I don't know how to make this work!

Before the internet, us kids had to earn our naked women. And I'll never forget the day in ninth grade when one of my friends stole an issue of Playboy from a touristy general store a few miles from where we lived. I actually didn't think he had done it, till we got to his car and he pulled up his shirt. There, tucked into the front of his plaid boxers, was a cellophane-encased copy of The Best of Pamela Anderson. It was a glorious magazine dedicated to every spread (ahem) that Pam had ever done. In a word, amazing.

Weeks/months later, it was my turn. While this will go down as the lone heist of my shoplifting career, the thought of naked women was worth a life in prison (ah, the irony of that sentence). Anyway, I couldn't figure out the whole stuff it down your pants maneuver, so I used my head. I blindly grabbed the magazine, placed it in a newspaper, walked away for twenty minutes, came back in, and bought the paper. Danny Ocean ain't got shit on me. It totally worked. 

The problem? I had stolen a copy of Penthouse Letters. That's not a clever title. It's a monthly magazine...of f--king letters. Yeah, they were dirty letters, but are you f--king kidding me? Words?

I needed action. People getting it on (whoo weeee) and such. Not some stupid written correspondence between people I could give a damn about. I mean, who gives a f--k about some stupid letters? 

At the behest of my lovely wife (who doesn't know that story, by the way), earlier this week I Redboxed 2015's The Longest Ride. Being it was a book that she had finished not too long ago, curiosity about the film version had totally gotten the best of her. While she wasn't sure that I would be up for it, she left the acquisition of the flick solely in my hands. And as I loved (loving) The Notebook and really loved (hating) Safe Haven [review], I'm always down for some Nicholas Sparks-fueled insanity romance. 

As my wife consistently informed me, a lot was changed from the book, so here's the story, watered-down as it may be: Sophia (the super-hot Britt Robertson) is months away from graduating from college and heading to New York for a fancy-pants, art-related internship. But instead of doing extra-credit homework for the tenth time in a row (or some shit), young Sophia is begrudgingly dragged to a rodeo. Aww. Lucky for her, she meets Luke, a handsome bullrider with adorable dimples, rock-hard abs and...a puppy. 

No, wait. A secret. Luke's got a secret. Didn't see that one coming!

Ah, YouPorn. So romanitc!

The whole doomed-romance thing has been done a million times, as has the Country Boy with a Farm vs. City Girl with a Dream angle, but here, Sparks ups the ante by throwing in the unnecessary Let's read an old guy some letters about his long-dead wife slant. Apparently handled better in the book, we're routinely (and unfortunately) treated to some entirely pointless subplot about a young Jewish couple from seventy years earlier. These endless flashbacks have so little to do with the events taking place between Sophia and Luke, it's pretty f--king ridiculous. Well, outside of the final thirty seconds where it's the most important thing ever. As was which knife I chose to stab myself in the eye with, when the credits finally rolled.

Speaking of slow deaths, this two-hour and eight minute epic almost lulled the Yays and Boos into a coma. But not only did they make it, but the wife did, too. Is it too early to call this a Christmas miracle?

This was the breast picture I could find.

Yaaaaaaaaaay!

• Keep it. Just once do I wish I could say this to a women in reference to something I was holding, only to come off as the coolest guy in the world. Here, it's Luke giving Sophia a cowboy hat. But for me? Maybe I could offer a pen, a scarf...or, maybe even my d--k. Though, honestly, I'm probably gonna need that last one back.
• Wait, bull-riders only have to last for eight seconds? Even I can do that. Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day, Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day.
• Even though I felt like I'd been punched in the matzoh balls every time we flashed back to Ira and Ruth, I did love me some 40's-style dancing. Silly movie or not, that shit's badass.
• At some point in WWII, Ira gets shot in the wiener saving Private Ryan. This isn't a Yay. Until we're forced to make the conclusion that that's why his relationship with Ruth is crumbling. Because then it's hilarious!
• Sophia runs into a pond, that silly goose. Welp, might as well shower off.
• And speaking of, I'm not going to lie, for what is basically a Lifetime movie, the little sex scene was hot as f--k. Maybe it's because most of the blood in my body had stopped circulating due to boredom, but when she finally gives ol' Luke the signal? We've got a pulse!
• Which then leads us to the inevitable montage of City girl doing Country Stuff. Yes, it's f--king ridiculous, but when she rides his barrel, the moronic sexual innuendo elevates this film to a masterwork. Oh, then he says, You can only touch it with your right hand. If only he had turned to the camera and went, Aayyyyyyyy Fonzie-style, you know?
• Whoa. The YouTube version of what happened to Luke was f--king intense. I wonder what the commercial was before she watched her boyfriend almost f--king die.
• In the old flashback story, we get this gem: Ira: (passionately) Be happy. Ruth: (door slams and she walks out of his life forever/she'll be back in an hour)
• And finally, the ending. It's 900% absurd, but I respect any movie that sees it fit to end with adults stripping down to their underwear and jumping off a shaky wooden pier into a lake. It's essentially the hillbilly-version of coming home with a baguette. 

Yes. I actually hate this.

Booooooooooo!

• There's a black dude at the rodeo. How do I know this? Because he gets a close up. Why? Probably because he's a black dude. At a rodeo.
• Any point that could have been made with a well-written scene, has been replaced with forty-five shitty ones. Seriously, the audience can understand shit the first time. Let's try to keep this one around 80 minutes, next time, mmkay?
• Yo, when they find Old Man in his soon-to-be-exploded car? I would have left him there to burn. For real. He looked like a f--king zombie! Pause it. It's f--king terrifying.
• But when they do go to the hospital? Sophia decides to stay. The f--k is this? I expect all my first dates to end tragically, sure, but cockblocked by a ninety-year old dude in a coma? Didn't see that one coming. Hell, at that point, I don't see anyone coming. Hi-yo!
• Oh, Sassy Black Nurse, you so crazy. (I hate that movies, for some reason, require this stereotype)
• And another hated mandatory character? Old Dickhead. But even worse? Old Dickhead...with a heart of gold.
• So...that photo-booth took 99 pictures. I mean, where I'm from...you usually get four. And yes, I felt compelled to mention this, f--ker.
• Punk, my day was clearly not made. We get to see Luke's (not at all) dirty, (not at all) hairy ass. Like, pretty much the whole thing (probably half). But what we don't get? Any nudity from Britt Robertson. Dirty, hairy, or otherwise.
• Poor kids. Look there's nothing funny about a kid from a shitty home, but in these types of movies, it's always played for laughs. Especially the fact that the little bastard eats like an animal. Oh, look. The malnourished, likely abused street urchin doesn't have any table manners! How delightful. Can we keep him?
• Sophia goes to the hospital to visit Luke and is rudely turned away. Only family can visit! Unless the patient is a dirty old man, then stay as long as you'd like!
• And finally, and I know it might be too late for this, but I truly hated the fact that this movie was more or less okay. Capable, handsome actors, solid direction, pleasant scenery and an average script was not what I signed up for. I wanted surprisingly good or f--king terrible and I got neither. And, it took way too long to get there. Hmm...kinda like this post, actually.

That's it for me. Hopefully you enjoyed yet another entry into I can't believe he watched that. I'll watch whatever simply because I never know where these reviews are going to go, you know? Who knew my brief foray into organized crime would be conjured up by The Longest Ride?

And besides, my wife really wanted to see it. And as far as I can tell, the more things you do for your wife, well, the more things she'll do for you. 

And trust me, sometimes? Sometimes, they even write letters about those things.