Competency Rating (n/a): So while all of you Americans were fattening yourself on sugar-stuffed corndogs or whatever it is that you people eat these days, and drinking yourselves silly on hot buttered rum, did you really assume that a creature as beautiful and mysterious as I happen to be would actually spend her holiday season psychically predicting the ends of new Christmas movies, while you chatted with your two-dimensional families and tried desperately to increase your girth? C’est non, my children! Madame Beignet de la Mort has got to be paid and pampered! After divorcing my eighth husband of two weeks, I drank that silly Irish lad Colin Ferrell under the table and then proceeded to have my name tattooed upon his sweet, sweet ass. I then retreated to a spa outside of Monaco, where I was cryogenically frozen while simultaneously receiving protein enema treatments. Overall, I could not think of a better way to spend the dread season of winter, but now, it is time for my immaculate self to get back to what I was born to do… And that, of course, is to accurately predict the endings of Hollywood movies, while raising the standards by which beauty is judged by simply being so undeniably gorgeous that grown men cry while in my presence.
Your Movie Forecast for the Weekend of 16 January 2004:
“Along Came Polly”: There are some people in Hollywood who assume that there is nothing funnier than jokes involving indigestion and vomit, or some other bodily fluid. “Oh look,” they say, “at the funny man with the swollen bowels. This is hilarious. Let us slap our knees and shake our fat American stomachs at such a funny joke.” Of course, as most of you probably know, these people are morons, but what you may not know is that they are also ugly. Ben Stiller is afraid of things. Jennifer Aniston has nice abs (although not as perfectly symmetrical as yours truly’s). Together, they give Ben Stiller indigestion in an attempt to make fat, ugly Americans shake their bellies at $9 a pop. Of course, this movie ends post-indigestion, when Ben Stiller has fallen in love with what the Zone diet has done to Jennifer Aniston’s body.
“Torque”: If this movie had received an ‘R’ rating, it would gross only $38 at the box office, yet those intuitive Hollywood executives made sure that this piece of merde could be consumed by 13 year-olds. Therefore it will gross some ridiculous amount of money. The idea is simple: Take “The Fast and the Furious” and remove two wheels. The result? “Torque.” If it were not for that hunky piece of man-meat, Ice Cube, my vision for this movie may have driven me into a deep depression, yet not even the sweet Cube, could save this motorcycle soap opera for crashing into total mediocrity. The only thing that this film will “torque” is your fat, swollen American bowels into displeasure.