Today, I get to host the ring leader herself, Nugs! I feel so honored to have her here. And I'm basically in a big boob sandwich, which is pretty awesome. Without further ado...
I am totally fired up for this month's SMAC! (In case you haven't noticed, we finally chose a moniker for the ring! Welcome to the Shitty Movie Awareness Club, so named by myself and Tits). Not only do I get to post for Sara Nips, one of my best bloggy friends EVER, but if you head over to That Ain't Kosher you'll get to read a review from Tsa, who was demented awesome enough to play tour guide for me when I visited San Francisco a few months ago.
Read that one afterwards, though. What you should subject yourself to first is my eloquent re-telling of the storied cinematic classic From Justin to Kelly.
When we decided to review movies starring pop stars for the latest edition of SMAC, I knew immediately which one I was gunning for (emphasis on gun). I had never seen From Justin to Kelly, and I prayed that the film’s title described the oncoming path of a wayward bullet.
Alas, it did not. From Justin to Kelly stars (?) two of the singers from the brain-hammer that is American Idol, Kelly Clarkson and Justin Guarini or however the fuck you spell it. Basically they meet each other on a Spring Break trip to somewhere I don’t remember because I blocked it out and assault our eyes and ears with what they consider singing and/or dancing.
|Check out these breathtaking originals|
A lonely, sexually repressed man. A depressed woman. A summer camp. On this fateful night, they will meet... and their hearts will become one.
What the fuck? Who wrote this? That makes it sound like a Holocaust movie, which would have been way less depressing than this shit. What makes this movie even more unbelievable is that Kelly’s bitchy blond friend (we know she’s a bitch because she’s blond and wears sluttier outfits than Kelly) tries to steal Justin away. Seriously? Dude looks like Sideshow Bob with a Taco Bell anus and a Labradoodle face.
|Who one inspires more sexytimes?|
So then there are a bunch of craptastic musical numbers with choreography that makes children’s dance recitals look like the Joffrey Ballet, and also there is singing. My God, the singing. The only redeeming quality I can come up with for this film is that after eighty-one minutes, I didn’t want to drive a rusty nail slowly through my skull. Drinking the Tide under my sink would have sufficed nicely enough. I was hoping for at least a glimmer of enjoyment and some brief moments of hilarity, but no. I kept glancing at the clock thinking at least twenty minutes had passed, but it had only been like, thirty seconds.
I’m actually going to recommend that you guys watch this movie. It is so awful, so painfully terrible, that I need to not be alone in my suffering.