Daily Archives: July 17, 2016

Movie Review – Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates (2016)

I saw this movie by accident, I swear, but since I did I’m going to review it anyway.

SPOILERS ahead but really, who cares.

BQB here with a review of the R rated comedy, Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates.

I actually meant to see The Infiltrator because I’m a big Bryan Cranston fan but a mistake I made in reading the movie times lead me to the East Randomtown Cineplex only to find it wasn’t playing.  So I settled for Mike and Dave instead.

The commercials looked funny enough, but on its own, it just didn’t look like something that would have gotten me out to the theater.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, the plot is in the title. Mike (Adam Devine of the Workaholics crew) and Dave (Zac Efron), after years of destroying one family gathering after another with their hi jinx, are ordered by their parents that they will only be allowed to attend their sister’s wedding if they find dates who will go with them and keep them out of trouble.

One Craigslist ad and thousands of responses later (because being their dates comes with a free trip to Hawaii), Alice (Anna Kendrick) and Tatiana (Aubrey Plaza) weasel their way into the picture.  They are, in truth, terrible, horrible people whose own exploits make those of Mike and Dave seem tame in comparison, but they fool the duo into thinking they are nice girls in order to get a free vacation.

Blah blah blah, raunchy shenanigans ensue to threaten the wedding, everyone has to work together, that’s about it.

Oh, and you might see Aubrey Plaza’s butt.  I can’t confirm it. Whenever I see a butt on screen I don’t automatically assume it belongs to the celebrity because celebrities have been known to use stunt butts.  Either way, Aubrey has been missed since Parks and Recreation so it was fun to see her in action.

You might also see like the top half of Anna Kendrick’s butt. However, I again am unable to confirm if this is the real top half of Anna’s butt or if it is, in fact, a stunt butt.

Personally, I really think that somewhere in the credits, movies should list whether the butts displayed actually belonged to the celebrities or if they were, in fact, stunt butts. Otherwise, I have no way of knowing whether or not I actually saw a stunt butt and it leaves the entire experience with an asterix.

It’s a moron movie but it’s funny.

STATUS: Shelf-worthy but not theater worthy. It’s a rental.

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Undead Man’s Hand – Chapter 11


August 2, 1876

A covered wagon rambled through the countryside. Painted across the canvas in black lettering were two words, “Utter Freight.”

Charlie Utter sniffed in the morning air and felt mighty proud of himself. He was a meticulous man, a true believer in the old adage ‘a place for everything and everything in its place.’

The inside of his wagon was immaculate. Boxes, crates, parcels, letters, tools, goods, equipment and supplies all stacked in an orderly manner. The only thing that looked out of place was the woman sleeping on the floor in the middle of all of it.

Martha “Calamity Jane” Cannary was a beautiful mess. As she slept, she snored loudly and her mouth was open wide enough for flies to not only buzz into but stay awhile. Her long black hair was a tangled shambles and a strand of it blew up with every exhale and fell down with every inhale.

Her hat had fallen underneath the back of her head and was getting crushed. A cord fastened to it dangled around her neck, keeping it from getting lost.

She wore a white shirt, black vest, trousers, leather riding chaps with fringe on the sides and boots with spurs. Two six-shooters were holstered on either side of her belt. A rifle wasn’t far out of her reach.

And much to Charlie’s dismay, she clutched a nearly empty whiskey bottle under her arm as if it were a teddy bear.

Charlie, in contrast, was a teetotaler. He never drank anything stronger than coffee and wore a very clean outfit. His coat and pants were both made out of buckskin, which he washed regularly, whether it stank or not, a practice that was simply unheard of at the time.

He kept his blonde hair slicked back with pomade and shaved daily, again, another rarity in those days.

Charlie’s black haired brother, Stephen, was wide-awake and sat up front to keep him company.

“I have to say it, Charlie,” Stephen said. “I thought you were exaggerating in your letter, but you have truly made something of yourself out here.”

“I told you I wasn’t just whistling Dixie,” Charlie replied. “Fully established delivery route between Deadwood and Cheyenne. I can’t keep up with the demand. I need to start running a second wagon and I’d rather keep the business in the family. You say the word and that wagon is yours.”

Stephen took a swig of water out of a canteen. “I might just take you up on that.”

The sun rose higher in the sky as Charlie’s horses trotted onward.

“Charlie,” Stephen said. “This probably isn’t any of my business…”

“Let me stop you right there,” Charlie said. “If you have to say it probably isn’t any of your business then it definitely isn’t your business.”

“Even so,” Stephen said. “This arrangement you have with your partners…”

“What about it?” Charlie asked.

“You’re the only one doing any work,” Stephen said. “Seems to me like you’re being horn swaggled.”

“Oh,” Charlie said. “Don’t concern yourself. I haven’t made a bad deal yet.”

Stephen peaked into the back of the wagon. Jane was busily scratching herself in inappropriate places.

“She looks like a bad deal to me,” Stephen said.

“Who?” Charlie asked. “Jane? She’s my muscle.”

Stephen laughed and laughed hard. “Oh. Oh that was funny. Come on. What’s she really do?”

“I told you,” Charlie said.

“Are you two some kind of item or something?” Stephen asked.

“No,” Charlie said.

“I won’t tell Louise,” Stephen said.

“Tell her whatever you want,” Charlie said. “There’s nothing like that going on.”

“Then what is she here for?” Stephen asked.

“Sometimes on the trail you run across people who need to be shot,” Charlie explained. “Jane shoots them for me. She’s my bodyguard. Simple as that.”

“Fine,” Stephen said. “Keep pulling my leg all day then. But what about Hickok?”

“What about him?” Charlie asked.

“He’s not even here,” Stephen said. “How does he earn his keep?”

“That’s a longer story,” Charlie said. “You see…”

Charlie held that thought as he spotted half a dozen riders lined up on a hilltop off in the distance. One of them peered right at Charlie’s wagon through a spy glass for a moment, then collapsed it. As soon as he did, all six riders made their way down the hill.

“Tarnation,” Charlie said.

“What?” Stephen asked.

“It’s not good,” Charlie answered. “Jane!”

Charlie snapped the reigns. His horses picked up speed. The riders fanned out and flanked the wagon. Two on the left. Two on the right. Two at the back.

“Jane!” Charlie shouted even louder this time.

The bodyguard was lost in a deep sleep.

The riders opened fire. Bullets tore through the canvas.

Charlie drew his pistol but the trigger, the hammer, all the different parts…it was too confusing for him. He only really carried it to complete his frontiersman look. He passed it off to his brother.

“Here. Shoot someone will you? Jane!”

Stephen took aim at one of the riders and fired a shot but missed.

“Jane!” Charlie shouted. “There’s bandits trying to kill us! I need you to look alive!”

Inside the wagon, a bullet tore through a barrel of beer, causing a steady stream to trickle out onto Jane’s head. She sat right up and poked her head out through the front of the wagon.

“Hey you horse’s ass!” Jane shouted. “There’s bandits trying to kill us! You think you might have told me!”

Based on many, many past experiences with Jane, Charlie knew better than to argue.

“My mistake,” Charlie said as he ducked his head down and snapped the reigns again. “Think you can do something about it?”

Back in the wagon, Jane gulped the last bit of whiskey, then picked up her rifle. “For fuck’s sake, I have to do everything around here.”

Jane took a position at the back of the wagon and picked off one bandit, landing a bullet in his head that knocked him off his horse. She pulled the lever on her rifle to load up another bullet and was about to take another shot when…


The second bandit riding behind the wagon cracked a whip that curled around Jane’s legs.

“Oh don’t you fucking dare,” Jane shouted.

The bandit, a particularly grizzly looking fiend with a scarred up face, smiled then pulled back on the whip and yanked Jane clear out of the back of the wagon.

As Jane’s arms flailed about wildly, she dropped her rifle. She soared through the air until she hit the ground hard only to find herself being dragged across the rocky ground at a rapid speed by a gruesome fellow who wasn’t too concerned about her well-being.

Stephen took a few more shots at the bandits on the right side of the wagon, then looked back.

“Charlie! You just lost your bodyguard!”

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Undead Man’s Hand – Chapter 10


Night fell and the Bullocks were lying under the stars, which was ironic, since they were inside their house. There was a hole in the roof large enough for a person to crawl through.

Maggie was sound asleep. She was an accomplished fidgeter. Every few minutes, she contorted herself into a new position, which usually ended up with Martha get whacked in the nose or Bullock taking a tiny foot to the face.

They didn’t mind because it was their little one. Plus, sleep evaded them. An owl perched himself on the roof and made sure of it.


Bullock had recounted his meeting with the town fathers to Martha earlier in the evening. The discussion turned into a blow out fight. They’d been quiet for hours until finally Martha addressed the issue once more.

“It’s out of the question.”

“It’s just for a year,” Bullock said.

“A lot can happen in a year,” Martha replied.

“Yes,” Bullock said. “As in I save up a lot of money so I can buy some land and build a home on the outskirts of town – far, far away from all of these people.”

“Or you get shot,” Martha said. “Again. Only this time you’re not as lucky.”

“Make up your mind, woman,” Bullock said. “First you hate this place and are sore at me for bringing you here. Now you don’t want me to take a chance that could fix it.”

“I can learn to…”

The owl interrupted. “Hoo…hoo…”

“…get used to this place. But I don’t want to learn to get along without you.”

Bullock grinned. Then he was bonked upside the head by Maggie’s foot again. But then his grin continued.

“Come on, girl,” Bullock said as he put his arm around his wife. “You know you can’t get rid of me that easy.”


“I bet I could shoot it,” Bullock said.

Martha fought against her desire to be mad and laughed. “You could not.”

“I bet you I could,” Bullock said. “Right between its beady eyes.”


“You!” Bullock shouted up at the ceiling, which only exacerbated Martha’s laughter. “You, you glorified pillow stuffing!”

Bullock reached down to the floor, picked up his boot, and tossed it high, right up at the roof. It made a thud sound as it hit the ceiling before it fell to the floor again. There was a ruffling of feathers and then…blissful silence.

“Did you get it?” Martha asked.


In their exhaustion, both Bullocks found this to be hysterical. Someone else did not.

The Bullocks’ elderly neighbor with the stomach problem livened things up with some gun fire.

“Shut the fuck up, bird!” the old man yelled.

More gun shots until finally the owl screeched and flew away.

“You folks all right over there?” the old man asked.

Bullock and Martha looked at each other, trying their best not to laugh until Bullock shouted, “Yup!”

“I didn’t get any of you, did I?” the old man asked.

“Nope!” Bullock shouted. “We’re fine.”

A few moments of quiet followed by, “Name’s Chester by the way.”

“Thanks Chester!” Bullock shouted. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, neighbor!” Chester yelled back.

After the hysterics died down, Bullock stroked Martha’s hair. “What was I thinking? We can stay here forever.”

“We can stay anywhere forever as long as it keeps you alive,” Martha said.

“I suppose.”

Quite abruptly, Maggie repositioned herself upright, socking both parents in the face with her hands in the process as she splayed out and made herself comfortable.

Bullock squeezed his daughter’s hand.

“Then again,” Bullock said. “If one year is what it takes to give this little girl a nice yard to play in…”

Martha’s good mood turned sour fast. “Do what you want.”

“I hate to say it but I expect I will,” Bullock replied.

Martha rolled over and turned her back to her husband. “I don’t know that I’ll wait for you the next time…”

“The next time, what?” Bullock asked.

“The next time you do some fool thing that makes bad men chase out of our home in the middle of the night,” Martha said.

“Oh,” Bullock said as he closed his eyes. “Nope. You should definitely not wait if it comes to that.”

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