It’s too late for me, but you still have a chance to save yourselves

Promise me that you’ll never make the same mistakes that I have made.  Promise me that you won’t ever see this move.  PROMISE ME!!

You know that movie “88 Minutes” staring Al Pacino?  They had the title half right, it actually should have been called “88 Minutes of Your Life You’ll Never Get Back”.

Wow.  What an incredible peace of crap.  Here’s what I don’t understand: why do actors sign on to make a movie that is clearly craptastic?  I can’t imagine Pacino picking up the script and thinking to himself, “I’m an Academy Award winning actor.  Anything I touch turns to gold!  Even this completely unbelievable script that will eventually star Leelee Sobeski as a murderer.”  Really?  I mean really.  And what happens at the premiere of the movie?  Do they sit there thinking to themselves, “Shit, I can actually hear my career being flushed down the toilet”?  Or do they believe that it’s actually a good flick?

Don’t believe how bad it is?  Here, take a looky loo at the “fantastic dialogue:

• Jon Forster: Dr. Gramm, I want you to listen very closely, because when I get out of here I’m going to go have a nice hot meal, stop by your grave, and then piss all over it. Now please put my angel attorney on the phone.
• Dr. Jack Gramm: She’s dead. It’s over, Forster. Except for the clock that goes tic-tock, tic-tock. You got twelve hours to live. [throws phone over banister]

I’m in physical pain.  Someone really should be punished for writing, directing, producing, and or acting in this “film”.  Someone should pay!

It Just Gets Worse

I’m not sure what’s more upsetting, knowing that the dog will never greet me when I walk into this house or being forced to watch “The Polar Express” while playing Thomas the god damned tank engine. Who the hell thought this movie was a good idea?  The kids are so creepy that they’ll probably have starring roles in my next nightmare.  And the “songs” in the film will serve as the soundtrack on those horrifying dreams.

As for the hateful train set…where should I begin?  Shall I comment on the fact that the tracks cost one million dollars and yet they never stay together?  “Why they keep breaking?” Damien keeps asking.  Because they’re shit, that’s why. And who the hell comes up with the names for the stupid characters? I mean really, what the French kind of name is Scarloughie?

When I’m not fixing cheap ass train tracks or being frightened by scary animated children I’m busy fixing Lucy(fer)’s socks.  I’m half tempted to duct tape them on her little cankles.  Is that wrong?

Super.  She just crapped her pants.  Guess who gets to change the diaper?  If my sister hadn’t just lost her dog last night I’d wake her ass up and force her to change the dirty diaper.

There should be a universal law that all children must take naps when in my care.  Frankly, it’s in everyone’s best interest…or at least in mine.   And it’s also a safety precaution for them so they don’t end up with my hands wrapped around their fragile little necks.