My household hosted a Magic Mike party a few weeks ago, organized by my friend Alex. His plan was to invite over only women… and himself. He never ran the event by me, only my female roommates, but I got to attend anyway by virtue of living there. By the time the invitation spread, the male/female ratio was 50/50 anyway, so if Alex's plan was to get the ladies hot and bothered and to be the only male there once they were riled up, that got foiled.
It wound up being a wild night, which I guess I should have anticipated given that we were watching a stripper movie. Some people consumed a lot of Mike's Hard Lemonade (yeah, it's gross, but it's also super thematic) and two people ended up throwing up - one before the movie was even half over.
The event was extra special because I invited over a couple of friends who had actually worked on Magic Mike but hadn't seen it yet. They aren't really the Hollywood types, but in LA, it's how you get paid. They were able to annotate the experience with background information like that one extra kept doing a Catholic cross and praying between takes because she felt so sinful having to lust for half-naked men. Or that Matthew McConaughey (I'm not going to bother to look up how to spell that) wanted his character to have a photo of himself holding a snake in his home so they had to arrange a photo shoot with him and a snake. We clapped for them when their names appeared in the credits and when one even made a really quick cameo.
It was good that they were able to give commentary because otherwise the movie was pretty… boring. There really was no plot. It's not that I was expecting a good one, but having one in general would have been appropriate. All of the sudden the movie was over and I was shocked. How is that an ending? I realize the main point is for hot people to take off their clothes, but even Showgirls has a clear arc, dumb as it is.
All the same, the movie did put me in a stripping mood. I put on my tear-away pants that used to be basketball warmups and yanked them off dramatically in one quick move* to the delight of my friends. Then I put on roller-skates and circled around them in my briefs until I got too self-conscious. Although I spent half of college pants-less, I'm not really an exhibitionist anymore. However, sometimes you gotta ask yourself, What Would Channing Tatum Do?
* The downfall of tear-away pants is you can whip them off effortlessly but then it takes about five minutes to snap them all back up again. This is why strippers might be the hardest working people in the world.
1 comment:
Kevin I don't know if you're just being coy about your secret appreciation for this fine work of art, but if your terribly off-base critique is sincere, you clearly weren't watching carefully enough and we're going to have to correct that at the next Magic Mike party coming soon to your house
Also if you'll recall men were allowed but (in theory) they had to perform in some way - you fulfilled this premise and indeed it was delightful. To the extent my plans were foiled I hold you responsible
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