This Is Not What Any Of Us Signed Up For
If the anticipation for the all-pecs Showgirls, Magic Mike, was a hot piece you met at a bar, then its trailer will feel you with the same cold emotion you feel when you pull down that hot piece's chonies and stare directly at a tequila worm-sized soft dick that is looking at you like, "Meh." The blood from your sex parts rushes up into your brain. That's not what's supposed to happen!
Magic Mike is supposed to be 90 minutes of man bananas flopping around in hammocks over and over again, but by the looks of the trailer that's not what it is at all. Close-up shots of sweat trickling down Matt Boner's nipple have been replaced by shots of the ugly ass junkyard furniture Channing Tatum's stupid character made. A slow motion montage of ass cheeks clenching on stage has been replaced by some annoying walking lady jaw who won't stop talking! Joe Man-Jello twerking his pecs to "Turbo Love" has been replaced by a RiRi Song. Why couldn't the marketing whores for this movie just give me the trailer that was in my head?!
I don't want some rom-com where a bottom of the barrel Blake Lively (who is a bottom of the barrel Kate Hudson who is a bottom of the barrel Goldie Hawn) keeps telling the strippers to put their clothes on, stop dancing, cover up, don't be a stripper, do something with their lives, blah, blah, blah ... Bitch is like that parent who keeps knocking on the bathroom door while you're trying to fap in piece.
Steven Soderbergh, thousands of pairs of blue balls hate you today.