I Just Want My Pants Back “Never Trust a Moonblower” Review

I can understand Jason being desperate to get out of his desk job. Between asides from his boss about cat sex and his janitorial duties for the world’s grossest office bathroom it makes sense he’d want to run for his life, but from Linked in to the community bulletin board at Whole Foods, any job seeking avenue seems like a better plan than seeking connections from Lench. Someone who makes booze out of a health-food staple is not the person to go to for career advice. Ending up as an unpaid intern was a step up from were he could have been place, like as the janitor for All Naturals. That’s not something you can put on a resume.

The James Franco rooftop party trumps any "stuff hipsters say," video in it’s portrayal of Brooklinites completely obsessed with their own hipness. From an obsession with local meat to Brett’s authentic WWI bullet belt, they were cool enough to be on the cover of an Urban Outfitters catalogue. While Tina should have known what she was walking into when she accepted an invite that combined handmade pasta with the famous poet-actor-directer-moody-starer, she shouldn’t have put up with Brett’s neglect, and it was nice to see her stand up for herself. Most of that self-esteem was eroded, however, when Brett unleashed the biting assessment that she was a booty call and not girlfriend material. That’s the kind of harsh comment you can’t bounce back from, even with handmade sea salt chocolates. Part of me hopes they stay together, if only so they can go to another food abased Franco shin-dig in honor of the lesser Spider-man film coming out. Read More...



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