peevish mama

I know that among the general populace this post would fall under the category of news as old as my grandmother’s oldest knickers. However, in MY populace (to wit: one of parents with young children at the height of hot, busy summers), it is completely possible that what I have to say may yet be relevant, even timely. And listen carefully, because this is important.

Go see The Hangover. Like, immediately. To all my mamas out there who tune in here, take my advice and set this shit up! Get a sitter and take your man. You will be goddess for the day and I guarantee you will both laugh your asses off. What could be better? Nothing. Nothing is better than laughing. And nothing nothing nothing is better than being the goddess, and all the favors that flow from said status, however short-lived.

Maybe I have an overdeveloped boy-brain, but The Hangover is as close to a perfect comedy as I have ever seen. It is about everything that is lovable and stupid about guys and guy friendships, told in a really creative way that just keeps upping the ante – that manages to be completely outrageous, raunchy and hysterical and yet salvage a bit of heart. The music is great, the cinematography is great, the acting is great, gah, the whole thing was such an intensely enjoyable escape. Dash and I were rolling in aisles, I was shrieking like a baboon, we were DYING! DYING, I tell you! We are thoroughly dead now, it was so funny.

Just GO.