I don't understad
"bromances". The word is as lame as other fake words like "metrosexual"
and "manny". The only time any of those was clever was the first
time they were used, and only if the person who coined them
knew he sounded like an asshole. Otherwise, they are just the
lazy, unfunny hipster's way to say nothing in unoriginal ways.
You've got to be an idiot to use phony words that have appeared
in the New York Times "Sunday Styles" section.
bromances. It's for all the assholes who call their garage or
basement a "man-cave". No, it's a fucking garage or basement.
If you need to call it a man-cave to grow a little chest hair
you're a bigger pussy than you'll ever know. You probably also
dream of living the life of the guy on a Miller Genuine Draft
billboard. Bromance and man-cave have nothing on the dread-inducing
as "vajayjay", though. What the fuck is that? It's like a grown
man calling his dick a "pee-pee". A dick is always a dick, unless
it's a cock. A vagina is always a vagina, unless it's a pussy
or beaver. A silly name doesn't change what a vagina is; it
just suggests the speaker thinks of it more like a pretty vase,
or a coin purse than a urinary tract/birth canal/genitalia/Georgia
no woman's vagina in I Love You, Man, but I'm pretty
damn sure someone says "man-cave". And the movie does contain
what I think is a bromance. Even though this isn't a Judd Apatow
movie, it smells like his gas. All that male bonding over athletic
competition, gambling and bad rock music. That's the shit I
never understood. I've never felt the urge to hang out with
just the guys. Mainly because guys are dicks, but also because
I like having sex with women, or imagining I am having sex with
the ones who either hate me or think I'm super creepy. I hate
competing against other guys because it opens me up to the possibility
of losing. Then I feel awful and need somebody to rub my neck.
The only contests I win are the ones like seeing who can wet
his pants the most, or who can we make cry by bringing up the
time he got locked in the Tavern's grease trap for six hours
because he thought he saw leprechauns. I don't give a fuck about
football. I don't understand society's (and bad comedians')
need to dictate that guys have to do some stuff only with guys.
Some of my most profound and deepest discussions about jock
itch have been with The Harelip, and she's mostly a girl. My
old boss at the Family Dollar, Dipshit Suzanne, loved to talk
about dry humping and jerking off.
is, beer commercials dictate far too many of the social mores
to our passive society. We take it on their authority that men
must have male friends to act like assholes with. The reality
is, I don't need a guy to hang out with me on the curb at the
apartment complex and throw rocks at Cadillacs and Lincolns.
If a chick wants to do it, that's okay too, so long as she doesn't
throw like a girl.
You, Man is based on Coors Light dictum. It's a damn shame
because it's a likeable, occasionally funny movie otherwise.
Paul Rudd plays a squishy, Passat-driving, real-estate doughboy
who hangs around with women more than dudes. He's engaged to
Rashida Jones, a hot-in-a-TV-sitcom-sort-of-way girl. Rudd is
happier making Jones and her friends root beer floats than playing
poker with a bunch of burping, farting guys. Yeah, so? Me too.
Because I know that if I hang out with girls long enough they'll
eventually invite me to a lingerie sleepover that gets out of
hand. I've seen it all too often on Cinemax to pretend it never
that Rudd doesn't have guy friends. The imbalance of bridesmaids
to groomsmen might be awkward at their wedding. There is supposedly
some deeper concern, but the bridesmaid one is the only one
clearly enunciated. Never mind that Rudd is completely happy
with his life and with Jones. The story is that he must have
guy friends to hang out with because that's what Coors Light
says straight guys do.
on a quest to find a friend to serve as best man at his nuptials.
The movie follows the plot of every lame romantic comedy, except
with the twist that Rudd is a straight guy looking for a straight
guy. Rudd connects with one man, only to learn he is gay. Another
"date" is too high-pitched and into American soccer. Another
is 89-years-old. Finally, he meets Jason Segel, a slacker (this
is a Judd Apatow imitation, after all) who eats the free sandwiches
at one of Rudd's open houses. That's the "meet cute".
a supremely confident bachelor. He turned his garage into a
"man-cave" full of apparently guy stuff, like drums and guitars.
You know, because chicks never play musical instruments, or
watch a lot of TV, or jerk off in a special chair. Wait a minute.
Isn't there a whole industry of pornos about women getting off
in special chairs? Segel has fully embraced his manhood. He
only does guy stuff and has no woman seriously in his life.
He and Rudd hit it off over their shared love for the ubershitty
rock band Rush. They jam, they hang out on the beach. Segel
teaches Rudd how to be more like an asshole, beer commercial
kid of guy.
things go awry. Fianc»e Jones feels that Segel is trying to
keep Rudd from marrying her and moving on to having a family.
Segel tries too hard to make Rudd happy. There is a breakup,
a near cancellation of the wedding, and then the last minute
reconciliation that satisfies everyone and proves they can all
get along, and that Jones understand Rudd's need to have a guy
is likeable. It's alos long and predictable. Rudd is a nice
enough guy, though his character wears out a gag where he tries
to mash up his English to sound cool. Like calling a vacation
a "vacay" or some weird thing about a "squiznot." Rudd is mostly
the straight man, here, with the exception of when he projectile
vomits on another guy. Segel is the agitator and comedic source.
He's an honest guy with no pretentions. He rides a Vespa and
hangs out with guys because he's comfortable with it. He also
has an uncanny ability to sense when someone's about to fart.
Jones is smiley, but not particularly interesting. There are
many good bit parts played by good comic actors. Rob Heubel
and Aziz Ansari from Human Giant are in it with funny
roles. Jon Favreau has a really great bit as a bitter, angry
prick. Even Andy Samberg does a nice, subtle job as Rudd's gay
though, is that to like I Love You, Man, you have to
buy into the whole idea that men need to hang out with other
men and act like they've got testosterone pouring out their
eyeballs. You have to believe in Axe body deodorant, that the
douches in Captain Morgan ads are clever sons of bitches and
that Tim Allen's schtick is still funny. You also have to not
be sick of Judd Apatow-style comedies about "bromances". I'm
just about there. Three Fingers.
to tell Filthy Something?