I have seen the future and it is crappy.
By “future,” of course, I mean a new film being shot in New Orleans, and by “crappy” I mean not worth the 75 cents I just spent on some stale-ass vending machine pretzels.
Seriously: Matthew McConaughey, I don’t understand your success. You’re an overly tanned, long-in-the-tooth Ashton Kutcher. Given the abundance of younger, more talented stoners in H-wood, I can only assume that you keep getting work because you’re hung like Milton Berle.
And what the hell are you doing in this milquetoast mishegas, little Miss Carrie Bradshaw? Come back to the five-and-dime, SJP, SJP. I mean, I’m sorry about the whole Joss Stone/Gap conflamma–I know it was a big pastel-colored blow to your ego–but now you’re just being silly and self-destructive.
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