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September 7, 2014 | by  | in Arts Film |
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Why The Expendables 3 is the shit.

5 Stars

Dude. I don’t wanna flaunt it or anything but… I lift, man; like twice a day, everyday. Get up, the adrenaline is pumpin’. That protein powder is the bomb.  And guess how much milk I drink? Not 5, not 7, not 8 but 9 litres of full-fat milk a week. I’m bulkin’, man. I’m self-disciplined. Train like a beast, look like a beauty: that’s my life philosophy. But DUDE: after The Expendables, I’m ’mirin’ Stallone’s aesthetics. Holy shit, man. No wonder drunk bitches ain’t been picking up on my sexual dynamo.

This movie had everything a dude like me wants after paying 15 bucks. None of this conversational, subtitled shit. It’s full of guns, explosions, fist fights, tanks, motorbikes… and all the classics. Jet Li, Wesley Snipes, Randy Couture, Harrison Ford. Arnold Schwarzenegger, what a legend. Man, how does he do it, keeping so swole at his age? Mel Gibson though. He think he’s all that, strutting around intimidating these ruthless fellas. I could take him on. He was still ripped… don’t think I’m homo, just stating the obvious. The fighter chick was hot. Oh man, she was smokin’. She kicked a few asses. Didn’t say much either, for once. I like it that way, less distracting. Although she had a bit of attitude to those fine fellas in places. Not her place. They were saving her fine ass.

There were some wacky-as stunts. That bit where the jet boat just flies out of the water and lands on the truck. XTREME. And they all survive. Must be Stallone’s lucky ring. Fuckin’ funny as well.

Brah, you gotta see it. It’s mint.

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