I Don't Know How She Does It

Ugh. Okay, I think when my best friend Bunny Walker recommended I watch and review a movie with Sarah Jessica Parker in it, she was thinking the main issue I'd have is the hatred I used to harbor for her based on my scorching Matthew Broderick crush - but I've grown out of that. Way out of it.

You see, my best friend's favorite reviews of mine involve films I despise - and even without still obsessing over SJP's husbro, being forced to watch something she's in is a pretty safe bet I'll volunteer to throw a rock at my television and quit the planet for the evening.

But I love my Bunny Walker, and I'll do almost anything she asks, except watch this damnable thing a second time.

Allow me to heave a sigh and get started.

First thing's first - as Netflix took its time loading, this is the image it offered me as I waited:

It felt like I was looking into a mirror that turned me into Sarah Jessica Parker, and I was pleading with myself not to go through with it. I didn't listen. I never heed the warnings of my heart.

Kate (SJP) and Richard Reddy (Greg Kinnear) are working married parents who haven't yet figured out that it's no longer the 60s and that everything involving the house and children isn't momma's sole responsibility. I mean fuck - when was the critically acclaimed novel this film was based on written? Oh, just 2003. Back when girls were girls and men were men. Those were the d--well, maybe the book was better. I pray it was.

None of the characters were truly likeable. Kate Reddy's friend Allison (Christina Hendricks) was tolerable most of the time. Digestible, even. Everyone else gave me gas.

As you can guess, Kate tries to have it all, and does none of it as well as it could be done. Man, when was the last time I ran across this theme? You mean to tell me every single story about a working mother is this same boring, predictable, gender role stereotyping, corny bullshit? No wonder I'm holding a fistful of my own hair.

At least this movie had totally different and innovative stuff in it, like misunderstandings involving e-mails sent to the wrong person, grass-is-always-greener moments, judgmental mother-in-laws, snarky fellow mothers, getting-it-right-alright musical montages and freeze-frame fourth wall bashing - plus really clever crap like calling yourself a "giant, un-tweezed eyebrow". Ahahahahaha. Ha.

I almost gave up completely when Kate Reddy was questioned about a spot on her blazer and she responded by tasting it. Tasting it. What ever happened to smelling things?! I have two kids and there is no way I could be convinced to put my mouth on a mysterious stain - I don't care if I even had a pretty darn good hunch it was made entirely of squished pot brownies - I am not just throwing it willy-nilly against my tongue, not even for comedy.

What is there really to say about this film? It just sucked. I mean, it wasn't even so bad it was good. It was just ... there ... doing all the things that irritate you into needing a nap. It was like a forced two-hour coffee date with a guy who thinks fart jokes are hilarious. You just want it to end, and don't really much feel like talking about it later. So, how did it end? I don't fucking care, and it doesn't even matter. I'm just glad it's over.

So there you go. Don't watch this. Do anything else on Earth.

I Play Sims Asylum (part13)

Listen, Sweets - I find outdoor workbenches as infuriating as the next raving lunatic ...

... but maybe we can dial it down a couple notches below tantrum level Arthur Derrick.

Some TV might hit the spot. It's got Eve so relaxed she's storing her finger tips in her thighs. Give it a shot.

Uh-oh, Husbro.

He's a-plotting. Ya better sleep with one eye peeled and the other eye open.
I suspect his plan has something to do with that decorative bicycle bell he wears on his hip.

Husbro, your explosive innocent face is improving!

Okay, guys - I don't want to interrupt uh ... okay, maybe I do want to interrupt. We're about to have the party.

Is this some sort of pre-party oath? I don't know if we have the time.

Our first guest is booking through the front door and we're not even changed into celebration attire.

Formal wear vortex! Quickly!

Or just freeze with a creeper grin on your face. That's good, too.

I think you passed him going eighty, guy.

Hmm. Bunny. Bunny?
I haven't seen her stare this hard since 'nam.

Pace yourselves, you two.

Grumplestiltskin hates everything.

Uh-oh, Sweets is crapping hearts.

"Have you met the girl just sprinting in? I think I'm in love with her."

Unfortunately, Sweets, she appears to have some sort of business with Husbro.

Mayhaps you dodged a bullet, though.

I don't blame you, Eve. I'd offer my arm to the fish after seeing that, too.

On a scale of 1 to Can't With This, I think it's clear where Rev stands.

Aww, lookit Sweets. He hopes I dance.

Gather 'round. I'll oblige.

Alright, I'm going. I hope I don't pull several things.

Oops. You know what I need to do?

I totally gotta poop. Hi, Sweets.

What're you ...

No freakin' way.

All this time. It finally happened. Double poop, all the way. But what does it MEAN!?

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I Play Sims Asylum (part12)

"Now be a good boy and go stand in the shower fully clothed until somebody tries to burn the Asylum down..."

Great. The hot dogs are burnt again.

Alright, y'all, you know what to do - commence panicking.

Tip-top trepidation there, Arthur Derrick.

You're all precious gemstones.

Hey, do any of you mind if I do a little freestyle here?

Of course you don't. Check this shit out, I'm amazing. My vagina can do anything.

Oh yeah, sorry to have worn you out with the fire I didn't start, but managed to extinguish, Sweets.

You probably need a snack.

I think I might be doing the hot dog procedure incorrectly. I'm supposed to rub my food on a friend for extra flavor.
Well, this is embarrassing.

Ooh, Eve - you should know better than to eye up Rev's dog. Nobody's in the mood for anything tonight.

It's hard to find the words I need to ask about this.

Oh hey, thanks Arthur Derrick. You're a peach.

I don't know what I would have done without you to transfer the pile of filthy laundry ... over. A little.

Is the TV broken again? Couldn't we be watching literally anything else but this?

Here we go, a grand idea. Pillow fights are never not edifying.

You really detect the uplifting of her mind and character.
Even Lord Sweets is receiving some second-hand improvementations.

Not a moment too soon, either - he's been kicking up some naughtiness which is getting stuck right in my craw.

For one thing, I don't like having to catch any face-sass when I'm just trying to have a nice stare with one of my friends.

It makes it really hard to enjoy having my crotch intensely examined through my night shirt.

And he shouldn't be doing that thing with his neck. It's just fuckin' creepy and it gives Rev
permission to do whatever this thing she's doing is, which I kind of don't like much.

He's also started sitting like this. It's like trying to watch television next to someone who's
about to murder me with soft, lotioned hands and then knit a scarf from my hair. Or something.

He's gotta stop following me around, too.

He is really bleaching my bricks today. I'm about to do something bad with a sword.

Oh good, these two are the perfect distraction.

And I totally agree with you, too. We should throw a party. I hope somebody brings a platter of something.

I Play Sims Asylum (part13)
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