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March 20, 2006 | by  | in Film |
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Date Movie

I’ve done some stupid things in my life time.

I’ve dive rolled out of a taxi, drunk out of my head. I’ve fallen down the stairs at Indigo, solely because I was ordering four beers at a time off the hot bartender. I’ve temporarily belived that white chocolate comes from Jersey cows. I smoked a pack of cigarettes a day for about 4 years. Let’s see… I’ve run down a Melbourne street cutting up bushes with a number sign I’d taken from a petrol station while my friend ran down the road in a bra he’d picked up off the side of the road. I’ve blown out with girls. I’ve missed the easiest of crossword puzzles. I’ve run down beaches in Hawkes Bay naked past families at dinner time. I continually think that McDonalds is a good hangover cure. Hell this one time right, my room smelt really awful and I thought it was a sandwich that was in my bin, and I removed it, but it turns out (after so much confusion) that the smell was actually coming from off-milk residue in the bottom of one of those Nature’s Energy milkshake containers. Oh, I also put Morning Fresh in the dishwasher once. You should see the effect that one had on the kitchen. BUBBLES EVERYWHERE! Holy moly.

I went letter boxing frequently in my early sixth form. I got caught stealing a twenty dollar note off my Mum when I was ten to buy basketball cards. I used to listen to System of a Down and I almost bought Eminem on CD when I was 15.

But nothing really compares with the decision to go and watch this movie. I was vunerable, I’d been to the dentist and all, but I just don’t know why I went. I didn’t even really find Scary Movie funny. Shit. I’m out. At least I didn’t pay. This film made me physically sick to my stomach and is probably akin to watching home movies of Robin Williams masturbating. Yeah, avoid, OK? This film is the sort of film that makes people sick about Hollywood and proves them right at the same time.

It’s just not worth it. Not even stoned (I wasn’t). And I repeat that to all those mild mannered stoners. Not funny. Not even stoned.

Directed by Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer
Hoyts, Reading Cinemas

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About the Author ()

James Robinson is a university dropout turned journalist who likes to pretend he has an honours degree. Turn ons include soup, scarfs, a hot bath and some FM-smooth Kenny G-esque instrumental jazz. Turn offs include student politicians, the homeless, and people who pronounce it supposebly.

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