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| CANADA'S SOURCE FOR HUMOUR, PARODY, AND SATIRE
One of these weekends, I will get to see my movie of choice. I don't care if I have to go alone! And don't tempt me, I will. I will sit in that theatre sans date, and I will watch what I want to watch, by myself, with no one else to tell me otherwise. Ah, who am I kidding. I will never stoop that that level. I would rather wear my grandmother's shawl first. Okay, so last weekend, I had a date with Eric Dwyer. No, he is not from Hunktown, but he is a nice guy, and NO, we are just friends. Eric, who happened to be buying the tickets, convinced me that I wanted to see Spy Game, and yes, my decision was a direct result of Mr. Brad Pitt. Okay, so what if he's over 30!? I can dream right? Well, so much for watching my girl idol Drew Barrymore in Chasing Guys In Cars or whatever it's called. I'm sure I'll get to see it next weekend when the girls finally give in to my movie demands. So, alright, Brad (as I can and will call him) plays some sort of ghetto spy. He is nothing like Pierce Brosnan, and there are no sperm-mobiles or explodiing laser cigarette lighters like you would see in every Bond movie. And Brad doesn't even wear a tuxedo. In fact, I think Brad may have even be poor. Well, how sad is that? Anyway, he gets taught to be a spy by his grandfather I think, who is played by Robert Redford. Unfortunately, most of the movie surrounds the old spy, because Brad is trapped in some Japanese prison, because he tried to play a doctor who gets electrocuted. I know, it went right over my head too. So Robert Redford is like, "oh crap, my grandson has been imprisoned" and spends the whole movie on the phone. I don't even think he leaves work during the whole movie. I guess you have to slow down when you get to be his age. I didn't understand most of the Iraq stuff either. Apparently the ayatollah was selling guns to someone and people didn't like that, so they drove a subaru into his hotel and blew him up. This whole movie was testosterone-based from the beginning, and even with Brad Pitt, I had a hard time concentrating. The only thing I can say is that the sunglasses people wore in the sixties were extremely retro-trashy. If I had
a rating system, I'd definitely have given it one bellini, or two carrot
sticks or whatever. I know it certainly wasn't worth the money Eric spent
on me to see it.
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| This fictional story about satire is intended for adults. | The World Leader in Canadian humour, humor, parody, and satire. | |
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by
Shirley Eugeste
