses her shit over being given a bike is deliriously awful. I loved every minute of it.
• So, his son almost drowns. That's unfortunate. But when he comes to and is a huge douche? That's f--king great.
• Only in a movie like this does someone falling through a floor and laughing about it make you wish that they actually died. Not just the character. Like, the actor.
• If the dialogue isn't laying it on thick enough...there's the score demanding you feel a certain way.
• There's a dance scene in this. I know, surprise!, right? Where's Len Goodman when you need him. Absolutely atrocious.
• Wanted posters. I'm sorry, but no one has ever put up a wanted poster of a chick this hot and that bitch hasn't been arrested minutes later.  
• Detective Asshole. How much do I hate you? Let me count the ways:
• One. In an awful movie, you are the worst character. Hands down.
• Two. You sleep at crime scenes. Only Harvey Keitel is allowed to do that.
• Three. You play hardball with Aunt Bea Mrs. Feldman. Not cool. She's pretty old, bro.
• Four. You solve the case by finding a recipe for Cherry Pie. Cue the weird vagina analogy.
• Five. You show up in a tight-knit small town and drunkenly stagger through their parade and no one cares? Huh? What's worse, you can't walk around someone to see their face, can you? No. You have to violently spin every blonde lady on Main Street, don't you? And they all just kind of shrugged it off. Some stranger taps me on the shoulder, I'm telling everyone I've ever met about the unknown asshole who just touched me.
• And finally, six. This guy storms into a bus station and asks about this runaway girl. Turns out she boarded a bus to Atlanta. He asks, Well, what city could she have gotten to from that bus? The guy's answer? Well, any city in America. That's hysterical right there. Even better, the detective turns away basically saying something to the effect of, Oh, okay then. That's where I'll start.

Look, I'm glad my wife and I are in a happy relationship. Nothing to be concerned about. At all. In fact she's due in less than a week. Though...she did just get a haircut. Oh my God.  

She's starting over.