Okay, last night was night two of the “guys get together and watch weird movies” night. Our friend Larry has a bizarre fetish (actually, he has several that I’ve head about, but I’m only posting one here) about bad cinematography and film. He has a collection of wacky, weird and wild films, some of which have artistic merit and some (most) of which don’t that he enjoys watching for kicks. He invites John and Bob over to have a gander at the show, because three guys laughing is way better than one guy laughing and his wife rolling her eyes.
Okay, so far I get it. I get the watching the original King Kong. I understand the deep-seated need foran episode or two of Monty Python’s Flying Circus. I can even grasp why one might watch The Science of Ten. What I cannot for the life of me fathom is why three married men feel the need to watch Walt Disney’s The Story of Menstruation.
Guys, that’s pathetic. Really sad. What’s especially sad is that you picked a version that completely skipped your part in the whole process. No diagrams of leering sperm swimming their little tails off. No couples crawling awkwardly into the missionary position. No how-to manual….
You watched a (literally) Mickey Mouse version of the mechanations of the female reproductive system that cut men out of the picture entirely.
What do you do for an encore?