On 90 Day Fiance: Happily Ever After, Elizabeth Potthast and Andrei Castravet make it official again with an over the top wedding in Moldova. Angela Deem and Michael Ilesanmi also got hitched in Nigeria. Paul Staehle and Karine Martins return to Brazil and Kalani Faagata and Asuelu Pulaa’s families hash it out over hash browns. Plus, Larissa Dos Santos Lima has a hard time waking up after plastic surgery. Let’s say I do to to Season 5 Episode 14 To Love And Obey.
Elizabeth Potthast & Andrei Castravet Over The Top Wedding on 90 Day Fiance: Happily Ever After
It’s finally wedding day in Moldova for Elizabeth Potthast and spouse Andrei Castravet. Not only has Elizabeth’s family insulted everything from the food to the weather, they even went behind Andrei’s back. And found out Andrei was the victim of police corruption. Sister Jen Potthast still tries to sow seeds of doubt while doing Elizabeth Potthast’s make up by suggesting Andrei Castravet’s got more secrets.
Then, 90 Day Fiance has Andrei getting ready with his brother and best friend. They down drinks and tease him that he’s fat from living in America. They say he looks like Elizabeth’s “chubby” brother Charlie Potthast. Bride and groom are dressed in traditional Moldovan attire for the church ceremony. And Elizabeth’s family even thinks she looks great. She feels like she’s wearing a Halloween costume.
Andrei Castravet warns the 90 Day Fiance gang to be serious at the ceremony. In other words, no joking or laughing. Charlie can’t understand why and Andrei explains that it’s a church. The church is absolutely beautiful with lots of gold. Even the Potthast family admit it’s amazing. The ceremony is very traditional and formal. And sister Jen says she’s never seen anything like how Elizabeth Potthast weds Andrei Castravet on 90 Day Fiance: Happily Ever After.
Charlie Potthast Sloppy At Reception – Gives a Rude Toast
After the ceremony, it’s time to party for the twice-wed 90 Day Fiance couple Andrei and Elizabeth. The reception is elegant and lavish with professional dancers and entertainment. Papa Chuck Potthast is impressed. Jen reminds production that this Cirque Du Soleil vibe is possible because their family paid for it. The siblings think Andrei Castravet’s flexing on their dime. Brother Charlie seems to be half in the bag before dinner starts.
On 90 Day Fiance, Elizabeth’s mom is surprised it’s so nice. She expected the entire country to be like the community theatre production of Les Misérables. The couple breaks bread and it’s time for toasts. Andrei’s dad goes first and also offers a monetary gift. Next up Chuck gives a very nice toast and even calls Andrei Castravet family on Happily Ever After.
During the reception, Charlie gets sweatier and angrier while his dad tells him to stop drinking. He grabs the mic from dad Chuck and starts rambling about Andrei not being “sheesh” in ‘Merica and living off his dad. Luckily, the few people who speak English don’t understand him. When it’s over, Andrei Castravet drags Elizabeth Potthast’s brother outside on 90 Day Fiance, leaving us with a big fat cliffhanger.
Angela Deem Whispers She’ll Obey Michael in 90 Day Fiance Vows
Angela Deem heads down the aisle to marry Michael Ilesanmi at last. Michael’s family has doubts about the bossy Georgia elder. But they realize Michael loves her, so it’s a go. Michael repeats vows first and Angela tears up with emotion. Angie goes next but is thrown when the official says obey. She kind of half-a*sses and it sounds more like “abba.”
The 90 Day Fiance: Happily After Ever spouses change for the reception. Angie rocks a red gown and Michael a black suit and matching red hat as he makes it rain dollar bills on his bride. He says it’s a tradition and Angela Deem loves it. They cut the cake and Michael gets lost between Angie’s legs trying to get the garter. In the morning, Angela tells BFF Jojo that she had the big O with Michael Ilesanmi on her wedding night.
Jojo questions Michael about his intentions after he gets his green card. He swears he’s in it for love on 90 Day Fiance: Happily Ever After. With Jojo heading home, the newlyweds head for a drink. After catching a buzz, Angie reminds him of that time she gave him the BJ in the car. Sadly, later on, Angela Deem gets news that her ailing mother is in the ICU. So, she’s headed back to America ASAP and leaving Michael Ilesanmi already on 90 Day Fiance.
Kalani Faagata & Asuelu Pulaa’s Families Have It Out
In the 90 Day Fiance: Happily Ever After scene everyone waited for, Kalani Faagata’s mom and dad meet with Asuelu Pulaa’s family to discuss Kalani’s fight with Asuelu’s mom and sister. First Asuelu Pulaa picks his family up at the airport. Asuelu tells his mom she was wrong to suggest that Kalani divorce him and say she didn’t care about their kids. But she suggests it again. Asuelu Pulaa is tired of “standing in the middle.”
Everyone takes a seat at the restaurant on 90 Day Fiance and newly arrived sister Tammy looks like a cobra ready to strike. Kalani Faagata is pretty laid back and as always, multitasks by breastfeeding and lunching at the same time. Mother Kalani wants to know why mother Asuelu doesn’t give a crap about her son’s marriage and family. And this pisses off Tammy who wants to know why her mom’s being questioned.
Lisa tells Tammy to butt out and explains they shouldn’t cause trouble in Kalani and Asuelu’s marriage over money. Kalani’s dad Low tells the women to stay calm on 90 Day Fiance. He stresses that even though he is of that culture, his family would come first. Mother Asuelu relents but not after telling Asuelu Pulaa she hates him for his lack of cash but loves him as her son. She apologizes to Kalani Faagata but Tammy doesn’t on 90 Day Fiance: Happily Ever After.
Paul Staehle & Karine Martins Head Back To Brazil On 90 Day Fiance: Happily Ever After
Karine Martins gave husband Paul Staehle a deadline when they came to America. Find a job in two months or she leaves. Paul didn’t make good on the promise, so they’re packing to head back to Brazil. Karine wants to be with her family and she is homesick and sick of Paul’s empty promises. They head to the airport but Paul Staehle can’t find his passport on 90 Day Fiance.
Then, Paul’s mom Edna Staehle shows up to say goodbye and Paul snatches her up off the ground like a long lost love. Debbie Johnson longs to recreate this scene with Colt. Edna really is going to miss baby Pierre and worries that Karine Martins and the baby won’t come back. It’s a sad goodbye but Karine seems relieved to head home. As they go, Edna yells at Paul to keep in touch on 90 Day Fiance.
Colt Johnson Wants To Get In Shape on Happily Ever After
Colt Johnson attempts to do tricep dips at a fitness park. The Las Vegas mama’s boy is reeling from his break up with Jess Caroline. She dumped him after finding out he was distributing junk pics to random women. On 90 Day Fiance, Colt wants to get in shape and figure out a way to manage stress so he rings up his pal Steve. Colt Johnson does some wonky hopscotch moves and pukes in a trash can. Yum.
So, his buddy Steve offers de-stress strategies. Now, Colt’s current methods are whiskey and dressing cats. Colt Johnson explains he’s had a rough time after his divorce from Larissa. And now, his “friend” Vanessa moved out of the house too on 90 Day Fiance. Steve suggest he close his eyes and count to 10 when stressed (or tempted to snap a weenie pic). Next, he also suggests Colt Johnson cut the cord with Debbie. Easier said than done, Steve.
Larissa Lima Gets Plastic Surgery Combo on 90 Day Fiance
Erich Nichols agreed to foot the bill for Larissa Lima to get some giant new tatas and a smaller nose. Then, he drives her to the one-stop clinic to get her front end work done. Eric is flexing his acting skills by making the word boobs two syllables like boo-ibs. And widening his eyes when he speaks of risks and anesthesia on Happily Ever After.
He tells Larissa paying for the double Ds is an “investment in their future.” On 90 Day Fiance, the last thing we see of Larissa as she heads in to surgery is her blurred out a*s crack which really sums of this storyline perfectly. So, Eric paces and drinks coffee and starts to worry after the time elapses. He can’t believe how much her going under the knife is affecting HIS emotions.
Then, we see the doc cramming in Larissa Lima’s implants and dealing with oozing blood (where is Colt’s trashcan when we need it?). Next, he casually suggests it’s time to slice up her nose like it’s a ripe avocado. When it’s done, Larissa is slow to wake up and breathe. Eric Nichols channels his best hospital drama face and rushes back. Turns out she is fine and he gives her a pill while she whines about pain. Hey, transforming into a Kardashian ain’t easy.
To read all about the latest on 90 Day Fiance see us at Soap Dirt daily.
Mac Davis, Country Singer and Elvis Presley Songwriter, Dead at 78
Mac Davis, the country music artist and songwriter behind some of Elvis Presley’s most indelible recordings, died Tuesday at 78. According to a tweet from his family on Monday, Davis became “critically ill following heart surgery in Nashville.” His manager confirmed the entertainer’s death in a statement.
Born in Lubbock, Texas, in 1942, Davis would evolve into a country and Adult Contemporary crossover star with solo hits like “Baby Don’t Get Hooked on Me,” “Stop and Smell the Roses,” and “One Hell of a Woman.” In 1974, he was named Entertainer of the Year by the Academy of Country Music, beating out nominees like Loretta Lynn and Merle Haggard. That same year, he was nominated for Entertainer of the Year by the Country Music Association but lost to Charlie Rich.
Davis experienced a resurgence in the Eighties, thanks to the novelty hit “It’s Hard to Be Humble” (covered by Willie Nelson on 2019’s Ride Me Back Home), “Texas in My Rearview Mirror,” and the rockabilly “Hooked on Music,” which nodded, both lyrically and musically, to his greatest champion: Elvis Presley. In the late Sixties, he cut a string of Davis compositions, including “A Little Less Conversation” and the tale of inner-city poverty “In the Ghetto,” which Davis also recorded. The former was a posthumous hit for Presley, on the strength of a 2002 remix by Dutch DJ Junkie XL, while the latter’s success endeared Davis’s material to Presley. He’d go on to record other compositions like “Memories” and “Don’t Cry Daddy,” both staples of his Seventies live performances.
A member of the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame and the National Songwriters Hall of Fame, Davis also had his songs recorded by Kenny Rogers, Glen Campbell, Bobby Goldsboro, and the soft-rock band Gallery, one of many artists who cut Davis’ “I Believe in Music.” In 1989, he recorded the duet “Wait ‘Til I Get You Home” with Dolly Parton for the country legend’s album White Limozeen.
Davis experienced modest success as an actor and TV personality as well, even hosting his own variety series, The Mac Davis Show, from 1974 to 1976 on NBC. In 2019, he appeared in an episode of the Netflix series Dolly Parton’s Heartstrings.
Kenny Chesney counted Davis as an early influence and remembered him on Tuesday as a “songwriting hero.”
“He welcomed me into his home, and turned that tremendous creative light on me. Even though he’d written ‘In the Ghetto’ for Elvis and had so many incredible hits of his own, he made me feel like what I was doing mattered,” Chesney said. “A small town boy who’d achieved the greatest kinds of fame, he remained a good guy, a family man. That was Mac: a giant heart, quick to laugh and a bigger creative spirit. I was blessed to have it shine on me.”
I Ate A Filet-O-Fish Burger For Every Meal Of The Day For A Whole Week And Now I’ve Seen God
First things first: the Filet-O-Fish is a great burger. If you don’t agree, click away. Or read on. I’m not your boss.
To prove to the world – and myself – just how delicious the Filet-O-Fish really is, I decided to eat one for every single meal for an entire week. It seemed like more of a treat than a challenge.
That turned out to be the underestimation of the year (and there’ve been quite a few).
By the end of my tartar sauce-scented journey I had well and truly transcended all carnal desires on this Earth. Let’s unpack.
I’m really fucking particular about what I eat for breakfast. It’s either cereal, or some other breakfast-adjacent dish like toast, or bacon and eggs.
But the Filet-O-Fish holds up surprisingly well for my first breakfast of the week. The imitation brioche bun goes down a treat at this time of day, the fish patty is kind of edible before midday, and the tartar sauce is, well, tolerable.
Come midday and I’m already up to my second Filet-O-Fish for lunch. This time around there’s no immediate smack of flavour, however the burger is moreish nonetheless.
It’s no longer a treat, but rather the sustenance I crave.
By dinner time, I haven’t actually had the desire to eat anything since lunch.
When pitching this story, I promised my editors that I’d up my fruit and veg intake so as to not get, I dunno, scurvy. So far, that’s been a lie.
Anyway, dinner was nice, and it didn’t leave me feeling empty despite the burger’s light buns and fish patty.
It felt like a big fish finger. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but all the delicate intricacies of the burger were lost on me by now (as they are on most other people, most of the time).
Rise and shine, burger bitches.
My breakky burg squirted all over me. It was kinda hot.
That’s not just the tartar sauce, either. With every bite I ravished this Filet-O-Fish, and the moisture from the American cheese and fish patty somehow got splattered all over my face and knees.
Did you know the Filet-O-Fish is only available after 10:30 AM? I didn’t. But that doesn’t matter because I’m a late riser whomst’ve eateth a late breakfast.
For lunch, an ibis with discerning taste had the audacity to try and peck the Filet-O-Fish out of my hands. It was scared away when my housemate bumped into me shamefully hunched over my week’s entire food pyramid.
Dinner time, y’all.
At this point, the burger has no flavour or texture to speak of. It’s just matter which I’m shoving down my gob in an increasingly manic way.
The staff at Macca’s haven’t recognised me yet, but the people watching me eat in the park sure have.
By now everyone’s been telling me my breath stinks. I for one do not blame the Filet-O-Fish. Maybe it’s just my gut flora up to no good.
Oh, and I’ve also completely lost my appetite by now. I constantly feel full. Eating is but a folly distraction only the weak partake in. Cool.
Nevertheless, breakfast must go on.
Lunch was more of a chore than a calling.
Burger goes in, nothing comes out. It’s this repeat transaction of infinite addition that my days have come to revolve around.
As for dinner, it’s more or less the same story.
I spend my night walking the lonely streets of Sydney, gagging over seafood burger.
It’s breakfast time, but I don’t even want to get out of bed. I’m just not hungry in the slightest.
All forms of desire are starting to wither out of my soul. I lay here in bed, transcending earthly urges.
But the challenge must go on, and so I plod along to Macca’s and force myself to ingest yet another Filet-O-Fish.
At lunch time, I realise that I’m not even eating snacks anymore. I only consume the Filets-O-Fish I must have in order to complete the challenge.
With no appetite to speak of, I can only make room in my tummy for the next burg.
In a frantic attempt to reconstruct some semblance of a food pyramid into my diet, I’ve started to go to Top Juice several times a day.
I’m now spending as much on minty kale juice as I am on Filets-O-Fish
I can’t even taste anything at dinner.
All I do is salivate, not at the taste, nor the smell, nor the texture. It’s the ~thought~ of the burg that triggers my most natural of body processes.
Another Filet-O-Fish goes in.
I’m become more and more slovenly w̷͚̑i̸̼̍t̵̯̎h̷̅͜ ̸͙͝e̷͐ͅâ̵̪ć̷̱h̶͇̅ ̵͓̅b̴̥̕i̴̛͇t̸͓͛ȩ̴̃ as the days go on. From breakfast onwards, there’s always tartar sauce on my face now.
It’s an aura that follows me wherever I go. I smell a̶̛͔̬̝͇͕̯̤͎̹̳̯̠͎͍̜̳̠̓́͂͗͆̿͊̓͒̐̽̍̚̚͝ṃ̵̙͙̭̠̖̯͖̯̼͚̓͋͑̉́̓́͐̒͗͑̃̈́͜͠ͅa̸̡̡̨̜̥̳͙͖̯͉̟̞͉͗͛̈̇̍̃̑͂̀̉̿̎̃͗̀̆́̏̄͠z̴̨̢̨̛̻͔͚͕̾̏͐̇̑̅̓͗͌̏͂̚̚͝ͅi̵̡͕̹͓̮̱͉͎̝̯̞̯̣̣̭͉̒̈́͜ͅn̸̠̹̰͚̻̘̎͝ͅģ̴̣̪́̀̓́̕͝.
At lunch, I wipe this tartar sauce from my face as a kind of ablution before consuming the flesh of Ronald McDonald himself. The fish and bun is his earthly body, but there’s no wine to signify his blood.
The t̴̪͕̀a̸̗̥͝͝r̶̟̓̽ẗ̵̟́͝a̶̡͗r̶͎̬̈ ̸͖̇̈́s̸̟̏̓a̴̟͔̐ù̷͖̖č̵̮̟͗e̵͔͍̔ will suffice.
It’s dinner time and I’m once again called to consume yet another Filet-O-Fish in a carnal act of devotion and reverence to the burg which I love so dearly.
With each bite – PRAISE.
W̸i̸t̴h̴ ̸e̷a̷c̶h̸ ̷b̴i̶t̴e̸ ̷–̴ ̶P̶R̷A̸I̷S̵E̴.̴
W̷̲̻̃͌̍i̷͙̳̒̏t̸͚̫̀̏h̸̰̤̀̑͜͝ ̵̗̪̓̏̉e̷̘͔͛͘a̸̼̹̿̾̈́ċ̵̨̭͉͊̀h̶̳̝̮̍̐ ̶̼̣̏̍b̸͓̩͉̾̏ì̸͖̳͓̽t̵̘̀e̸̳͎͑͒̌ ̵̱̈́̑–̴̛̭̞̈́͝ ̵̘̈́P̵̨̝̈͂͝R̶̡̈́͘A̷̼͂̓̾Ḭ̴̩̬̋̈̇S̶̩̀̒͑E̸̮̓̓.̸̡͖͗͋͒
I soar Ḧ̶̤̈́I̴̫̤̔͜G̴̰̍H̷̟̓͆̾ ̴̯͗̓A̶̻͒̉̃B̸̲̯̣̓̑O̶̲̽͛̚V̴̰̞̻̽̇̽Ê̷̹̫͈ the mortals in the street who are beholden to their feeble n̵o̶t̸i̷o̴n̷s̴ ̴o̴f̸ ̶h̸u̶n̷g̸e̵r̴.
A raging lust for the Filet-O-Fish emanates from the bowels of my bowels as I wait in line at Macca’s for breakfast.
No, I’m not hungry. You fools. I am D̶̰̥̻̾̒̍̊̒E̴̘͕̍̿͘V̶̲̙̉͒̏̔O̷͖̙̘̤͌̃͊͘͜T̸͔̈́͂̐Ĕ̶̥͚͖̳͇D̷͉̝͖͐́̓͗.
My lunchtime muse is the blessed Filet-O-Fish. With each bite, I feel a rush – physically, spiritually, vorarephilicly.
I arrive home. The tartar sauce residue from the 17 Filet-O-Fish boxes I have so far accumulated in my room festers like the élan vital perspired by a victorious army returning from battle.
I bask in my stuffy, fishy sauna of the ḃ̸̟͎͇̪e̸̝̋͆̀̄ļ̷̛̱̦̳̿̑͜o̸̢̺̹̥͛͗̊v̷͙̤̹̙̫͐̾̎ę̸͌͐̌̏̚d̶̲̤̈͋̈́̓́ ̵̫̈́b̵̧̞̭̎͒́̿́ṵ̴̲͑̎̄r̴̥͇̘̮̾̿̑g̴̢̛͍͘ͅ.
My desire for dinner is in fact sheer lust. With every gulp, yet another chunk of the burg is inside of me.
My housemates join me for the walk, but they end up ordering KFC. They’re weak.
Spitters are sinners, and s̴͔̋̓p̸̤̈́i̶̗͋t̸̮̓͂t̸̠̊e̶̙̍ŗ̵̠̅̃s̸̫̑ ̶̺̋͝ȧ̵̧͇r̵̖͗ë̴͔́̎͜ ̷̣̅̐q̴̞͚̿̉ǘ̵̥̇î̵͉͝t̷̖̔t̷̰̯͒̚e̸̟̻̓̄r̷̪͓̎͒s̴̒̑ͅ.
Every time I consume the B̴̩̌U̴̧̟̕R̷̥̪̋G̷̡̈́Ĕ̵͓̈R̴̗̀͒, the B̵̛̞̲̳͇̩̙̪͉͈̻̳̊̀̂̑̊͐̅̿̈̌͠ͅŨ̸̡͔͕̻̙̞̻̈̽́̃̈́̒̄̓̆͊͠Ṛ̵̞̊̈͋͗̚G̷̣͙̹̮̞̯̠͎͆͛͠E̵̱͉͙̹̞̝̩̬̗͉͂͛͌͐̅͛̓̄͗̉̕ͅR̴̼̦̍͋́̿͂̕̕͘ consumes me.
The Filet-O-Fish and I become one more intimately than any bond known to mankind thus far.
A̷̦̍̌G̴̢͎̕͠I̵̧͎̊̾O̵̼͎̊͝Š̵̞͙̈́ ̶̳͛O̸̖̼͐͊ ̷̖̰͐͗B̴̍̽͜Ä̶̳͍́̌P̷͖̹̔̓H̸̻̩̀Ȏ̴̱͐Ṁ̴̭͍̉E̶͔̕͝T̶̼͝,̷̪͗ ̷͓̃K̷̞̇̉Ë̵̟́E̵̛͎P̸̦̉͜E̶̦̅͐R̶̬̘̒́ ̴̺́̐O̶̠͘F̸̬̬̉ ̶̟̐T̸̬̱̋Ȟ̶͇̈́Ȇ̵͎̳ ̷͈̬͗̐F̵͕͛̿I̸͎̹͝L̸͕͆Ě̸̗̞T̸̟͕̉̇-̵̡̱̐Ô̶̼-̵̫͘F̵̟̈́͜I̶̯̊S̷̠̘͆̌H̷͎̀.̵̯͎̑͑
̵̟̪̒͑M̷̺̏͐A̶̻͗Y̴̰̟̓͝ ̸̪͌ͅT̸̰͍͆̒H̵͔͋͆Ę̵̀ ̷̯̃̌F̶͚̈́Ĕ̶͓͓R̵̟̲͆̒T̷̹͊I̸̭͕̅Ḷ̶͒́Ẻ̵̮̦͛ ̸̳̔̓S̴͖̎Ó̷͎͈͠IL̶̼̄ ̷̱͌Ǒ̸̧F̶̞̈̉ ̴̘̈́T̶̰̍͠H̴̤̐E̶̤̘̊͐ ̵̮̈́̇Ţ̶̈Ě̴̲̗R̷͖̋R̸̠̞̃E̵̤̙͐̊Ṡ̷̗̍ͅT̵̙͝Ȑ̴̢I̴̪͚͌A̴̘͆L̵̦̙̾ ̷̪́̓P̶̥̞̽͋A̵̬̱͠R̴͖̘͐Á̵͎̈́D̸̛̟̥I̸͖͇̊͝Ş̵͈̎͝Ĕ̷͍́ ̸͍̃ͅB̷͕̮̅̚E̶̯̕ ̴̛̭̥̇I̸̝̒R̶̙͖̽̌R̷̡̗͝I̴̳̓̊Ḡ̸͚̘̀A̵̲͎͝T̴̢͌E̸̠͖̚D̷̠̔ ̷̘͝W̴̙͝I̶͓̚T̴̨͂͆H̸͇̖̉̕ ̶̡̤̽T̷̘̑H̵̰̗̉Ê̶̙̚ ̶͇͂B̶̰̟̎̓Ĺ̵͇O̴͚̍Ȯ̶͎̟̐D̸̞̓͠ ̸͍͉̔̍O̸̱͖̽F̸̲̔̇ ̷̛̺̤H̸̠̝́̄Ề̴̜͙ ̷͉̳͋͝Ẅ̶̢̍H̶͎̦̚Ő̴̟͊ ̴̘̳̕L̴͔͐Ṳ̸͈̊̏Ṡ̸̘̒T̶̘̽̊S̴̙̒͆͜ ̵̦̪̉͑F̵̳̠͊̿O̴͚̼͑Ŕ̸͕̩͂ ̴͕̇̎T̵̼͎̍Ḧ̵̨̧͌Ë̶̺͔́ ̶̻͌F̶͕̭̃̀I̶̫̲̔̔L̷̨̺̀́E̵͓͔̓T̷̜͖͗-̵̻͓̐Ỏ̴̘͊-̴̦̮̉͝F̷̧͍͌͠I̶̱̼̚͝S̴̨͍͋̒H̶͍̰̆̽.̸̩̄͑
̵̙̀T̴̙̖͛͠H̷͎͗R̵̺̙͆Ȏ̸̥͉͊Ṵ̷̙̈́͠G̴̞͖̃̕H̶̠̻̉͑ ̸̳̖̀̄I̷̤͇̒̚M̷̩̦͠M̵͍̟̀A̵͓̎͋̐C̶̬̜̜͆̚U̵̹̺͋L̵̠̪̈ͅA̶̢͍̅͝T̶̥̤́͋E̵̩̣̰̊̈́̇ C̴͇̠͝Ô̵̢̰̍Ń̵̲̟̂Ṣ̴̅̇Ú̵͖̲M̶̬̤̊P̴̟͓̂̊T̶̨̲́Ì̶̠̆Ó̷̖Ņ̷̍ ̸̟̔̃W̷̢̧̨̢̜͚̤̩͚̯̦̙̥̥͉͎̮͍̼͇̣̰̙̭̉̔͗̉̔̆͌̔̽̽̉͛̑̋̄́̋̾̀̕ͅͅË̷̛̳̥̭̻̹͍͎͚͈̱̝̯͖͚̱͎̼̝͌̂͑̋̇̍͊̅̊̒̎͂̋̾͑̑̎̋̃̋͊̈́͋́̀̈́͒͒̃̀̚͘̚̕͠͝͠͝ ̷̢̡̛̛̻̫̞̘͈̭̲̮̙̮̣͈͚͔͚̟̘̳͇͍͖̣̮̑̄̈́̍̊̏̑͒̌͋͂͗̅̈́̑̈́̀̏́̽͊͑̾̽̈́̈́͒͒̾̏̂̚̚̕͘͝͝͝͝ͅḂ̴̮̟͉̲̹̬̠̺̦̘͓͔̤̬͌̄͐̄͊̏̉͋͆̀͘͝E̶̡̨̢̛̼͇͈̼̟̱̱̖̻̩̙̭̝͚͎̠̳͕͖̣̬̘͖̠̮͇̪͕̹͓̗̳̘͔͐͛̊̌̓͗̾̂̍̄̋̍͛̈́́́̽̉̀̂̀͆̑̅͛̉̈͂̔͌̕̕͝ͅͅC̸̢̡͈͉̩̪͖̗̘̖͚̙̗̼̼͖̻̤͈̖̻̬̎̔̋̿͜ͅͅO̷͇͈̪̾͊̅̃͌̋̋́̄̒͆̔̽̇̑̑̔̏̐͗̏́̇̀͛̚͘̕̚͠͠͝͝M̵̛̛̘̐̃͆̅̉̐̈́͛͗́̄̈́̐̿͆̾̀͆̈́́͗͆̔̐̄̍̒̍̄̚͠E̶͉̻͚͉̞͌̾͝ ̴̡̡̥̫͎̤̞̞̻̹̝̉̎͂̃͌̇̈́̈́̇́U̵̧̧̟̬͖͕̖̥̰̦̭̻̱͉̙̲̜̙̪̗̥͈̩̗̺̘̝̹̲͙̥̥͈̽̉̂́͑̀̒͑̄͑̇̂͂̽̾͘͜N̵̛̛̮̱̙͓̒͆͐͆̋̂̋̐̇̐̀̀̑̑̋͋̂̏̽͐̈̔͒̓̂̄I̴̢̨̢̛̲̞͈̤̫̭̖̱̮̬̻̳̝͙̩̭̬̜̗̦̮̘̫̪͓̗̞̰̐́̂͆̓̀̃̓͋͊̐̈̅̈́̐̎͊͂̐̀̅͊̍̌̄̅̈́͌̃̏͒̅̔̌͛͒̈́̿̓̌̚͜͜͝͠͠͝ͅF̴̡̢̨̧̢̡̤̲͓̜͙̥̞̩̟̳̬͙̼̤̞̟͖̰̜̘̤̟͓̼̪͓̼̝̈̓I̵̡̨̛̛̛̛̛̞̹͖̼̺̥͈̫̜͎͉͖̦̟̣̹̺̟̙̥̜͈̹͚̣̞̝̥̻̮̘̞̟͖̟̝͌̐̓͐̾͋̿̀̀̀́̀̍́̈́̇͒̍͛̓̓́̕͘͜͝ͅȨ̷̧̨̨̨̛͙͓̰̝̗͎̯̙͕͙̼̯̦̩͇̼̙̥̘̤̈́̌̀͛͊͂̅͂̏̈́̂̿́͊̃̀̀̄̓̾́̈́̚̚͝͝Ḑ̶̡̡̡̨̢͍̮̝̙̫͙̼̗͚͔̻͈̦̝̪̤̖̱̙͎̣̫̤̟͚̣̣͔͍̼̝̗̞̖̘̦̜̙͊̋̿̀͗͋͗̉̊̐́̆͒͂͌̈́̅̊̚̚͜͜͠ ̵͎̖̰̮̮͖̻̙̣̤͉̰̲̼̱̾̂́̔́̍̔̅͗̄͌͊̐͂́̒͊̽͗͘͝͠͝͝A̷̡̢͚̼̯̦͓͎̼̣̝̠̦̱̗̼̮̦̣͙̼̺̜̦̰̱̫͇̥̖̰͇̠̹̲̗̩̬̗͌͗̎̅̐̊̀̏̂̉̑̀̍̾̌̐̓͌̑̉́̑͗͌̀̀͊̀̒̒͐̃̅̚͘͘̚͜͜͝S̷̛̪̳̭̯̹̦̥̟͕̳̐͆̊̀̀̀̽̍͑̉̍̆̿̆̋͒̀̀͊͛̎̃̈́́͌̈́͂̐̍̍̚̕̕͝͝ ̵͖͍̺̣̳͒͆̿̄͑̄̔́̓̚̕Ǫ̶̹̝̤̀̆̽̃́͒̓̀̍̒͒͌̒̊̔͛͋̄̂͗͐́͗̊͗̍̓̐̓̊̆͗͌͆͘̚̚̕͘͝͝͝N̵̡̨̖̠̯͉͍̻̤̙̙̰̼̺̼̥͎̭̗̣̗̰̞͕̯̙̙͔͖̦̯͈̩̐̏͂́̽͗͂́̓͘̚͝͝E̷̢̧̡̧̛͎̺̞͎̟͖̜̦̪̯̤͇͉̠͉͇͖̫͙̖̬̜͔̗̙̱̭̯͌͋̔̈̋͛̇̍̾̽̎̎̂͒̎̅̅́͋͆̄̀́̓͊͋̕͜͠͠͝ͅ.̷̛͖̅͋̄̈́͛͗̎̔̿̏̿̃̀̑͛͑̾͝͝͝
The Filet-O-Fish is a good burg. 9/10, would recommend.
If you don’t believe that I really did eat all those burgers, I have nothing for you other than my above testimony and a wad of Macca’s receipts.
Now, to guzzle coffee for a whole week, not for the energy boost but in the hope I can shit my brains out.
Postscript, one week on: My tummy is still perpetually upset and I’m thinking of seeing a doctor. I’m also pissing more frequently than a dog with a gut parasite. Maybe that’s TMI but you’ve read this far anyway.
Postscript, two weeks on: I’m feeling better now.
Save Yourselves! review: A clever alien-invasion comedy
Bait and switch may be a reprehensible sales technique, but it often works wonderfully in movies. The indie comedy Save Yourselves! kicks off with what seems like a solid sitcom-episode premise: Extremely online couple Su (Sunita Mani) and Jack (John Reynolds) decide to spend an entire week disconnected from the internet, focusing instead upon their in-person interpersonal dynamic. (The impetus for this experiment, typical of the movie’s droll sense of humor: Su, frustrated, knocks Jack’s phone out of his hand and across the apartment without warning, whereupon he turns to her and says with deep sincerity, “Thank you.”) To that end, the two Brooklynites borrow a friend’s isolated cabin upstate, bringing along their smartphones and laptops but vowing not to pick them up unless there’s a genuine emergency. It’s not too hard to guess what sort of jokes would emerge from this scenario, and severe tech withdrawal does briefly play a key role. The film’s true premise, however, involves the emergency that soon arises, since Su and Jack have cut the world off at the precise moment that it’s invaded by a hostile alien race.
It’s at this point that Save Yourselves! becomes potentially divisive—not because of the switcheroo (which is both inspired and pretty heavily telegraphed), but due to the nature of the invading aliens. In a touch that some will find hilariously silly and some may find just plain silly, Earth has been overrun by creatures that, to human eyes, resemble a particularly useless piece of ornamental furniture. Su and Jack wind up calling them “pouffes,” because that’s what Su mistakes the first one they encounter for—it’s just sitting on the floor of their cabin, round and fuzzy and seemingly innocuous. The thing keeps turning up in different spots, though, even though both Su and Jack deny having touched it. Once the threat becomes apparent (and days’ worth of retrieved frantic emails and text messages reveal a global apocalypse), much of the comedy hinges on the absurd disjunction between the pouffes’ physical cuteness and homicidal fervor; it’s as if Star Trek’s tribbles behaved like the Alien franchise’s xenomorphs. Maybe there’s a metaphor here, since our phones likewise appear harmless and can be destructive. Mostly, though, it’s just goofy-a-go-go.
The broader laughs wouldn’t land, however, had the film not first established an engagingly specific context. Written and directed by first-time filmmakers Alex H. Fischer and Eleanor Wilson, who are themselves a couple, Save Yourselves! benefits enormously from a very precise understanding of how people in a long-term relationship can get on each other’s nerves. Early on, while taking a decidedly non-sexy shower with Jack, Su asks him to pass her the face wash and gets irritated when he asks which of their numerous tiny unlabelled bottles that might be: “It’s the orange one! Jack, acquaint yourself with the soaps!” Indeed, the film is arguably strongest during its first half, when our heroes are still self-obsessively unaware of the danger. If Simon Pegg wandering his neighborhood in a hungover daze, oblivious to the zombies and carnage, is your favorite Shaun Of The Dead sequence, here’s an extended remix of that basic idea, facilitating plenty of background gags even as millennial oversensitivity gets razzed upfront.
While pre-cabin scenes offer up an assortment of perfectly realized Brooklyn types, who say things like “We didn’t want to do the whole mariachi thing ’cause it felt a little too much like appropriation” and “Our individual lives are meaningless, if you think about it. But only if you think about it,” this movie is fundamentally a two-hander, which means that casting was crucial. Mani (who plays Beirut on GLOW but is currently perhaps best known as the woman inexplicably dating the obnoxious sign guy in those ubiquitous Progressive ads) and Reynolds (from Search Party and Stranger Things) have to walk a tricky line, playing characters who are definitely meant to be annoying but not so annoying that we’re actively rooting for their demise. Both pull it off, retaining just the right amount of sympathy while demonstrating an easy, relaxed chemistry together. Save Yourselves! didn’t have the budget to pull off its ambitiously bizarre and essentially unresolved ending (which might not have been satisfying even had it been fully realized—it’s really way out there, quite literally), but it gets the small things just right, and that’s far more important.
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