Movie review: “Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates”

I was going to kick off my new, resumé-appropriate blog with a review of Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates, which AMC Theaters offered me free passes to see tonight.

BUT…goddammit, it was fucking funny. And I COULD write a clean review, but…fucking funny!

I don’t laugh a lot at romantic comedies — the jokes are generally dumb and contrived. But I snort-laughed several times during this one, and want to see it again just to hear the lines I missed while my fellow moviegoers were laughing their faces off.

Adam Devine was actually amusing, which I’ve never thought before. I now have an official ladycrush on Aubrey Plaza. Zac Efron was funny and sweet, and takes his shirt off if that’s your deal (pass). And y’all know I’d sit and watch Anna Kendrick read a damn newspaper, so I was pretty psyched to see her jump up and dance on a table because Rihanna is “my jam.” #SpiritAnimal

It’s also nice that the movie’s self-aware enough to at one point give a quick nod to how heavily they’ve borrowed from Wedding Crashers.

I’m not all “ZOMG, GO!” but I liked it a lot more than I thought I would. It’s a solid date movie (if, unlike me, you’re capable of human interaction). Silly, fun, and very cute.

Shut up and take my money

My newly updated Amazon wish list is proof that Jesus loves me and wants me to be happy.

Or, you know, proof that book publishers know an It Girl when they see one. Whichever.

(I’m trying to score review copies, but they won’t send them until right around the release dates. *shaking fist at life*)

Singleton/Poehler 2016!

Screw it, you guys — I am also running for president. 
The main focus of my platform will be universal pie and vibrators. In fact, by the end of my first term, I’d like us to have pie-brators. I’m not exactly sure what that would entail, but that’s where your generous funding comes in. Together, we can make the merging of baked goods and sex toys a glorious (if sticky) wave of the future. And gentlemen, I didn’t forget you — check my website to read all about my Fleshlight Freedom Initiative, coming (heh) in 2017. 

Other key priorities of my campaign: 

• Naps. 
• Very low-dose Xanax in the drinking water. (I promise not to create Reavers.)
• Once-monthly days off for when you just can’t even, and also for when the weather is too nice to go to work. 
• Cute bras and clothes available in all sizes. 
• Food delivery through your TV, like when the Golden Girls have cheesecake, you can say, “TV, fetch me cheesecake,” and it WILL (see also: The Making “Fetch” Happen Doctrine — we’re gonna do it!)
• Freedom puppies. 
• A constitutional amendment banning alarm clocks.
• All establishments that serve coffee shall also deliver it. 
• Barnes and Noble stores all get converted to huge, constantly-restocked libraries where you can just take books as you choose and return them if/when you feel like it. (Again, you send me money, I’ll work out the logistics.)

Stephen Colbert is Secretary of Everything; Anna Kendrick will be my Ambassador of Stuff. 

Neil deGrasse Tyson and Bill Nye are the new co-leaders of the EPA.

And Amy Poehler will be my VP. Obviously. 

So vote for me, people. With liberty, and punch and pie for all. 

Except for Donald Trump and Kanye West. No punch and pie for you. No.

The Pitch is Back!

Opening weekend of a movie directed/co-written by and starring a plethora of bomb-ass lady talent — complete with singing, sparkly outfits, and Anna Kendrick.

Shut up and take my money. 

(We’ll just ignore how much it hurts my brain that they didn’t go with a comma in the tagline. That will not at all haunt my dreams later.)  

Mental breakthroughs via Anna Kendrick.

Holy shit, you guys. I heard that “Cups” song on my way into work, and I could finally leave it on and sing along, instead of changing the station and feeling sad because I associate it with a boy who, alas, did NOT miss me when I was gone.

PROGRESS. BITCHES.

Thanks, Brain!

And thank YOU, Anna Kendrick. Nothing personal, you are glorious. I want to be deadpan bestie bunnies with you.  

“What’s your magic number?”

I’m sure this isn’t true of all women, but I just learned that 11 is the maximum number of times I’ll let a guy who scares me look at my (still photo-less) online dating profile without talking to me.

Sorry, sir, you give me the willies. I’m already wondering who’s gonna play me in the Lifetime movie based on this true story*. Gotta block you.

Also, your username is DanCurvesLeft**, and there’s no part of me that wants that. None of my happy places are to the left. I might be able to work with it, but…you’re creepy. And sure, maybe you’re referring to your baseball pitch, but again, you’re Creepy Creeperson, so I’m not willing to risk it.

*For the record, if you can get Anna Kendrick to stoop to Lifetime movies, she’s my first casting choice.

**Not his real username. I’m a bitch, not an asshole. May he find lifelong happiness with girl who enjoys attention and has an off-center g-spot.

Well, hell’s bells, Elle!

“Sheldon, sometimes you forget I’m a lady. And with that comes an estrogen-fueled need to page through thick, glossy magazines that make me hate my body.”
— Amy Farrah Fowler

Well, looks like I have to abandon my principles (not that I really had any) and buy Elle magazine. #PowerAnimal

You don’t miss me by my hair, you don’t miss me anywhere…

Interesting fact about the whole “You’re Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone” phenomenon: They probably don’t miss you when you’re gone.

I guess maybe they do if you’re Anna Kendrick.