Showing posts with label boobies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boobies. Show all posts

Friday, May 18, 2012

It's drive-in season!


Have we recovered from the trauma of last year's drive-in season? The scars are still so fresh, it's hard to tell, and yet I think my children will be undergoing extensive psychological analyzing for years to come.

OK, so maybe they won't. Maybe just me. Me and all the other parents who were there that fateful night, holding their protective hands over the the tiny trusting faces of their innocent offspring while, on the  screen, busty nudes faked hot liquid sex amidst the pastoral pines of the local drive-in. The horror, the popcorn-crusted, hot dog dancing horror.

Before you think I'm a twisted weirdo freak, let me assure you I would never take my children to a porno on purpose. Like, never! I don't even feel comfortable watching the kissing scenes in Lassie Does Dallas. Perhaps Dave and I should have checked the ratings of the movies playing at last year's Dusk to Dawn movie fiesta before packing kids, blankets, pop and pillows into our two cars. But we weren't THINKING. This is a common thing at my house, the not-thinking thing. It can be blamed for a multitude of hoary sins. Any reasonable parent, nay, any THINKING parent, would know enough to check out the ratings and trailers for the four movies playing at the Dusk to Dawn: Planet of the Apes, Cowboys & Aliens, The Change-Up and Bridesmaids. Yeah, well... all I can say is please refer to the not-thinking phase of this diatribe.

So the first two movies were good. Lots of blood and guts and shooting and dying, not too much swearing and no sex – that's pretty much Disney for us. I don't care how much violence is in the flick, as long as nobody's naked.

Then Change-Up started. The language was terrible – there was more swearing than in this blog, and that's a feck of a lot of swearing! Every time somebody said the eff word, I grumbled under my breath saying, "Oh, Sam, you're not listening to that are you?" And, "You better not be talking like that, Angus."  So the actors would swear and I'd waggle my gums and there was so much swearing and waggling that my jaw began to ache. The kids weren't listening to me anyway. They were glommed onto the forbidden fruit unfolding on the screen in front of them, no doubt thinking, "we're not in Kansas anymore."

The movie is about two guys who switch lives. One is a husband and father (Jason Bateman). One is a hot single guy (Ryan Reynolds - yessssssssss) who films soft porn for a living. We see Justin at home with his lovely family. And we see Ryan as he goes to the film set TO HAVE FAKE SEX WITH NAKED PORN STARS. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!

Before I knew it there were doggies on that screen, naked swaying doggies – and I'm not talking about actual DOGS!

Angus yelled, "BOOBIES!" And I screamed as I flung a pillow over his face, almost suffocating the poor lad to death while trying to protect his innocence.

"COVER YOUR EYES!" roared Dave to Sam.

"BOOBIES!" squealed Angus, muffled by the pillow. It sounded like "MRUMPHIES."

What they were SAYING on the screen was just as bad as the flailing plastic breasts. I can't even REPEAT it here – suffice it to say it had something to do with a FINGER and a BUM. I turned off the car stereo, where the movie sound was coming from, as fast as a flash, then realized we could still hear the movie as plain as day through everyone else's vehicles.

"FINGERS!" hollered Angus, laughing his 14-year-old face off from under the pillow.

"GET THAT BLANKET OFF MY FACE," roared 10-year-old Sam, who wanted to know what the fuss was about. "I wanna see BOOBIES!"

"BOOBIES!" said Angus.

I was freaking out. "Don't listen! Don't watch! Hide your ears! Batten the hatches! Every man for himself!" And as the finger was put to incredible use I screamed, "Noooooooooooooooo," and the kids were laughing and Dave was smothering Sam while I practically sat on Angus and the popcorn and soda pop was spilled from one end of the car to the other... I swear, the Pepsi stains still bear sombre witness to the horrifying melee.

Just now I was checking out The Change-Up on the IMBD message boards. There was a big fooferaw because some lady brought a five-year-old to see this R rated movie. One commenter said:


"I know it's more and more common for kids to be seeing adult movies, but I don't know who in their right mind would take a little kid to something this vulgar."

I only have two explanations for this. First and foremost, WE WEREN'T IN OUR RIGHT MINDS!

And secondly, "BOOBIES!"