DAY 7: FA LA LA LA… S.T.F.U!

They're smiling because they know what this movie did to me. Sick bastards!

It was eight years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. December 8, 2003, it was a Monday when I first saw her. A little after 8:00 in the evening, the doors opened and she sauntered into the room wearing red, the color that would become her signature for the next six years. The clueless dope she was there to meet couldn't find any words to say, poor bastard had forgotten how to speak, struck dumb by her beauty as she took a seat on the edge of his desk and asked, "Are you alive?" His response to the question doesn't matter, rendered moot since her fellow Cylons killed the poor guy 30 seconds later. The clueless dope was no longer alive but sci-fi fanboys across the nation sure were, alive and as of that moment in love with Tricia Helfer. I personally crushed on that woman through six seasons of Battlestar Galactica, and even after it had gone off the air I always held a special place for her in my heart. But that's all over, her spot in my heart is gone, I've got a family of gypsies living there now because Tricia Helfer is dead to me! Mistletoe Over Manhattan saw to that. 

Now to be honest, a lot of  women are dead to me these days, some metaphorically speaking, others… not so much and I'm sure I have no idea where they might be. My story and I'm sticking to it. Charlize Theron for example, had a great relationship with that woman for years, she was hot and I loved watching her be hot. It was perfect symbiosis. Then she had to go and cock it all up by doing Monster. Did you see that shit? See what she let them do to her all for a f@%king Oscar? And yeah, sure she got hot again, but the memory lingers, that door can't be closed. Do I have a point to any of this? Oh yeah, Tricia Helfer… thanks! So it's not a superficial thing here like it was with Charlize, my girl Tricia didn't let them ugly her up or nothing for the sake of Christmas. It's simply that she was in this piece of shit at all! I will never be able to forgive her for that.

I guess I should talk a little bit about the movie, though for the record I really don't want to. Okay, Helfer stars as Lucy, a married mother of two on the verge of divorce from Joe, her NYC cop husband… at Christmastime (natch). The remarkable thing about Lucy is that she's both venom spewing cobra and whiny little victim, not just during the course of the movie but sometimes in one scene. Cold bitch to little bitch in the space of one sentence, never seen that before. Is this something real women are capable of? Not to be a sexist ass or anything (for once) I just want some kind of a heads up.

Meanwhile, at the North Pole, Santa's workshop is all in a tizzy because Santa's losing his holiday spirit. Seems there's more kids on the Naughty List this year than ever before and he's talking about giving up and letting the whole thing crash and burn. So Mrs. Claus (Becca to her friends) sets out on a journey to NYC to find the holiday spirit and prove that Santa needs to sack-up and get back to work. I can see the look on your face from here and I don't understand her plan either, but it involves Joe and Lucy and a piece of magic mistletoe and somewhere along the way there's even a raccoon. I know, just breathe through it.

Interesting production note: Becca is played by Tedde Moore whom you might remember as Ralphie's teacher Miss Shields in the holiday classic A Christmas Story. I loved her in that. And she's dead to me now too.

Anyway, the fact that Becca's grand plan to save Christmas is idiotic comes as no surprise because she's played as a naive dumbass through the whole thing. But it wasn't just the women-folk that came off badly in this one, the producers weren't misogynists, Lucy and Becca had male companionship in the shit pile. Santa was a complete dick, Lucy's husband Joe was a spineless jackbag, their kids were annoying little assholes whose names weren't even worth remembering, Parker, the guy Lucy bangs during the separation was a douche of epic proportions and Sparky, Santa's chief elf was a creepy stalker. Swear to God, the wrap party for this production should have been held in a mass grave. "That's a wrap everyone, now get in the f@%king hole!" 

In the end… oh yeah (SPOILER ALERT… whatever) Joe gets back together with Lucy and Santa realizes that it's all worth it, Christmas is saved. Hooray! Except that the point of Santa's despair had been the fact that the Naughty List was beating the Nice List by a ratio of like 3 to 1. Hey Santa, the children of the world suck! That's your main clientele you ass, your target demographic! Billions of them sliding off the f@%king cliff and you're dicking around the Big Apple with the ball and chain trying to mend fences for one couple? Who gives a shit if Joe's once again having regular Saturday night relations of a carnal nature with that bipolar bag of estrogen? You know what, never mind. fuck them! Fuck Joe! Fuck Lucy! Fuck Santa! Fuck Becca! Fuck Sparky the stalker elf and his tiny little rape van! Fuck this movie! Fuck using @ and % instead of actually saying fuck! Fuck all of it! I'm fucking outta here! I'm going to rent some torture porn, something with better realized characters, more realistic situations and more believable dialogue than this wet fart that The Hallmark Channel just blew in my fucking face!

So um… see you tomorrow then? Can't wait.