At least there were no f-words

I’m DONE with movies. 

I can’t watch scary ones- suspense kills me and makes me anxious, and at the end, I feel like I’ll NEVER go anywhere alone ever again or I’ll get abducted/sold into slavery/chopped into bits. NOT a good feeling.

I can’t watch action ones- the blood and violence is too much for me.  I don’t like to be entertained by watching someone beat the pulp out of someone else.  (I don’t even like it in cartoons where the lion punches the old lady!)

And so, that leaves me with one (arguably two) types of movies: the cheesy chick flick, everyone-lives-happily-ever-after ones.

Until last night.  I had it.  The movie looked kind of like My Best Friends Wedding, but instead, the guy was a total womanizer, slept with a different girl every night, including his best friends roommate, cousin, and housekeeper that he didn’t even know spoke English.  The guy’s father, was on his 6th marriage (all at least 30 years younger than himself, and all lasting a month or so), and his seventh was the best friend’s cousin, the one that had already slept with the womanizer son.

Sick. The sickest thing was, NO ONE SEEMED TO CARE! Sick sick sick me out!  The womanizer crashes the best friend’s wedding and admits he loves her and they lived, of course, happily ever after, no sexually transmitted diseases I’m sure. 

And here I am, listening to a rating system whose deciding factor between a PG-13 and an R is whether or not it has one f-word or two.  Forget morals, self-worth, standards, trust, reliability, and progression.  And even then, they try to throw in more in another language.