Things I'd rather do...

,Ladies and...OK lets be honest; Blaine's wife and Gentlemen. I present to you a sonnet to how my brain operates. Since I rarely give a shit about what I want to do, while keeping a real-time scoreboard of what I would hate doing, it's only right I burden you with my mental filth.

Since everyone is talking about 'The Dark Knight' these days, lets shed a little light on the other little movie that opened this week: Mamma Mia.

Now let's kick it into a dark well forever.

Understandably, Reno is treading on no new ground as a man hating on musicals, and any movie starring the human vadge-magnet Meryl Streep is a quick pass on its own. The real crescent kick to the kidneys is the fact the movie/play is set to the music of Abba.

Fucking Abba.

Again, not burning fresh a forest here. I get it, women like to sing/dance, most have an overall warm sensation to co-habitation, have a strange fear/attraction to Meryl Streep (she's the same bitch in every movie, you do see that right?) I see the mental bottom line scribble that assembled this lowest common denomonator drivel.

(Jesus, just look at her piercing through the souls of every woman alive here--->)

But let's look at what we have combined here in this little concoction of fuck-hate:

• Musical
• Meryl Streep
• ABBA
• all set to a sappy marriage film.

Deep breath Gruber. Deep breath.

Ok, so here's the gauntlet. It's easy to say I'd rather die/ I'd rather write a 300 word essay on what gunmetal tastes like post trigger-pull. But really, what would I rather do than watch this conglomerate of everything that is wrong with unoriginal marketing to the female demographic.

In a scale of justice, with the ABBAtastic Mamma Mia on one end, these are some of the heavy choices that still don't quite tip the arm to that darkside which forces me to watch this fun-loving romp (that is probably what movies would look like if the Nazis would have won.)

You don't fool anyone, Sweden.

1. I would rather spend a four-hour car ride with the two Coreys on the way to their couples therapist, with the addition that we had to stop every five miles so they could smoke another fat bowl of Meth. And it'd have to be a comically small bench-seat pickup truck
2. I'd rather move to Little Rock Arkansas painted purple with a tattoo that says "Bloods and Crips are for fags. Grimace street gangsta for life." on my face.
3. Watch the entire Jeff Fahey movie catalogue, including the off-shoot Lawnmower Man sequels he may or may not have starred in.
   
4. Masturbate with gasoline then get into a match fight.
5. Buy a bag full of puppies and skin them alive with my teeth in front of a daycare.
   
6. Eviscerate my genitals. They'd be useless if I was forced to watch this movie anyhow. It'd just be beating myself to the punch.
7. Fist fight Billy Idol. I don't know how, but he's like 60 and looks 30. I'm pretty sure he's either a robot or drinks the blood of the sacred feminine. Either way I'd usually try to not fight that person. Would if it meant no Mamma Mia.
8. Force feed myself a triple dose of Cialis until priapism kicks in, then have someone lather me with cheese cake and unleash a hungry Star Jones on me. Substitute Rosie O'Donnell if you'd like. Fuck, throw 'em both in. If that gets me out of this film. Ok.
9. Work at my current job for my whole life (awww, sad).
10. Wake up and find out, in typical Hollywood fashion that I had a Kazoo-like guardian angel. But in a WB network circa 1995 twist, that angel is a talking version of Britney Spear's crooked vagina.
    

Surprisingly, I'm still unmarried.


Reno