Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Agent Cody Banks 2: Destination London

Price: 75 centz or yr dignity
Year: 2004
Length: 100 minz
Director: Kevin Allen
Cast: Frankie Muniz, Anthony Anderson, Daniel Roebuck, Keith David

For whatever ungodly reason, I was convinced by this set photo that I absolutely needed to see this movie. Annoying twat kicking Anthony Anderson in the chest while he's sporting some crazy afrikan garbo? I'm sold. I even spent damn near 30 minutes fucking around with the cracked vhs cassette for this one so that it would work even though the plastic was concaving in on the tape on the right side so that I could watch this with the quickness.

It's about right now that I should make a confession.

I have no discretion. Haven't for a few years now.

It happened all slow like at first, but now I am excited by anything I haven't seen, which has it's benefits when it's 2 AM and SLIVER is the only movie on rabbit ears (It's got a Baldwin? I'm sold). But when you go to Amoeba to refresh your flaccid vid collect and you swear to yourself that you will only buy say 24 videos this time and you even walk there (it's about 50 minutes on foot with a short train ride in the middle one direction) and you only take one trader joes's conserve a bag which you determined beforehand can only comfortably fit 28 videos max as safeguards against yourself AND AFTER ALL THIS, you find yourself staring at two baskets filled with 72 videos total that it takes you another 20 minutes to widdle down to 44, which is almost twice as many as you said you'd buy, but if you squeeze some in around the sides on the tj bag you can get like 34 in there and then you can fit the extra ten in a standard plastique bag so it's totally doable, right? Then you leave the store 44 videos deeper and realize shit I gotta walk like 3 miles before i get home and with all this shit. Then you're like fuck. And then you get home and realize one of these videos that you sweat and bled for is fucking Agent Cody Banks 2: Destination London with nary a Bynes or Duff in sight (we get some jabronie from S Club 7), well it's deep introspection what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-me time.

But anywhat,

Like most god-fearing mouthbreathers I have unfailing disdain for this Frankie Muniz arm welt. He's a spoiled twat for sure. I think he owned like 9 cars before he could even drive cause he just loOoOoOoOoOoVeS cars! His TV show suck'd (soulful wilt of cranston aside), but we win because he just gets uglier by the day, which when you started out 20% on the Hedo Turkoglu ugly stick beaten scale doesn't bode well for future desperate bar skank pick ups.

But yeah, this movie is boring, trite, tired, weezy (dontforgethefbaby) sequel that never should have been crap that bored me more than anything else has of late and, as previously expounded upon, I am an easy lay when it comes to these things. Usually its give me a taste and I'm gone, but this just had me nodding off to some jazz tunes, namean?

Actually take that back that "doesn't bode well for future desperate bar skank pick ups" comment, I've been sonned.

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