Porocrom's Crappaper

So I’m on the plane, right? They have this in-flight movie starring this chick whom I know, but can’t quite place. She plays this interior designer slash (my “/” key is broken) real estate agent slash (“/”) deceiver, and she’s always wearing expensive clothes and carrying a Louis Vuitton suitcase and shit.

First of all, strike one. They call it a “romantic comedy”, but it wasn’t funny at all. Instead, it was very very moving. Sorry, not “moving”, the other word. “Stupid”, yes. The movie is about how she can’t get her boyfriend of four years to propose to her, so she goes off to Ireland on February the 29th to chase some stupid family tradition, which is apparently about forcing your other half to marry you through magic. While she’s off gallivanting like a tart, her boyfriend is saving people’s lives, because he’s a fucking bigshot surgeon.

As you can guess (and you can, I guessed what the entire movie was going to be about from the opening credits), she meets some handsome and silent Irishman who, behind his hardened exterior, hides a creamy, runny interior. Apparently he has this flimsy backstory about how he used to be married and then his wife left him or died or ran off with a bigshot American surgeon or something. Needless to say, they frolic across Ireland, trying to get to Dublin, and he frequently insults her, lets thieves steal her bag only to defend her and get it back later at a pub, and generally toys with her to make himself appear oh so dreamy ^_^.

To make a long story short, this vapid, tepid woman reaches Dublin in the end, presumably by walking all the way there. Her boyfriend/fiance (I fixed the slash key, but now the weird e with the stressmark over it is broken) is there waiting for her, and he finally proposes. It is this point where I begin to have a bit of hope that this movie won’t turn out to be a steaming pile of delicious pudding with turd sauce, and this hope continues when they go into their new apartment in Boston, very happy that they’re getting married. There, her fiance recounts to some of their friends how he got the idea to propose, and says that he got the idea when they realise that the landlords of their new apartment frown upon unmarried couples, and he says “hey, we were going to get married someday anyway, right?”.

Upon hearing these words, the jaw of our vacuous, superficial heroine drops to the floor, and she leaves her fiance and goes to find the Irish guy, who asks her to marry him. I might have misunderstood, this part, I didn’t have my headphones on as I didn’t want to lose thirty IQ points along with my luggage. So yes, they get married (probably) and live happily ever after (certainly).

Let me summarise what you just read, and the entire plot of the movie.

This horrible excuse for a person, this blubbering vaginahead left her boyfriend of four years, the man she wanted to marry so badly that she went to Ireland to try and put a curse on him to force him to marry her, because she didn’t like the way he proposed.

Read that again, I’ll wait. If you already read it twice, proceed, I don’t want you to get stuck in a loop.

The worst part is that this is a movie. This means that there are actually women who identify with these loads of dung and get it into their head that, somehow, leaving someone you know and have loved for four years for someone who you just met two days ago is okay, if the former doesn’t propose right.

Since I don’t want to provide criticism without a constructive element to it, I will give the screenwriters a tip here: An easy way to make this movie more enjoyable would be that, when she sails to Dublin (there were no planes, you see), she drowned instead of ever reaching Ireland. Then I, the rest of the passengers of the plane, and most of all the Irish, would all be better off.

In summary, if you are the sort of woman who finds this sort of movie enjoyable and identify with it, please marry one of the screenwriters to make sure you eventually only ruin one home and not two. Thank you.