I made the mistake of suffering through a screening of "The Last Song" last night. Since Nicholas Sparks writes the exact same fucking book every time, I pretty much knew what was going to happen ... and then it did. Nothing compares to "The Notebook," so no, I didn't really enjoy "The Last Song." Or Miley Cyrus's attempt to act.
... Or her family, here at the Los Angeles premiere of the flick.
Like, WHAT IS GOING ON IN THIS PICTURE. Why does Billy Ray always kind of look like a pedophile? Why does little Noah look like she wants to rip off that dress and lip-synch to slutty songs?
And, MOST IMPORTANTLY, why does Trace exist?
I understand that he's adopted and probably has some need to act out to prove that he's different and unique and all that crap. But holy crap, that kid seems like a douchebag.
Oh, and lastly:
Miley's boyfriend and co-star in the flick, Liam Hemsworth, is far too hot for her. That is all.
+ Photos courtesy of Dlisted
Friday, March 26, 2010
Those crazy Cyruses.
Labels:
crazy pills,
miley cyrus and co.,
movies,
oof,
opinions,
rage,
remakes,
skanks,
snark,
vomit
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