I've spent the better part of the last week driving in one massive f--king circle. I've driven in torrential downpours, immense fog, utterly blinding lightening storms and I damn near killed a dude who was probably playing Pokemon Go (might have done that guy a favor, honestly). Hell, I (knowingly) went the wrong way in a parking garage just to get the f--k out of it.
And, no bullshit here, I swear to you, I almost hit motherf--king Big Bird doing ninety miles an hour on the Massachusetts Turnpike (seriously, somewhere John Hammond is missing a prehistoric gull).
Why would anyone put themselves through that level of aggravation? Why would anyone give up their precious time in the summer to do something they know is going to be an absolute f--king disaster?
You know the answer, but I'll tell you anyway: to see family. Oh, sure, it's basically the same f--king people every year, just different versions of familiar faces. You know how it's going to end, even before you leave your house. But, you go anyway. Because you have to. You'd regret it if you didn't.
But the hardest part about the whole thing? Is getting home to realize you did all that...and only a few of them even made an effort. The rest of them? F--king useless. Shit.
Well, at least I heard a lot of a good songs along the way...
While I would never say it to any member of my family, I have no problem saying F--k off to David Ayer's latest film, Suicide Squad. Months and months of hype and anticipation, and a trip to the movies that will likely damn me forever (in the eyes of my mother-in-law [I went the night before we left...oops]) have all been in vain, as this flick is a Bat-punch straight to the dick. And remember, this is coming from someone who liked Are You There God? It's Me, Martha [review].
Look, before I really begin, let me just say two things, maybe three. One, outside of a childhood obsession with the Batman movies (Keaton, etc.), I really don't know dick about DC. If you feel the need to enlighten me, go ahead, but know that I'll be painstakingly laying out a massive circle of guns and knives while you do ('cause I'm f--king intense, okay?). Two, I went to this movie wanting to like it, like, like-like it, like, more than a friend. And that was after I heard it was a fistful of shit-covered kryptonite. Three, it's a f--king movie, so if this one means a lot to you, don't take any of this shit seriously, all right? I don't want your mom to have to tape all your Killer Croc posters together again, okay?
And, no bullshit here, I swear to you, I almost hit motherf--king Big Bird doing ninety miles an hour on the Massachusetts Turnpike (seriously, somewhere John Hammond is missing a prehistoric gull).
Why would anyone put themselves through that level of aggravation? Why would anyone give up their precious time in the summer to do something they know is going to be an absolute f--king disaster?
You know the answer, but I'll tell you anyway: to see family. Oh, sure, it's basically the same f--king people every year, just different versions of familiar faces. You know how it's going to end, even before you leave your house. But, you go anyway. Because you have to. You'd regret it if you didn't.
But the hardest part about the whole thing? Is getting home to realize you did all that...and only a few of them even made an effort. The rest of them? F--king useless. Shit.
Well, at least I heard a lot of a good songs along the way...
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| I hope who ever designed this falls off a mountain. |
Look, before I really begin, let me just say two things, maybe three. One, outside of a childhood obsession with the Batman movies (Keaton, etc.), I really don't know dick about DC. If you feel the need to enlighten me, go ahead, but know that I'll be painstakingly laying out a massive circle of guns and knives while you do ('cause I'm f--king intense, okay?). Two, I went to this movie wanting to like it, like, like-like it, like, more than a friend. And that was after I heard it was a fistful of shit-covered kryptonite. Three, it's a f--king movie, so if this one means a lot to you, don't take any of this shit seriously, all right? I don't want your mom to have to tape all your Killer Croc posters together again, okay?
