It only hurts when I try to explain it.

As my wife counts down the dwindling days of her second pregnancy (allegedly, a girl), my son and I have been spending almost every minute together. Matty and I have flown to New England to see my older brother. Also on that trip, was my younger brother, Nikos, and he stayed with us for some time, too. We've been to parks, restaurants, museums, baseball games, movies, bounce houses, play places - you name it. It's been quite the dude fest.

A byproduct of this concentrated time with me and his uncles? A huge spike in his um, manliness. Sarcasm, farting (my wife prefers tooting), daredevil maneuvers, off-key singing and general wise-cracking are all on the rise. And while my two brothers and I would like to take credit (read: blame) for much of that, we might just be the wrong trio of siblings responsible for his, um, inspired behavior.

How can one poster make me want to kill many things?

Every summer the local theater shows old children's movies for just a buck, which in this case might've been a fleecing. Our inaugural trip this season turned out to be the God-awful Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked. My son had already seen the other flick (Mr. Popper's Penguins), so I can't necessarily blame him for opting for Alvin, Simon and Theodore. But I can blame every single person who had a hand in creating this turd. Really, guys? Really?

Seeing as the first two Chipmunk movies weren't exactly riveting, I knew this one was going to be all kinds of horrible. Any actual good ideas in this trilogy (bit of a stretch, that) have long been trotted out and shat upon all of us. But, being that I enjoy seeing my son have a good time (as well as air-conditioning, honestly), I took one for the team. At least we weren't home...right? Right.

Look, you are never going to see this movie. In fact, there's a safe bet you aren't reading this post. But if for whatever reason, you actually will? Let me at least clue you in on some of the atrocities that you've wisely avoided.